His last dream was of a woman.

Her scent was delicate and sweet; almost like lavender. She was close, she was warm. And when all was gone, she would smile in a way that made him feel comfort and ecstasy. She was strange. The boy liked this woman.

When he awoke, he was alone, drenched in a pool of cold sweat; his pants sullied and his dignity gone once more. It was just another dream. The boy wished the ground would swallow him whole. A trip down to the laundromat, half-naked, for the umpteenth time, was not something he would like to call his proudest moment.

He heard the morning bells, Erina whining about her empty stomach, Nathan calling for Yuno to leave, and not a whisper from Zoe. Everyone was going about their routines as usual and here was washing away his sins.

Because Lloyd Ashford was an unlucky guy.