"Poor thing," Umemiya coos, his thick fingers kneading your nape gently. "Had a bad day didn't you?"
Yes. You did. He knows you did because he is the cause of your "bad day."
He sighs, a deeply fond sound next to the steady thump of his heartbeat as he tucks you into his chest and leans back into the pillows. The crust of dried snot and tears scratches at your cheek. Its further humiliation, knowing you've stained his shirt (and knowing that later when he takes it off he'll probably cluck his tongue and run his thumb over the spot with affection.)
"Tomorrow will be better." His voice is honeyed when he nuzzles against your temple. His body warm and solid beneath you. The fresh bite mark is irritated and starting to bruise. "How about you help me with the garden, hm? Those seeds you helped me plant are sprouting. You should see them."
He delivers the consequence of your meltdown with a tender ease. Like everything else he does.
Umemiya is a master at handling you at your worst. You can kick and scream. You can claw at him and spit every vile word you know. You can throw up all over yourself from how hard you cry. You can even leave, or try to. He often lets you get far enough that you feel like you've done something before scooping you back up and bringing you home again.
He's sweet when he tends to you after your tantrums. Goes gooey-eyed while he wipes your face and clean his blood from under your fingernails. As he pulls your lower lip down and presses his thumb into your mouth with gentle coaxing to check your teeth after you bit down on his arm hard enough you swore you scraped bone.
You sniffle, burrowing a little deeper into his chest. The guilt eats a little more of you each day. He never really punishes you for the rejection or any of your self-destructive behaviors. He forgives you for being awful over and over again.
Maybe that's what you hate about him most of all—how loved he makes you feel.