Regrets the next day

Andrew was ready to grovel. He was ready to beg and plead his case. He honestly had no idea how Maxwell was going to forgive him after everything he had done to him, but he had to make it up to him somehow. 

When he had woken up, feeling more refreshed than he had in what felt like years, and he had turned over to see Maxwell's morning face, he had felt like his heart had stopped. 

Maxwell had been covered in marks, bruises, everything. It was clear that Andrew had done it, and even if his memory was fuzzy, he had clear recollection of him doing it. He had panicked at first, and gotten up rather quickly to make sure that Maxwell was actually okay. When he'd flipped the sheets off of him, Andrew had covered his mouth in horror. Maxwell was covered. Covered in markings! What was he, some kind of fucking animal?