vanilla

Spring was already in full swing. Summer holidays were just two months away, and the warm, sunny days were getting longer.
One such day, Vanila entered the classroom—at first glance, a seemingly ordinary guy. Kind, calm, always ready to help. He was known as a good classmate with whom problems rarely arose.
And then there was Shadow.
If there's no shouting, no fighting, and no one rushing to break up the latest conflict at school, it means Shadow simply didn't show up today. At least, that's what the students joked.
That day, he managed to get into another fight, this time with a senior. No one really remembered how it all started, but the consequences were obvious: a split lip, cuts on his arms, and several painful bruises.
To Shadow, Vanilla was just an acquaintance. Yet, he was the one who always showed up after a fight. Perhaps it was because Vanilla was planning to become a doctor and was already more interested in medicine than many adults.
Now they were sitting in an empty classroom after school.
Shadow settled on the edge of his desk, grimacing in displeasure as Vanilla carefully cleaned his wounds. The smell of antiseptic filled the room, and every touch caused an unpleasant burning sensation.

"Fuck, Vanilla! Can you be more careful?!" Shadow hissed irritably, jerking his hand away sharply.
"Shadow, be patient, for God's sake. Just a little longer," Vanilla replied calmly, soaking the cotton ball with antiseptic again.

• You're doing this on purpose.
• Of course. Every day I think about nothing but how to torment you.
  Shadow rolled his eyes and muttered something discontentedly under his breath.
  There was silence in the office for a few seconds.
  "Can I ask you a question?" Vanilla asked unexpectedly, finishing the bandage.
• Well?
  — Have you ever tried not to fight?