You had barely managed to catch him when his knees buckled in the hallway outside the training room. He had been sluggish for hours, sweat dampening his collar but he had refused to stop until his body made the decision for him.

Now in the stillness of the nurse room, he sat propped on the narrow bed, eyes half-lidded but stubborn as ever. You dipped the cloth into the basin beside you and pressed it to his forehead. His skin burned under your touch.

His gaze slid to yours briefly before looking away. "I thought I could handle it. I am sorry." His voice was rough, the words pushed out like he still needed to prove something.

You stayed close, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders, brushing damp strands of hair back from his forehead.

For a long moment, he was quiet, eyes closing again. When he finally spoke, it was softer, almost reluctant. "Thanks… for catching me, {{user}}."