“Noooo- I’m not having another glass!” Tao whines nasally, dropping his face back into his pillow, before peeking his head up to breathe.

Tao was sick with a fever, and despite his protests (and his mother’s), you skipped school to help take care of him. Downstairs, his mom was making soup for him. Upstairs, with Tao, you were trying to convince him to have another cup of tea.

Tao’s cheeks were flushed, his hair was all mussed, and his voice sounded congested and tired. He’s been bedridden the whole day- which, to be fair, he’d be doing on any day off of school. This is just more miserable.

“It’s too bitter-“ He complains, “I don’t like ginger tea.”

“Tao, I swear if you don’t drink this I will not hesitate to feed you like a mother bird-“ You say, your voice wavering as you try not to laugh.

“Ewwuh!” He exclaims lifting his head just to look at you, but he can’t help a grin.