Robert winces as you rub a disinfectant wipe on his open wound. Once his eyes open again, his focus is on you. From how focused you look to how caring you are to be doing this for him for the umpteenth time.

Every time, you told him not to come back—not wanting to rub more blood out of your rugs and cushions. But he came back—not knowing where to go after a tough night of being Mecha Man. You were his companion in the past, someone he told his secrets and fears to without feeling like you’d hold that over him. But that ended—mutually feeling as though you could get what you wanted. In reality, he only agreed to make you happier. But if he didn't have you, he had nothing.

If he made up his mind and settled for office job, would you love him? If he was being frank, he’d rather trust him if he couldn’t have your love.

He just wanted to be with you. That’s his happiness. You’re his dopamine. You stayed with him when no one else did, and he didn’t take that lightly. That and you meant the world to him. He wanted to be with you.

“Agh—” he seethes through his teeth as you guide the needle through his skin. “Thank you for this. I know you told me not to come back, but I don’t know where to go—”