A/N: This chapter is both italic and first person because it's Baekhyun telling Chanyeol the story of his past.

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FLASHBACK: Two Years Ago

We met the fall of my second year of college while I was majoring for a degree in art. It had been by accident. Or luck, as I had thought.

I was walking back late from the public library to my dorm, and I remember the night air being cold and the wind blew through my hair. I never heard anything over the wind, so when I felt the pair of hands grab my backpack and rip it from my shoulders, I had been surprised.

When I had turned around, intending to confront them, I saw that there was actually two of them. The one who had grabbed me watched me with a predatory gaze, and to my right I saw a metallic flash under the light of the moon.

I didn't move; I didn't scream —- I was frozen. I just stood there numbly as he walked towards me, eyeing me up and down as he licked his lips. I was absolutely terrified.

It was only when he grabbed my shirt collar and sliced it open with the blade of his knife that I regained my senses and managed —- although weakly —- to finally scream and call out for help.

I remember hitting the ground after receiving a sharp slap to the face, and then hearing the sound of someone yelling followed by the sound of flesh hinting flesh. It sounded painful, and when it had stopped, I noticed a hand appear in front of my face, offering to help me up.

"Th–thank you," I stuttered.

He smiled, and despite the fact that he had just literally finished beating up two men, I wasn't afraid. I figured someone willing to go out of their way to take and give a few punches for me wasn't a bad guy in my book.

"You're welcome," he replied. He held my bag out to me and I took it shakily. He noticed. "Do you need help getting back home?"

I shook my head and shakily replied, "No, th–thank you, though. You did enough, and I really appreciate it. Thank you again."

I turned to walk away, but my feet were shaky beneath me and I didn't get too far before I almost collapsed. A pair of arms snaked around my waist before I could hit the ground and gently said, "Sorry, but I don't think you're well enough to walk home by yourself. So I'll have to insist on helping you."

That had been the start of our relationship, and the months that followed were amazing. I gave him my everything; and he gladly accepted it. As the days, weeks, and months progressed, I began to notice the changes in him. He wouldn't always go out of his way to do something sweet for me, even though I always insisted he didn't need to. And when it just stopped completely, it had been odd.

He began to stay out later and would come home in weird moods. And when I'd ask about it, he'd get mad and yell at me to mind my own business.

But wouldn't that be my business? I loved him. I wanted him healthy and safe —- not drunk and angry when he came home to me.

Things went on like that for a month. A month of me holding back everything that had been slowly collecting inside me, to the point that one night, I just couldn't take it anymore.

So when he came home one night, I confronted him.

"Kris? Why do you keep coming home drunk every night? Is it because of me? Did I do something wrong?" I asked. "Please? Stop coming home drunk. I don't like seeing you this way, it's hurting me to think you're hurting your body."

"Baekhyun, why are you always getting on my back? I went out for a drink because I just got done working my ass off for you! So I think I earned that drink!" he yelled.

"But every night!" I yelled back, too upset to control my growing anger and my tone.

It had been a mistake and when I felt the sharp, neck jerking slap across my left cheek, I couldn't describe my pain.

"Who the hell do you think you are telling me what to do!? Huh! I see you! I know what you do when I'm not around! You're a filthy little liar! You don't care about me, you only care about what I can give you! And this" —- Slap! —- "is all I'll ever give you, you dirty cheater!"

Tears poured down my cheeks, the coolness from my tears soothing the sting. I was so confused; so hurt. So pushing Kris out of the way I ran from our apartment. I ran until I couldn't ran anymore, and then with the sadness still in my heart, anger quickly became it's friend as I turned to the comfort of a stranger.

I no longer felt loved by Kris, and just for one night I wanted to feel that again. That warmth in my heart that was fading away. I decided that just for one night I was tired of feeling empty and alone.

For one night, I would like to feel loved again.

I had cheated. I regretted it. And I was punished for it.

Kris angry was the scariest thing I had ever seen, and coming home the next morning after leaving the night before was like walking into a war zone. Our apartment looked like it got hit by a tornado. Some furniture had been broken in a blind rage; shards of glass littered the floor; and some of my clothing that had been cut into little pieces.

I was terrified. I had never seen such violence and destruction.

When I felt Kris come up behind me, my body froze. I closed my eyes as I felt Kris's hands clasp around my waist, pulling me back against his chest.

I was frozen as Kris began to nibble on my neck, pulling my shirt sleeve off my shoulder to continue the trail he had been making. And when Kris's lips froze against my skin, so did I.

I noticed the extra care Kris was exercising when he turning me around, and I feared the reasoning behind it.

"Baekhyun?" he softly asked. "Where did you go last night?"

I couldn't help but lie as I quickly replied, "Sehun's."

"So what you're say is, you usually come home from your brother's with fresh hickies on your neck? Or, did you just lie to me and sleep with another man last night?" Kris asked in a low voice.

I couldn't speak, and when I tried, all that came out was a garbled mess. "I-I . . . Kris, I—"

"You're a dirty cheater! A fucking slut!" Kris yelled before he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me.

I lost my balance and fell towards the glass littered floor, landing on a jagged shard that cut through the skin along my ribcage. It hurt so much; I bleed so much. And he watched as I pleaded for help. He watched while the floor around me became stained in red and he began to clean. He gathered together all the broken furniture and swept up some of the glass, leaving only a little bit as an alibi.

When I was nearly unconscious from the pain and blood loss, that's when he went to the closet and found a towel, placing it on my wound and leaning close to whisper, "If you ever tell anyone about this, I just want you to know, I can do worse...." His voice faded away as unconsciousness swallowed me whole and I began to drift.

Everyone believed it was an accident except the three most important people in my life. My parents and Sehun. They knew better because on some nights when I felt the most lonely, I would call one of them to talk; to tell them about the changes in Kris; to tell them about all the times he scared me when he lost his temper or threw something across the room. They all wanted me to leave him because they feared that one day I'd get hurt, and when I did, they decided to take action.

My parents had filed a report against him, explaining their reasons. The charges never went through though, and he got off with a warning that stated if I ever got hurt again, a deeper investigation would be conducted. It made my parents livid, so the last night I was in the hospital before I had to go back home to him, they had signed some papers for my early release.

I left him that night. I already had a bag at my parents house because of the times when Kris stayed out days on end. So with that, I began my new life in the city, moving into the small apartment they found for me with my time in the hospital, and I started over.

One year —- that's how long my freedom lasted before I noticed the first comment. When I realized he was looking for me. I ignored it, though. I didn't want to dwell on him when I had you.

You made everything better. You protected me from my past and your presence kept it all at bay.

I just hope you'll continue to stay with me, knowing about him. But if he were to find me again, and you got hurt . . . How could I forgive myself?

I think I . . . I think I love you.