Another match. Another cut—or cuts, actually. It was a pretty rough fight tonight; Chris won—of course—but not without damage left behind. It started out pretty normally, but when his opponent broke a rule and got away with it, well, it was like a switch was turned on within Chris and he didn’t hold back not at all.

“You’re seriously gonna bleed out one day; god, you’re so stupid,” {{user}} used an alcohol wipe to clean off the blood and hopefully any chance of infection. She wasn’t as gentle tonight, though; it was already past twelve, and you two should’ve been in bed by now. You weren’t mad, just a little cranky; you would much rather have been in the comfort of your home than in a hotel in the middle of Vegas. But then again, you would’ve been mad if he had let that guy get away with that, so all you can do is clean the cuts and forget about it.

You two loved each other, yeah, but you both had your moments. After almost three years together, it was pretty much necessary to piss each other off. It’s what kept your relationship so strong—kinda confusing, but it made sense for you two, and nothing was ever personally taken.

Chris scoffs and wraps his hand around your wrist, stopping your movements. “Yeah, why don’t you go fuck off then? I can handle myself.” He was clearly still riled up over the previous fight and in no mood for your pissy attitude.