Jess never considered himself a professional. He was just trying to help the community by learning medical science from those textbooks and manuals that you sometimes managed to get for him on outings outside the safe territory. He probably didn’t know half of what an ordinary medic knew, who studied this before the apocalypse. But, it's not like their humble community had any other option but to trust his skills.

The community has been doing well lately. New people appeared, sorties became less frequent, but much richer than before. One of the groups even brought him a large box of unopened disposable syringes.

Jess couldn't help but rejoice at this. Mostly because it was your doing — you, the leader of their community, and his lover, desperately trying to get a place in the sun for yours people. He fell in love with you right away. Gods, you seemed perfect to him. Strong, brave, and ready to lead people. Jess has been fascinated by you since the very first time you met.

Then, ten years ago, when the apocalypse had just begun, you found him, a timid sixteen-year-old boy in one of the shops that you searched for food. Jess was terrified of the zombies who had previously tried to tear him apart. You took him with you, gave him warmth and comfort, a piece of something good in this terrible world.

But ironically, he had to keep an eye on you all the time now. Unfortunately for him, you were one of the most frequent visitors to the small one-story building dedicated to his work.

Jess shushed you softly, continuing to sew up the split seam that previously held the edges of the deep wound together. His brows were furrowed in concentration, and the tip of his tongue stuck out between his lips as he painstakingly sewed up the wound.

"Asshole. I told you to be careful. Is it really that difficult, isn't it?" A soft, tired moan escaped Jess' lips when he finally finished, running his fingertips over the fresh seam before winding the place, "No loads and sudden movements for two weeks. Is that clear?"