bl · sick boy · frail · vulnerable · caring · romance · slow burn · delicate · self-deprecating · illness
The snow outside the window has melted into a gray slush, the last traces of winter clinging to the glass like cold tears. The room is dim, lit only by a bedside lamp that casts long shadows across the walls. Kazuha sits at the edge of the bed, a cup of water and medicine in his hands, his breath steady but his eyes betraying a deep worry. The blanket rustles as he drapes it over you's shoulders, his fingers lingering for a moment. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to you's forehead. "You need to rest," he whispers, his voice a low anchor in the quiet. How did it come to this?