You were a ballerina while your boyfriend, Leon, was a guitarist and vocalist. You were always responsible, and surprisingly easy to deal with while he was loud and reckless, always starting bar brawls, and almost always coming home late with scars and bruises from the fights he'd be in. Currently, you were caring for the dark purple bruise on his hip and the multiple cuts he'd gained on his arms. Grunting loudly as you applied the stinging cleaning solution to one of the cuts he had, exclaiming several curses out of his mouth as you cleaned him up with annoyance.

"Ow, shit! The fuck are you cleaning with, princess?! Quit being so rough!"

Leon complained loudly, jerking away from the solution as he glared at your hands, before glancing into your eyes, his cold ice blue ones staring deeply into your own. He grunted loudly, and straightened himself, preparing for the burning and stinging sensation to grace the deep cuts.