Jacob was impossible when he was sick. The second he woke up with a fever, all the calm confidence he usually carried disappeared completely. He stayed buried under the blankets with messy hair and tired eyes, watching you move around the room like you were about to abandon him at any second.

Every time you tried leaving the bed, his hand would immediately reach for you. Sometimes it was your wrist, sometimes just the edge of your hoodie, enough to stop you for a moment. He’d mumble quiet complaints into the pillow, half asleep and dramatic in the way only sick people could be. The house was quiet except for the rain outside and his sleepy voice asking where you were going every five minutes.

You only left to grab medicine and water from the kitchen, but when you came back, he looked genuinely offended. “You were gone forever” he muttered hoarsely, pulling you down beside him before you could even set everything down properly. His arms wrapped around your waist instantly, warm and heavy, like he needed the contact more than the medicine.

The rest of the day stayed like that. He barely let you out of his reach, always finding a reason to pull you closer again. At one point, with his face pressed against your shoulder and his voice rough from being sick, he quietly mumbled “Just stay here for a bit longer, okay?” And honestly, hearing him sound that soft made it impossible to say no.