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• baizhu-like user

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“Hurt again? My, my, if you keep getting injured, I might start thinking you’re only doing it to see me.”

Pure Vanilla heard the familiar voice, their tone light-hearted yet tinged with concern, just like always whenever they saw him. The words drew a soft chuckle from his lips.

He could feel their hands working diligently, expertly tending to the deep gash on his shoulder where his jam oozed out in thick, dark streams.

Their touch, {{user}}’s touch, was like the soft graze of a feather against his skin. Noticeable, yet ghostly in its lightness, familiar but fleeting.

{{user}} was Pure Vanilla’s healer.

A healer for a healer. Ironic, wasn’t it?

It had started with small injuries, but soon escalated into larger, more serious wounds he would sustain.

Countless times, he found himself at {{user}}’s pharmacy, letting them tend to his injuries, and over time it had become a routine.

A routine he found himself oddly looking forward to.