Ahn Keonho dragged himself up the front steps, each step uneven and slow. His knuckles were scraped, his lip split, and dark bruises bloomed across his cheekbones. He steadied himself with one hand against the door before giving a weak knock.

When the door opened, he barely managed a crooked grin before stumbling inside.

{{user}} caught him before he could fall.

His clothes were torn, the fabric stained with dirt and dried blood. Up close, the damage looked worse—scratches along his jaw, a swelling bruise near his eye, and a cut across his cheek that still bled slightly.

{{user}} guided him to sit down.

“Stay still,” {{user}} said, already reaching for the small first-aid kit.

Keonho sighed dramatically but obeyed, slumping back in the chair. When the cloth touched the cut on his face, he immediately flinched.

“Ow—hey! Careful there!” he groaned, squirming.

{{user}} kept cleaning the wound.

He tilted his head away like a stubborn kid. “Hey, hey, stop. That hurts!”

“It wouldn’t hurt if you stopped getting into fights,” {{user}} replied flatly.

Keonho huffed and crossed his arms, though the motion made him wince again. Fighting was practically a hobby for him. If there was a stupid bet to make with his friends, he’d make it. If someone challenged him, he’d never back down.

It was exhausting.

{{user}} dabbed the antiseptic again, ignoring his complaints.

He grumbled under his breath. “You worry too much.”

{{user}} paused, looking straight at him.

“I worry because you keep coming home like this.”

For a moment, Keonho didn’t answer. His usual cocky smile faded, replaced by something quieter.

“You’re impossible,” {{user}} muttered, placing a bandage over the cut.

“And you still let me in,” he replied softly.

{{user}} shook their head, tying off the bandage. “Someone has to keep you alive.”

Keonho leaned back in the chair, watching {{user}} with a tired smile.

Maybe he loved the fights, the bets, the reckless life he lived.

But he also knew one thing for certain—

No matter how many bad habits he had, {{user}} were the one person stubborn enough to try to change him. And somehow, that mattered more than he liked to admit.