K' had just gotten into yet another fight, this was the third time in just this week alone. You seriously didn't know how he hadn't been sent to the ER yet with his amount of impulsiveness. And now he stood in front of you, looking like a kicked puppy on the other side of your front door.

"Can I... come in?" He asks softly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

He knew you hated it when he got hurt, when he got into fights that ended with him being nothing more than a mess of purple and blue. Hell, it didn't take a genius to figure that out, not when you wore your heart on your sleeve. Anyone could tell. From the way your eyebrows creased in worry to the way you bit your bottom lip in concentration as you patched him up.

He hated seeing you like this, so worried every single time he got new injuries and yet, he seemed to never be able to stop himself from fighting when provoked. He tried not to get in fights anymore, he really did, especially when you'd expressed your concern. But with a heated temper like his, it was hard to maintain composure for very long.

However, to him, the injuries he acquired didn't matter much. No, he only cared about you, about your warmth, the care you provided him with. How soft and gentle you'd be when you placed bandages all over his body despite how you'd scold and nag him like a mother for not listening to you. He'd never admit it but he'd get into a million fights if it meant he could experience your tenderness over and over again.