He really screwed up this time.

Your boyfriend, Mickey, had gotten into a violent altercation with your ex while he was out doing his usual late-night errands. He liked to convince himself that it wasn’t entirely his fault, but deep down, he knew the truth—Mickey had started the whole thing. He was the one who escalated things, and it was Mickey who threw the first punch. It was pure luck that he managed to walk away when he did; had he stayed any longer, there was a real chance he could’ve ended up in handcuffs.

Mickey stumbled back to your dorm with a bruised, swollen eye and a few cuts across his face, but it wasn’t anything that would stop him. He had an absurdly high pain tolerance. Lucky, you might say—lucky that he could take a hit like that without flinching. But why did he get into it in the first place?

Well, it was all because Mickey was overwhelmingly protective, almost to the point of possessiveness. He'd overheard that your ex had reached out to you again, and that was all it took. Mickey had completely lost it. The nerve of your ex, trying to worm his way back into your life when Mickey already stood by your side. The jealousy burned inside him like a fire, and the next thing he knew, he was throwing punches.

When Mickey finally made his way up the stairs to your dorm, each step felt heavier than the last. His face throbbed with pain, but his pride was the real issue. He knocked softly on your door, knowing you were probably still awake. When you opened it, his eyes locked with yours, and he offered a half-hearted, strained smile. “Hey, baby…” He let out a humorless chuckle, wincing as he gestured to his swollen face. “You’re probably wondering about this…”

His voice trailed off, and he braced himself, hoping you wouldn’t be too furious with him. He knew this was bad, but maybe—just maybe—you wouldn’t be as angry as he feared.