That day, his recent fears that Bob was on the verge of a depressive episode felt confirmed. Bob’s hair was a little greasy, unattended frizz poking between unraveling curls. It felt like maybe he’d showed but he hadn’t bothered with all the soap, with brushing it out and tending to it afterward.

Still, it was calming to play with Bob’s hair, to let his fingers move however felt the most natural. Bob seemed to relax too, his breaths slowing as he melted into John’s touch. For a few moments, John actually thought Bob had fallen asleep. Then he felt a tear soak into his pants and realized he was wrong.

“Hey.” John’s fingers continued to massage Bob’s hair, applying gentle pressure to his scalp. “You okay?”

Bob sniffed. When he nodded, he smudged another tear into John’s thigh. “I just feel like shit. I keep fucking everything up today.”

“You’re all right. You want to talk about it?” Bob shook his head, his soft inhale half broken. “You take your meds today?”

“Yeah.”

That was all John could ask for. If Bob was taking his meds, he was as stable as he could get and taking care of himself the best he could.

John slid his hand out of Bob’s hair and grabbed the blanket on the back of the couch. He tugged it down over Bob and carefully tucked it around his shoulders, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to Bob’s hair. Bob twisted his hand in the front of the blanket, pulling it in tight to him.

It was easy to fall back into their comforting routine. John combed his fingers through Bob’s hair once more, gently massaging his temples as he circled around his head. He slowly worked his way down to Bob’s shoulders, gently helping him release the tension he’d built throughout the day.

After a thorough massage, John returned to gently playing with Bob’s hair as he watched the game. Bob just lay there, chewing on his thumbnail, eyes flickering open and shut as he fluttered on the edge of sleep.

“Can you help me wash my hair later?” asked Bob suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

John couldn’t help but smile to himself. There was a sense of pride that he couldn’t fully explain. Bob had always struggled with asking for help, especially when basic life tasks became a struggle with his mental health. But there he was, asking for John to help him like he’d done it a hundred times.

“Yeah,” John answered. “You want to go up after the game?”

“Okay.”

bob's personal save is a meadowlands farm. he loves to raise lots and lots of animals. he uses plenty of mods, especially ones that get him MORE animals. he has multiple dogs and a cat and a turtle. he rides his horse everywhere. bob has a LOT of free time so plenty of time to play. his farm is elaborately decorated and designed. he admits a chronic weakness to himbos and has married alex in past saves but his favorite villager to romance is penny. he loves her library and her garden. that said he's made and abandoned tons of saves just to explore different paths in the game. his only hard no when it comes to romance is shane because he finds some of his storylines to be upsetting/triggering. his favorite festival is the night market. he loves the decoration boat and never tires of the mermaid show.

yelena has a wilderness farm. she drives bob crazy because she's always out of money and her crops are always dying. she spends every day in the mines not because she needs anything but because she likes the combat. except bats. she HATES the bats. when she does farm, she tends to farm without any organization. random seeds wherever is convenient. she has fanny as a pet. her favorite villagers to marry are emily and abigail but she thinks of it more as a qpr than marriage. she loves that they both have colorful hair. also, she has definitely become roommates with krobus at least once. her favorite festival is the egg festival. it brings her joy to win the hunt.

john doesn't play on his own farm much. he usually frequents the save where him and bob are married. when he does play on his own, it's just a very simple standard farm. mostly he plays on it to learn and practice different things to be better at the game for bob. he likes fishing and organizing the crops. he finds it really satisfying to arrange them in an efficient way. he has a cat named bobby and a dog named after a childhood pet. john never gets married in singleplayer because he doesn't see the need. he doesn't want to flirt with anyone who isn't bob. his favorite festivals are squidfest and later, the the desert festival. he particularly enjoys betting on all the races.

ava started with a standard farm but now she has a forest farm. her real life has been all labs and tech so she just wants something really natural. she does a lot of foraging and plants a lot of flowers. she also loves the mines but sometimes gets annoyed at the particularly irritating mobs. on occasion she will have yelena clear out the mobs for her so she can mine because yelena loves the challenge. she initially focused on strategical farming but the way bob decorated for them in multiplayer made her happy so now she does a lot of decorating too. she likes to marry leah and imagine the whole forest is their own little world. her favorite festival is spirit's eve.

bucky just has a standard farm. he insists he only plays to make bob happy but he's slowly creating a powerful farm. he has all the basics, is far into completing the community center, and has spent time scrolling the wiki to find out best strategies and secrets. sometimes he asks bob obscure questions and then says "just something i came across" rather than admitting he very much is into the game. he has alpine on his farm of course. he marries sebastian lowkey just because he wants the motorcycle in his backyard. he has no favorite festival because he treats them all as part of his larger strategy.

John nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed beside Bob. The last two days were blurry—the first worse than the second—but he had the feeling John had been there the whole time.

“You need to eat something.” John held the tray out toward Bob. Bob pushed himself up and leaned back against his pillows, then took the tray and set it on his lap. “I brought a bottle of water too for after you finish that.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t even know what to say. It was the first time in his life anyone had ever made him breakfast in bed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

When John smiled, Bob thought that it was his way of easing into his exit. Instead, John leaned forward, right arm outstretched. The backs of his knuckles grazed Bob’s cheek, gently brushing his sleep-swept bangs to the side.

“What are you doing?” asked Bob, heart pounding, breath suddenly coming in short bursts.

“Checking your temperature,” John answered, fingers pressing softly into Bob’s forehead. Bob wet his lips, hands grasping the tray in his lap as his eyes met John’s. For a moment, John stared back, gaze flickering up and down Bob’s face. Then he pulled back suddenly and smiled again. “Feels good.”

“Yeah.”

“It feels better?”

“I—” Truthfully, Bob’s yeah was a reflection of something entirely different. It felt good when John touched him. It felt good when John smiled at him. It felt good when John sat there, staring at him, waiting patiently for him to speak like he had all the time in the world. “Yeah. I’m, um— I’m less dizzy. Or maybe it’s just because I’ve been too lazy to stand up.”

His smile would kill Bob faster than the fever. How had he never noticed it before? Then again, how often did John smile in general? Bob bit down on his lip, stifling his own response to realizing that he made John smile.

“You need anything else?”

Bob shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”

“All right.” John stood up and nodded to where Bob’s phone sat on his bedside table. “Just text me if you do. I always have my phone on me.”

“Okay.”

His instinct was to argue but he managed to resist it. John was only trying to be nice. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if he fought back against it. Bob carefully set the tray on the opposite side of the bed, then he kicked his legs over the side of the mattress and stood up.

Next thing he knew, John’s forearms were under his armpits, slowly lowering him to his knees on the floor as the world spun in circles around them. Bob pushed his palms over his eyes when his legs hit the carpet.

“Bob, you okay?” John spoke urgently, his right hand wrapping around Bob’s back to steady him as his left squeezed Bob’s upper arm. “Bob. Bob, can you hear me?”

“I’m— I’m okay. Shit.” Bob took the slowest, deepest breath he could muster, his heart pounding as he leaned into John’s grasp. “It’s just— It’s vertigo. Really bad vertigo. I need a second.”

John gave him that second and then some. He settled both his arms around Bob’s back, gently rubbing his skin as he breathed. Maybe it was just because he was so exhausted, but Bob almost wanted to cry at the sheer kindness that John was showing him. John. Infamous-for-being-an-asshole John.

It took a few minutes for the nausea to subside enough for Bob to lift his head. When he did, his eyes were wet from unspent tears, either from emotion or pain. He couldn’t tell anymore. John opened and closed his mouth twice before he spoke again, his words quiet.

“You should stay in bed,” he advised, breath warm beside Bob’s ear.

Bob started to nod and then winced. “Just wanted to use the bathroom.”

“Can’t argue with that. You want me to help you stand up?”

“No, I can stand up. I can— shit, shit, shit.”

“Easy.” John set his hands on Bob’s shoulders briefly before he shifted them to his waist. “Let’s take this slow.”

It was impossible to resist John’s strong arms as they supported him, helping him rise back to his shaky feet. The moment he was back upright, Bob’s eyes found John’s face, his gaze drawn not to the man’s eyes but to his lips. When had he become interested in John’s lips?

“Can you just—?” Asking for help still felt hard. One tiny request made him feel pathetic, unworthy. He swallowed hard and forced himself to say the words, trusting John to support him. “Can you help me to the wall? So I have something to hold?”

“Yeah, of course.” He swore the way John looked at him was the same way he was looking at John. The only problem was he couldn’t quite tell what that way was. John supported him the few steps to his en suite, then stayed close as Bob switched to the wall. “I’ll be here when you come out, all right? I’ll help you back to bed.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

Immediately, John wanted to take the thought back. He couldn’t think that about his teammate, had never thought it about a man. But there was something about the sharpness of Bob’s jaw contrasting with the softness of his cheeks; the way his curls spilled around his face and his thumb tilted toward his lips.

John dragged his knuckles down Bob’s face, feeling everything from the soft skin of his temple to the scratchy stubble along his jaw. He moved his fingers up and down in that path a few times before Bob’s eyes fluttered open. Suddenly embarrassed, John carefully pulled away.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” said John. He kept his voice low in case Bob still had a headache. “How do you feel?”

Bob shrugged as he nuzzled into John’s leg. “Tired.”

“Your fever feels better.”

“Mmhm.” He shifted with a yawn. Bob seemed more lucid than the night before but he was still shaking a little, still blinking like he wasn’t quite sure where he was. “Did I take my meds?”

John glanced at the bottle on the table. “I tried to get you to take ibuprofen, but you wouldn’t.”

“No, no. Not— I need my meds. Did I take my meds?”

“What were you supposed to take?” Bob shook his head, mumbled something about it not mattering anymore. “Do you need to take anything now?”

“Yeah, I take—” Bob swallowed, seemingly exhausted again already. “I take shit three times a day.”

“What do you need right now?”

He squinted and bit his lip, clearly struggling to remember his routine. “I need lithium and the— the other one. Not Seroquel; the one I take in the morning. Invega. I need that. And Buspirone and Propranolol.”

Something in John’s heart shattered. He had no idea that Bob’s medicine routine was so extensive. Part of him felt a little guilty for not even knowing what half of his medications were for.

“Do you want me to go get them for you?” John asked.

“What time is it?”

John glanced at his phone. “Quarter past nine.”

“Then no, it’s fine,” Bob mumbled. “I don’t usually take them until around ten. Can we just stay here until then? And then I’ll try to shower too. I’m just— I’m fucking— I’m fucking dizzy.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” The silence hung for just a moment before John realized what Bob asked. He couldn’t remember if he’d taken his meds. What did he remember? “Do you remember much of yesterday?”

“It’s really blurry. I remember you were helping me. Thank you.”

John smiled. So, Bob might not have remembered complimenting John’s beard or fawning over his ass. It might have been nothing more than just a fever-induced ramble. But it had to come from somewhere, right? Then again, why did it matter?

He was probably just clinging to the tiniest shreds of validation. John felt insecure about his body, about himself as a whole, and Bob complimented him. He took that and ran with it. That didn’t mean he liked Bob, it just meant…

“Anyone ever told you you have beautiful eyes?”

Bob’s cheeks were already flushed but he still turned his face into John’s leg to hide them and his cute little lopsided smile. “No. The only comments I’ve ever gotten about my eyes was about whether I looked high.”

“I’m sorry,” said John instinctively, suddenly worried he’d hit a sore spot.

“No, no, it’s fine. I was high.” The way he chuckled confirmed the memories held no strong feelings. He sniffed and brushed his hand over his eyes, a shiver rolling through his body as he adjusted the blanket. “And while we’re complimenting things, you have pretty good thighs.”

John almost choked on his own spit. “What?”

“Nice and soft. I’d keep it as a pillow.” Just before John’s insecurities could kick in, Bob added, “And I can feel the muscle underneath too. Ever cracked a watermelon with these?”

“No, Bob, I have not done that.”

“Well, sign me up to watch if you do.” And then it was John’s turn to blush, cheeks bright red beneath his beard. Bob shifted on the couch, nuzzling his cheek against John’s leg. “Gonna close my eyes for a little bit; I’m getting nauseous again. Wake me up when it’s time for my meds.”

Back in Florida, the winters weren’t that bad. The nights were cold, yes, but they were survivable. It was hard to fall asleep but when he did, he did so with the confidence that he would still be alive when he woke up. Then came the move farther north and the jarring, freezing weather. The wind that bit at his ears, the snow that soaked through his shitty shoes, the nights he thought for sure he would freeze to death because he had nowhere to stay.

That was part of why, when he chose to leave the country, Bob went to Malaysia. Sure, the drugs were a big draw, but the climate called to him too. The promise that there would never be those god-awful blizzards, that he could take shelter from any rain without the fear that he would freeze solid in his sleep.

Bob nuzzled deeper into John’s chest, allowing the steadiness of his heartbeat to distract him from the wind howling outside. Though he knew that he was safe, he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t shake the sense that the warmth was fleeting, that the winter weather would still somehow break into his shelter.

“Shh…” John kissed Bob’s hair a second time. He lifted his hands just long enough to tuck the blanket more tightly around Bob before he set them back down, fingers circling warmth back into Bob’s stomach. “You’re still shaking.”

“I’m cold,” Bob mumbled, voice half muffled between all the blankets and John’s shirt. “I mean, I’m not— you’re really warm but I just—”

“I know. It’s all right.”

The wind rattled against the window behind them and Bob flinched. Though his mind wanted him to believe that the snow would overtake him, he tried to focus on the things that were real. The weight of John’s hands on his stomach, his soft breaths tickling Bob’s hair. Bob turned so his ear was pressed right against the left side of John’s chest, so his heartbeat became the loudest thing he could hear.

Being with John made him feel safer. Not just because of the physical warmth but because of the feeling of physical security he provided. Bob knew that nothing could happen to him while he was in John’s arms. He was protected from the cold, from the snow, from the bad memories that seemed to plague him every day.

“I love you,” whispered Bob. What he really meant was I love you for keeping me warm and I love you for keeping me safe, but not all those words came out.