“i’m sorry,” you murmur, casting your gaze toward the floor. “you just finished a shift full of treating people. you shouldn’t have to do it at home, too.”
cradling your dry hands in his scarred ones, zayne inspects your cracked skin with concern. if you were anyone else, his frown would be imperceptible. “i’m not sure why you’re apologizing.”
grabbing the tub of ointment off the coffee table, he deftly unscrews the lid and scoops some up. meticulous as always, he slathers it over your discolored rash, working the medicine into your skin.
your laugh is mirthless. “other people wouldn’t make you do this—fix a problem they created themselves. you’re really lucky, you know? getting stuck with me, of all people.”
“you aren’t making me do anything.” a layer of sternness coats his calm voice. “maybe the nurses wouldn’t believe it, but i do have free will. i’m not doomed to treat every ailment i see without regard for myself.”
the ointment seeps into an especially rough patch of skin and stings slightly. unable to hide your wince, you bite your lip and shift uncomfortably on the couch. when you raise your eyes, kind hazel ones gaze back at you.
“now i’m the one who’s sorry,” he says. “i hate the sight of you in pain.”
“it’s my fault. if i didn’t wash them so much, neither of us would be here in the first place,” you mutter, flailing your foot in mild misery. “it’s been so long—years—but i can’t help it. when i touch something that i don’t know is clean, or safe, i just— i have to. i have to.” your vision blurs as you shake your head back and forth, and the pooling tears are no help. “i feel like a robot. a stressed out little robot who’s programmed to wash their hands a thousand times a day.”
rubbing in the last of the medicine, zayne examines your hands for any missed spots. once he’s satisfied, he gently gathers them and sets them back in your lap, thumbs tracing circles over the backs of your palms.
it’s only been a few minutes, but they look much better than before.
“no matter how many times, you won’t have to manage the aftermath alone. if you’re a robot…consider this your ‘routine maintenance,’” he says, a soft, cheeky smile lighting on his lips. “and know that you have an ‘engineer’ who will always care for you.”
