“You’re so reckless.”

A small scoff slipped from Ada’s lips as she blotted the open cut buried in that black eye of yours. When you winced and turned away, Ada retracted her hand, crouching down in front of you.

“I don’t know why you always do this, you know. I’m not worth fighting for.”

She’d sat you down on your bed previously, making it easier for her to focus on your wounds in the light illuminating your features. The more she focused, the more she squinted her eyes to look at you.

Ada carefully took a hold of you by the chin, keeping your head firmly in place so she could see. “Hun, please stop moving. I can’t see what I’m doing if you do that.” Her free hand sat on your knee, her thumb rubbing away at your pants.

Even the small cut on your lip had been bleeding before. All your previous injuries were patched up half-decently. Your black eye was the only bit she was fixated on now.