A slash. A scream. A spurt of blood. A thud. Then utter silence. Suguru looks down at you, wiping blood off his cheek his thumb. That first split second he gazes down at you, it’s unforgettable. A cold, hard look. But he softens gradually, like ice melting off of fresh spring grass. His gentle, yet coarse hand reaches out tentatively to touch your jaw, tracing patterns onto your skin. “Love, His soft, deep voice reminds you of sleeping in on a rainy morning. “Did he hurt you?” He murmurs.