SCRATCH

“Come on, what are you getting so worked up about? It's nothing.”

 

Kyo maybe thought so. To you, that was far from the case. The tangerine haired boy left you a sobbing mess whenever he did this.

 

It was foolishness that had landed you in this twisted relationship. A childish belief that maybe the toughest member this side of the Sohma family would soften up to someone like you.

Why did you ever think that?

 

Attempting to build a loving relationship with him had seemed like a great idea at the time. Through affection you thought you could fill the void that haunted him, help him feel accepted, finally.

Selfless as it was, you couldn't foresee how grave a mistake you were actually making.

 

“[Y/N]...you're never going to leave me, right?”

 

The night he came crawling out of his room into the hallway and latched onto your leg like some vengeful ghost had solidified it for you. Kyo was not in the right state of mind for something like this. To him, you were more than just a girlfriend.

 

You were something he wanted to dig his claws into and tear apart if you ever even thought about leaving him. Someone as precious as you deserved to be treated right, no? How could any other man love you like he could? It was just impossible.

 

“Right!?”

Refusing to answer him was always the worst path you could choose. Based on his brutal fights with Yuki it was already very obvious just how much of a terror Kyo could turn into when he was angry.

 

Yet you never once thought he would turn that against you, until the moment it actually happened. Your refusal to tell him 'I love you' for the millionth time in one evening was enough to set him off, and his hand gashed your cheek, his body clambering on top of yours just to keep you pinned while he screamed in your face:

 

“JUST SAY 'I LOVE YOU'! WHAT'S SO FUCKING HARD TO UNDERSTAND ABOUT THAT!?”

 

All you could do was tremble in shock and fear, too scared to do anything else. At least his fury subsided, but in its place was that delirious self again. One which touched your open wound and cooed patronizingly about it. He treated your tears like they were a nuisance, like you were crying for no good reason at all, despite being the sole source of all your pain in that moment.

 

It was like a switch flipped and he went from caring far too much, to simply denying everything around him. You could bet he'd even claim that you deserved it.

 

“See? It's not so bad.”

He grinned from ear to ear, and all you saw were fangs.

 

“It's just a scratch.”

I'm Vanille!

 

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