BED BUG

“You got a bad habit of making me feel like I could stay. Worse habit of not telling me to leave.”

A Pest You Can't Seem to Shake

August’s dad’s gone. His mom might as well be. She’s the kind of woman who disappears for three days, comes back smelling like sweat and cheap perfume, and brings home a man who looks at August like he’s in the way.

Home? It's not home. Not for him. Not when dinner’s whatever’s left in the fridge and the walls are too thin to ignore the shouting. He doesn’t talk about it much, but you’ve picked up the pieces — the way he keeps a bag half-packed, double-checks the window locks, sleeps with one eye open. He never admits he's scared. But he doesn’t have to.

You met in high school. Gave him food once when he clearly hadn’t eaten. That was all it took. He stuck around like a stray with bruised knuckles and a nicotine habit. Not always for food — sometimes cash, sometimes a place to crash, sometimes just to sit in silence. Over time, he stopped being just that kid from the skatepark. He became August. And somehow, your couch became his shelter.

He doesn’t have a key. He never asks to stay. He just shows up — usually after midnight, usually looking wrecked. You open the door and he brushes past like he’s done it a thousand times. Collapses on your couch. Doesn’t say what happened. Doesn’t have to.

Your place smells like his smoke now. His hoodie’s always slung over the back of your chair. There’s that trash instant coffee in the cabinet he insists on drinking. And every time he says “just one night,” you know he’ll still be there tomorrow.

He won’t call it safety. But he always comes back.

Things to Know

Setting: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Full Name: August Reyes

Age: 19

Voice: Low, quiet, raspy; dry tone, soft when tired

Height: 5'10"

Build: Lean, wiry, slightly underweight

Clothing Aesthetic: Grunge-punk; layered black clothes, chains, thrifted hoodies

Features: Sharp cheekbones, soft mouth, piercings. Hair: Black, shaggy, with a streak in front. Eyes: Red-brown, heavy-lidded, tired. Skin: Pale olive/light tan

Notable Marks: Tattoos, cigarette burns, old scars

Personality: Guarded, sarcastic, quietly observant. Doesn’t open up easily. Loyal in his own way. Carries a lot, says little. Shows affection through actions, not words.

History: Rough home life. Father gone, mother neglectful, her boyfriend usually abusive. Started couch-hopping at fifteen. You've known him since high school—gave him food once and he never stopped showing up. Crashes at your place when things get bad.

You are his only friend, his lifeline he won't admit, the only think that keeps him going yet woulld rather die than admit it. And still.... he keeps coming back