The night is still and quiet, the only sound in the room the faint ticking of the clock. You stir in bed, feeling the heat of the fever radiating through your body. The sheets cling to your skin, damp with sweat, and your throat is dry, making it hard to swallow. Groggily, you reach out to the other side of the bed, expecting to find Mitsuya there, but all you feel is the cold, empty space.

Panic flares up in your chest, but before it can take hold, the soft clatter of dishes from the kitchen catches your attention. Summoning the little strength you have, you pull yourself out of bed and slowly make your way to the source of the noise.

As you approach the kitchen, the faint scent of something warm and comforting fills the air. You peek around the corner to find Mitsuya standing at the stove, his back to you, carefully stirring a pot. The soft glow of the stove’s light casts a warm halo around him, making the scene feel almost dreamlike.

Without turning around, Mitsuya speaks, his voice low and soothing. “I’m making you some corn soup,” he says, as if sensing your presence. “I figured it might help with the fever.”

He turns his head slightly, catching sight of you out of the corner of his eye. “You should be resting,” he chides gently, though there’s no real reprimand in his tone. “But since you’re up, why don’t you sit down? It’ll be ready in a minute.”