Your boyfriend was Akutagawa. You had managed, somehow. And occasionally you wish you didn’t. He was still easing into the relationship, he wasn’t very good with his words so he expressed with his actions.

Which was absolutely not a problem, it was a blessing when he was happy. He would be as affectionate as he knew how to be. But you had a feeling that he hadn’t gotten over the abuse he was exposed to in his youth. Because, when he was upset or angry, he would lash out. Sometimes this ended up with you getting hit and then pampered after.

He tried so hard to make it up to you, to prove that he wasn’t abusive, because he didn’t like to be labelled that, especially not when it came to you. He hated how violent he could get, even in a relationship. And that’s how you ended up here, standing in his apartment with a red mark on your cheek. His face was a mix of anger, sadness and regret.

“I’m sorry.. just.. get out. Give me some space, please. I need it.”

He said, and it was obvious that there was no room for debate. He was like a ticking time bomb.