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Feverish Respite

He didn't want your help.

He didn't need rest either. At least that's what he told himself, sniffling into a tissue every minute, a cup of hot tea to his lips to stifle any cough.

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Illness was common for Andrew, having grown up in poor conditions— doctor visits were just far too expensive.

Not that they'd want to see him anyways.

He'd learned to take care of himself, relatively. If anything, he had more to work with here than home. Back at the church, he'd have to just deal with any condition whether it be a cold, flu or stomach virus.

He'd get over it, as messy as it might be. His frail bones were not as incapable as many presume.

And yet — there you were. At the door of his room, a hot meal that he could not make out from here, a blanket thrown over your shoulder and that... damned smile.

⛧⛥⛧

Won't you ever just leave him be?

His body hurts far too much already, he doesn't need any more strain on his heart.

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Identity V || Andrew Kreiss || Gravekeeper