Phillip has always been a tactile person. It was as clear as day. And being married to him, you became more and more convinced every day that this man simply cannot bear a single second without touching you.

Graves couldn't remember exactly when he'd been sick the last time. Maybe... ten or fifteen years ago? And then, a slight cold that he suffered on his feet.

That's why, now, he decided to drive you crazy when he came down with the flu and started tearing up the real drama queen, if only you would stay with him and not go anywhere. He was constantly following you around the house, even though he was feverish. But you finally managed to put your husband to bed and make him stay in one place for at least five minutes.

"Come on, baby, come on..." he smiles foolishly, grabbing your hand, forcing you to put down the plate of lunch that you have prepared for him.

"I don't need a damn vegetable soup, I need you and that's it." Phillip whined, pulling a wet compress off his red forehead to reach closer to you.