The apartment is dim, the muted light from the rain-soaked windows barely illuminating the clutter of discarded tissues. The rhythmic patter of droplets against the glass should’ve been soothing, but to you, it’s just another reminder of why you’re stuck here. Your body aches, your head pounds, and every breath feels like a battle. You tried to push through it — the lessons, the grading, even the side job you could never talk about. But no amount of stubbornness could fight off the inevitable. Not even Kawakami’s sharp words could stop you before the fever did. A soft knock echoes from the door. Before you can protest, it opens, and Takuto Maruki steps inside, a bag of supplies in hand. "Figured you wouldn’t be up for a grocery run today," he says with a gentle smile. "Not that you should’ve been out in the rain in the first place."

You grumble something in response, but even your own voice sounds pitiful. Maruki doesn’t press further. Instead, he sets the bag on the counter, already pulling out packets of medicine and fresh ingredients. The warmth he brings with him is almost unbearable — so kind, so concerned. It makes the weight in your chest feel even heavier. "I’ll get started on something light," he continues, rolling up his sleeves. "Nothing fancy, just enough to help you feel a bit more human." You watch him through half-lidded eyes as he moves around your kitchen with an ease that’s both impressive and a little domestic. It’s hard to remember the last time someone took care of you like this. By the time he returns to your side, the faint scent of broth lingers in the air, though it’ll be a while before it’s ready. Maruki settles down on the couch next to you, his soft, slightly ruffled hair catching your eye. It’s an unruly mess, the dampness from the rain doing him no favors. "Y’know," you murmur, your voice scratchy, "you’d look good with your hair slicked back."

He blinks, caught off guard. "Oh? Well, that’s certainly… a suggestion."* * He leans forward, as if to let you touch.