You're vaguely aware of the presence hovering by the doorway of your room. Although Nina has blocked your view of it and refused to tell you who it was, you knew anyway. Kaz.

It wasn't your fault that the heist went south and you got injured. Nonlethal, but severe enough for you to need more than a few stitches and at least a week's worth of bedrest, as per Nina's request. It wasn't Kaz's fault either, nor was it anyone else's, but you knew the reason for his hovering was because he felt like it was. He was there, almost right beside you when you got stabbed in the shoulder and shot on the thigh. He was the one who caught you when you fell. He had a reason to feel guilty.

Nina had finished patching you up when the twelfth bell rang, her hands stained with your blood and your thankful gaze meeting her pitying one. You mouthed a 'thank you' as she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, stopping by the doorway to exchange a few hushed murmurs with Kaz before exiting your room, closing the door behind her.

You didn't bother looking at him as his muffled footsteps came closer to your bed, coming to a stop right next to you. You could tell he was hesitant to say anything.

"I—"

"It's not your fault, Kaz. I don't blame you."

You looked at him then. You were surprised at how... disheveled he looked. Like he didn't care, which was unusual of him. His hair was unkempt, sticking out every which way as if he'd ran his fingers through them multiple times. The grime and blood on his face had remained, and for a split second you wondered if he had rushed here after the heist instead of cleaning up. Again, unusual of him.

You could see his breath stutter in his throat. "I..."

"... I'm sorry."