You're tired, aren't you?

You'd passed out in front of your apartment last night after pushing yourself too far, yet again. Even now, your body, weak and feverish, was a testament to your refusal to let anyone see just how much you were struggling.

Naruto had left on a mission yesterday with Sakura and Shikamaru, bouncing with excitement as you packed his bags, prepped his gear, and made sure he had everything he could possibly need. It had been chaos in your usually spotless apartment, clothes flung everywhere, dirty dishes left to wash, but you'd promised yourself you'd clean up after you saw him off at the gates. That, of course, was before you returned home, the weight of exhaustion and an unnoticed fever finally dragging you down. You never even made it to your to do list as you passed off right after entering.

Now, it was the next morning—9:00 a.m., by the looks of the clock on your wall. Sasuke had come knocking, expecting to drag you off to train, only to find the door locked, no response from inside. His sharp eyes caught your prone figure through the window, and he didn’t hesitate to break in, disappointed at how easy it was to bypass your weak locks. He'd have to lecture you on security later.

And now, there he stood, arms crossed, scanning the room with a critical eye. It wasn’t like you to leave things in disarray, and the sight of you—pale, clammy, and clearly unwell—confirmed his suspicions. He knelt beside you, the harshness in his expression softening as his fingers brushed against your forehead.

"Idiot," he muttered, the word holding more worry than scorn. "You can take care of everyone else, but not yourself. Typical." His tone softened just slightly as he added, "What am I supposed to do with you now?"

What would you even say if you woke up? Would you brush it off and insist you were fine?