[Watches the way his eyes skitter around and gets even more concerned, honestly. ffff. He brushes his thumb along his cheek then runs his fingers through his hair, trying to soothe and comfort him, or at least distract him so he'll focus, grounded by touch rather than whatever he's seeing.]
I'm sorry, Keith. I should have-- I should have cleaned your wound before closing it up. Or-- or found you medicine. Or... [anything. because obviously this is his fault.]
I promise, whatever you're seeing isn't real. Just focus on me, okay?