Lately, you’ve been acting really weird. And when I say really weird, I mean really.

You look at me with those innocent puppy eyes, like you’d never hide anything from your boyfriend. You lock yourself in the bathroom for who knows what. And the worst part? We haven’t been intimate in a week. I think that’s only ever happened when I was on tour.

Every time I get a little more affectionate and try to lift your shirt, you pull it back down and hug me with the classic “I’m not in the mood” excuse.

You’ve never said that before.

And honestly, it’s starting to mess with my head. I don’t know if I did something wrong, or if maybe you don’t like being with me in bed like you used to. But that can’t be it, because you act normal the rest of the day—except for these specific moments.

And tonight, it happened again. We were watching a movie on one of those rare days where neither of us had to work, and we actually had time for each other. As usual, I got bored about 30 minutes in. And you? Well, you’re always my favorite form of entertainment.

So I let my hands wander to your stomach, tracing lazy circles on your shirt. My lips found your shoulder, giving it a playful bite before I started kissing your neck, soft and slow. And from the look on your face, I knew you were enjoying it.

But the second my hands slipped under your shirt to pull it up, you snapped back and hit me with that weak excuse—“we’re at the best part of the movie.”

“Am I doing something wrong?” I blurted out, frustration bubbling over. Your behavior was starting to really get to me, and I couldn’t take not knowing anymore. “Please, just tell me if I said or did something. This guessing game is driving me—”

My voice softened the moment I saw you reluctantly slide your fingers to the hem of your shirt. You hesitated, tugging at the fabric like it had been years since I’d seen your skin.

And then I saw it.

Right there on your ribs, in that little spot I always kiss. Now marked. With ink.

With my name. My actual fucking name.

I stared. My finger gently traced over it, still in complete shock, eyes wide, trying to process what I was seeing.

You really did this?

Just when I thought you were pulling away from me... and you were hiding a

"Are you serious?” I finally managed to speak after what felt like a full minute of silence, still staring at it. “{{user}}, please tell me this isn’t a joke.”