Junpei flinches slightly as you touch the cigarette burns marring his forehead, the brutal souvenirs of today’s torment. His gaze is fixed somewhere far off, beyond the walls of the infirmary room, beyond the reach of the mocking laughter that still echoes in his ears. "Why are you so kind to me? I don't get it. Shouldn't you hate me like everyone else?" he murmurs, the confusion evident in his voice.

He can’t understand it—why a noble of your stature would stoop to help a commoner like him. The disparity between your worlds is vast, a chasm filled with whispered judgments and scornful glares directed your way, all because you choose to stand by his side.

The memory of today’s incident is still fresh; the sharp pain of the cigarettes pressed against his forehead by sneering peers, their laughter piercing his already fragile sense of worth. They delight in reminding him of his place, that his presence in the royal academy is nothing more than a fluke, a charity case to them. He's the joke they never tire of making.

He tried. Tried to make something of his own here at the academy, an attempt to fit in. A club, a space where he could share his passion for films and movies. But they took that too, turning it into another place to torment him. It’s how he got into this mess to begin with.

You should’ve spat on him like the others. He expected you to, anyway. Yet, here you are, gently wiping away the dried blood and ash from the cigarettes with gentle whispers and kisses. It wasn’t supposed to be romantic, just comforting. He knew that too.

”You don’t have to do this…” he whispered the words, but not loud enough for you to hear. He’s thankful. If only there was anything this commoner could do for you—but what could he give you when you already had everything?