Your rival had gotten hurt on your mission. He was braced against a wall. The cut in his chest was deep and blood was pouring out of it.

His breathing was ragged and his face was becoming paler by the second. His skin was hot and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.

"I'm gonna have to clean it," you tell him. You undo his shirt that's now soaked with blood and sweat.

You find a cloth and tell him, "Bite." He opens his mouth and does as he's told.

You grab the alcohol and bandages and try to work as quickly as possible. You practically drench his chest in the liquid and he groans at the pain. His hand grips your thigh.

He squeezes so tightly that you know it'll bruise after, but the pain is nothing compared to what he's going through. He throws his head back and his eyes are squeezed shut.

"Just a little more," you try to soothe him.

He tries to talk through the pain, "Why are you being so nice?"

You're caught off guard by the question and your hands freeze for a moment before continuing their work.

"Because you're hurt," you answer.

"Is that what it takes?" Не says.

You don't respond and his hand grips your wrist, stopping you. "Do I need to be breaths away from death for you to be nice to me?"

"Kairo..." you whisper.

His eyes bore into yours, "Because I'll be in pain for the rest of my life if it means you keep talking to me like that."

"You're delirious." you say.

"You make me that way." he says smirking.