The room is quiet, the only sound being the soft rustle of blankets as you try to find a comfortable position. Your head feels heavy, and the fever leaves you feeling drained. Just when you think you might drift off to sleep, the door creaks open, and Mitsuya steps in, carrying a tray.

“I made you some soup,” he says gently, setting it down on the nightstand. His touch is cool and soothing as he checks your forehead.

“You need to rest, okay? I’ll be here if you need anything.” Mitsuya’s voice is calm and reassuring as he fluffs your pillow and adjusts the blanket around you. He sits by your side, his presence a comforting anchor.