There was Clay. And he really, really liked you. That’s a thing.

But then there was you. You were an absolute hazard to yourself and danger to society, not a day without someone chasing you with something.

But he still liked you. And he was very, very concerned about you, too.

“You need to stop doing this, i swear.” He murmured under his breath, wrapping the bandage around your knee as you sat on your kitchen counter, playing with the hold of a knife. Watching him, admiring.