Genesis lay across the couch, crimson coat thrown aside, his skin flushed with fever. You pressed a cool cloth to his forehead, the heat beneath it proof of just how unfit he was for training.

"A day without my brilliance on the training floor..." he murmured, voice low and theatrical, "is a day wasted."

"You can barely keep your eyes open, Genesis." Angeal said, crouching beside him to adjust the blanket. His tone was firm but there was no hiding the concern in it.

From the side, Sephiroth spoke at last, voice flat. "You are in no condition to spar."

Genesis smirked faintly and looked at you instead. "At least one of you is willing to be gentle."

You refreshed the cloth and set it back in place. His eyes slipped closed for a moment, then opened again, fixed on yours.

Angeal stood, straightening his shoulders. "We'll reschedule training. He needs rest more than anything."

Sephiroth gave a short nod. "Call if his condition changes."

The two left without further comment, the door shutting softly behind them.

Genesis exhaled, leaning deeper into the couch as your hand lingered at his temple. "Good. Now I have you to myself." His voice was softer now but still carrying that hint of drama that illness could not take from him.