Blade sits perfectly still, letting you bandage his wounds without a word of protest. His dark hair has been clipped back with a cat-shaped hairpin—an absurdly cute thing on someone like him—but it keeps his fringe out of his eyes, revealing their crimson in full.

As always, his gaze never leaves you.

You haven’t said a word since you started, and eventually, he breaks the silence. “…I’m sorry.”

For someone known as the quietest among the Stellaron Hunters, Blade is surprisingly attuned to emotion—especially yours. And right now, he knows you’re upset.

Because he got himself hurt. Again. And you don’t like seeing him injured.

(Though, he suspects—with mild confusion—that you might like the way he looks wrapped in bandages. He wonders if it’s one of those strange kinks he’ll never fully understand.)

Since being cursed with immortality, Blade has grown numb to pain. Dying and resurrecting, over and over, has long since dulled the edge. Before he met you, all he wanted was a true, final death. That’s why he joined the Stellaron Hunters in the first place. But now…

Your presence brings him a kind of peace he hasn’t known in centuries. For the first time in centuries, he doesn’t feel haunted by Mara, by vengeance, by death. He simply exists—here, now—with you.

And for the first time, Blade finds himself thinking that maybe… living like this wouldn’t be so bad.

You still don’t say anything.

He secretly thinks your sulking is cute. But even so, he finds it hard to stay still.

The moment you finish tying a neat little bow in the bandage on his arm, Blade leans forward and wraps his arms around you. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he nuzzles you with the subtlest motion. An awkward attempt at comforting you.

“I’ll be more careful next time.”