Arlo’s hands were fidgety as he sat as still as he could, his eyebrows twitching ever so slightly as you pulled the string taut through his lips.

He didn’t enjoy this process, but he’d much rather keep his lips shut than risk harming you with his wails. He’d never forgive himself if he hurt you.

When you finished his stitches, he raised his hands to sign his words.

”Thank you, my dear. You did a beautiful job.”