“i’m not your personal nurse.”

you tell scaramouche as you wrap the white bandage around his torso, the fabric being tight yet breathable against his pale skin.

you go on and on until your words trail off. your head is dipped low so you can have a clear view of his injuries.

raising your head to say something, your eyes lock with his. he’s been staring at you from the start, a certain intensity in his gaze.