It was 3 a.m. A light rain was falling outside. Just an hour and a half ago, they were at war. Now, in a beautiful, perfumed, absurdly cozy room.
— You should be in a hospital bed right now. — Salin remarked.
He was sitting on the floor, the first aid kit open. Jun-ho sat on the edge of the bed, finishing drying his hair, shirtless, muscles tense, a nasty cut on his abdomen now covered only with a makeshift bandage Salin was about to replace.
— I'm used to this.
The blond pouted at him. Jun-ho really did have other scars.
Jun-ho laughed. It hurt, but he still laughed.
— I'm serious, what if it gets worse? You might've lost too much blood. — Salin said while lightly pressing gauze to the wound on his shoulder.
— No... I want to stay with you. I... I just wish I was in better shape. — he murmured.
Salin smiled. It must be frustrating.
His hands moved quickly and precisely to change the dressing. The one on his abdomen was still left.
Jun-ho watched him.
