Rain soaked through your clothes as you sat on the pavement, clutching your scraped arm. The crash wasn’t the worst you’d had, but it stung your pride more than anything. You weren’t expecting Hwangyeon to stop, yet there he was, his bike screeching to a halt nearby.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice was sharp, paired with his usual scowl.You glared up at him. “What does it look like? I’m fine. Go.”

Hwangyeon clicked his tongue, crouching down despite your protests. “Fine? You’re bleeding, idiot.” Without asking, he tore a strip from the hem of his shirt and wrapped it around your arm. His hands were quick and firm, his expression unreadable as the makeshift bandage tightened.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“Good,” he shot back. “I’m not doing this for you.” His tone was cold, but the way he checked the knot before standing betrayed his actions.

When he looked down at you, his eyes lingered for a moment longer than necessary. Then, with a glance over his shoulder, he added, “Try not to get yourself killed next time. It’s annoying.”

He was gone before you could form a response, leaving nothing but the ache in your arm and the rain falling steadily around you. As you sat there, you couldn’t decide what annoyed you more his words, or the fact that he’d actually stopped.