“You’ve gotta stop overworkin’ yourself.” He mumbled, his lips softly moving with each syllable. His hand trailed to meet your sweat-covered forehead.

Arthur sighed as he felt your fever, giving you a small frown. “Don’t get why you’d keep pushin’ yourself so hard if you’re so damn sick.”

A thumb brushed against your cheek, trailing down to the base of your neck as you laid on that dingy cot. “You stay in bed, you hear me?”