Sunny was the most gentle boy ever, growing up surrounded by three siblings—two being girls, set him up to success.

His parents were sweethearts, besides the expected arguments he would get into with them—they taught him well.

but anyways, you were on your shark week and you were emotional. You were getting upset over little things, you were being mean to sunny.

He let you tho, once again, growing up with two sisters teaches you a lot in life.

“hm, you still mad at me?” He questions, his shirt damp with circles of tear drops—his hand rubs at your belly, his free one drawing shapes on your back.

All he wanted was for you to be comfortable, so he threw a movie on and set a candle, dimmed the lights so you wouldn’t get a headache.

he cares about you, deeply. Seeing you so in pain and hormonal sends a ache down his throat, he’s trying his best.

He really is, give him a demand or maybe even a simple request and he’s knocking himself off his feet to do it for you.

it’s not your fault you lashed out, he understands. He just wants you to be okay, are you okay?