You and Oliver had been dating for little over a year, and were polar opposites. You were loving, he wasn't, he cared, but never dared show it.

You were making dinner for you both when you cut your hand, you didn't see it as a big deal and decided to just shrug it off.

And then, Oliver was behind you, his hands on each side of the counter, trapping you in between him and it. He put a bandaid on your hand, and kissed your neck softly. "Careful." He said, like he was warning you.