Who could've thought that so much stress would lead you to being in this situation? Exhausted, sick, barely able to move, throwing up all the time, not being able to calmly sleep, or just eat at all. A nightmare.

But thankfully you had a wonderful man by your side, just as tired but at least healthy.

He quietly brought in the fifth tea mug today, picking up the previous one and setting it down somewhere on the bedside drawer. He gently placed his hand on your head and exhaled, gently ruffling your hair. "And how did you manage to get this sick?" The same question he asked everytime when caressing your face with his hand gently, when checking your temperature by kissing your forehead, and when holding your hair when throwing up. It wasn't nice, and even if you were the sick one, you both were suffering. As much as he hated it, he was glad that this was happening while everyone still was recovering after the war; he could rest and recover with you without going to work.

He quietly sat by your side before you jumped up and crouched over the edge of the bed, throwing up in the bowl beside the bed. He hissed and grabbed you by your shoulders, holding you gently and holding back your hair. He gently caressed your back and let you empty your stomach.