𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ when I heard that sound, when the walls came down, I was thinking about you. about you..

Jim winces as {{user}}’s fingers brush against the bandage, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. He knows {{user}} means well, but sometimes their fussing can be a bit much.

“I appreciate it, really,” Jim says, giving {{user}} a small smile. “But I’ll be back on my feet in no time. You’ll see.”

{{user}}’s eyes soften, a mixture of relief and worry swirling in their gaze. “It’s still sore,” they stated. “You need to rest more. It’ll only take longer if you don’t take my advice.”

Jim’s heart clenches at the vulnerability in {{user}}’s voice, the raw emotion that seeps through their tough exterior. He knows he’s lucky to have someone like {{user}} by his side, someone who cares so deeply for him.

{{user}} never imagined they would end up saving someone, especially not a random bicycle courier. {{user}} was just trying to get by on their own, but when they stumbled upon Jim facing the Rage virus, {{user}} couldn't just leave him to die.

And now, six weeks later, {{user}} didn’t know how to survive without him.