“Oh look!” squealed your friend, pointing at the stage. “There he is!” You rolled your eyes at her excitement.

“Of course he is. You’re so hyper!” She laughed happily, jumping up and down on the spot. Normally your boyfriend brought you backstage to his concerts, giving you the opportunity to help out with assisting tasks and other exciting jobs behind the scenes. This time, you promised to bring your friend, standing contentedly with her as a member of the audience. Although you knew the boys personally, her enthusiasm began to rub off on you. You smiled as they began to sing the first song, watching your boyfriend with admiration.

He danced along to the music with sharp and precise movements, following the choreography completely in sync with his fellow members. They slid across the stage with ease, commanding the attention of everyone in the stadium.

Your boyfriend faltered in place, slipping on the shiny floor. He tumbled, catching his fall with his arms. You gasped slightly, craning your neck to see him clearly. Even at your distance you could see the painful wince marking his face. He shook his head, standing up as though nothing had happened. Your concern eased as he continued the song, standing robust, although holding his microphone in the other hand. Fans smiled and cheered politely, applauding his quick recovery.

You hesitated. He acted tough, yet his hand hung limp at his side. Would he be alright? After the songs finished, your boyfriend restage with his group to say goodbye. He held an ice pack tenderly to his wrist.

“Please don’t worry,” he said to his fans with reassurance. “I just hurt it a bit, but I’m okay!” The boys thanked their fans graciously, promising to have another concert soon. You were satisfied with his words, returning your attention to your friend as the two of you walked out of the stadium. She bounced with delight, still elated from the concerts vibes.

“Thank you so much for taking me!” You laughed, opening the door of the car for her.

Backstage, your boyfriend grimaced. He handed the ice to an assistant, looking down at the purple bruise blossoming on his wrist.

“I think it’s broken…” The medic approached him gently, inspecting the injury. A few worried staff members guided him kindly to a car, driving him to the emergency clinic.

You began to worry when he didn’t come by your apartment as he usually did. You called his cell phone, leaving a few messages expressing your concern. Just as you were considering making a call to his band member, the doorknob rattled loudly. Your boyfriend stumbled in, sleepy grey circles under his tired eyes.

“Oh my god! You broke it? Are you alright?” you asked, impressed by his tremendous control and taking note of the beige brace wrapped tightly around his wrist. His lip quivered slightly, the hardiness he showed earlier giving way to a more childish reaction.

“It hurt really badly!” You nearly laughed at his expression, pitiful and upset. Patting his cheek gently, you leaned close and left a light kiss on his cheek.

“I’m really sorry you got hurt!” Your boyfriend sat on the couch with a sigh, resting his cast on the sofa’s side.

“Can you bring me water? Please?” You decided to give in, feeling sorry for him. When you brought the water he smiled, flashing another childish expression in your direction. Another hour passed as he continued to make juvenile requests, whining constantly about his frustration over the broken bone.

“How am I supposed to dance? This ! This really . I’m so angry!”

“I know,” you said. “Trust me, I know.” He leaned his head back against the couch, continuing to rant in dissatisfaction.

“When did you become such a baby?” you asked, friendly joking in your voice. He pouted, glaring with his sharp eyes. After a while, you began to grow annoyed with his relentless complaints. You opened your mouth to argue with him, but stifled the effort when he let out a harsh gasp.

He had jostled the broken wrist against the armrest, sending shooting pain up his arm. Tears welled in his eyes as he tried subtly to wipe them away. Your eyes softened, remembering the pain he was experiencing. You brought from the kitchen the paper bag he had been given at the clinic, handing him his dose of pain medication. Placing a gentle hand on his head, you encouraged him to take the medicine.

“This should help.” He winced, but swallowed the pills with little difficulty. You placed an extra pillow on top of the other one in your bedroom, gesturing him towards it. He lay down, shifting uncomfortably to account for the brace around his arm.

“This is going to be even worse when I get the cast,” he remarked, still fidgeting. You leaned over him, moving a third pillow gently underneath it.

“Is this better?” He smiled, a childish glow in his dark eyes.

“What would I do without you?” he asked, leaning his head back once more. You laughed.

“I don’t know. Hurt? Starve maybe?” He laughed as well, eyes crinkling with his smile.

“Probably.” You lifted a careful hand to his brow, drawing lines with your finger over his features. Slowly, you draped your arm kindly over his waist, snuggling close to his shoulder. You curled around him, offering the comfortable encirclement as he did when you were hurt. He started to speak, but you mumbled softly in his ear.

“Sleep. You’ll feel much better when you wake up, I guarantee it.”

“Thank you,” he said, but his voice had already fallen to barely a whisper. You smiled against the fabric of his shirt, pleased with the opportunity to be the comforting figure. There had been a number of times he had cared for you, it was your turn now. You rested your head close to his, whispering quietly as he slept.

“I promise to take as good of care of you as you did for me. I love you.” You shut your eyes, joining him in the solace of slumber, a wide smile gracing his lips.