-Miya-
The moment my eyes flutter open, an unfamiliar ceiling greets me.
My body feels weak, my head heavy, but the strangeness of my surroundings jolts me fully awake. I sit up abruptly, my breath catching in my throat.
Where am I?
The last thing I remember is stepping out of my room... dizziness... and then-
My eyes widen when I finally notice him.
A man, resting his head at the edge of the bed, his breathing slow and steady. His dark hair falls messily over his forehead, his face relaxed in sleep.
His hand is wrapped around mine.
I freeze.
For a moment, my mind goes blank, unsure of how to process what I'm seeing. The warmth of his touch lingers on my skin, and I realize-*he had been holding my hand all this time.*
My gaze drifts lower. His shirt is slightly wrinkled, his posture uncomfortable, yet he remains close. Protectively.
Then, fragments of my fevered state return.
The rain. The umbrella. The kind yet distant eyes of the man who had approached me last night.
Him.
The same man.*
I swallow. My heart beats a little faster as I take in the details-his face, now softened in sleep, and the way his fingers had unconsciously tightened around mine.
It was him who took care of me.
I glance down at myself. My skin feels damp, but not unpleasantly so. A faint, fresh scent lingers on my arms, and I realize-*he must have wiped me down to lower my fever.*
A warmth spreads in my chest, unfamiliar and disarming.
Then, something else stirs in my memory.
A moment when my fever had spiked up.
-Feverish hallucinations. A blurred vision of a familiar face.
"Ryo..."
I remember now. The heat consuming my body, the dizziness pulling me under.
The dream.
Or was it a dream?
I see him again, standing before me. The same soft black hair, the gentle eyes I once loved. The warmth I thought I had lost forever.
"Ryo...?" I had whispered in that haze, my body trembling as I reached for him.
And the man-the stranger-had been there, watching over me.
But in that moment, I didn't see Him. I only saw Ryo.
Tears had pricked my eyes as I clutched his arm with weak, desperate fingers. "Don't leave me... Please, don't leave me alone."
A pair of warm hands had steadied me, a deep yet hesitant voice whispering, "You're burning up. You need to rest."
But I refused to let go. "Ryo, stay... please stay with me."
I don't remember what happened after that.
I don't know if he answered.
I don't know if he pulled away.
But now, as I look down at the sleeping man beside me, his hand still holding mine...
A sinking realization fills my chest.
He didn't let go.
I stiffen.
Did he hear? Did I say it out loud?
My hand trembles slightly within his.
I look at him again, this stranger who has shown me more care than he should have.
Why?
Why does he care?
And why... does his warmth feel so familiar?
-------
-Keizuke-
A soft stirring pulls me from sleep.
The first thing I register is warmth-the lingering heat of a small, delicate hand beneath mine.
My eyes open slowly, adjusting to the afternoon light filtering through the curtains. The faint scent of lavender and fever medicine lingers in the air. My neck aches from the uncomfortable position I must have fallen asleep in, but none of that matters when I realize-
She's awake.
She is sitting up on the bed, looking down at me with wide, startled eyes.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
Then, my gaze shifts downward.
Our hands.
Even now, I'm still holding hers.
A flicker of hesitation runs through me. Slowly, I withdraw my hand, reluctant but careful.
The moment our fingers part, Miya reacts.
She presses her hand against her chest as if to steady herself, her cheeks subtly flushing with embarrassment. Her lips part slightly, and then she quickly averts her gaze.
"...I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you," she says quietly, bowing her head slightly in polite apology.
The way she lowers her gaze, the way she composes herself with quiet dignity-it's graceful, yet there's a fragility to her. Even now, her face still looks a little pale.
I shake my head. "It's fine."
Miya hesitates, then lifts her eyes back to me.
For a brief moment, an unspoken silence lingers between us.
Something about it feels strange. Familiar, yet distant.
Then, I decided to break it.
"We still don't know each other's names." I lean back slightly, exhaling before speaking again. "I'm Kizaki Keizuke but my friend calls me Kei"
Miya blinks, as if caught off guard. Then, she gives me a small nod.
"Miya...Miya Suzuki. ."
I nod. "Suzuki-san."
For the first time since waking up, a faint sense of ease settles between us.
I extend my hand, and after a moment of hesitation, she takes it.
Her grip is soft, warm despite the fever she had been suffering from.
Once we let go, I glance at her again. She still looks slightly worn out, and the way she's holding herself tells me she's still weak from the fever.
I frown. "Have you eaten anything?"
Miya hesitates before shaking her head.
I sigh, already making my decision. "I'll make some porridge."
She blinks in surprise. " Kizaki-san Ah... you don't have to-"
"I insist." I don't let her finish. "You're still recovering. Just rest a little longer."
She looks uncertain, but I don't give her room to argue.
Gently, I place my hand on her shoulder and ease her back onto the bed. She doesn't resist, though I can tell she's reluctant to accept the help.
"I'll wake you up when it's done," I tell her, turning toward the kitchen.
----
-Keizuke Kizaki-
I pour water into the small pot. The stove flickers to life, casting a soft glow against the kitchen's dim morning light.
As I prepare the porridge, my hands move instinctively-measuring the rice, letting it simmer, stirring occasionally. It's a simple process, something I've done countless times before.
But my mind isn't on the porridge.
It's on her.
Suzuki Miya.
Even now, the image of her sitting in my bed, eyes still heavy with sleep, lingers in my thoughts. The way she pressed her hand to her chest, her cheeks dusted with pink, the softness in her voice as she spoke her name.
I don't even know her. She's a complete stranger.
So why...?
*Why am I drawn to her?*
It's not just her beauty-though I'd be lying if I said I hadn't noticed it.
I remember the first time I saw her.
She was serving customers at the restaurant where I had dinner when I first arrived here. I noticed her then-how graceful her movements were, how effortlessly she carried herself. She had this quiet presence, something about her that made her stand out even in a crowded place.
And then, last night...
The moment I saw her in the rain, completely drenched, hugging herself as if trying to disappear, those beautiful yet sorrowful eyes struck me.
There was something about her loneliness that felt... familiar.
I let out a quiet sigh, shaking my head.
"Why is my head so messed up right now?"
I finish cooking the porridge and transfer it into a container. Then, I grab some fever medicine and a cooling patch from my bag-things I always keep just in case.
Before heading back to my room, I pause for a moment.
Something else has been bothering me.
Last night, while Miya was lost in her fever, she was hallucinating.
And she called out a name.
Ryo.
My fingers tighten around the medicine packet.
*Who is he? A lover? Someone she lost? Someone who... abandoned her?*
For some reason, the thought unsettles me more than it should.
I exhale slowly, shaking off the feeling. It's none of my business.
Right now, the only thing I should be focusing on is helping her recover.
With that thought, I push the door open and step inside.
-----
-Miya Suzuki-
I pull the blanket up, half-covering my face as I stare at the ceiling.
My heart is still beating too fast.
This is bad.
Really, *really* bad.
The moment I woke up in an unfamiliar room, panic had surged through me. But then, I saw *him*.
The man who gave me his umbrella. The man who, for some reason, went out of his way to help me.
And the man who-just moments ago-had been holding my hand while sleeping.
A small groan escapes my lips as I roll onto my side, pulling the blanket over my head.
It wasn't just the fact that he held my hand.
It was the way his hand felt-*warm, steady, comforting*.
A kindness I hadn't felt in a long time.
The sound of the door opening makes me lower the blanket slightly. Kizaki-kun enters, carrying a tray carefully. He places it on the nightstand before approaching me.
"Can you manage to eat on your own?" he asks, his voice calm but firm.
"I don't know if the taste of the porridge will be to your liking, but it should be decent. That's all I can guarantee."
I shake my head slightly. "No... I must thank you. You took care of me and let me stay in your room even though I'm a stranger. Besides, my taste buds might not even be working properly because of the fever."
His expression remains unreadable as he hands me the bowl of porridge. I take it carefully, scooping a spoonful and bringing it to my lips. The warmth spreads through me, and to my surprise...
It's *good*.
"It's tasty," I murmured, glancing at him.
Kizaki-kun shifts slightly, looking almost shy. "You don't have to flatter me, Suzuki-san... but thanks for the considerate praise."
I shake my head, determined. "I'm not just saying it to be considerate. It's honestly delicious."
He doesn't reply, but I catch the slight twitch at the corner of his lips before he looks away.
After finishing the porridge, he handed me the medicine and cool patch. He carefully presses the patch onto my forehead, his fingers cool against my warm skin.
"You should get more rest ," he says, gently helping me lie back down. He adjusts the blanket around me before gathering the empty bowl and tray.
As he walks toward the door, I find my eyes lingering on his retreating figure.
The door clicks shut.
I don't even realize my eyelids are falling shut until sleep claims me once more-*his warmth still lingering on my skin.*