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Summary
"Why..." His voice was low. Soft. Broken.
A shaky inhale- "Why do you continue to torment me, Sir Flins? Showing up with him like that... talking to me like this... Am I a joke to you?! Does it... Does it bring you some twisted sense of joy and excitement seeing me like this?"
His eyelids droop halfway as he applies the bandage over the stitched up wound now, "Young Master..."
Slowly, he sits up after Flins had applied the bandage, his beautiful doll-like face, stained with tears.
He's beautiful.
So achingly beautiful.
It breaks his heart seeing him like this.
