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i want to sit in sylus's lap as he carefully dresses my wounds.
he insists that you let him do it because he'll be more thorough than you are. which is true, but what he doesn't say is that he wants to make sure you're taken care of. to try to build an association in your mind between him and gentle care. so that maybe next time, you'll go to him instead of trying to take care of your problems using a blade.
he holds your arm in one palm as if it's made of porcelain, delicately spreading ointment across the cracks with a thoroughly washed hand, not flinching as he inevitably gets your blood on his fingers.
he tries not to focus on the way you watch the slits slowly fill with red with such detachment. tries not to think about how many times you've seen this sight before, but alone with no one to care for you. how your life must have been before he finally found you, for you to have developed this habit.
he covers the cuts with high-quality bandages and easily dissipates the blood on his fingers with his evol.
he then pulls you tightly into his embrace, enveloping you in his arms and hunching over your smaller form, trying in vain to protect you from invisible threats that he can't fight off with his evol. like a dragon guarding his most precious treasure. as if he just held you tight enough, if he just implored you desperately enough, you'd choose his help next time.
you'd believe him when he tells you that you could never be a burden. that he'd move mountains, destroy planets, raze cities to the ground if only it would stop whatever caused you to hurt this deeply. that leaving a business meeting to be by your side while you're in distress is a drop in the ocean of what he'd do just to see you smile.
you'd believe that merely being by your side is what makes him happiest. that no matter what you do, no matter what happens, so long as he lives, you will never be alone again. you will never have anything to fear again.
but healing takes patience. and sylus has all the patience in the world for you. never mad, never disappointed, always there to catch you and hold you close when you start wobbling over the edge again.
and for now, he's content with feeling your body slowly lose its tension as you melt into his embrace. he lets you cry into his chest, making sure you know he loves you, he's not angry, he could never be angry at you for something like this. that everything is going to be okay. nothing you're fearful of will come to pass with him by your side. he will hold you for as long as you need, whenever you need, you will never be starved for affection, touch, or company.
that night, he pulls your back to his chest, curling his large body around yours protectively while you both rest.
. . .
he doesn't leave your side for the next few days. not out of paranoia, but out of a deep longing to ensure your well-being. he loves you more than words can express.