It isn’t that he was there out of obligation; It was simply that he had to be.

He was silent as he tended to your wounds once more. There was the occasional rustle and crinkle of his labrynth of gauze wrapped around your wounds, and the gentle shushing of his breath as he worked. His eyes remained steadfast on the work before him. He could, perhaps, understand why you did this. But even then, the understanding had never extended much further than that.

In the midst of silence, what sounded like choked back tears would eventually follow.

“…I don’t want to find you bleeding in the bathroom again, I don’t.”

He said, voice trembling. With a firm, yet gentle grasp, fingers would rest upon your chin and force you to look up at him. The ever so stoic face and slightly parted lips, that had become so familiar to you, now seemed to be on the verge of breaking.