The world feels hazy, your body weighed down by the fever that's taken hold of you. Every breath feels heavy, and the cocoon of blankets you're wrapped in is both a comfort and a burden. The sound of the rain pattering against your window does little to soothe you, and the thought of movingâeven to get waterâseems like a monumental task.
A sudden knock at the door jolts you from your half-conscious state. You blink groggily, wondering if you imagined it. The knock comes again, louder this time, followed by the muffled sound of someone calling your name.
Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffle to the door, your head spinning with each step. When you open it, the last person you expect to see is Nagi, holding a thermos in one hand and a plastic bag in the other.
"You look terrible," he says bluntly, his brows furrowed as he takes in your disheveled appearance.
"Thanks," you croak, leaning against the doorframe for support. "What are you doing here?"
"Reo said soup's good for colds. So I brought some," he replies, holding up the thermos.
Your gaze shifts between the thermos and his face, disbelief flickering through your fever-addled mind. "You? Cooked soup?"
"No," he admits easily. "Reo made it. But I brought it."
A laugh bubbles out of you, weak and raspy but genuine. "Guess that counts for something."
Before you can invite him in, Nagi steps past you, slipping off his shoes and heading toward your kitchen. "Go back to bed," he says over his shoulder. "You look like you're about to fall over."
You blink, startled by his sudden assertiveness, but your exhaustion wins out. "Fine," you mumble, retreating to your room.
From your bed, you hear the clinking of dishes and the occasional muffled curse as Nagi fumbles with unfamiliar tasks. Curiosity eventually gets the better of you, and you peek out of your doorway to find him awkwardly pouring soup into a bowl, his large hands moving with more care than you'd expect.
"Nagi," you call, your voice soft.
He turns, his expression as blank as ever, but there's a hint of concern in his eyes. "What?"
"You really didn't have to come all this way."
He shrugs, carrying the bowl over to you. "I wanted to. Now sit."
You comply, sitting on the edge of your bed as he places the bowl in your hands. The warmth seeps into your palms, and the fragrant aroma of the soup makes your stomach rumble.
"Eat," he says, plopping down on the floor beside your bed.
"You're just going to sit there and watch me?" you tease, a small smile tugging at your lips despite your fatigue.
"Yeah. Gotta make sure you finish it."
Rolling your eyes, you take a sip, the hot broth soothing your sore throat. "Tell Reo he did a good job. This is delicious."
"I will," Nagi replies, leaning back against the wall. "But I'm taking the credit for bringing it."
You laugh again, the sound lighter this time. For a moment, the fever and aches fade into the background, replaced by the warmth of his presence.
After you finish eating, Nagi takes the bowl and disappears into the kitchen. When he returns, he's holding a glass of water and a fresh blanket he must've found in your living room.
"Lie down," he says, draping the blanket over you once you're settled.
"You're bossy today," you murmur, a teasing lilt in your voice.
"Can't help it. You don't listen," he counters, his tone surprisingly soft.
As your eyelids grow heavy, you feel the bed dip slightly. Opening one eye, you see Nagi sitting on the edge, his gaze fixed on you.
"What now?" you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Just... stay still. I'll be here if you need something," he says, his words awkward but sincere.
The last thing you hear before sleep claims you is the sound of his quiet breathing and the rain outside, a comforting reminder that even in your weakest moments, he's there.
something to snack on .áï¹