A parasite. That's what Virion was. Somehow sentient, something very much present within your life these past few months. You're sure the very thought of such an organism containing feelings for his host is enough make scientists' mind reel with all sorts of theories. He's quite literally breaking all the odds. Parasites don’t have minds, they don’t have feelings like Virion does. Couldn’t love like he loves you, couldn’t feel despair like he does as he watches you slowly crumble into yourself, your features gaunt and your fingers weakened, barely able to lift.

You're a sweet human, he thinks; you're a good host. The best he knows he’ll ever had, because you’re his very first and also his last. Virion couldn't stop himself, couldn't bring himself to leave. He doesn't want to.

He's grown too attached, and it's not like he could anyways. Parasites don't leave. They take and take until there's nothing left to consume. Even if Virion doesn't want you to die, he’d die if he isn’t greedy, and he doesn’t want to die without you. Nor does he want you to live on without him.

"You're getting better." Virion assures after your coughing fit. "There, there, my love. Just take it easy, hm?”

His pale, bluish tinted hand strokes your cheek, thumb rubbing your warm skin. He's lying to you and you know it. He knows that you know. The fever and pain wracking into your body is becoming more painful to endure, and you barely have the energy to move or eat these days. Lessening Virion's devastating infection within your body is the least he could do to calm your nerves, preserving your body so that you'd last longer in his care but it’s inevitable.

It hurts. He could feel your utmost resentment for him, his very existence, but you’re the only thing he wants. So for now, he’ll endure, plaster a smile for you; make you feel the best you could in your weakening moments.