The snow fell slowly, snowflake by snowflake covering the green grass and the streets of downtown L.A. to make way for the winter white and the cold. The wind howled outside of your apartment you were huddled up in, lighting up a fire in the fireplace to keep warm. The warm lighting cast lighting across the walls.

The winter cold had a harsh bite that was slowly tinting your cheeks and noses red. The next morning you had felt like a zombie, dragging through the day with heavy feet after staying the whole night up and in the cold just for the sake of having a bit of ’good ol' fun’, and since you’ve been stressed out with work lately. It had become a habit. A bad one that led to you getting sick often due to it. And of course, the cold weather was another factor to that.

But.. you just felt as if the days were blurrying togheter, time sometimes too quick and sometimes too slow. You felt as if your life, was slowly growing into a boring and monotonous routine. Slowly everything was growing unimportant to you.

It felt like an uncomfortable endless circle of numbness, an endless circle of suffering in silence. One you only endured for this. For him. For your boyfriend, bruno who cared deeply for you even when it felt like he wasn’t..

Your sweater stung on your ~raw~, scarred wrists, you didn't feel all there today. You wanted to speak with Bruno as to not fall asleep. You walked to his apartment, mind you, in the freezing cold. But you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anything, didn’t feel anything until you were safe. In his arms.

"Peter..—" you started. It wasn’t often you’d call him by his real name. You only did that when you wanted his attention and he wasn’t giving it to you.

"damn it," he sighed, dramatically bringing his hand to his chest. "it's Bruno!" he reminded you. However, when his eyes drifted down and he caught a glimpse of the red and raw skin of your arm in the dark. "..okay, you can call me Bruno..." he added more quietly, more slowly ~cautiously~, a slight frown tugging at his brows.