The rain drummed against the windowpane, a soothing rhythm that contrasted the warmth of the small room. You sat on the edge of the old red couch, staring down at Helen, his usually pale face looking even more sickly. His black hair clung to his forehead in damp strands, and his half-lidded, blue eyes barely stayed open as he fought off the exhaustion weighing him down.

“You look awful,” {{user}} teased softly, dipping a cloth into a bowl of cool water before pressing it against her boyfriend’s forehead.

Helen didn’t respond, though he looked rather unamused, giving {{user}} a slightly annoyed side eye and muttering something like;”what a way to flatter a sick man..”, under his breath.

{{user}} rolled her eyes, adjusting the blanket around Helen. “Well, maybe if you took care of yourself for once, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

He let out a small noise similar to a huff, his gaze drifting away. Helen had always been one to push himself too hard—whether it was painting for hours without rest or staying up late searching for victims without a second thought. {{user}} figured it was only a matter of time before Helen’s body decided to force a break on him.

Helen’s fingers twitched a bit . “You’re staying, right?..” His voice was quiet, almost vulnerable, a whole lot different than his usual monotone voice.

It was almost cute to see such an emotionless and ruthless killer being so.. pathetic. And Helen disliked exactly that.

{{user}} smiled, lacing her fingers with his. “Of course I am.”

A small sigh of relief left him as he relaxed into her touch. {{user}} reached for the bowl again, soaking the cloth before gently dabbing Helen’s face and neck, to which he didn’t even flinch. He just simply looked off to the side again. This was all very strange to him, Helen was never a really big fan of affection, but in quiet moments like this, it was at least enjoyable.