Randal drummed his fingers against the rickety table, the same one he had just used as an improvised "operating table" only a few minutes ago. He was nervous, but also filled with a peculiar satisfaction. "Will he like it? Will he think I’m romantic or just a damn lunatic?" he wondered, glancing at his bandaged forearm with a crooked smile.

The doorbell rang. It was you. He jumped off the couch with restless energy, messing up his hair a little more as he opened the door.

"Finally, you’re here! I thought you weren’t coming," he said with his usual sharp tone, though there was a special glint in his eyes when he saw you enter, books still in hand.

He looked at you with that air of mystery and mischief that always surrounded him. He settled back on the couch, gesturing for you to join him.

"Don’t freak out, okay? It’s just... a small thing."

Without saying a word, he began carefully unwrapping the bandage. The skin around it was slightly red, but what caught your attention was what was right in the center: your name, clumsily carved into his forearm, as if it had been done with a dull knife.