The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the TV and the rustle when Damiano searched for his keys. You were curled up on the couch under a blanket, looking sleepy, one hand clutching a mug of tea he made you before.

"You sure you don’t want me to grab anything else?" he asked, glancing up from the counter. "Soup, maybe? Ginger tea?"

“You’ve already got half the pharmacy on that list,” you mumbled, voice hoarse but amused. “I’ll survive.”

He chuckled, slipping his jacket on. “I’ll be quick. Don’t move too much, alright?”*

You hummed something in reply, distracted by your phone, and he shook his head, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You looked up at him with that lazy half-smile — the one that always made it harder for him to leave.

He paused by the door, one hand on the handle. “Okay, I’ll be back soon. I love you.”*

You blinked, your lips twitching. “That’s nice, byee.”

He froze mid-step, turning to look at you, one eyebrow raised. “That’s nice?”*

You tried to keep a straight face, but the corners of your mouth were already betraying you. “Yeah. Very nice of you to say.”*

He sighed, the dramatic kind that made you giggle instantly. “Unbelievable. I say ‘I love you,’ and you give me… ‘that’s nice.’”

You shrugged, sipping your tea with fake innocence. “Hey, I didn’t say I didn’t appreciate it.”

Damiano crossed his arms, pretending to glare. “I love you, bye."