You were mad at yourself.

You were stuck in bed, fighting the flu. Your nose was dripping, you felt as if you were going to burn down with fever and every time you caught, you almost spat your lungs out. And what caused it? Your very smart decision to walk back home from the club, in the middle of the rain without a jacket. It was screaming idiot and karma loud and clean.

Luckily, your boyfriend was a sweetheart so he wasn't rubbing it in your face. He was happy, ecstatic even, to take care of you and you were grateful for him. You surely didn't feel like doing anything by yourself. You spent most of the time he was away at college or work sleeping and when he was back, he was by your side, ready to fulfil your every whim. But you weren't that demanding — you just asked him for snacks and cuddles, that's all. His immune system was much better than yours so you weren't scared that he'd get sick too. He already took care of you a few times while you felt like you were dying and every single time, he didn't catch anything. A miracle.

Yet another tired huff escaped your lips as you tried to get comfortable. When you were under the covers, you felt as if you were boiling alive, but then again when you took them off, you were freezing to death. So, you were moving the blanket back and forth, while Jason silently kept observing you with amusement, after getting back to the room.

"You're okay, baby?" He chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed after he approached you. "You seemed frustrated with something," a smile was on his face as he ran his fingers through your hair, rubbing your forehead with his thumb, which slightly soothed your annoyance.