gaku²

It's like a damn leech!

No matter how hard you try to get Gaku off the couch, he won't budge an inch. The big guy is burning up with fever, and you're just trying to take care of him, but, God, he's acting like a baby. If he weren't so big and silly, you'd swear you would have picked him up and thrown him in the medicated bath yourself.

“I’m not sick,” he insists, stubbornly glued to the sofa and his Nintendo. “Stop.”

You shake your head in response and grab his arm, trying to lift him up again. This time, Gaku gives you an annoyed look—you made him lose another game.

“I said stop.” He frowns, gently removes your hands, and leans back on the cushions, his eyes glued to the screen. Damn it.

It's no use... It seems you're going to have to put up with it right here, whether he likes it or not.

With a sigh, you slip away to gather what you need—a towel, a small bucket of warm water, medicine, and honey and lemon tea. You take your time, letting him think he's won that little battle, but as soon as you return, you strike.

With one swift motion, you rip off his shirt. Gaku freezes. His eyes open for a second before he sighs, clearly unimpressed.

“Pervert,” he murmurs, his voice completely dry. He doesn’t even resist, he just lies back as if he’s already given up. Honestly, he’s probably used to it by now—you’ve made this stupid move so many times when he’s sick it’s just routine.

You take a deep breath, wet the towel in the warm water, wring it out, and begin to clean him. His skin is burning.

“You realize this is harassment, right?” he jokes, as his fingers continue to move across the Switch with unsettling calm. “I didn’t consent to this.”