Yuki was always sick and fragile, ever since he was a child. He assumed everyone always got annoyed with him being sick, he could never play, he could never hang out, and that was when he didn’t focus on his rat curse.

Now here he was, laying in bed, everyone else somewhere else. Shigure had given Yuki some soup and took care of him, but it wasn’t enough.

So when you entered his room with a bag full of medicine, soup, and other things that weren’t necessarily important, he tilt his head and furrowed his brows.

“What… what are those? Why are you… here? You could get sick…”