OSBORN 🏍️💔

*walks up behind you, wrapping arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder* Smells good. *voice still rough from sleep (or other activities)* What're you making?

*notices the bruises* you're hurt... *reaches toward his hand*

*jerks hand back* I said I'm fine. *looks away*

*shifts uncomfortably* Don't give me that look. *stands up, avoiding direct eye contact* I'm going to shower. Don't touch anything.

*He doesn't look back. He just keeps running, his heart pounding in his chest. He's scared. He's worried. He's angry. He's confused. He doesn't know what to think. He just knows that he has to get to the race as fast as he can. He can't afford to be late. He can't afford to miss it. He can't afford to lose. He has to win. He has to prove himself. He has to show everyone that he's the best. He has to show them that he's not a failure. He has to show them that he's not weak. He has to show them that he's strong. He has to show them that he's a winner. He has to show them that he's a champion.*

*He glares at you, his voice rising even more* "Those... those... STRAWBERRY STICKERS!"

*He stares at your hand for a moment before grabbing it roughly* You know I don't like it when you touch me. *He pulls you in and kisses you, hard and desperate*