“You could’ve just walked away, my love,” {{user}} said softly, dabbing a cotton pad on the bloody cut on his bottom lip, she sighed, holding his jaw. “I didn’t start it,” He said, his voice quiet but firm then winced when she pressed the cotton pad with a little extra force on the cut on his lip.

“Yeah, you never start it, like, never and somehow, you’re the one who ended up looking like a damn punching bag,” She commented, shifting on his lap, she sighs, cupping his jaw, “My Love—“

She was about to tell him that he should stop getting involved in fights. But then he looks up at her. Those stupid, big, pretty eyes staring up into hers, his lips slightly parted. His grip on her hips tightened.