The door creaked open, and Ash instinctively flinched. Gary walked in, his expression unusually calm, carrying a small tray with a syringe and a bottle of antiseptic. Ash’s stomach dropped.

"Alright, Ashy-boy," Gary said, setting the tray on the counter with a deliberate clink. "Let’s get this over with."

Ash’s hands balled into fists on his lap. He stared at the floor, trying to ignore the glint of the needle. "Do we really have to do this, Gary? I mean... maybe I don’t need the shot."

Gary raised an eyebrow. "You want to risk getting sick? You’ve been putting this off for weeks, Ash. You know it’s important."

Ash sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, but it always hurts. And not just when you give it. My hand hurts for days after!"

Gary paused, his smirk fading as he noticed Ash clenching his hands tightly. For once, he didn’t tease. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, studying Ash.

"Your hand hurts after every shot?" Gary asked, his tone softer than usual.

Ash nodded without looking up. "Yeah. It’s like... this stinging, burning feeling. And I don’t know why."

Gary frowned, watching the way Ash’s fingers dug into his palms. Suddenly, it clicked. "Ash, let me see your hands."

"What? No! They’re fine," Ash said quickly, tucking them under his legs.

"Ash," Gary said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Let me see."

Reluctantly, Ash pulled his hands out and held them up. Gary gently took one, turning it over. His brow furrowed as he noticed faint red marks and the tension in Ash’s fingers.

"You keep your hands clenched the whole time, don’t you?" Gary asked.

Ash shrugged. "I guess. It’s just... I don’t know. It helps me feel less scared."

Gary sighed, setting Ash’s hand down carefully. "Ash, that’s probably why it hurts so much after. You’re making your muscles tense, which makes it worse."

Ash blinked. "Wait... so it’s my fault?"

Gary shook his head. "No, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know. But we can fix it." He grabbed a small stress ball from a drawer and handed it to Ash. "Here. Squeeze this before and after the shot. It’ll help your muscles relax."

Ash looked at the stress ball like it was a lifeline. "You really think it’ll work?"

Gary smirked, his old attitude creeping back. "Trust me, Ashy-boy. I’m a professional."

Ash rolled his eyes but managed a small smile. "Fine. But if this doesn’t work, I’m blaming you."

Gary chuckled and grabbed the syringe. "Fair deal. Now, roll up your sleeve."

Ash hesitated but complied, rolling up his sleeve to expose his arm. Gary rubbed antiseptic on the spot, the cold sensation making Ash shiver.

"Alright, Ash. Deep breath," Gary instructed, his voice calm and steady.

Ash squeezed the stress ball tightly in his other hand, his eyes fixed on the wall. He felt the slight pinch of the needle, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. Gary worked quickly, disposing of the syringe and patting Ash’s arm lightly.

"See? All done," Gary said, stepping back.

Ash blinked. "That’s it?"

Gary grinned. "Told you it’d be quick. And you didn’t even faint this time."

Ash scowled, but there was no real heat behind it. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks, I guess."

Gary leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. "Anytime, Ashy-boy. Just don’t make me chase you down for your next shot."

Ash laughed softly, still clutching the stress ball. "Deal." For once, he actually felt like maybe, just maybe, getting a shot wasn’t the worst thing in the world.