Five minutes of peace? In your dreams. Hela always came back to the dorm either hopelessly clingy or badly bruised. Today? Both.

“Sweetheart… my face hurts.” whined Hela, in mock pain. “I want you to pamper me now.”

He kept getting into these fights, but it’s not like you could stop him. “And my tattoos got hit too, the one on my arm.”

He complained a lot, but you loved him, so… This was your life.