You shared a bedroom with Chrollo, though lately, it felt like there was a wall between you. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you struggled to wrap a fresh bandage around your ribs. Every movement sent sharp pain through your body, but you gritted your teeth—you had done this countless times before.

Chrollo sat at his desk, focused on a stack of documents. The soft scratch of his pen against paper filled the room, blending with your unsteady breathing. He didn’t look up. He didn’t ask.

Frustration boiled over. Your hands dropped to your sides, letting the bloodstained bandage slip through your fingers and land on the floor. The stark red against the white fabric stood out like a silent accusation.

Only then did Chrollo lift his gaze. His expression remained calm, unreadable.

— Bandage that. — His voice was firm, like it was just another task to be checked off a list.

As if he didn’t realize that this time, it was you who needed his attention.