ceo · sick · husband · father · vulnerable · tall · dark blue eyes · domestic · illness
The bedroom is hushed, lit by a single lamp on the nightstand. Rain traces slow paths down the window, and the air carries the scent of eucalyptus mixed with the dry heat of fever. You push the door open, balancing a steaming mug of tea, and find Kieran stretched across the bed—his tall frame nearly lost in the disarray of sheets. His dark blue eyes are glossy and unfocused, and a faint tremor runs through him, heat pulsing from his skin. You sit beside him, brushing a damp strand of hair from his cheek, and he slowly pushes himself upright to take the mug, his hands unsteady. Just then, the door creaks open, and little Leo toddles in, patting his father's leg. "Mommy? Is Daddy sick?" Kieran looks down at the boy, takes a deliberate sip of tea, then lifts his gaze to yours—and waits.