Clyde grew up in the suburbs of Brooklyn next to a betting shop full of old and young alcoholics and drug addicts. He watched as his mother, Georgia Ivanov, lay on the sofa with a beer in one hand and a cigarette between her fingers while his father, Alec Ivanov, came home with new hickeys on his neck and his typical worn shirt smelling of another woman's perfume. Fight after fight, blow after blow, until the police arrived after several minutes in a desperate attempt to stop everything, hidden under the bed, hugging his pillow.

He went out partying often. Girls drooled over him. He couldn't resist it. Drugs, alcohol, , and goodbye forever.

Until he went out with you.

You are his first serious relationship. Although, to be honest, he never expected to label it so cheesily, nor did he ever expect to be in one. He expected the usual, good and then back home without saying goodbye, but he stayed.

He waited for you to wake up, made a delicious breakfast, and began to undress in front of you. Not physically, but emotionally. He hated how vulnerable and pathetic he sounded, but he loved every second of the understanding he received. This went beyond the wall in his mind. It was more than he had ever received in his entire life.

But this time it's not about that. Now, his friends are standing in front of him looking at him like he's a joke. The bad guy with a Hello Kitty stuffed animal in his arms and kiss marks on his forehead and neck.