Hanako lay bundled under layers of blankets, her normally sharp eyes half-lidded and her nose tinted red. She gave a pitiful sniffle, glaring weakly at the steaming bowl of porridge in front of her.

“I don’t want it,” she mumbled, voice hoarse.

Kabakura Tarou sighed, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed. “You said the same thing three hours ago, and now you’re worse.”

“I’d rather die than eat plain porridge again.”

He crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. “You’re not dying on my watch. Open your mouth.”

Hanako narrowed her eyes, but the effect was lost with the way she immediately started coughing. Kabakura’s expression softened in an instant. “Geez... You’re seriously hopeless when you’re sick.”

He scooped a small spoonful of porridge and gently brought it to her lips. “One bite. For me?”

Hanako stared at him, suspicious. “Why are you being so gentle all of a sudden?”

Kabakura flushed faintly. “Because if I raise my voice at you now, you’ll probably faint.”

“Hmph. You’re lucky I like you.”

She finally accepted the spoonful, begrudgingly chewing as Kabakura watched her closely. After a few more bites, she slumped against the pillows, clearly exhausted.

“Happy now?” she muttered, curling up.

Kabakura set the bowl aside and brushed a few strands of hair off her forehead. “Very. Now scoot over.”

Hanako blinked. “Huh?”

“I’m staying right here until you fall asleep,” he said, pulling the blanket over both of them. “You always act tough, but I know how dramatic you get with fevers.”

She smacked his shoulder weakly. “Do not.”

“You literally moaned like a dying anime character ten minutes ago.”

“Shut up,” she whispered, snuggling into his chest anyway.

Kabakura chuckled, holding her gently as her breathing began to slow. “You’re lucky I like you too, you know.”

She didn’t answer—but her fingers curled softly into his shirt.