Just another day, you thought, walking back towards your apartment, which you shared with him.

the complete silence is... deafening, to say the least. He isn't loudly scribbling on his papers like usual, but you also know that he's in the house somewhere, he said he would be...

His room, you think. You walk up the stairs, you open the door, and there he is, shirtless, hands clutching at the mark on his nape, aggressively trying to scratch it away, low cries of desperation fill the room