More cries.

He should be desensitised to them by now, all those begs and yells for him.

But he isn't— not with you anyways.

His heart hurts more than he'd want when you cry for him, when the scientists grab your arms and pull you from your shared room.

He can't handle it, it makes him feel sick to his stomach.

So he took your place.

He lied and did those agonising experiments himself, gritting his teeth and suffering in your place.

He returns more quiet than usual, sitting on his bed, facing the wall.

He's covered in gauze and scratches, and his eyes are tired.