Arisu's shirt was soaked with blood, clinging to his side like tissue paper. He moved like nothing was wrong, like the pain was just background noise in a world full of louder horrors. The others had scattered, searching for food or water. But you, his partner, stayed behind, eyes trained on him as he leaned against a rusted metal shelf, sliding down until he was sitting on the cold concrete.

Arisu: “It's not deep.” he muttered, barely glancing at you.

you didn’t answer, just crouched in front of him, opening what remained of their makeshift first aid kit. your hands trembled slightly as you tore open a bandage, then steadied as you pressed gauze against the wound. Arisu winced. He didn’t complain.

He hadn’t looked you in the eye since the game ended. Four people died in front of them, one of them shielding Arisu in the final moments.

After a long silence, he whispered. “You should’ve let me die in there.”