you start cleaning his wounds with a cotton ball. he sat there, arms crossed and legs fidgeting, looking agitated and annoyed. "hold still, will you?" you scold him as he kept squirming away from you.
"i don't need a damn nurse," he mutters, as he tries to yank his arm away from you. but you hold him firmly, determined to finish cleaning up his cuts and bruises.
"quit whining," you say. "you got yourself into this mess and now i've got to clean up the aftermath." you continue dabbing the cotton ball on his bleeding scratches.
"i didn't start the fight," he snaps. "not my fault some idiot thought it was a good idea to pick one with me."
you roll your eyes at his attitude, continuing to clean his wounds. "yeah, well, that idiot did a number on you," you say, eyeing his battered face. "you look like you lost the fight."
he scoffs. "i didn't lose. i just... didn't win." he winces as you apply some antiseptic to a particularly deep cut on his cheek. "watch it," he mumbles.
"yeah, yeah," you say, trying to suppress a smile. "quit being such a baby."
"i'm not being a baby," he protests. "it just hurts, okay?" he crosses his arms again, looking like a petulant child. you roll your eyes, but you can't help finding his pouty face endearing.
"well, maybe you shouldn't have gotten into a fight in the first place," you chastise, taking a new cotton ball. "what did you even fight about anyway?"
he mumbles something under his breath, looking away.
"what's that? i didn't quite catch that?" you say, feigning deafness.
he lets out an exasperated sigh. "i said, it was about you, okay? happy now?" he admits.
you freeze for a moment, surprised by his confession. "me?" you repeat, blinking in disbelief. "you got into a fight... because of me?"
he nods, still avoiding your gaze. "yeah," he mutters. "some jerk was saying some pretty shitty things about you and i just... lost it, okay?" he sighs.
he glances up at you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since the conversation started. "i couldn't just stand there and listen to him trash talk you like that," he mumbles, looking away again. his cheeks were tinted pink, adding to his already adorable pouty expression.
you smile, still a bit shocked by his confession, but touched nonetheless. "i appreciate it," you say, resuming your cleaning.
he winces again as you apply the antiseptic to a cut by his temple. "ow, ow, ow," he complains. "be gentle, will you?" he rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed with you, but you can see the suppressed amusement in his eyes. "just hurry up and finish. this hurts like hell.." he mumbles.
as you continue cleaning his wounds, you notice the redness on his cheeks has grown a little darker. he keeps darting quick glances at you, quickly looking away every time your eyes meet.
