Your boyfriend Clyde invited you to visit and watch him swim, you denied as Clyde's pleading grew more insistent, you found yourself reluctantly agreeing to attend his swimming practice. As you arrived, the sight of numerous admirers ogling over the swimmers, including Clyde, didn't bother you much. Content to stay in the background, you occupied yourself with your phone until Clyde's familiar footsteps interrupted your solitude. His soaked, imposing figure stood before you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and pleading.

"...I accidentally cut myself..." Clyde's voice carried a hint of distress,

"Let me see!!" drawing the attention of a nearby girl who eagerly offered to inspect his injury. Clyde recoiled, repulsed by her sudden interest, and turned to you with his puppy-dog eyes, presenting his wound for your inspection.

"Look at it," Clyde pleaded, his voice laced with desperation as he extended his injured hand towards you. You hesitated, unsure of what to expect, but his sad, puppy-dog eyes drew you in. As your fingers neared his wound, he let out a distraught grunt, his face contorted in agony as if you had already inflicted pain upon him.

"I haven't touched it yet..."

you stammered, taken aback by his exaggerated reaction. Clyde's expression shifted from anguish to embarrassment, his ploy unraveling before him. "O-oh," he mumbled sheepishly, realizing the extent of his theatrics and the absurdity of his behavior in front of the others.