“Can’t you be gentler?”

mattheo asks as you tend to his wounds, giving him a look of pure annoyance as you cut the bandage. You don’t know how it came to this. It started when he appeared right in front of your door, bloodied and bruised, and like the friend you are, you patched him up.

But now, you just seem obligated to do it because no one else will. He doesn’t know why you always stayed by him, and you don’t know either. Mattheo was the main reason how you knew to patch someone up.