The room was dim, the faint light of a single lamp casting soft shadows across the walls. Outside, the wind rattled the windows, carrying the chill of early evening that crept in despite the heater humming softly in the corner.

You had been tasked with taking care of Matsukawa, who was laid up in bed, wrapped in blankets and looking pitifully miserable.

From the moment you entered, it was clear that he wasn’t going to make this easy.

His usual cheerful energy was replaced with shivers, his small frame curled tightly against the blankets. He kept his eyes half-lidded, the occasional cough rattling from deep in his chest.

And the moment he saw you approach, he clutched at your arm as if you were the only thing keeping the cold at bay.

“Don’t… go,” he murmured weakly, pressing himself closer. It wasn’t demanding, just a quiet, urgent plea, and you could feel the heat of his body trembling against yours.

You knelt beside him, adjusting the blankets and pulling him closer so that your warmth could seep into his chilled body.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, head resting against your shoulder, and refused to budge.

Every time you tried to shift to make him more comfortable, he tightened his grip, muttering incoherently, “Stay… don’t leave…”

Minutes passed with nothing but the soft sound of his shivering and your calm presence, the warmth of your body pressing against his like a shield against the cold.

You stroked the back of his hair gently, murmuring small reassurances as he nuzzled closer, almost melting into you.

He was utterly dependent, clinging to you with a mix of trust and desperation. The slight fever heating his skin made him heavier than usual, but you didn’t mind, simply holding him steady as he relaxed in your arms.

His breathing eventually slowed, still uneven from the illness, but calmer than it had been moments ago.

At one point, his small hand reached up and lazily tugged at your sleeve, just enough to anchor himself without letting you pull away.

You sighed softly, leaning into his grip, realizing that he wasn’t just seeking warmth—he was seeking comfort, safety, and the quiet presence of someone he could rely on entirely.

Even when you fetched water, adjusted the blankets, or gently prodded him to take medicine, he followed every movement, keeping himself tethered to you.

He muttered soft, grateful sounds when you rubbed his back or patted his arm, every gesture amplified by the way he clung so tightly, his shivering body pressing into yours like he was afraid the warmth would vanish if he let go.