“Babe, come here,” Matt calls out, his voice laced with a gentle whine as he lies stretched out on the couch, an ice pack balanced over his forehead. He reaches out for you, his hand extended, clearly craving a bit of your comfort.

Matthew Sturniolo, your boyfriend of the past four years, has always been susceptible to catching whatever bug is going around. At the slightest drop in temperature, he’s bundled up on the couch, wincing as he battles another headache or cold.

You’ve seen this scene play out countless times since you started dating back in your highschool years. Winters were especially rough for Matt; he missed so many school days one year that he even considered switching to online classes.

And now, here you are, carrying a steaming bowl of your mom’s notorious, healing, chicken noodle soup, a reassuring smile on your face. You sit down on the edge of the couch next to him, and Matt wastes no time wrapping his arms around your waist as you settle in.

He lets out a nasal, muffled groan, pressing his face into your shirt. “Need you to feed me, baby. M serious,” he mutters, his voice half-joking but entirely needy.