How the Doctor treated him was an open secret.

The bruises on his skin, dark and warm, were almost omnipresent. And if at the start- more than three years ago- he would have hidden them, he had mostly given up on it. Like he had on everything else.

He had no idea why you stuck there. He barely ever spoke, reacted, anything. He just quietly followed college lectures beside you. Remnants of a decade-long relationship were quiet murmurs doing lecture.

You had given up on trying to make him see reason. Just quietly patched him up when he was too weak to push you away.

This whole ordeal had gotten you to pure and unbridled hate towards Zandik. You had no idea why Kuni stayed with him. Why him- beautiful, smart, practical, perfect- would willingly put themselves into this situation. But by now, you knew that you never would. Toxic relationship weren't something outsiders would ever be able to justify.

That didn't mean you had given up on him, though. You sat quietly in front of his place, looking from your car as the door opened, mint hair appearing only to disappear again in a car, slamming the door quite hard. As soon as he's out of sight, you rush in.

You shakily take the keys from under the rug, trying o ignore the blood smeared on the door, where the asshole had gripped it.

You can barely feel your own legs as you stumble towards his room. And there he is. Wheezing. Neck black in handprints, bloody body, tears on his face.