My Baby (Sun/Moon x Reader)

Confronting is too Tiresome

-x-

You didn't want to get your and Moon's time of just existing to end, but it was getting late and you had to make a small mental schedule of when to take the pills and apply creams.

The TV plays a different movie, one that borders a little on survival horror given the slightly late hour, but Moon does nothing to even show he was understanding the story. He just... watches whatever that moves. Well, if it makes him calm then so be it.

You shift, stretching your arms upward— ah, right, you also have to apply your own cream for the nasty bruise on your back. But that can wait. You turn to Moon, whose red eyes were on you the second you moved. "It's..." You look at the clock— "Twelve and a half, you should take the second dose now."

Thin eyebrows furrow and Moon's face crunches into a frown. Nope, doesn't seem like he likes the idea at all. Though, after a bit of staring, Moon just lies back down on his front, using his arms to stretch backward and his hands to grab the hem of the sweater. He lifts it up lazily, even if his eyes were still drawing a hole on your head. It wasn't trust, you realize. He isn't doing this because he trusts you, which is understandable, you weren't expecting them to do that anytime soon. But the forced glare tells so much— he doesn't want to be hurt for disobeying. Even if you didn't have the same device the bastard had (and they hadn't seen your taser), Sun and Moon still believe you have something up your sleeve if they did something wrong.

You silently sigh through your nose. It wasn't anything you believed would be an easy ride— this wasn't just someone with trust issues and will take time to open up. It was different, even if the difference still has similar outcomes and reactions. A person with trust issues wouldn't let you do anything if they didn't trust you. A person who had been hurt by stronger individuals when they don't do as told would— they'd listen and let you do anything for the sake of not being hurt, even if the process itself is painful. Fear could blind people, but pain could do worst. Trauma doesn't heal with sweet words or actions, but those are still the first steps into it.

It will take a while— a long ride to go through. But it is always better than staying where it hurts.

And, well, it wasn't as if you had anywhere else to be other than here and now.

"I'll get them for you," You stood up, taking the tray with you all the while. You had the bag with the medications on the counter where you'd left them this morning. Grabbing a cup, you fill it with water, and wonder briefly when had Sun and Moon last drank some. The tray is safely put beside the sink and you take the bag with you to the living room again, finding Moon still laying down, though, a little tense as he rests his head in his arms— a fake confidence, it was showing with how his none-injured leg kept shaking.

You sit close, crosslegged, and get the medications out— it will only be one cream this time, the one for burns is used once a day only.

Red eyes seem to glimmer in the dim light, pupils shrinking in as you open the lid of the blue cream, squeezing some on the tips of your fingers. It was a little dark, but last time you practically put the cream everywhere, and the TV light is enough for you to see despite Moon's bluish creamy skin. "I'll start now. If anything hurts, tell me, okay?" You get a hum. Good enough. With your clean hand, you hold the sweater more upward in place, trying not to let the cream on it (the thing smells like copper, it isn't the best of smells to have on you or them).

Moon flinches at the touch as your fingers slowly rub circles, hands warm but the cream is a little cold. It now proved to you that Moon does, in fact, have a colder body. It's odd how that works, but who were you to say anything about a specimen you don't even know the name of?