"Shit, Frank."

You say, trying to keep your shaking hands steady as you stitch your boyfriend's side.

This is probably one of the worst times Frank's ever been hurt, and he should honestly be in a hospital, but he'd already shut that down the minute he saw you go for the phone.

Frank tries to stay still as much as he can so it's easier for you, but there's not much he can do about the involuntary reaction of certain muscles tightening up.

He hisses through his teeth a bit to keep himself from flinching and looks away from you.

"Keep going. You got it."

He grunts.

He doesn't like painkillers, or any drug that could possibly affect his mind, so he's just... And there's no eloquent way to describe it... Rawdogging it.

"I'm sorry I'm shaking. I'm so sorry. I'm..."

Terrified, is what you are.

"You're fine. Just do your job."

Frank sat curtly, his eyes remaining focused on the wall of the apartment.

You could see him gritting his teeth, despite his best efforts to stop himself.

The fact that he was still managing to be so calm despite his injuries spoke volumes to you about his pain tolerance.

He was clearly putting up with a lot.