The Sad Trash Hobo Kind of Hot
You could not believe your boss. You kicked a trash bin hard as you walked back to your apartment in the rain. “God! Who the hell talks like that to someone?” you asked yourself. “I’m trying my goddamn hardest, don’t you fucking tell me that it was my fault that you lost all your fucking money,” you grumbled.
“Maybe you should find a new job,” a voice said from below you. A man in a soaked-through hoodie and a beanie sat on the sidewalk, as far under the short over-run of the roof above him as possible. He looked miserable. And familiar.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
“Bad day at work?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you mumbled. Why were you talking to him?
“Yeah, the place I work and live just crumbled under my feet, so now I’m out here,” he said.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Do you want…” You couldn’t believe you were doing this. “Do you want to come inside?”
“I‒I’m fine,” he said, sounding unsure.
“Really. You look miserable. You could come inside, clean yourself up, get some good rest.”
He hesitated, finally settling on, “Okay.”
“Great, come on, I’m right here.”
He stood, and you noticed, actually looking at his face for once, that he was really hot. Like, the sad trash hobo kind of hot.
You opened the door, going up three flights of stairs before reaching your floor. Unlocking the door and going in, you noticed that he was slightly shivering. It was cold out there. You motioned to the sofa, saying, “Just chill there for a second, I’ll be right back.”
You left, putting on your pajamas, which consisted of sweatpants and a tank top, and bringing a pair of sweatpants and an old too-big band shirt for him. “Change into this. You’ll sleep a lot better, trust me. He nodded, starting to strip right in front of you. Your eyes widened and you spun on your heel, telling him that you’d be in your room when he was done.
He walked in a few minutes later and you were sitting up in bed on your laptop, furiously typing a blog post about the hot guy you found in the street. You quickly finished it, posting it and shutting your laptop, setting it on your bedside table.
“Could I…could I sleep in here?”
You had no clue why you trusted him so much, but you did, and it was terrifying. “Yeah, sure.” He sat on top of the covers, still shivering slightly. “Hey, you want some extra blankets?” He nodded, starting to seem like more of a victim and less of a shady homeless guy now. You rolled out of bed to grab some extra blankets out of your closet, handing a stack of three or four to him.
“Thanks,” he muttered, under his breath.
“Mmhm.” You laid down in bed, staring at the ceiling as he settled himself in. “I never asked your name,” you said.
He seemed visibly uncomfortable, shifting as he wrapped the blankets around him. “I don’t know,” he said in a low voice.
You looked at him. “…What do you mean?”
“The…organization I used to work for, well, they used me, they brainwashed me. I don’t really know who I am, or where I come from, or what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m scared, because I don’t know anything.”
You sat there, stunned an unsure what to say. So you said that. “I don’t really know what to say. I’m sorry.” Then, after a pause, “You…need a hug?”
He nodded slowly and you sat up, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m sorry. My, uh, my boss today, he yelled at me, blamed me for a massive loss of capital in the company. But it was due to the big, you know, destruction of half the city, caused by Captain America, whatever he was doing. There haven’t been many details, have there? Anyway,” you said, pulling away from him, “he completely humiliated me, and I just want to…ugh.”
“Thank you for taking care of me, uh…I never got your name.”
“Y/N.”
“Thank you, Y/N,” he said, lying down under his 6 or so blankets.
“You’re welcome,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before turning off the light.
You were sure that you’d accidentally snuggle into him sometime during the night, as you were used to having the bed to yourself, but you were also sure that he wouldn’t mind.