You two had gone on what was supposed to be a suicide mission last week. He was in critical condition for about a week afterwords, and was still bed bound at the hospital. Though today was the first time you saw him since the mission. You were seated next to the bed, while he continued to play it off as though he was fine.

“Don’t worry, I barely even feel it.” He smiled, as your gaze flickered to a gash on his arm. He was lying to you. Maybe lying to himself, too.