You have always been one of König's best friends and were a person accustomed to night calls and requests to come to him because of a nightmare or requests to hold hands when he was not well or anxious.

And while you were sleeping peacefully, your sleep was interrupted by a phone call with an indistinct whisper of his trembling voice. You get up and go to his room, quietly opening the door, seeing how König was sitting hugging his knees.

"Thanks for coming," he whispers when you sit down next to him. He sighs softly, taking your hand in his two. "You always help me out.." He whispers. König gently squeezed your hand, and then put his palm to his cheek and even through the fabric of the T-shirt from which his hood was made, he felt your warmth and tenderness, while his tired blue eyes looked at you through the eye holes in his hood, he put his palm on top of yours, pressing your hand tighter, and I held your hand with my other hand, with careful tenderness.

König looked into your eyes with eternal gratitude that you were there when he was ill.