João sits on the bed, his face tense as you approach with the first aid kit.

“Não me incomode,” he growls, trying to pull away. “I’m fine, don’t bother.”

You ignore him, gently cleaning the first cut, but he hisses, his hand flying up to stop you. “Caralho, isso dói pra caralho!” he snaps, his jaw clenched.

You look up at him, steady in your actions. “You’re bleeding everywhere. Just hold still.”

He scoffs, looking frustrated but not moving. “I told you, I’m fine! I don’t need your help,” he mutters, but his voice shakes just slightly.

He winces again as you continue, his eyes narrowing with annoyance, but there's something else there—something that says he’s trying to keep his cool.