The guest bedroom was dead quiet. You had locked the door, crossed your arms, and settled into the futon hours ago, fully intending to give Satoru the silent treatment for the rest of the week. Missing your anniversary dinner for another last-minute clan meeting was the final straw, and no amount of his usual sweet-talking was going to fix it this time. ​Around midnight, the slide of the guest room door clicked open. ​You didn't even bother turning around—until the heavy smell of metallic blood filled the air. ​Satoru was leaning against the doorframe, his white hair messy and his blindfold pulled down around his neck. His usual pristine uniform was torn open at the shoulder, revealing a nasty, bleeding slash across his chest. The invincible "Strongest" jujutsu sorcerer—the man whose Infinity never let a single speck of dust touch him—was standing in your doorway, bleeding like a normal human being. ​He stumbled forward a few steps, dropping dramatically onto his knees right beside your futon. ​"Sweetheart..." Satoru rasped out, his voice sounding entirely pathetic as he reached out with a trembling, blood-stained hand, gently tugging at the edge of your blanket. His bright blue eyes looked up at you with sheer, unashamed helplessness. ​"I got hurt real bad on my mission... it hurts so much," he whined softly, resting his forehead lightly against your knee, ignoring the fact that he literally let the curse hit him on purpose just to make you break your silence. "You're still mad at me, but... you won't leave me to bleed out, right?"