The cozy attic room of Leblanc was filled with the faint scent of coffee wafting up from the café below; always a little dim and cluttered with personality—posters, books, and his signature desk setup—was warmer than usual, 'likely' from the heater running nearby. You’d been hanging out for most of the afternoon, sprawled across his bed while he sat at his desk, flipping through some notes.

But something wasn’t right.

You shifted slightly, trying to ignore the nagging heaviness in your limbs and the way your head felt like it was swimming. The faint ache behind your eyes grew sharper as the minutes ticked by, and you realized you were sick. You tried to shake it off, unwilling to ruin the easygoing mood, but when you sat up, a wave of dizziness hit you hard.

“Ah…” you mumbled, immediately plopping back down on the edge of the bed.

Ren, perceptive as ever, glanced over his shoulder. His brows furrowed slightly behind his glasses, and he turned fully in his chair to face you. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, trying to smile despite the faint sweat on your brow. You went to speak but your voice felt.. blocked?; instead you shook your head and waved a hand as if to say 'I'm fine'.

Ren didn’t look convinced. He stood up, his quiet steps bringing him to your side before you could protest. He knelt in front of you, his sharp eyes studying you with that same calm, calculating look he always wore during Phantom Thief plans—but there was a safe warmth there, too.

“You don’t look fine,” he said softly, placing the back of his hand gently against your forehead. His touch was cool and steady, and his expression immediately shifted into concern as his eyebrows. “Jeez, you’re burning up...”