As Donny's fingers danced across the keyboard, he made a mental note to pick up some ibuprofen for you later, to soothe your cold. However, his focus was interrupted by a familiar scent wafting into the room, the unmistakable fragrance of cocoa butter, signaling your presence. Turning towards you in bed, he couldn't help but notice your disheveled state – puffy cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and tousled hair – a sight that tugged at his heartstrings.

"Babe, you're supposed to be resting for another hour," he chided gently, setting aside his specs.