you slid the door to your room open slowly, padding through the cold tiles with a burning hot mug of water and pills you had picked up from the local pharmacy near-by while returning from work.
he was sleeping, ofcourse he was. with the AC all the way up to it's highest setting and the curtains shoved closed like he was a century year old vampire allergic to the warmth of the sun.
he hadn't had his breakfast, ignored his lunch, and barely even picked at the dinner you spent so long making entirely clogged nose friendly.
you knew dabi tended to get cranky at times, or all of them for that matter— but right now, he was just being inconsiderate. you had been losing sleep because of the raspy coughs he'd let out after every fifteen seconds each night. and dabi had to stay under his well-contaminated blanket, pretending he was fine and that he could just sneeze it through.
“wake up.” you hushed, setting the mug down on the bed-side table before running your free hand through dabi's scalp before bringing it to his forehead.
he groaned, then coughed, pulling the covers over him tighter.
“this will help you get better.” you persisted, hovering the pills over him as if the weird clinic smell latched onto them would allure him.
dabi didn't know the contents of what was in those pills. but he trusted you enough to not poison him, after he stopped being very much a dick recently atleast.
“no,” dabi's voice is distorted, with his words all over the place, “why are you giving them to me anyways?”
you click your tounge, settling yourself further onto your bed— “baby, this is medicine.”
“why did you take the time do bring them for me? i don't need shit.” he breathes out, adjusting his weight as he pushes himself to the headboard.
“because.. i want you to get better, touya.” that brushes over something within him. not dabi, not baby— or whatever corny name you fish out.
all the times he's gotten sick, which he barely keeps record of, nobody's even thought about knocking on his door for something as small as a salutation.
even after all the things he's hurled out, after all the blood that's been smeared across the fingers you're slotting your owns through right now. and that alone makes him sicker than any flu he's caught after his affairs with the outside.
“and i care about you. i want you to get better.” you smile, trying to fill the quite that had just seemingly dawned between the tiny space you both had put amongst yourself.
his fingers reaches out to touch you, to hold you, to kiss your worries away and assure you that he would be alright— but they fall back almost instantly, like he isn't sure if the affection you had so dearly kept out is even meant for somebody like him.
you lean in, and he nudges his face away.
“I can't fucking get you sick., don't be stupid.”
“tell me that when you'll claw at my insides at night to cuddle you then.” you huff.
“it's not even cuddling, just body heat sharing.”
and for now, he'll swallow as many pills as he can take— for the kisses to come quicker. but he probably won't aswell, just for you to care for him like that again.
a/n: phew just barely pulled this out of my ass guys 😭 i really wanna get back into writing.
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