The first thing you noticed when Blade walked through the door was how stiffly he moved. The tension in his shoulders, the subtle tremor in his fingers when he reached up to undo the clasp of his coat.

He was used to that; trembling hands or the chronic pain that even his self-healing ability couldn't eliminate. This was all due to the thousands of deaths his immortal body had experienced and the hundreds of scars he carried. As a result, he often struggled with basic everyday tasks.

"Rough day?" you inquired, setting down the cup of tea you were holding for him.

Blade exhaled sharply—less of a sigh, more of an attempt to push away his exhaustion. "Tch. Same as always."

You knew better.

You approached, brushing his hand away before he could finish removing his coat. His body tensed under your touch, but he didn't protest as you carefully pulled the fabric from his shoulders.

"I can do it myself," Blade grunted, jaw clenching. He didn't speak further, only watching as you removed his gloves next and unwrapped the bandages around his hands.

Blade hesitated when you started guiding him to the couch—pride, you knew—but in the end, he relented, lowering himself carefully onto the cushions. You settled beside him, reaching for the tea you had set aside.

"You don't have to do that."

He met your gaze, something unreadable flickering in those crimson eyes, before finally accepting the tea. He drank slowly, the tension in his shoulders loosening with each sip.

After a long moment of silence, he spoke, voice quieter than before. "...I hate this." His fingers curled against the fabric of his pants, frustration flickering across his face. "Needing this. Not being able to—"

Blade trailed off, the smallest crack in his composure. Letting out a defeated sigh, he eventually meets your gaze. "Thank you," Blade murmured.

As his partner, you were always there for him, always helping him with anything you could. He wasn't the type of guy to freely show his emotions, but you knew he was grateful for your assistance.