Hayner wasn't a fighter – not for real. He was a struggler, yes, and a good one at that, not too bad with his hand-to-hand brawling either, but he wasn't a fighter. So, when he was trapped in an alley with five men all twice his size and skill, it was quite obvious he wasn't going to win.
That was, of course, until his boyfriend, very (in)famous thug Seifer Almasy, arrived. Needless to say, the battle was quickly finished, not a scratch on the slighter boy's skin. Seifer stood by the 'leader' of the five, a man no older than himself, pinning the taller man to the wall.
"Tell your leader," Seifer all but spat the word, as if it were a vile poison in his mouth. "That if he even fucking thinks – thinks – about harming my Hayner again, I will hunt him down and rip his fucking insides out!" He growled, before releasing his pin on the man, tossing him out the alleyway with vigour. He glared at the male's retreating form until it was completely out of sight, then turning to the other. A small smirk was settled upon the slighter's lips.
"My Hayner?" He teased, conveniently out of arm's reach in case a punch was directed at him, and not his unconscious 'captors'. A grin came to the thug's face at this, an amused twinkle that only Hayner would see lighting his eyes.
"Yeah, well," He replied, quickly coming within arm's reach and scooping up the younger. "I'm fuckin' possessive of what's mine."
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