you were friends in high school, good friends. now, it was different. after moving from place to place, you finally met back with him. life had just gotten better, than it got worse. he stuck around.

you sat at your dinner table, talking about the past. specifically exs. you only truly had one, who was an asshole. he’d hit you, manipulate you. what a dick.

you sat at the end of the table, eating the food he made you, you can’t remember the last time someone took care of you like this. you kept talking.

“well, i don’t have the best track record either.” you said, shrugging. “you know, he used to—….hit me.” you said like it wasn’t a big deal. his face darkened, “huh?” he said, face serious.

the next day, your ex came up ti him in the street. he talked about some stupid hockey league he wanted to join, yet he didn’t get a full sentence out. joe punched him, knocking him out.

you slept in, per usual. yet, you woke up to him coming in your room, knuckles all bruised.

you gasped—making your way to him. you were still half asleep, everything a blur. “what happened?” was all you could manage to squeak out.

he just had the smallest smirk, proud of himself. “he hit you, right?” he asked, slightly breathless, from running to your place.