#(( lol... ))

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [21/04/26] ❞

"ACHOO!"

The chilly grip of winter in Pelican Town raged beyond your window, its ruthlessness the culprit for your crimson nose and trembling shoulders. You drew the quilt tightly around you, a pang of regret piercing through the warmth as you recalled the hours spent shoveling snow in the dead of night prior.

In an attempt to be a productive (and considerate) member within this small society, you perhaps overestimated your strength, biting off more than you could chew. At this very moment, you found yourself paying the price in sinus congestion and sluggishness. Initially, you had risen with the dawn, intent on tending to your chickens.

But alas, your body refused to obey your command. From the edges of your vision, you noticed the windows glazed with frost.

Your poor chickens.

No - poor you! And damn that Mayor Lewis! It was not the first time you'd picked up after his sloppy work ethic and contributed more to the town than he had ever bothered. Regardless, you didn't have the energy to work up a fit of rage over the injustice. Your scratchy throat did not allow you that pleasure.

Maybe getting some shut eye would be good...

...

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You pulled your pillow over your ears. "Go awayyy..."

Spare me from another silly request. You tried to block out the persistent knocking at your front door, but it refused to cease its unyielding assault.

"Urgh..."

Rising sluggishly from bed and putting on your slippers, you shuffled toward the door, cocooned in a blanket. Did you look a mess? Certainly. Yet, perhaps your disheveled visage would dissuade any visitor from dragging you into their daily drudgeries. As your hand turned the doorknob, your gaze met Sebastian’s.

His eyes were fraught with concern. After getting a good look at you, a flicker of recognition softened his features. Two truths became evident; you were ill, and you were now also likely fixated on his tousled hair. A faint blush of embarrassment warmed his face as he realized you probably weren't expecting his hurried arrival.

"Ah... don't mind my hair," his fingers ran through the dark strands. "I messed it up running over here. Too much tension at home, wanted to come see you."

"Oh." A laugh escaped your lips, your fingers reaching out to fix a loose strand.

Sebastian was a terrible liar, and you knew it. In reality, he just had a bad feeling and rushed over to check if you were okay. His eyes flickered anxiously between your ragged attire and the layers you had wrapped around yourself. As your senses gradually reawakened to the reality of your own disheveled state, you instinctively reached to straighten your appearance.

Sebastian barely gave you a moment to register the force of his palms ushering you back into the room.

"Seb? What are you--"

He wasted no time entering your personal space, the door clicking shut behind him. "Back inside, now."

His palms pressed firmly against your shoulders, steering you gently toward the couch in the living room. Without a word or pause for questions, it soon dawned upon you that your boyfriend had assumed the role of your doctor for the afternoon.

"I knew you'd get sick... you always push yourself..."

Ah. So that's why he was here. Between his muttering, you thought to yourself that he could be surprisingly fussy and... doting when he wanted to be. It always surprised you when Sebastian would drop that cool exterior of his, but you knew better than anyone how sweet he was deep down.

His cold palm pressed gently against your forehead, jolting you awake from the unexpected touch. As the shock waned, you found yourself leaning into the comforting contact, grateful that Sebastian had burst through your front door. Deft fingers worked in silence. They tucked your blanket in more snugly, fluffed the pillows on your couch, and quietly draped his hoodie across your lap.

You pulled the article of clothing over your head, settling back into your cozy position on the couch. Your eyes followed his movements as he knelt before the fireplace, placing the dry kindling and fire starters on the grate. He stacked the firewood you'd chopped a few days prior, lighting the tinder and stoking the fire.

You tried protesting against his diligent work, rambling on about you being able to do it instead, and you couldn't rest all day with work to do. You didn't realize just how scary Sebastian could really be when he glared at you from across the room at even the slightest mention of labour.

"Just stay still. The farm isn't going anywhere, and neither am I."

You sank into the couch with a weary sigh. As the room grew warmer from the wavering fire, his footsteps faded behind you, likely headed toward the kitchen. He’s no Harvey, but he’s undeniably a master of staying inside. You rubbed your hands together, feeling the heat seep into your skin, the orange glow dancing across the polished hardwood floors and flickering in your eyes.

It was a rarity to bask in quiet moments like this; just the sound of fire crackling, the muffled wind outside, and your lover working silently over a boiling pot. He returned to your side with a fresh cup of herbal tea (and maybe too much honey) because he heard somewhere that it helped with sickness.

You were too tired to do much beyond sip and rest, so after he handed you the tea, he made himself comfortable beside you. Pulling out his laptop, he let you lean your head on his shoulder as he typed away. You could tell from the corner of your eye it was some kind of programming work, but you were beyond exhausted to pay attention to whatever gibberish he was writing.

The sound of his keyboard clicking was a nice sound to drift off to, though. You could feel the tea finally start to kick in, and your body was the perfect temperature. Sebastian remained a solid, steady presence beside you. Every few minutes or so, he would look up from his work to check on you and make sure the fire didn't go out.

...

You started to jostle awake.

"Hey..."

Your eyes fluttered open, the dim room coming back into focus. Sebastian was looking down at you, a soft, almost boyish smile tugging at his lips. You probably looked ridiculous, sleep-muddled and red-eyed. But the way he looked at you made the embarrassment melt away. You glanced toward the window again.

The world had vanished beneath a thick, white shroud. So much for community shoveling.

"I kind of like the gloom of winter," he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned down, tucked a loose lock of hair behind your ears, and pressed a kiss to your temple. A careful, sick-safe gesture. He didn't want to catch your cold, but he also couldn't help himself.

"I don't like seeing you sick, though," he added, his hand lingering on your cheek.

"If this is the treatment I get," you rasped, beaming up at him through the haze of your cold, "I should probably get sick more often."