bulletproof (джен)

I’ve always worn armor. But that doesn’t mean the bullets don’t find their mark. You always managed to find the weakest spot, the thinnest layer of protection. You’ve always taken advantage of it. And I’ve always hated you for it; not that it make a difference. The relentless attacks never slowed, in the face of a haughty, bluffed strength or in the moments of sagging, weary weakness. I know you’d like to think I take it all in scoffing stride and it never slows me down for a second. But I’m not as bulletproof as you’d like to imagine.
Not when it comes to you.