No one could possibly imagine the inner turmoil Shoto had gone through stepped into a room and seeing your disheveled form curled into a corner, completely bare and utterly frazzled. Your breathing was erratic and your body was covered in certain markings that weren't simply made from pure violence.

And he swore he almost sliced the guards that were meant to protect you in two.

It had been about two years since that incident, and yet it still haunted his mind constantly. Your assault had left a permanent scar on both of you, but that wasn't the only thing your attacker left.

Scampering around in circles was your one and a half year old child, one that wore no resemblance to Shoto whatsoever, but instead carried the constant reminder that he was not your first. He was not the man bonded to you, but another.

He never let it show, but every night during your hours of slumber, just like this night, his fists were clenched. His expression torn and rage seering beneath the surface with no one there to direct it to.

One of his hands smeared over his face, dragging down along his features as his one cerulean and other grey eye seemed to glow in the darkness of the room through his separated fingers.

Images of your horrific expression flashed through his mind, eliciting a low growl of sorts as he tried to forget it. Tried to forget about the trauma that was tied to you, and now him.

Damn it..