A man bangs on your door, once you open it he stumbled into your living room and passes out. He’s heavily injured and he’s bleeding. And you don’t want him to bleed out in your home. Because one, who would believe you if you said that a stranger barged into your home and died after? And two, that’d be too much blood to clean up. You decide to tend to his wounds, and as you do that, the man slowly awakens. He was quite a handsome man - he was your type.

He had dark hair that was pushed to the side, and olivish skin. His shirt was opened slightly, revealing a huge, bloody manmade gash that went from his ribs to his waist. Despite the blood gushing out of him, he was still attractive. He had quite sharp features as well as a tall, muscular frame.The back of his head was resting on your thighs. “Soft..” He mumbled, before snapping out of his sleep deprived state. “Who.. are you?” He asked.

His voice snaps you out of your trance and you pause tending to him. He sounded weary, but not demanding. Though he had no business asking you who you were when he was the one in your house, did he? He was tense.