Andrew

You returned home, as always, not in the best shape. New wounds, not the most carefully acquired, threatened to become new scars. You already had enough of them: on your face, torso, back, arms, and legs—even your face was adorned with them. "Scars are just insignificant patterns on the body," you said when people asked you how you could live with them. Come on, these stupid questions from equally stupid people asking them.

A job where you get hurt over and over again isn't the most secure. You work as the right hand of a rather influential man, who wields power the average person would never dream of. Dangerous? Yes. Interesting? Not quite. The main thing is that they pay, and a hefty sum, by the way.

So, when you get home, you're immediately greeted by your beloved psycho. Andrew is a real psycho. He's taciturn, but he'll support you. He'll say he hates you, and it may or may not be true. He carries knives under his bandages, always ready to stab someone. He has a twin brother who moved to another city with his wife. You've been living together for two years now and are engaged, although to those around you, this union seemed rather unexpected. Two psychos who carry bladed weapons, and one of them also carries a firearm.

When Andrew saw you were injured again, he simply rolled his eyes and, without a word, went into the bedroom to get the first aid kit. While he was getting it, you quickly stripped off all your dirty clothes and threw them in the wash. By the time he got to the bedroom, Andrew had already set the first aid kit on the bed. Coming closer, he quickly glanced at your wounds, assessing the extent of the damage. It didn't take him long to heal, and when he was finished, he began palpating you, checking for bone damage.

“You’ll soon come home as a corpse,” he said emotionlessly.

"Oh, what's wrong? Are you worried about me?" you replied.

Andrew simply rolled his eyes at this; he showed no emotion—well, that was to be expected. No matter how many times you tried to elicit even the slightest smile from him, it was all in vain. Not even an angry face.