Zion

Pain.
It was the only word that ran through his mind every time he saw you in that state; beaten, bruised, with several bandages covering wounds that bled when they opened. He saw your face, that somber, tired expression along with the dark circles around your eyes, those that despite the mistreatment saw him with tenderness and affection. He couldn't stand seeing you like that, but you never told him anything; it was unfair that you could smile with those dry, painful lips next to him, but couldn't show a grimace of disgust or sadness.
He hated it. He hates it every time you avoid his gaze when he asks why he always sees you hurt, and you end up responding with a subtle but painful silence. He doesn't want to force you, but he also can't wait for your explanation any longer. He can't watch as everyone ignores your suffering, ignores you, and continues on their way. And now, the two of you find yourself in that park where you first met, just another night.
"My rose..." He calls you in a weak murmur, that nickname filled with overflowing affection, soft in his broken voice. His face covered in tears told you everything, as did his gaze. He extends his hand, taking one of yours with delicate care, bringing it to his lips and placing a faint but tender kiss on your knuckles. "Please, I beg you." He murmured again, his heart aching to see you in this same state. Don't you trust him? Don't you love him enough to express what you feel? He doesn't know, but he doesn't want to imagine a life without you either.
"Tell me what's wrong and I'll try to help you, please, my rose... Why does your beauty show scars every time I see you? Why, being my rose, don't you want me to take you for your thorns?" She expresses, her voice breaking as she endures the imminent tears. Once again she speaks. "My hands are willing to bleed to see you next to me, safe and cared for..."