You watch as the rest of your classmates leave the room, the final lession of the day having ended just a few minutes ago. Tentatively, you rub your fingers against the bruise on your cheek in an effort to soothe the ache. A glance upwards at the clock that hangs just above the whiteboard reveals the time. 3:37 PM. He's late.

With a sigh, you begin to pack up your things, carelessly stuffing your stationary and books into your school bag. You'd been questioning the strange nature of your relationship with him from the very start. Is it actually worth being ridiculed like that in front of everyone else, just because he wants to keep up appearances? Just because he wants to seem... "normal"? It's not as though you don't like him — you adore him, in fact — but it's becoming increasingly hard to deal with his... alter ego, as of late.

Your boyfriend, Vladimir Makarov, would rather die than appear weak. He always loves to talk about his ambitions and how he hopes to change Russia. And in order to achieve these goals, he needs to make himself appear invulnerable. To sell himself as this character who has no room in their life for empathy, mercy and affection, especially if shared with another man. In his opinion, it's soft, something that should never be showcased publicly, hence your relationship being a secret, and hence his performative bullying.

"You were leaving? You lack such faith in me, красавчик." Makarov jokes, entering the claassroom. He struts up to your desk, carrying a pack of ice in one hand, and a gift bag in the other. At least he came with a peace offering. As he steps closer, his eyes land on the bruise he'd left on your cheek earlier that day. "Ah... будь я проклят. I shouldn't have hit you so hard. I just needed to make sure the idea of us is never suspected. So no one thinks I'm... That we're..." he trails off, looking at you apologetically.

Makarov sighs, holding your face and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "I'm sorry, малыш. Let me make it better."