Episode 6: Stay
667 Words
The room was unusually quiet that morning.
No alarm.
No rustling of papers.
No soft muttering about exams.
Just… silence.
—
He noticed it immediately.
Too quiet.
“…Hey.”
No response.
He frowned slightly, glancing toward her side.
She was still in bed.
Curled up.
Blanket pulled close.
“…You’re going to be late,” he said, a little louder this time.
Still nothing.
—
Something felt off.
He stood up and walked closer.
“…Hey.”
This time, he reached out—
Lightly touching her shoulder.
She stirred.
Barely.
“…mm…”
His brows furrowed.
“You’re not getting up?”
“…I can’t…”
Her voice was weak.
Soft.
Not like usual.
—
That’s when he noticed it.
Her face—
Flushed.
Her breathing—
Heavier than usual.
His expression changed.
“…You’re burning up.”
He rested the back of his hand against her forehead.
Hot.
Far too hot.
She gave a small, tired sound, eyes barely opening before closing again.
“…Sorry…”
“You're apologizing?”
A faint nod.
“…Didn't want to wake you…”
He sighed quietly.
“…You should've.”
—
She tried to push herself upright.
Made it halfway.
Then immediately winced, one hand pressing against her temple.
“…Everything hurts…”
“You're not going anywhere today.”
“…But the exam review—”
“It'll still exist tomorrow.”
“…It's important…”
“So are you.”
She looked like she wanted to argue.
Instead—
She just leaned back against the pillow.
Too exhausted to continue.
—
He disappeared from the room for a moment.
She heard cabinets opening.
Water running.
A drawer sliding shut.
A few minutes later, he returned carrying a glass of water and a small bottle of fever medicine.
“Sit up.”
“…I can…”
She tried again.
Failed again.
Without another word, he slipped an arm behind her shoulders and helped her into a sitting position.
She blinked at him.
“…Thanks…”
“Drink.”
She obeyed.
Slowly.
Every movement seemed to take effort.
—
After she swallowed the medicine, he took the empty glass back.
“You've eaten?”
A tiny shake of her head.
“…Didn't feel like it…”
“I figured.”
He disappeared once more.
—
The room fell quiet again.
She stared at the ceiling.
She hadn't expected him to fuss over her.
Usually he was...
Reserved.
Practical.
Not someone who hovered.
Yet this morning...
He hadn't left her alone for more than a minute.
—
When he returned, the tray in his hands held something simple.
Warm soup.
Toast.
Nothing heavy.
He placed it carefully on the bedside table.
“Just a little.”
“…I'm not hungry…”
“I know.”
He paused.
“But your body needs something.”
She stared at the bowl.
Then at him.
“…Did you make this?”
“…It's difficult to ruin soup.”
A tiny laugh escaped her.
Weak.
But genuine.
“There.”
“That sounds more like you.”
—
She managed a few careful spoonfuls.
Not much.
Enough.
By the time she finished, her eyelids were already drooping again.
“You can sleep.”
“…What about class?”
“I'll email the professor.”
“You don't have to—”
“I already decided.”
She blinked.
“…You're skipping too?”
“I can catch up.”
Silence.
“…Because I'm sick?”
He looked at her for a long second.
“…Because you're sick.”
It wasn't dramatic.
It wasn't overly sentimental.
Just simple.
Matter-of-fact.
But somehow...
It meant more than any grand speech could have.
—
As she drifted back to sleep, she felt the blanket being adjusted around her shoulders.
The room stayed quiet.
Not empty.
Just peaceful.
And when she opened her eyes for the briefest moment—
He was sitting nearby with a book in his lap.
Not reading.
Just staying.
Making sure she wasn't alone.
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