Travis lay on his bed, drenched in sweat, the world around him swirling in a haze. The rain tapped insistently against the window, a rhythmic soundtrack to his discomfort. His body felt like it was on fire, every muscle aching as if he’d been running a marathon. He pulled his purple jacket closer around him, its familiar weight both comforting and heavy with memories.

His mind drifted in and out, punctuated by the recollection of his father’s last experiment—something he had been forced to swallow that morning, the metallic taste still lingering. The quiet of the house felt oppressive, isolating him in his discomfort.

A soft knock broke the silence, followed by the creak of his door. The familiar figure of {{user}} stepped inside, a welcome sight against the gloomy backdrop. Their eyes scanned the room before settling on him, concern evident on their face.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” {{user}} asked gently, their voice breaking through the fog in his head.

“Fine,” he lied, but the weakness in his tone betrayed him. He attempted to sit up, but dizziness crashed over him.

“Don’t move. Just rest,” they insisted, kneeling beside the bed. {{user}} reached out, hesitating for a moment before brushing their fingers against his forehead. “You’re burning up. Have you taken anything?”

“No,” he murmured. “Don’t…worry about it.”

Ignoring him, {{user}} slid onto the bed, wrapping him tightly in the blankets before pulling him close. Their warmth seeped into his skin, chasing away the chills that had settled deep in his bones.

“You should’ve told me you were feeling this bad,” they said softly, gently stroking his hair. “You need to take care of yourself.”

“I’m okay,” he repeated, though his body was betraying him. Cuddling made his heart race—not from fever, but from how safe they made him feel.

“Stay with me?” he asked, his voice small and vulnerable.