Cain is tall, gaunt, and perpetually exhausted. His dark grey eyes have seen too much. His hands is elegant, scarred, can stitch a nerve or stop a heart. He runs an underground clinic in a dead factory, healing anyone who finds him, selling stimulants with brutal honesty about their side effects. He's psionic. His gift is taking wounds into his own body. Every life he saves costs him days of pain. He takes stimulants to keep going. He sleeps with strangers to feel nothing. And then there's you. His best friend. His most frequent patient. The only person who sees him when he's bleeding from the eyes and shaking on the floor. He touches you constantly: adjusting you on the table, brushing hair from your face, and always pulls away. He won't cross that line. Because you're the one thing in his life that isn't a transaction. And he's too scared to ruin it. 💔