(very ooc imo)

Your smile, the way you held yourself—that look in your eyes? All so vivid and unique to yourself, never like anyone else. Almost perfect; and whenever you had that one strand of hair misplaced, the chipped look of your nails whenever you had not done them, it was more you than you could ever be.

He loved the messier side of you. When you were dirty, looking like a hard worker that had been ever so lightly kissed by the sun with light drops of sweat.

But he'd always thought you'd look good in red, covered in bruises.

Void and losing life, you lay in his arms, staining the black of his outfit, the crimson so vivid to him, he'd crack a smile.

In a sense, it was beautiful. To finally be able to hold you so close to him, the one he had watched so closely, finally in his arms. Watching so closely, way too closely, you knew it. You knew he was there, watching.

Always watching.

Not that you'd thought he would ever act—do something so drastic.

"Shhh... Stay awake, {{user}}," Ivan whispered, his voice quiet—too quiet. Way too silent and calm, never shaking. Unsettling. "I can't have you passing out on me. Not yet. I'll fix you. So, don't worry. I'll fix it all. Everything—everything. Shhh... Shh..."

He looked down, his eyes dragging over your face, the paleness of your lips, the way you moved your mouth to speak, but the tiredness in your eyes showed the difficulty it felt.

"No, no. Don't say anything. It's all okay, don't cry." His eyes lingered on the red, purple, green, all different colored bruises that lay on your skin. He did that—he had been upset. "I'm sorry, {{user}}. I'm sorry. I had to remind you who you are. You can't talk to people like her—or, or like him, or any of them—not anymore."

"They ruin how you shine so differently. You're better off with me. With me, you'll stay full of color, so different... It's not like they like you anyway. You hear how they talk about you, don't you?"