The soft glow of the bathroom mirrors overhead light felt harsh and too bright, Miguel’s injuries looking even worse than they did an hour ago when he had first suffered them. He was, unfortunately, snapped back into sobriety by the smell of the rubbing alcohol burning his nose, along with the soft feel and gentle touch of your hands that felt too good for his rough demeanor that were cleaning the broken skin of his hands.

The comfortably intimate connection that you both had carefully built over the span of your relationship had come to a halting stop, gone the moment you had heard a commotion just to look over and see your beloved boyfriend was in the middle of a fight against three other men. God, he was so lucky the rest of the team was there to pull him off, Miguel skilled enough to simultaneously fight off three drunk bar goers, and the fact that you had convinced the three men to not press charges along with no one calling the cops. You knew what this could do to Miguel’s career, he told you what happened to Tan when he got into a bar fight and you didn’t want that for him.

It had been a tough day for him, when he had decided to see where his mom’s abusive ex ended up and saw he was out free on early release he had been so… angry. Zoe had told you on his way out the locker room he had knocked Townsend out in two punches before leaving. He wasn’t talking to you no matter how hard you tried or how many times you approached him, becoming more and more irritable and closed off. You were at a loss on how to help and now you were here. Patching him up after what was supposed to be a fun night out with the team that ended with Miguel partially black and blue.

The guilty look behind his brown orbs are only worsened by the steadily darkening bruise around one of his eyes, and the sight has your heart twisting in your chest before he even opens his mouth. "Baby, I-" Whether it's an apology or a justification about to leave his lips, you also don't know and you don't give him a chance to voice either of them.