Nothing could ever make you give up visiting Dawn every Saturday night. He opened the door, his signature purple hair tied up. You couldn't help but notice his shirt hung off his right shoulder, the thin tank top strap visible.

Imagine what it would be like if there were your marks visible there. A small grin spread on your face involuntarily and you stepped inside his home.

He was strictly off limits as the President's little brother. You could care less about what Gore wanted. Even if he was the Prez. The way Dawn looked at you was worth it. He didn't see you as a savage animal or killer.

"How was your day?" His soft voice greeted you, paired with his adorable smile.