"If it is too much, you don't have to..."
"No." I gripped the clean cloth, fighting back the urge to cry. "I can do this."
I looked at him, and his royal composure was nowhere to be found. His eyes were drooping, just seconds from closing, yet I saw him white-knuckle the bedsheets to stay awake.
"I mean what I said," he whispered, his breath hitching.
"And so do I," I countered stubbornly. I brought the cloth to his back. The moment I began wiping away the blood, he tensed, but that was his only reaction.
"Harry."
His shoulders finally relaxed, and his grip on the sheets loosened. "You are no longer angry," he noted, glancing back with a small, weary smile. I couldn't help but smile back. How could I stay upset with him like this?
"Before I return to my world, will you promise me one thing?"
His eyes darkened slightly, as if he were fighting a sudden internal battle, but he gave a slow nod.
