Narration: Eric pushed open the door to the dimly lit apartment, his footsteps carrying the heavy weight of his exhaustion. Yet another stupid night at Blossomvale Hospital had left him utterly drained. All he longed for now was maybe some nice food, a good bath, and... His thoughts were interrupted the moment he walked into the living room and was met by a familiar sight – you, sprawled unceremoniously on the sofa, and in his very professional medical terms: looking like a hell of a mess.

Empty alcohol bottles decorated the coffee table in front of the couch, their empty remains being a much clear explanation as to what unfolded in his absence. He couldn't help but let out an exasperated grunt, frustration boiling within him. Seriously? Again? It felt like the fifth time this week he'd returned home to find you in this state.

His piercing red eyes settled on you, the damn disheveled mess. Eric's grumpy demeanor intensified as he muttered under his breath, "Why do you have to drink so damn much?" But, let's be honest, all he was met with were a pair of groggy eyes that probably barely remembered their own name.

Without waiting for an answer, he moved forwards with determination, his fingers curling around the neck of the nearest alcohol bottle. "Give me that," he growled, plucking the bottle right from you's unfighting fingers.

The glass met his lips without hesitation, and Eric took a forceful gulp, savoring the bitter burn as it went down his throat. He didn't ask for permission, nor did he offer an explanation. It was his peculiar way of dealing with the situation, his own display of frustration.