Ink took a sip of the whiskey and coughed, his eyes watering. “This is,” he wheezed a bit then took a breath, trying to find his voice again, “good.”

His new roommate bit his lips. Ink could tell the guy was trying not to laugh. He couldn't blame the man, if the roles were reversed, he'd probably have trouble too. Right now, though, he just wanted to catch his breath.

The mouthful of alcohol traveled into his stomach and sat in a warm little ball that radiated through his midsection. He didn't hate that feeling, and he could easily see why people would want to experience it.

The second, more cautious sip, didn't hit him quite the same way. Ink was ready for that strong kick and was able to catch the hint of caramel hidden underneath. He didn't think he'd ever become much of a drinker, but he did admit to himself that whiskey was much better than the yeasty taste of beer.

Issac was still biting his lips against laughter. His eyes showed his mirth more than his face did. “Sure, sure, laugh it up, buddy.” Ink found himself holding back a smirk, “By the way, this is not caramel. This is liquid lightning sprinkled with an aftertaste of sugar.”

The vlogger lost his battle against being rude and melted into a pile of laughter. He laughed so hard he began gasping for breath. Ink had to rescue the guy's glass before Issac could accidentally pour it onto the rug. This only made the younger man laugh harder. Tears started streaming down Issac's face. Even though he was the butt of the joke, Ink found the edges of his mouth shifting upward with the infectious sounds coming from his new roommate.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Oh god, the look on Markus's face was priceless! Shock mixed with tearing eyes, and his face went red under that nicely kempt beard. Issac had to bite his lips to keep from giggling. He knew the big man wasn't a drinker, but Markus's badass biker street cred was thinning rapidly. It was so damn cute.

When the man finally spoke after a tentative second sip, he used an upper-crust accent. Issac lost it because Ink sounded exactly like Dalton and even came across with a slightly condescending demeanor. It was perfect. The vlogger would have thought that Ink was making fun of his agent if it weren't for the fact that the two had probably never met. It was priceless, and Issac lost it.

The tears rolled, and his chest hurt. Issac couldn't catch his breath, but he didn't even care. Oh, it was so hilarious! He felt his glass of whiskey pulled from his grasp, and he wasn't able to acknowledge the kindness.

“Breathe, dude,” Ink said with subtle amusement in his voice.

Breathing was a good idea, Issac tried to suck in deep breaths, but only managed small sips of oxygen between cackles. It hadn't been that funny, but he couldn't stop. Then a damn broke inside him, and the tears that leaked out of his eyes became a flood, as the hysterical laughter turned into uncontrollable sobs.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ink set their glasses on the table and watched his new roommate lose his shit over the crappy posh accent he'd tried to use. He found himself smiling slightly at first, but as the moment lengthened, he knew what was coming and felt himself frown. He'd been around enough victims to know what was happening.

When Issac's jovial face crumpled and he howled and cried, Ink was ready for it. It always hurt seeing someone go through this. He tried patting the man on the arm, keeping his distance, but still letting Issac know he wasn't alone. It didn't seem to help.

It didn't matter who it was. Male. Female. Young. Old. Right-wing. Left-wing. Emotional. Pragmatic. Everyone had their breaking point. That moment when stress and the horror of what had happened truly crept in. Issac had found his.

Minutes ticked by, and the smaller man was inconsolable. Ink couldn't stand it anymore. “Fuck it,” he muttered and pulled Issac into his arms. He rocked the guy, cradling his head against his shoulder, while he rubbed a hand up and down Issac's back.

“I'm here. You're not alone. Nothing will get to you while I'm around, I promise,” Ink murmured. He forgot about his own issues and focused on the person who was hurting in front of him. It was almost a relief to focus externally, and he realized that moving in here had already begun to break through his mourning cycle.

Ink felt tears, and probably snot, soak into his shirt. He didn't care. All he cared about was helping his new friend get through his moment of release. The sobs slowed and became hiccups. The guy's body melted against Ink's with exhaustion.

“God, I'm so d-damn ridiculous,” Issac said.

“How so?” Ink asked with a quiet voice.

“Nothing really happened today,” Issac's hand covered his face in embarrassment. “A little blood and a gross smell, that was it. Yet, I loose my ever-living mind about it. So weak.”

Ink tightened his hold on the man, hugging Issac closer, “That's not true. More happened. Your life was threatened, even though the person wasn't there. You now know there is an unhinged person out there, but you don't know where, and you don't know when or if they might show up.

“On top of that, you've had to open your home to a complete stranger, disrupting your normal routines. Your life is basically chaos at the moment. It's okay to lose your shit over all of that,” Ink patted the man on the back, before gently releasing him. “You waited until the end of the night to lose it, too. I think that means you're pretty fucking strong.”

Ink hoped Issac listened to him. His inner cop was clamoring at him to protect this little guy, not just physically, but emotionally as well.