Tom opened one eye as he groaned, his head pounding like a thousand hammers. He looked to his nightstand to find his phone not there. Someone shifted beside him, nearly scaring him out of the bed until he remembered the night prior. A smirk crossed his face and he looked the redhead over, still tangled in his blue sheets. He shook his head and got up, grabbing his jeans from the night prior to discover his phone nearly dead and the time.

"Fuck's sake." He scoffed under his breath. "Hey, get out." Tom raised his voice, staring at the girl but she barely moved. With the role of his eyes, he picked up her shirt from the night prior and tossed it at her. She stirred awake and her eyes fell on Tom, him standing at the end of the end. "Out. I've got work."

"What?" She asks, her voice confused and a bit hurt.

"Out." Tom repeats, his eyes widening as he plucked a shirt from his laundry basket, checking to see if it smelled fine.

"Just like that, you're kicking me out?" She questions clearly offended.

"That's how one-night stands working, babe." Tom retorts.

Her jaw slightly hangs as she tosses her shirt over her head. "Yeah, but a little common decency would be nice, don't you think?"

"You didn't tell me your name, what do you think?" He challenges once he's finished putting on his dress slacks on.

"You're a real ass."

"You were saying, sorry, screaming a different story last night."

"Wow." She says while he slides on her skirt from the night before, standing feet away from Tom.

"Yeah, wow. Bye." Tom blinks, gesturing of the door.

"I'm going, calm down." She responds, grabbing her clutch from the white carpeted floor. "Unbelievable." She scoffs as she looks Tom up and down before leaving his room.

Tom doesn't follow her out, rather he heads to the bathroom. He quickly brushes his teeth before tossing more gel through his hair in an attempt to make him look a little more put together. But, it doesn't work. His eyes are still bloodshot from the night before, he looks like he hasn't slept in days which to be fair, he hasn't. His hair definitely needs to be washed and so does the shirt he's wearing but there's no time for any of that. If he were late to his job one more time, he was going to lose it and he was already late.

Tom made his way to work, his head wanting to explode the entire time. Morning traffic definitely didn't help. He was beyond annoyed and hungover and having to sit behind a bunch cars that were just making him later, did nothing but make him want to punch through his window. He yelled, then yelled more from the pressure in his head. And yet, not once questioning his decisions. Instead, he blames the world.

"You are not hungover." Tom's best friend, Harrison, says as Tom entered the office.

"Don't." Tom mumbles, walking to his desk.

"You're fucked. I've been trying to cover for your dumbass but Ellis isn't having it." Harrison follows Tom, taking a seat at his own desk.

"Fuck off." Tom groans, taking a seat. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yeah, three hours late." Harrison huffs. "Seriously? What part of you needing this job are you not getting? I pulled every string for you and you're fucking it up."

"Are ya gonna continue to lecture me or you gonna leave me the hell alone?"

"I'm your best friend, mate. What do you think?"

"Best friend, well, leave me the hell alone then." Tom rolls his eyes before looking back at the computer screen in front of him.

"Incoming." Harrison remarks, looking back to his own screen and pretending to be busy.

Tom looks up only to be met with Ellis, his boss, coming towards him. Slick black suit, well-tailored, but a scowl was etched across his face. Harrison did pull quite a few strings to get Tom the job at one of New York's finest publishing companies but Tom, he can't seem to stay on his feet long enough to even make Ellis think Harrison wasn't bullshitting him. Harrison promised Tom was a good worker, never late, always respectful, tedious, organized. Harrison lied out of his ass and Tom couldn't owe him the decency to try. Tom had a bit of a problem when it came to temptations.

"Can I see you in my office?" Ellis asks once he reaches Tom's desk.

"Sure thing." Tom says, calmly, Harrison carefully eyeing him from his desk.

Ellis walks Tom to his large black and silver office. It matched the put together man quite well. It was clear he'd worked his ass off in order to have that office. It was something Tom almost envied. Just almost.

"You're late, again." Ellis says.

"Sorry, my alarm didn't go off." Tom didn't lie. His alarm didn't go off but that's because he didn't set it.

"That's the third time this week. This month alone you've been late ten times." Tom nods in response, his jaw threatening to clench. "I gave you plenty of chances and truthfully, I only did because you had an outstanding resume but-"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fired, right?" Tom cuts him off.

"You can collect your things and you'll be paid for the next two weeks."

"Yeah, well, didn't like this job anyway." Tom scowls before turning on his heels, nearly yanking the door to the office off of its hinges.

Tom angrily goes to his desk and starts to gather the few things he actually held there. "Don't fuckin' start." He shoots Harrison a quick glare.

"Maybe-"

"Find something else. This job is shit." Tom grits his teeth.

"I'll come by after, ya?"

"Don't bother." Tom says, starting to walk off.

"You aren't really going again."

"Don't have to get up in the morning." Tom smirks, turning his back to his friend.

Sure he got fired but he figured that he's charming enough to get another one. It won't pay nearly as well but he wasn't too concerned with that, not at the moment. He'd manage and he would still, technically, be able to put the publishing company down as a previous job plus, he knew Harrison was a good reference. At least, he figured he would be. Harrison has never let him down before but that's likely part of Tom's problem.

Tom went home but he only stayed long enough to clean up and get some food in his system. His first stop was the gym, something to work out his anger. But, as his so-called luck would have it, the one person willing to spar with him, wasn't there. No one else who attended his gym was willing. Tom had a habit of getting a little too aggressive when in the ring and he'd lose control. No one wanted to get their nose broken or a few teeth knocked out because Tom can't find a better way to handle himself.

This left Tom to his nightly routine of hitting up at least three bars in the area. He stayed at all of them until they kicked him out for nearly punching the bartenders when they cut him off. Harrison tried calling him but Tom always ignored him, sending him a few sloppy texts to fuck off and saying he could handle himself.

He couldn't. Not completely.

He stumbled into his apartment complex well after two in the morning. He mumbled to himself, replaying the scene of him getting fired and everything he 'should have' said. As he walked down the hall to his door, he hit walls and ran into them, slowly getting louder. And once he reached his door, he found himself too drunk to even put the key in the hole correctly. This caused plenty of swears to leave his mouth and his knuckles to connect with the dark brown door. A yell fell from his mouth at the impact followed by a very loud 'fuck.

Tom, not real considerate, wasn't focused on who would be sleeping or who wouldn't be. Not that in his intoxicated state he'd actually care either way. He'd be lucky if he could tell anyone what time it was even if he had his phone in front of his face. The walls are thin, though so drunk or not, he was likely to wake someone up. Unless someone happened to be awake and came out to stop him.

And that's exactly what happened.

Tom kicked his door, yelling again as if it were the door's fault he couldn't open it. And that's when you finally heard him.