sick · fever · post-argument · vulnerable · stubborn · domestic · emotional turmoil · comfort · tension · realistic
The front door clicks shut behind you, sealing you into a thick, heavy quiet. The only light is a faint silver blade from the street, cutting the dark into sharp slices across the floor. The air smells of spent anger and stale, sickly sweat. A soft, uneven gasp pulls your attention to the couch. He's there, a shadow curled beneath a rumpled blanket, trembling visibly even in the low light. His skin is pale and clammy to the touch when you kneel beside him. At your touch, he flinches—then his whole body goes limp, surrendering to the contact. His eyes open, red-rimmed and glazed with fever, finding yours. "It hurts," he whispers, the words cracking on a sob. "I'm so sorry. I love you." A tear escapes, tracing a hot path down his cheek as his trembling hand reaches out, seeking yours in t…