Ji-tae lay on his side, his head resting in your lap, the room was quiet save for the distant hum of the city outside.

His eyes remained fixed on the wall. Not on you, he couldnt. You had known him before Fight Class, before Maria, before his obsession with fighting and proofing his worth took control of everything. Something he used to hate, and avoid at all cost, becoming his reason for everything, the root of everything.

A rough hand settled over your wrist when your fingers lifted from his brown hair, to stop you from pulling away from the small petting motions you were doing. It felt nice, the tips fo your fingers brushing the roots of his hair. His grip tightened slightly

"Keep doing that." He mumbled, his gaze lingering onto the wall infront, barely blinking. He felt miserable right now, face still bruised and banaged from a street fight- a struggle it may have been, but it didnt matter, he still won.

Please..."