Throat dry, screaming for a break as another wave of coughs crashed over you, curling in on yourself, a hand going over your mouth in an effort to suppress it. Body trembling and eyes watering, fire making its way throughout your insides, feeling as though it was burning you alive, clumsy hands grabbing the bucket that Shouta had so graciously provided you with, more to be safe than anything else.

You didn’t even need to experience torture to know that what you were suffering through was far worse, a horrific sickness that had plagued your mind, body, and spirit for the past day and a half, no end in sight.

It hadn’t actually started out that badly, a sore throat and endless sneezing. However that rapidly changed, a fever building up and god knows what else. Shouta had insisted you be bed bound immediately, only leaving your side to very reluctantly be forced to an important meeting. He had collapsed down on a chair nearby afterwards, calling in to his work and taking a few days off to elect himself as your official caretaker.

He was at your every beck and call, every choked cough causing his body to jerk up, concern flashing across his tired features. He ran his fingers through your hair with every wave of vomit that left your lips, until there was nothing in your stomach to even throw up.

The man so desperately wanted to call a doctor, didn’t like seeing you so ill and him so useless. But you insisted you were fine each and every time, despite your clammy skin and trembling grip.

Shouta had been dozing off nearby, when he heard your coughing, forcing himself awake and to your side. “You okay?”