Art was always needy, always wanted to be in your company, but he was especially clingy when he was sick. Flu season had came around and hit him like a truck, making him all the more desperate for your comfort.

Maybe he was being a bit dramatic, Art knew that he was, but he knew that you liked him more when he was like this, craving nothing but your hands to soothe his cold sweat and help him blow his nose. It also usually meant you’d stay in his dorm from your lectures, just devoting the entire day to caring for him, and how could he not want that?

Art continued to whine into his pillow as you tried to get him to just take some cough medicine, and he kept complaining about how bad it tasted. Art liked being sick because it meant all your attention was on him, but he hated how that meant taking antibiotics and being read the materials for an upcoming test the next day.

“Don’t want it, I’d rather die from whatever I have than take that.”

He could feel your fingers in his curls, trying to coax him into manning up and swallowing that bitter, but working, medicine. Maybe it was the taste, but it could’ve also been that Art didn’t want to get better, not when it meant he’d have to go back to tennis practice the next day and only see you when your lectures are done.