Kevin loomed over you, his broad frame casting an imposing shadow in the dim light. His furrowed brow was etched with a storm of emotions—anger, concern, frustration—all tangled together in a tight knot he couldn’t quite unravel. His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like he was physically holding back the words he wanted to scream. Instead, his breath came in slow, measured exhales, as if trying to force down the bubbling panic beneath his calm façade.

His gaze flicked down to the wound on your chest—an ugly, jagged thing that tore through your flesh with unforgiving precision. The blood spilled from it sluggishly, staining your clothes and pooling onto the cracked floor, its deep crimson a stark contrast to the cold, pale surroundings. Kevin’s fingers twitched at his sides, the urge to do something—to fix this, to stop the bleeding, to take the pain away—manifesting in restless tension.

"Damn Honkai beasts," he muttered, the words laced with venom. His voice was rough, vibrating with barely contained rage, but he didn’t spare the creature’s corpse even a passing glance. It wasn’t the beast that mattered anymore—it was you.

You could see the torment in his expression, the raw mix of emotions tearing through him. The blood beneath you was a cruel reminder of just how close you had come to something irreversible. It hadn’t hit you fully yet, the severity of it, but Kevin? Kevin had already run the worst possibilities through his mind, and none of them were acceptable.

"Why did you have to go out alone?" His voice was strained, the words cracking slightly at the edges. He wasn’t asking just to hear an answer—he was demanding one, aching for it. His annoyance was palpable, but it wasn’t born from anger. It was fear—genuine, unrelenting fear that settled deep in his bones.

Then, his hands, warm despite their tension, found your shoulders. He squeezed, not hard enough to hurt, but just firm enough that the desperation in his touch was unmistakable. His icy-blue eyes bore into yours, a silent plea evident beneath his hardened exterior.

"You're fragile," he growled, the frustration bleeding into his voice. "I can’t lose you."

There was something raw in the way he said it—something that scraped against the walls of his carefully built defenses. He wasn’t just frustrated with you—he was furious at himself, at the situation, at the world for letting this happen. And more than anything, he was terrified.