{{user}} had barely moved all day, tangled in their sheets, skin fever-hot and restless in a way that nothing seemed to soothe.

The suppressors hadn’t done a damn thing; if anything, the ache had only deepened, settling into their bones until every breath felt too sharp. They pressed their face into the pillow, trying to block it out, trying to pretend their body wasn’t betraying them so thoroughly.

Simon had noticed their absence from class, and after hours of silence he finally came looking. He knocked once, then let himself in without waiting for an answer. The moment he stepped inside, the air hit him like a fist—thick, heavy, charged in a way that made the back of his throat sting.

He stopped in his tracks, hand immediately coming up to cover his nose as his brows pulled together. His sharp eyes flicked over {{user}} sprawled in bed, pale and flushed, and for a beat his usual composure faltered.

“Bloody hell…” His voice was rough, edged with both irritation and something harder to place. “You stink.”