Falling For You🌠

It's okay. It's okay. You'll be fine. Maybe it's not that noticeable.

Your head was splitting from the sudden and abrupt impact upon rising from your pillow. You're beginning to wonder if you were developing any form of brain damage from how many times you've knocked it against random surfaces of the ship. This was the third time this week you've gotten up too fast from your bed and hit it on the fortifying support posts above you. All the other instances, the repetitive knot would form at the top of your cranium hidden behind your hairline. Only this time, you snagged the edge of it just right and it left you with a mountainous swelling that floated up to the surface of your skin, a couple centimeters above your brow bone. You growled in frustration as you rubbed the area in comforting circles to disperse the ring of broken blood vessels while sitting back down in defeat to allow yourself a few moments to shake off your stupidity, intensified with a quickly emerging headache.

"Good morning." You hear Tech call out while holding two freshly brewed cups of caf. Despite your growing discomfort, you smile at his act of grace, always favoring the way he made it over anyone else, even yourself. He always checked to be sure the machine was properly cleaned before operating it; a vital instruction you implemented that often went overlooked by the rest of the crew. He walked in to greet you as well as fill you in on the day's upcoming agenda. Concern masked over his face as he lowers one of the cups to hover in front of your nose, tempting you with the caramelized, nutty scent. "Another... occurrence, I presume?" Tech had seen you unintentionally harm yourself on many occasions and always knew when your soreness was radiating just a little too harshly.

"Oh, this?" you respond, chuckling under your breath, "It's nothing. I'll be alright. Thank you! For the caf, I mean..." Shamefully hanging your head, you lightly push a few locks of hair forward to cover your bump as you reach for the cup in his left hand, shrugging off your pain as best as you could. With the perky drink working as a distraction, it allows you to appoint the focal summit of your conversation. Though, Tech knows you have a tendency of playing down your condition in fear of embarrassment.

"There was enough in the pot for two before the rest of the heathens consumed it all. I had to be sure you got some as well. We've a lot to cover today." The sincerity in his voice soothed your headache, especially knowing he kept you in mind when rationing out certain provisions. Listening to Tech speak, particularly to you, there is always a dulcet reverberation in his tone, lagged and delicate, as if each note in his dialect lightly traced itself across your eardrums like a feather tickling your inner thoughts. "Are you certain you're alright?" Tech asks, taking note that you haven't raised your eyes to meet his even once since he entered the room. You remain staring at the swill in your cup, taking the occasional sip while trying to ignore your pulse slamming itself against your skull from the building pressure.

"Y-yes. I'm fine, Tech. You don't have to worry-" just as you're about to dish out your usual dismissal, Tech gently grasps your chin with his free hand, imprint of warmth still cloaking his flesh from holding your steamy drink, and lifts it a few degrees upward. You harshly squint from the sudden caress as well as the sting of the lights invading your dazed corneas. You also didn't want to feel judgment for earning yet another contusion from something so mundane. Peering at him through your eyelashes, you let out an unintended gasp at his suddenly swift movements that rang out in a significantly higher pitch than any casual expression.

"That's going to leave a mark. Fib all you want, I am unconvinced. You should know better than to leave head injuries untreated." Tech declares to you before brushing the bangs out of your face. The tip of his finger slightly bumps against your injury as he conducts his examination and it causes you to recoil away from his touch while letting out a strident hiss. You moan in pain before straining a laugh, having been caught red handed. "Just as I suspected. Allow me to retrieve some analgesic tablets and an ammonium-nitrate pack. I would imagine a nuisance like that does not bode over well as soon as you wake up. Hold this-" Tech orders you to take his cup in your other hand as he makes his way to the first-aid supplies, wasting absolutely no time to doctor your welt.