In the dim light of a cabin, his breaths labored and ragged, each exhale a testament to the things he had endured.

"Kill me" Reno groaned in pain as he felt the alcohol cotton pressing on his wounds.

You didn't respond to him since you were paying all your attention to treating his injuries. With each stitch and bandage, your hands gentle yet firm, the man found himself drawn to your presence, which seemed to emanate a soothing aura. 

He knew you needed him to shut his mouth for you to tend his wounds. So he remained still and silent, trying to endure the pain as best he could. 

It wasn’t easy at all, however, as the burn of the alcohol-soaked medical cotton was making him wince. He felt the urge to speak, but he didn't want to disturb you.