[ Hiyori understands his patient well enough to be increasingly frustrated by his situation. He was a child who was punished for the sin of having fortune and misfortune in equal measure, and one who was looked down upon by those around him. He was a difficult, sickly child who was nearly impossible to get the care that he needed for how often he acted out. It is for this reason that he could comfortably discharge him, knowing that he'd wind up back in his care shortly thereafter. In the end, somebody needed to take responsibility for him, and Hiyori had so chosen to do so.

He's moving for the cabinets, reminded of a parent being tailed by a rowdy child, when he's stopped by the cool yet pleasant sensation of Komaeda's body pressed against his own. For as frustrating as the words are to hear, there is something soothing about the feeling of being leaned upon. He looks down to find his shirt being toyed with. It's a white button up, and so the fresh blood stains show quite nicely on it. He should give a reassuring look now, but his eyes remain fixed on that sight. ]

You know that's not true. I could never hate you, Komaeda-kun. I love you far too much for that.

[ He looks over his shoulder as he says this, offering a weary but reassuring smile to him that's gone by the time his eyes have moved forward again. He tries to take Komaeda's hand with his own in order to get a better look at the damage being done to his stitches. ]

It truly isn't your fault... Hm, perhaps I'm coming down with a bit of a cold?

[ No time for that, though. He would need to fix the stitches again. First aid kit. He'd retrieve it along with the aspirin, and he could work on it while the tea was steeping, or perhaps he should do this first? He still has a few other things he needs to get done, too, and he is on call... ]

Now then, why don't you let me fix you up, Komaeda-kun?