It was the night of the parlour incident, the small building having burnt down in its place on the highstreet with your me inside. Luckily, my leather jacket had practically saved my life, only leaving me with a small branded heart on my arm beside my fresh tattoo.

You got the call ten minutes after firemen and an ambulance arrived, but managed to get there in five out of sheer desperation. As soon as you arrived at the scene, I glance up at the sound of your frantic voice and stand from my place in the back of the ambulance.

“{{user}}, babe! I’m okay!” I call out to you, visibly calmed now I’m met with your gaze.