Emerie

Nothing beyond the space between you.

One of his hands slides slowly down your side, stopping at your waist with a touch that is careful, almost hesitant, as if he’s giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, your own hands twitch where they rest against his thighs, the urge to touch him back building before you can talk yourself out of it.

After a moment you lift one hand.

Dark curls slip easily between your fingers as your palm settles at the back of his neck.

The reaction is immediate. A sound slips from him before he can stop it, something low and unguarded, and his eyes flutter shut for just a second as your nails lightly scratch at his scalp as your fingers tangle into his hair. When he opens them again, there’s a flicker of something unreadable there... something that makes your breath catch before you can stop it.

Your gaze drops to his mouth without permission. His breath stutters slightly as he notices, his own eyes flicking down to yours in return. Neither of you says anything about it, but the understanding is immediate all the same.

Slowly, carefully, you tug him closer.

The space between you disappears inch by inch until there’s barely anything left at all, until all you can feel is the warmth of him and the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears trying to drown everything else out.

Then—

A sneeze cracks through the room.

“CUT!”

The shout ricochets like a gunshot.

A wave of groans rolls through the set as Sirius freezes above you before dropping his forehead against your shoulder with a frustrated exhale. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” he mutters, voice muffled slightly as laughter starts somewhere off to the side.

Your eyes squeeze shut for a second before you let out your own defeated breath.

Of course.

Of course it was ruined again.

It's when you shift slightly do you finally register the change in the atmosphere.

Crew members were already moving in resetting positions, apologizing, laughing, shaking their heads like this is just another take gone wrong. Someone runs towards the bathrooms dabbing at their nose, mortified.

The two of you had been trying to film this damn kiss scene for almost an hour, and every time something has gone wrong. The lighting fluctuates just enough, there’s a glitch in the audio, there’s a wardrobe malfunction.

Everything seems determined to sabotage the moment.

Across the soundstage, the director finally loses it.

Oliver throws his clipboard before storming off, and the entire crew goes a little quieter in response. He’s known as a hard ass in the industry, but it was only a matter of time before he really snapped, and you’re not that surprised it’s now.

“Let’s take fifteen,” Oliver's personal assistant calls, trying to ease the tension on set.

Sirius runs a hand through his hair before offering you his hand and pulling you up off the mattress. “Upsie daisy, princess,” he teases as he gets you back on your feet.

You sigh, letting him take your hand as you both head off set toward the trailers. “They really don’t want us kissing today, huh?” you say with a quiet laugh.

Sirius huffs. “At this point I think the universe is personally invested in our downfall.”

You bump his shoulder as you shake your head lightly as you walk.

Sirius and you are currently on set for a romance film where you were cast as the unlikely lead opposite him, the main love interest. It had been intimidating at first, considering he’s the hottest actor on the market right now, and you hadn’t even been in serious contention at the start. Names like Lily Evans and singer Marlene McKinnon had been floated around as if the role already belonged to them, though both had later confirmed they were never officially offered it.

So came the search.

And after multiple auditions, callbacks, and chemistry reads, the director had eventually, reluctantly, settled on an unproven actress.

You.

You weren’t tested or proven on the big screen, but they were willing to take a chance on you— much to Oliver’s initial dismay. Their reasoning had been simple; there was something real between you and Sirius. A spark, a chemistry that didn’t feel manufactured, the kind that would sell a romance without trying.

Which, conveniently, would also be very useful during the press tour you were both already dreading.

By the time you reach the trailers, the air conditioning is a blessing against the lingering heat of the set.

Sirius drops onto the couch beside his best friend like he belongs there, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Remus? Do you want one?” you ask, already reaching back into the fridge for another bottle of water for Sirius.

“Want what, love?”

“Water?” you hum. “There’s still soda if you’d rather that instead.”

“Can you grab me a ginger ale, doll?” Sirius calls from where he’s practically leaning into Remus’s shoulder.

You glance over your shoulder at him, unimpressed. “And have you burp through our kiss scene? No thank you.”

“I’ll have a ginger ale then,” Remus interjects.

You turn more fully now, eyebrow raised as you look between the two of them. “You’ll let him have sips, Remus,” you point out, one hand settling on your hip like an exhausted parent.

“I would not—”

“You so would,” you cut in immediately, already grabbing a third bottle from the fridge. “I’ve seen the way you cave.”

You hand them each a drink before moving to your usual spot at the small counter where your bag is slung over the chair. Your script is still open, pages marked with annotations and highlighted notes, though something about it feels slightly off.

You frown.

It isn’t on the page you remember leaving it on.

Your gaze flicks back toward the couch.

Sirius is still leaned into Remus’s side, fingers absentmindedly playing with the ring on Remus’s hand like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

It’s painfully obvious to you.

Not just obvious.

Undeniable.

And what surprises you most isn’t that they’re close. It’s that no one else seems to see it the way you do, as if you hadn’t clocked the matching rings on their fingers the very first day you met during the cold read.

But it isn’t your place.

If they wanted you to know, they would’ve told you. And if they didn't want to then that’s their choice.

Still, it makes sense in a way, you don’t let yourself linger on it too long. Sirius Black is the most in demand actor in the industry right now, and if news ever got out that he was in a relationship... you can only imagine what it would turn into.

You’d like to believe people would be accepting, but parasocial fans had a way of proving you wrong.

“Hun?”

You blink, pulled out of your thoughts, and turn in your chair.

Sirius is looking at you now, curious.

“Sorry—what were you saying?”

“I was asking how you think the next take is going to get ruined,” he says, voice light, teasing, like he’s trying to lift the lingering exhaustion off the room.

You groan immediately, tipping your head back.

“Don’t even put that into the universe, Sirius.”

Why would you willingly embarrass yourself, standing at the edge of the room, waiting— hoping —that someone might take pity on you enough to ask for a dance?

You may be clumsy, but you were not delusional.

Your heels clicked softly against the polished floor as you wordlessly excused yourself from idle chatter, offering practiced smiles that did not quite reach your eyes.

It was only once you slipped past the towering doors and into the cool evening air that you could really think. The chill breeze brushed against your skin, a welcome contrast to the stifling warmth of the ball, and for the first time that night, you felt as though you could breathe.

With a sigh you look back at the opened doors. You would rather have the ton gossip about your disappearance than endure the far more humiliating truth… that no one had approached you at all, your dance card left untouched and painfully empty.

The maze of the dimly lit garden provided a much needed distraction.

Your fingers brushed against the hedges as you wandered deeper down the winding paths. Lanterns appeared occasionally, their flames flickered behind stained glass panes and casting beautiful flickering paintings across the gravel pathway.

The distant music faded with every turn until it became little more than a faint melody.

The further you walked, the quieter everything became.

Eventually, you emerged into the center of the maze.

A large tree stood proudly in the middle of the clearing, its sprawling branches stretching overhead like a protective canopy. Lanterns hung from its limbs, bathing the space below in a warm glow illuminating two ornate benches that sat beneath the tree.

The lantern's light danced across the leaves overhead, making them appear almost gilded.

It was beautiful.

The scene before you was pactically hidden away from the rest of the ball.

However, it seemed you weren't the only one seeking refuge from the evening's festivities.

A man occupied one of the benches, stretched out with all the elegance of someone who had entirely given up caring. Dressed in a fine black suit, he looked every bit the gentleman attendee save for the loosened cravat at his throat and the way he was sprawled across the bench as though he owned it.

Dark waves of hair had fallen across his face obscuring his features but even so you could tell he seemed utterly exhausted.

Not wanting to disturb him, you carefully stepped backward.

Unfortunately, your heel clicked sharply against the pathway.

The crunch echoed through the small clearing.

Immediately silver eyes fixed on you from between dark strands of hair.

"The ball is in the other direction," he muttered.

The sound of his voice alone might not have stopped you but the look in his silver eyes certainly did.

"I'm well aware," you mumbled, unsure if the words sounded as unsteady as they felt leaving your lips.

With a dramatic groan, he pushed himself upright.

"I'm not interested in a dance, so if you came out here to seek me out—"

"With all due respect," you interrupted, brows rising. "I have absolutely no idea who you are. Nor did I expect anyone else to be hiding out here."

His expression pinched into something between annoyance and disbelief.

"And I should believe you because...?"

"Because it's true?"

"There's not a person in the ton who doesn't know of me or my family."

You couldn't stop your eyes from rolling.

"Kind sir," you began dryly, "if I knew who you were, I would have addressed you as such."

His brows lifted.

"Sirius Black." He said his silver gaze washing over you expectantly waiting for some sign of recognition.

There wasn't much.

The name sounded vaguely familiar, of course, but no more than any other prominent family name tossed around drawing rooms and tea tables.

"So, Mr. Black, then," you replied with a small shrug.

His mouth twitched.

"That's all?" He mumbled a tinge of dissapointment in his tone.

"Should there be more?" You ask, brows raised.

The look on his face was almost comical. Dark brows pinched together and his lips tugged into what you could only describe as a pout. Though he recovered quickly, leaning back against the bench as if trying to regain his composed facade. "Are you usually this unimpressed?"

You crossed your arms over your chest.

"Are you usually this vain? Do you assume every woman who somehow stumbles across you is seeking your attention?"

His brows lifted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I'd prefer confident."

You merely tilted your head, silently asking if he truly believed that.

The smirk faltered instantly.

"Right. Perhaps not the best choice of words."

"Perhaps not."

A laugh escaped him then, low and genuine, echoing softly through the clearing.

"It's a habit," he admitted. "It happens more often than you'd think."

"That women wander through mazes looking for you?"

"That women seek me out."

You hummed nodding your head slowly unconvinced.

"Maybe you ought not assume everyone is trying to court you."

He shrugged looking entirely unbothered.

"Courting is so formal. Not everyone wants a courtship. Some just—"

Your eyes widened. Both hands shooting forward immediately as if that alone would be enough to stop his train of thought. "Stop. Stop, stop, stop! I get it."

His grin widened.

"I wasn't going to say anything scandalous."

"That is exactly what someone about to say something scandalous would say."

A bark of laughter escaped him, startling a bird from somewhere in the branches above.

For the first time that evening, despite yourself, you felt the corner of your mouth threaten to lift.

"Well, now you know me," Sirius said, gesturing vaguely toward himself. "Who are you?"

His silver eyes swept over you once more, searching for some indicator of who you might be that he might have missed.

Sirius hadn't recognized you either.

Though, considering the evening, that wasn't all that surprising. Tonights ball existed for one purpose and one purpose only… to parade this season of debutantes before the ton like prized jewels. There were dozens of unfamiliar faces wandering the ballroom tonight.

Your's was just one of them he deduced.

Your gaze drifted downward as you debated your answer.

Would giving him your name be a terrible idea?

Your reputation was already less than pristine. Not ruined, exactly.

Merely... muddied.

The unfortunate events surrounding your presentation to the Queen had spread through society with alarming speed. What had begun as one embarrassing moment had likely transformed into half a dozen wildly exaggerated stories by now.

Giving your name to an obvious rake seemed like an excellent way to make matters worse.

But could your reputation truly suffer any further?

You considered it for a moment then immediately answered your own question.

Yes.

Absolutely.

Sirius watched several emotions cross your face in quick succession.

His brows furrowed.

"Should I be concerned?" he asked, leaning forward.

"My apologies," you said, dipping your head in a proper bow, every bit the polite young lady society expected you to be.

Sirius straightened.

At last an introduction.

Instead, you pivoted sharply on your heel.

And ran.

For a moment, Sirius simply stared.

The skirts of your gown vanished around a hedge, your footsteps fading quickly down the maze's winding path.

Sirius blinked.

The space was mostly barren now, save for the university issued bed, desk, and dresser, and the absurd amount of boxes stacked by the door.

“How ya doing, love?” he asked.

You looked up at him, brows immediately furrowing at the state of him.

“Are you really—” You shook your head, a laugh of disbelief bubbling out. “James…”

He only smiled brighter, eyes crinkling behind his glasses. His dark curls were a mess, sticking out in every direction, but what sent you into a fit of giggles was the sight of him overloaded with his own bags— one duffle bag slung over each shoulder, a heavy backpack hanging awkwardly off his chest, clearly stuffed with books.

James wasn’t a patient man. Everyone on campus knew that. But watching him nearly buckle under the weight of half his possessions just so he wouldn’t have to make multiple trips to his car…

Well. It was a hilarious sight.

“If you needed help, you should’ve asked,” you said, shaking your head as you crossed the room, already reaching for one of the bags digging into his shoulder.

“Nope, I’m good. This is less than what we use for drills,” James said, twisting his body away before you could relieve him of any of the weight. The movement made one of the duffles slide dangerously, and he hitched his shoulder to keep it from falling with a huff.

You snorted. “You say that, but I doubt you’ll be able to carry all that down the stairs yourself… because no one is sharing the elevator with you looking like that.” You gestured toward him with a teasing smile, taking in the absurd sight of him strapped in with half his possessions.

“Let me help you?”

“Nah, I’ve got it, love.” His grin came easy, stubborn as ever. “I wanted to get this down so I could help you.”

His gaze drifted past you, settling on the stack of boxes crowded by your door. His expression shifted, amusement softening into something more thoughtful.

“You’ve got boxes and boxes,” he said. “Will all this even fit in your car?”

You turned to look, humming as you sized up the pile again. Clothes, books, the lamp you probably should’ve left back at your parents.

“I think I can play some tetris and make it fit.”

James barked out a laugh. “That is the least reassuring thing you could’ve said.”

“I’ll make it work,” you hummed, reaching for one of his bags again.

He laughed, shaking his head as he maneuvered around you. “I’ll go drop this stuff at my parents’ and come back to help you bring your things down.”

You shook your head. “I can handle it myself, James. You don’t have to.”

He only waved you off. “Text me what you want for lunch. I’ll pick it up.” He winked and booked it out the door before you could even protest.

The room felt strangely quiet after he left.

—

An hour and a half came and went, and the overhead lights in your room suddenly felt too harsh, much too bright. You flicked them off, relying instead on the light filtering through your windows as you started hauling boxes out into the shared living room, stacking them near the couch out of the way.

The place looked emptier by the minute.

Every trip out of your room made it feel less like yours.

James had texted about twenty minutes ago asking what you wanted for lunch.

You’d thought about it for a while as you leaned up against the couch before settling on Chinese, since the restaurant on campus was somehow still open. Might as well right?

With another box set down by the growing pile, you paused to catch your breath, rubbing your hands together with a frown. The cardboard had really dried out your skin, leaving your fingers rough, but that wasn’t really what had you unsettled.

You were emotional as it was picking up your life once more but one thought was at the forefront of it all.

James likely wouldn’t be your roommate next semester… and as much as you liked to give him shit, he was a really sweet guy and a nice roommate.

You’d miss him.

The thought sat heavier than you expected.

But before you could work yourself into tears, the familiar jingle of keys pulled you from your sappy thoughts.

James stepped inside carrying a plastic takeout bag, the boxes inside shifting as he lifted it slightly. “I ordered extra wontons,” he said, a grin already on his face. “The ones you like.”

But the grin slipped the second he saw you.

His expression softened, concern replacing whatever teasing remark he’d been about to make. He set the bag down on the empty counter, the plastic crinkling loudly in the quiet room, and crossed to you without hesitation.

“What happened?” he asked, though he seemed to realize before you answered.

Then his arms were around you.

Warm.

Familiar.

Instinctual.

Like this wasn’t even something he had to think about.

He pulled you against his chest, his hands settling at your back as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

“What’s wrong, sunshine?” he murmured into your hair.

Your fingers bunched in the front of his shirt.

“I’m going to miss you,” you whispered.

For a moment he said nothing, only held you tighter. His chin rested lightly against your head as his eyes drifted around the living room— he space where you’d spent months watching shows together on the couch, eating late dinners after his practices, somehow turning this little dorm into something that felt like home.

“I’m gonna miss this too,” he admitted eventually.

You nodded against his chest, throat tight.

Then he added, quieter, “But I’m not going to miss you.”

You pulled back fast enough to stare at him. “What?”

A laugh escaped him. “That came out wrong.”

His hand slid up to adjust his glasses— a nervous habit he has you noticed.

“What I mean is…” He exhaled. “I was going to ask if maybe… next semester…” His eyes flicked away for half a second before returning to yours. “If you wanted to find a place off campus together.”

You just blinked.

He rushed on. “As roommates. Obviously. I mean— unless—” He stopped himself with a grimace. “You know what I mean.”

And that made you laugh.

A real laugh this time.

“Okay,” you said.

James stared. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeated.

Relief softened his features so suddenly it made your chest ache. “You mean it?”

You nod. “I guess you are hard to get rid of.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to ignore me all summer when I send apartment listings?”

“Only if you don't spring random walkthroughs on me the day of.”

He pointed at you. “That's fair.”

Then he nodded toward the takeout on the counter. “Now go eat your lunch before the noodles congeal.”

You snorted with a shake of your head. “Romantic.”

He grimaced before sighing. “This time, I was pushed,” he pointed out, walking over to hoist himself up onto the open counter.

Based on the look you must’ve given him, his hands lifted in surrender. “I swear.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, shaking your head as you turned back to the pot of chicken noodle soup simmering away.

You could almost hear his pout.

“This girl just slipped and fell in front of me and took me down with her, okay,” he groaned, making you glance back at him.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. My ego, on the other hand…”

“Oh, I’m sure she was thrilled to have taken down star athlete James Potter along with her,” you laughed, then added, “She okay?”

“She’s fine. Did offer me coffee as a thank you, though.”

“Making the moves on a girl who literally fell for you — how romantic,” you rolled your eyes good naturedly.

“I turned her down, thank you,” he said, almost proudly.

“Pity,” you sighed softly, faux disappointment coloring your tone. “That means I probably could’ve had all this soup to myself.”

“Pity,” he echoed. “I knew you were making soup, so I came home early from lab.”

“More like it was too cold for you, so you decided to come home early and warm up,” you corrected, dipping a fresh spoon into the broth and offering it to him.

His lips wrapped around the silver spoon without prompting, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before fluttering shut as he relished the warmth.

“Need anything?” you asked gently when he released the spoon.

“A bowl,” he chuckled, leaning in to press a quick peck to your cheek. “And for you to dress warmly after dinner.” He flashed that boyish smile you couldn’t help but return.

“Dress warmly? Why?” you asked, brows furrowed.

“They hung the Christmas lights up in Hogsmeade today,” he said, reaching past you to grab the soup bowls from the cabinet above. “It’s a bit of a walk, but I know you’ve been waiting to see them.”

You froze, glancing up over your shoulder at him. “What…”

“I know you love Christmas lights,” he continued easily. “Figured we could grab some warm drinks, walk around Hogsmeade, and pick up some decorations for the dorm.” He grinned down at you, and your heart fluttered traitorously.

“That… that would be nice,” you said softly, turning back to the soup.

“Perfect.”

—

You shrugged on your winter coat, hauling yourself toward the door to grab your boots and bag.

“You can leave it,” James said gently, taking your purse from your hands. “Unless you really need it.”

“You said we were getting drinks—”

“You thought I’d let you pay?” he laughed. “How cute. You made dinner — enough for another night, too. I’ve got this.” He offers you your purse back. “I’m giving it back on the condition that you understand you’re not buying jack.”

“What about Jill?”

“Not Jack, not Jill, nor the hill, smarty pants,” he rolled his eyes affectionately.

—

The walk down to Hogsmeade wasn’t too eventful. You and James passed one of the professors juggling a teetering stack of boxes, likely filled with classroom decorations.

“Do you need help, Professor Pomona?” James asked, pausing and asking you to wait.

The cheerful, plump professor beamed at him before shaking her head with a hearty laugh. “No, dear, I’m quite alright. I wouldn’t want to steal you from your date. Off you go. It’s rather cold. Don’t keep her waiting.” She practically shooed him away.

Without denying it, James hurried back over, taking your gloved hand and tugging you gently along the path toward Hogsmeade. The path to the village was decked out in holiday cheer. Tinsel in shimmering greens and reds wound around the lampposts, turning the street into something straight out of a postcard.

“So…” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “You didn’t correct her.”

“Didn’t want to,” he shrugged, squeezing back.

Those butterflies you thought had settled not too long ago took flight all at once, making your insides flutter. “Oh—” Your gaze dropped briefly to the snowy path beneath your feet.

James squeezed your hand again, drawing your attention back to him. He offered you a shy grin… rare for someone usually so confident and yet somehow all the more endearing for it.

Then your eyes caught the twinkling lights just beyond him as Hogsmeade opened up before you, warm and bright against the winter night.

Much too warm.

“Hey, love,” he mumbled as he saw you stir.

Tired and heavy eyes blinked open with effort, gaze unfocused. A hum rumbled in the back of your throat, the sound tired and confused.

“You alright?” James asked, brushing more hair that had fallen into your face away. His voice was soft and unsure.

You frowned, nodding before the words registered, then shook your head instead. “Not really…”

His head tilted in concern. “Sick?”

“Just waiting for my meds to kick in—” you muttered, trying to sit up, but your face scrunched up in pain before you could even move an inch.

“Whoa—” James’s hands were on your shoulders in an instant, easing you back down against the cushions of the couch. “Don’t move so suddenly, sunshine.”

“What hurts?” he asked softly, pulling one of the plush blankets higher to cover your exposed shoulder.

A groan ripped from your lips as your palm pressed against your forehead. “I had a really bad headache, and it’s just getting worse…”

Amber eyes squinted in concern. “Migraine?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head immediately, wincing at the motion. “Don’t think so— just feel like crap.”

His brows furrowed in concern. “Did you take cold medicine?” he murmured, placing the back of his hand against your forehead.

As he expected… you were burning up.

A frown wormed its way onto his face, his thumb brushing across your temple as if hoping the motion would somehow lower your temperature.

“No,” you whispered. “I don’t think I have any more. I took my migraine meds, but they’re not helping,” you admitted weakly.

James hummed, glancing over at the kitchenette counter where you usually kept cold and flu meds lined up. He hadn’t noticed before that the space was empty — the familiar bottles replaced by a comically oversized mug and a box of Sleepytime tea.

“I’ll go get some,” he said, pushing himself off the floor with a groan. His muscles still screamed from practice. “Do you want to stay out here or go to your room?”

Your brows furrowed as you weighed the options. “I’ll stay… but can you grab my laptop? It should be on my bed. I really need to work on a paper—”

“Nu-uh,” James tsked, shaking his head. “I’m going to run to the store, you’re going to email your professor and ask for an extension, and when I get back, you’re going to get your cute butt into bed and sleep.”

He said it like a plan he fully intended to see through, his tone light, but firm with finality.

James set your phone beside you on the couch; the screen flashed a bright 4:33 PM before it faded back to darkness. “To message your professor,” he said as he crouched to grab his keys from his duffel bag and slip on his sneakers.

“I’ll be right back,” he assured, flashing you that warm and comforting smile of his before disappearing out the door.

With a sigh, you picked up your phone, opening your email. The glow from the screen made you want to chuck your phone across the room, but you knew you needed to message her.

Typing clumsily, you explained as politely as possible that sitting at your computer and staring at the screen in your current state wasn’t an option, and you’d appreciate an extension if possible.

It felt like a shot in the dark, but still, hope bloomed in your chest as you pressed the send button. The familiar woosh sound of the email sending made your heart rate spike.

You grimaced, setting the phone back down beside you before trying to get comfortable again.

You tried to stay awake— you really did— knowing James wouldn’t be long, but exhaustion weighed down your eyelids, and soon everything went dark.

—

The rattle of keys stirred you awake.

Blinking softly, your vision swam as you turned your head toward the door. From your position on the couch, you could really only make out a blur of what you assumed was James.

The sound of him kicking off his shoes and the crinkle of plastic made you grimace.

He padded into the kitchenette, setting what you could only assume was more cold medicine on the counter.

His footsteps drew closer until you felt his presence beside the couch. When you blinked up again, you were met with a concerned amber gaze.

“Hey, sunshine,” he said softly, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. “Did you message your professor?” His voice was gentle as his hand brushed more hair away from your face, his touch lingering against your warm skin.

You hummed, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers carded through your hair. “Dunno if I’ll get it.”

“At the very least, I know you’re not the only one sick,” James said quietly, his thumb grazing your temple. “The store down the street barely had any cold medicine left.”

His lips quirked into a hesitant smile. “So… as much as you hate it, I was only able to get cherry flavored.”

You made a face at that, your nose scrunching in mild disgust, but you nodded anyway. “Thanks for running to get meds, Jamie,” you mumbled, bracing your hands against the couch as you slowly pushed yourself upright.

James hovered beside you, his hands twitching as if unsure whether to help you or let you find your balance yourself.

“I got some chicken noodle too,” he said softly. “I can heat it up now if you think you can eat, or later if you think you can’t stomach it.” His hands finally settled on the back of the couch.

You pressed your lips together, thinking, then shook your head slightly. “Maybe later?”

“Of course, love,” he said immediately, his voice gentle and warm. “Let’s get you some medicine and get you to bed.”

You offered him a tired but genuine smile.