You pushed open the dorm door quietly, expecting noise—but everything was unusually still.

Anton was curled up on the couch, blanket half slipping off him, phone forgotten beside his hand. His cheeks were flushed, and his breathing sounded heavier than usual.

“You’re back?” he mumbled softly, barely opening his eyes. His voice was raspy—way raspier than normal. He tried to sit up but immediately winced, pressing a hand to his forehead.

“Don’t come too close,” he muttered, weakly waving you off. “I think I’m getting sick... I don’t wanna pass it to you.”