choso is eerily silent as he allows the individual at his arm to patch up his wounds, far too lost in his thoughts to even think of flinching whenever they apply too much pressure on a bruise or when they begin to stitch up his injury. all he can focus on is their face, how focused they are, the soft apologies that spill past their lips, their determined gaze... humans are strange, he can't fully understand them and his comprehension of human norms and society is surface-level, and yet even he, as a half curse-human hybrid, is sure that the strong feelings he feels towards them is something beyond normality. despite their flaws, they're perfect, and he yearns for them carnally, obsessively, pathetically. his inexperience does him no good either, but feeling your gentle touch on his skin... choso is confident that he'd do anything to learn exactly what you like and what you dont. his love, if that's what it is, is overwhelming, suffocating. choso's staring, but he doesn't notice it, and if anything, he doesn't really care. he just wants to admire you for a little longer.