❂ = wiping blood off their face (ho ho ho.)
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❂ = wiping blood off their face
“how did you injure yourself like this?” just like on their first day, camus didn’t give her any explanations, actually— she even questioned for a moment if he could hear her at all. his silence only made it all more frustrating and haruka more worried. it was hard not to when he randomly showed up. hurt. again. it was a terrible reminder of the situation he was in when they first met. at least this time a trip to the hospital wasn’t necessary ( actually, it was more like he sternly refused to go even after haruka suggested to take him ).
a sigh left her lips as she gently held his hand between hers, carefully keeping his injured palm up. “this might hurt a little bit…” she warned before gently applying medicine to the cut. it looked slightly better now that all the blood had been wiped off. well— as good as a cut like that could be. to be fair, she might have overreacted a little bit—- but when haruka saw blood, her mind could only think of the worst scenario. but in reality, did he cut himself with broken glass? maybe a broken tea cup?
suddenly, cold fingers touched her cheek, snatching her away from her reverie and, inquiring, haruka glanced at him and then at his good hand, noticing after a second how he had just wiped something off. something red. “blood?” how did it even get there? cheeks became pink. how embarrassing. the girl wasn’t usually this messy but, somehow, that trait was always irritatingly evident in his presence. so, just in case, she rubbed the back of her hand to her cheeks, hoping to wipe anything that remained. “… t-thank you.”
after wrapping his hand in bandages, she dared look up and meet his icy eyes. the place where he touched still left with a burning sensation, as if aching to feel his touch again. it never failed to surprise her how gentle his touch felt. a great contradiction to his behaviour. the composer’s cheeks became a deeper red as she noticed she had been staring. “y-you— you should get this checked, camus-san.” even though she knew he would most likely ignore the advice. carefully, she released his hand and stood up. “before you leave… would– would you like a cup of tea?”
