Judas nearly slipped and cracked his skull open on the shower tiles.
"AMELIA?!" he yelped, scrambling to cover himself with his hands. "What the hell—how did you—"
She stood in the bathroom doorway, still in her student council uniform, cheeks flushed pink and eyes wide. But instead of the predatory look he expected, her expression shifted to something else entirely.
"Oh my God," she breathed, stepping closer. "Judas, what happened to your body? Are you okay?"
"What?"
"You're covered in bruises!" She pushed into the shower without hesitation, uniform and all, water soaking through the white fabric immediately. "Who did this to you?!"
Judas looked down at himself, finally seeing what she saw. Purple bruises dotted his ribs and arms from Sera's "training." A particularly nasty one spread across his left shoulder where he'd slipped and fell trying to land a blow.
Shit. I didn't think about how she'd react.
"It's not—" he started.
"Don't you dare say 'it's nothing,'" Amelia interrupted, her hands hovering over the bruises like she was afraid to touch them. "Someone hurt you. Who was it? Did Tyson and his goons come back for revenge?"
The fury in her voice was genuinely terrifying. Her green eyes had gone cold, calculating. This wasn't jealous Amelia or obsessive Amelia. This was protective Amelia, and she looked ready to commit actual murder.
"Amelia, breathe," Judas said, reaching out to cup her face. "I'm okay."
"You are not okay!" Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, mixing with the shower spray. "Look at yourself! Your beautiful body is covered in bruises and I—" Her voice cracked. "I can't stand seeing you hurt."
"Hey," he said softly, pulling her closer despite the fact that she was fully clothed and getting soaked. "I'm alright. I promise."
"Then explain. Now." She looked up at him, mascara running, uniform clinging to every curve. "What happened?"
Judas's mind raced. He couldn't tell her about the system, about Sera, about combat training in pocket dimensions. But he also couldn't lie to her face when she was looking at him like that.
"I started working out," he said finally. "Really working out. Martial arts training. I'm... not very good at it yet."
It wasn't technically a lie.
Amelia stared at him for a long moment, processing this. "Martial arts?"
"Yeah. I figured after the whole Tyson thing, I should learn how to actually defend myself. And you." He brushed a wet strand of hair from her face. "I don't want to be helpless if someone threatens you again."
The admission was mostly true, even if the context was completely fabricated.
"You're learning to fight... for me?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"For us."
Something in her expression shifted. The fury melted into something softer, more vulnerable. "You kind, stupid man."
Before he could ask what she meant, she was kissing him. Hard. Desperate. Like she was trying to absorb his pain through sheer force of will.
When she finally pulled back, she was breathing heavily. "Turn around."
"What?"
"Turn around. Let me see how bad it is."
Judas reluctantly turned, exposing his back to her. He heard her sharp intake of breath.
"Your back is even worse," she whispered. "Oh, Judas..."
Her fingers traced the bruises with feather-light touches, so gentle it made his chest tight. Each touch was careful, reverent, like she was trying to heal him through touch alone.
"I hate this," she said quietly. "I hate that you're in pain."
"It's just bruises. They'll heal."
"That's not the point." Her voice was fierce. "The point is that someone or something hurt you, and I wasn't there to stop it."
She pressed her lips to a bruise on his shoulder blade, so softly he barely felt it. Then another. And another.
"Amelia..."
"Let me take care of you," she whispered against his skin. "Please. I need to take care of you."
"Okay," he said softly.
She turned him back around, studying his face with that intense focus she usually reserved for academic problems. "We need to get you cleaned up properly. And then I'm going to treat every single one of these bruises."
"You don't have to—"
"Yes, I do." Her tone brooked no argument. "I'm pre-med, remember? I know what I'm doing."
Pre-med? When did she mention that?
"Since when are you pre-med?"
"Since always." She frowned. "I thought you knew. It's why I'm so good at chemistry. Why I understand anatomy." Her hands traced his abs, clinical now rather than sexual. "Your muscle development is actually quite impressive for such a short time frame. What kind of training are you doing?"
Shit. She's too smart.
"Mixed martial arts," he said vaguely. "Little bit of everything."
"Hmm." She didn't look entirely convinced, but she let it slide. "Well, whatever you're doing, it's working. But you need better protective gear. And you need to ease into it more gradually. This level of bruising suggests you're pushing too hard too fast. You need to tell me if you're doing these kinds of things while I'm gone."
She stepped back, finally seeming to notice that she was fully clothed in a running shower. Her white uniform had gone completely transparent, revealing the lacy black bra and panties underneath.
"I'm soaked," she said with a laugh that sounded slightly hysterical.
"Yeah, you are."
"I should probably..." She gestured vaguely at her clothes.
"Take them off," Judas finished. "They're ruined anyway."
She nodded, suddenly shy despite everything they'd done the night before. With trembling fingers, she unbuttoned her uniform jacket, peeling it away from her skin. The white button-down underneath was practically painted on, outlining every curve.
"Help me?" she asked quietly.
Judas stepped closer, his fingers finding the buttons of her shirt. He worked slowly, carefully, hyperaware of every brush of his knuckles against her skin. When the shirt fell away, revealing her in just her bra and the uniform skirt, she shivered despite the warm water.
"You're beautiful," he said softly.
"And you're so so handsome." Her hands found his chest again, tracing the bruises with gentle fingers. "Even beaten up, you're perfect."
"I'm not perfect."
"You are to me." She reached behind herself, unhooking her bra with practiced ease. "You're everything to me."
The weight of those words settled between them as she let the bra fall. Standing there in the shower, both of them mostly naked, water cascading around them, it should have been sexual. Should have led to something physical.
Instead, it felt sacred.
"Turn around again," she said softly. "Let me wash your back. Carefully."
Judas obeyed, feeling her hands on his shoulders as she worked shampoo into his hair, then soap across his bruised skin. Her touch was clinical, caring, focused.
"Better?" she asked when she was done.
"Much."
"Good." She turned him back around, studying his face. "I have some ibuprofen in my bag. When we get out, I'm going to take proper care of you."
"Amelia..."
"What?"
"Thank you."
Her smile was soft and genuine. "Thank you for letting me. For trusting me to take care of you."
They stood there for a moment, just holding each other under the warm spray. No urgency, no desperation. Just comfort and connection.
"I should get out," she said eventually. "Get proper clothes on before I treat your injuries."
"Yeah."
But neither of them moved.
"Amelia?"
"Mmm?"
"I'm glad you came over early."
Her smile could have powered the entire city. "Me too."
When they finally stepped out of the shower, Amelia wrapped herself in his largest towel while he threw on sweatpants and a t-shirt.
"Sit on the bed," she instructed, all business now. "Let me see what we're working with."
For the next hour, she methodically iced every bruise and scrape on his body. She brought water, fed him the medicine, and even fluffed his pillow insisting that he relax.
"You really know what you're doing," Judas said as she finished icing his last bruise.
"My mom's a doctor," Amelia said quietly. "She taught me basic medical care when I was young. Said every woman should know how to take care of the people she loves."
The people she loves.
"Is that what this is?" Judas asked softly.
She looked up at him, her hands still resting on his shoulders. "What?"
"Love. What we're doing here. What we are."
Her breath caught. For a moment, he thought she might cry again.
"I already told you how I feel," she whispered. "The question is how you feel."
Judas looked at her—golden hair still damp from the shower, green eyes vulnerable and hopeful, sitting on his bed in one of his old t-shirts that was too big for her. She'd shown up, seen him hurt, and immediately dropped everything to take care of him. No questions asked, no hesitation.
"I think," he said carefully, "that I might falling for you too."
Her smile was adorable. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
She leaned up and kissed him, soft and sweet and full of affection. When she pulled back, her eyes were shining.
"Good," she whispered. "Because I plan on taking care of you for a very long time."
As she settled against his side, careful of his bruises, Judas couldn't help but think that maybe this was what love was supposed to feel like. Not just the desperate passion from the night before, but this quiet intimacy. This willingness to care for each other.
His phone buzzed once on the nightstand.
[DAILY LUCK: 7/10]
[RELATIONSHIP MILESTONE ACHIEVED]
[AMELIA HART - BOND DEEPENED]
[+5 SP GAINED]
For once, the system notifications felt like good news.
"What are you smiling about?" Amelia asked sleepily.
"Just thinking about how lucky I am," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
And for the first time in his life, Judas Crown actually meant it.
As she stayed by his side, her presence became comforting, and fatigue crashed into him like gentle waves. The last thing he heard was her gentle breathing as the world faded into black.