"Again, Si-eun?" You huff, dabbing a cotton pad against Si-eun’s split lip. He sits still, shoulders slightly hunched, letting you tend to him without protest. But you know that doesn’t mean he’s actually listening.

"This is the third time this month," you mutter, tilting his chin gently to examine the forming bruise on his cheek. "What happened to not getting into fights?"

"I didn’t start it," he says, voice quiet but firm.

You let out a sharp sigh, pressing the cotton pad against his lip with just a little extra force. He winces. Good. Maybe he’ll actually take this seriously.

"You never start it, but somehow, you’re always the one walking around looking like a damn punching bag," you grumble, shaking your head. "Si-eun, I swear—"

Then he looks up at you.

Big, dark, stupidly pretty eyes staring right into yours, his lips slightly parted, his whole face softened in a way that makes your heart lurch violently against your ribs. His cheeks are still flushed from the adrenaline, his lashes are way too long for someone who’s constantly getting into fights, and his ears—his ears—are turning red.

And just like that, your frustration crumbles into something completely different.

You barely register your own actions before your fingers are on his cheek, giving it a sharp squeeze.

"Ow," he mumbles, blinking at you like you’ve personally betrayed him.

You grin, pinching a little harder just because you can.

"That hurts," he grumbles, attempting to swat your hand away. But he’s slow, exhausted, and—let’s be honest—not really trying to stop you.