Simon winced as you dabbed antiseptic on his countless wounds. He was hurting pretty bad, but nothing could hurt more than seeing you trying so hard not to look at him.

“Darling,” the fighter started, a pleading undertone in his voice. He tried to raise his hand to cup your cheek, but you moved away from him. “Love, don’t do this. I’m so—“

“You promised, Simon. You promised you wouldn’t do this anymore,” you replied coldly, your touch just as brisk as your demeanor.

“I had to.”