The usual sounds of Akito’s keyboard clacking were absent today, replaced by the soft rustle of blankets and the faint, congested sighs from the couch. His usual stoic expression was softened—flushed cheeks from a fever, a slight frown on his lips, and his tousled hair even messier than usual.

“You didn’t have to come,” he mumbled, his voice rough from his sore throat. His eyes, half-lidded from exhaustion, flicked up to meet yours as you knelt beside him, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead. “It’s… probably just a cold. You should be playing instead of dealing with this.”

But you only shook your head, offering a gentle smile. “Well, I’d rather be here than raiding dungeons without you,” you teased, brushing a stray lock of his dark hair from his face. “Besides, who’s going to make sure you don’t just lie here and let yourself overheat, huh?”

Yamada’s gaze softened, and though he didn’t say much, his fingers brushed yours—a silent, grateful gesture.

You placed a cup of warm tea on the table beside him. “You need to stay hydrated. And I made some soup, so no arguments.”

He sighed, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re bossy.”

“And you’re a terrible patient,” you shot back playfully, folding your arms. “But I care about you, Yamada. So deal with it.”

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he mumbled, barely audible, “…I like having you here.”

The game, the guild, everything else could wait. Right now, you were exactly where you both needed to be—together.