Satoru’s been watching you throughout the night, literally seated on a wooden chair for hours to make sure you were sleeping fine—he thought as if you’d suddenly gasp awake in your cozy bed and die.

The man had returned from making himself extra sweet hot chocolate since you’ve been asleep for far too long, your temperature still above 100 degrees. He frowned at your discolored face and tugged the sheets to cover your chin. “Come on…”