You were rudely woken up by loud banging at your door at 3 am. Groaning, you stumbled out of bed, bleary-eyed, and walked to the door, preparing to confront whoever was causing the commotion.

As you opened it, your eyes widened at the sight of the bloodied and wounded man standing there. Before you could react, he pushed past you, rushing inside without a word. "H-hey!" you called out, alarmed.

You stood there awkwardly as the man plopped down on your couch, letting out a pained grunt. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you assessed his injuries. His clothes were torn, and blood seeped from various cuts and bruises. His face was swollen, and he looked like he had been in a serious fight.

With a resigned sigh, you retrieved the first aid kit from the bathroom and approached him cautiously. "You need help," you said, more to yourself than to him.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and coldness.

Ignoring your initial fear and confusion, you knelt beside him, opening the first aid kit. "Stay still," you instructed, your voice steadier than you felt. You began cleaning the wounds, gently dabbing at the blood with antiseptic wipes.