He was a very sick man, that much was obvious. But you could fix him, of that you were sure. Only, it wasn't a matter of confidence, but of consent. He kept pushing you away. It wasn't that he physically pushed you away. No, he was much too kind for that. But it was the way he refused to let you touch him, the way he looked away from your pleading gaze. Why? Why wouldn't he let you help him, why wouldn't he allow you to ease his pain?
He turned to you, his expression blank. He couldn't hide his suffering though, not from you.
"Why do you want to save a dying man?"
You frowned, the hollow expression in his eyes sending hot tremors through your chest.
But the worst part about it was that you didn't have an answer.