Your stomach fell with sadness as the boy before you hissed away in pain, his head turning slightly from the alcohol pad you held against the fresh wound that laid above his eyebrow. He took a moment before leaning back towards your hand, his skin coming back into contact with the rubbing pad as he took in a silent hiss of air.
You let out a quiet sigh as he looked up at you mischievously, shaking your head as you let out a quiet laugh.
"Why do you fight so much, Ebumi?"
Ebumi rose his right hand to the back of his head, scratching it idly as you tossed the slightly bloody gauze pad away, reaching into the first aid kit that sat open beside you to grab a band aid.
"Life isn't any fun without it," He responded, his lips turning up into a half smile.
You looked back over at him, a sad small smile gracing your lips. "And if something happens to you?" You questioned, leaning forward to place the band aid onto his wound, "Like today?"
"You'll be there to take care of me, won't you?"
You rolled your eyes at the smile he gave you.
You ought to be used to it by know – having known the hothead since the early days of elementary school. You should have been used to seeing him slightly bruised and blooded, a devious smile gracing his face as he (usually) comes out victorious. You should have been used to nursing him back to health, scolding him despite thinking that he really wouldn't listen.
And yet you weren't. You still worried about him as much now as you did the first time he came to you for care.
Being one of your closest friends – if not your best one – you couldn't help but worry about him as it seemed that he didn't really worry about himself.
"I don't have anything to worry about if I've got you as a nurse, [f/n]- "
"I wish you'd stop fighting, y'know," You interrupted, beginning to work on the open wounds that were scattered across his knuckles. "It worries me – a lot."
You didn't see the slight raise of his eyebrow as Ebumi watched you, your words rolling around his mind.
"You've never said that before," You rose your eyes to looked at him, placing a cool alcohol pad onto his knuckles. "You always tell me to 'take it easy on the other guy,' or 'only finish fights but don't start them,'" He paused, smiling at you, "You've never told me to stop fighting all together."
You shrugged lightly, raising his hand slightly before blowing onto the wounds to help dry them.
Ebumi leaned in towards you, his head dipping slightly to be able to look into your eyes. "You want me to stop fighting, huh?"
You furrowed your eyebrows at him, "Duh. It's not like I like seeing you like this."
"Tell me and I'll stop," He challenged, his devious grin reappearing. "You're the only person I'll listen to about it anyway."
"Stop fighting, Masaru."
You barely noticed his subtle startle at your use of his first name, but quickly regained himself. He opened his mouth to respond before you continued,
"Promise me."
Despite yourself, you felt your heart flutter ever so lightly at the smile Ebumi flashed you. A genuine one – one that you're rarely fortunate enough to see. You couldn't help the mirroring his smile in your own as his words reached your ears,
"For you, I promise to stop fighting."
