Wearing a slight frown, you murmur a scolding to him as you gently spread alcohol rub onto the swab. The eldest boy winces, his body flinching as the cotton swab makes contact with his open cut.

"I understand you're upset, but could you be more gentle?" he groans, clutching the pillow resting on his lap. His eyes remain fixed on me as I carefully cleanse his wound.

"Seriously, be good to me," he sulks before flashing a cunning and self-assured smirk, well aware that your irritation.