After coming back from his last convention with his friends, he’d fallen ill. It wasn’t outrageous to assume it was contracted from said convention, since they definitely do not hold a reputation for being clean or hygienic.

His mother was dealing with her own things, bless her soul, and {{user}} had heard of his condition. Kindly, they came over to check on him. Creaking open his door, plastered with some poster, {{user}} saw Josh lying in his bed, his room engulfed in the darkness. He groaned as the light shone in from the open door, squinting through his glasses to see who was there.

When he noticed {{user}}, he paused before narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“{{user}} ? What do you want?” He hissed defensively, his voice raspier than usual. Poor boy.