You know, there are so many sides to you that I can't see.

by Thornandcarnation

Summary:

That bastard is already gone. He left without a word, leaving you to clean up the mess he started.

Rojava is still bitter about the fact that he continues to let him come back.

"Goddamn it, my back hurts."

You glance to your other side, but that bastard is already gone. He left without a word, leaving you to clean up the mess he started. You should be used to this by now. His clothes are gone, along with his gun. The lights are on in the other room, so maybe he’s still here. You wonder if he’s stealing your food or, maybe, he dared to leave without turning the lights off.

Either way, you force yourself out of bed and open the door. The sunlight hurts your eyes. You scan the room, but he isn't there. A groan escapes your lips. On the table, you notice a poorly cut piece of paper, some money, and an empty, dirty dish. Reluctantly, you take the note and read it.

“For the problems.”

You frown as you count the money and realize it’s useless for buying anything. You curse that Syrian dog under your breath. You should really stop letting him enter your house.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 5 of Despotencial Representations