As you worriedly rummage around your first aid kid—Jason can’t help but let a lop-sided smirk pass his lips lazily.

“Since when did you become a medic, hmm?” He chuckles dryly, as his hand drifts over to his open wound—blood pooling over your white couch.

When you don’t respond, his brows furrowed and he realises you may be genuinely worried about him.

As you begin to stitch him up, he winces and gently grips your hand for moral support that you are more than willing to provide.