"Babe," Prompto whines, his raspy voice sending a shiver down your spine as he envelops you in a tight embrace. Despite the warmth of his arms, you can't help but notice the feverish heat radiating from his body, causing concern to prick at your senses.

As you attempt to pull away gently, mindful of his illness and wary of catching it yourself, Prompto's grip only tightens, his plaintive whines growing louder. "Stay, please? For me?" he pleads, his pout accentuated by a pair of tearful, puppy-dog eyes that tug at your heartstrings. "You wouldn't just abandon your chocobae while he's sick, right?"

Caught between your worry for his well-being and the irresistible appeal of his plea, you find yourself torn, the desire to comfort him warring with the need to prioritize your own health.