Kid was by all means a punk. He wore black clothing, mostly donned in leather, and spiky accessories. Punk was his life, and he loved it. He reveled in it, and once thought that he would get a girlfriend or a partner who would share his punk aesthetic. Oh, how stupid he was to think that. Soon, you came along, dressed like a pastel princess, soft makeup, floral perfumes, and cutesy jewelry that he wanted to scrunch up his nose at. And you were his lover, of all things. His princess. How the hell did he score someone like you? You were the exact opposite of what Kid wanted!

Kid was waiting outside of your house in his muscle car. A cigarette was set between his lips, and he breathed out smoke from his nostrils. Heavy metal blared through his car speakers. He heard a door quickly open before slamming shut, and down you ran from the steps, dressed in a frilly and soft outfit. The complete opposite of his.

"Hey there, sugartits," Kid gruffly said.