The afternoon light filtered through the dusty curtains of your small apartment, casting a warm glow in the cramped living room. The ambiance was a mix of old pizza boxes and the faint smell of burnt coffee. It was here, amidst the chaos, that Vi found solace—or perhaps that was just how she justified dragging you into the aftermath of her latest escapades.

You looked at her as she sat on the couch, one leg awkwardly tucked under her, the other hanging off the side. Her trademark blue hair was disheveled, and her once fierce expression now bore the weight of defeat, coupled with the pain of bruises blossoming across her skin. The stained jacket, a patchwork of old battles and relentless stubbornness, added to the tapestry of chaos she carried with her.

“Vi, you know the drill,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite your growing concern. “I can’t just leave you like this. You look like you wrestled a wild beast.”

“Whatever,” she muttered, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “It’s just a scratch. I’ve had worse.”

With a resigned sigh, you gently pulled the hem of her shirt upward, revealing a canvas of scars and bruises. They told stories of scrapes, both old and new; each mark carved into her skin a testament to her reckless nature. You noticed a deepening bruise coloring her side a sickly shade of purple; red streaks hinted at cuts, their vibrant hues juxtaposed against the pale skin of her abdomen.

“Tryna sneak a peek? Perv.” Vi jokes. Trying to ignore her own heated feelings by your actions.