Canada ‧₊˚. ⸝⸝ 07 (req) (bl)

You’ve been sick with a cold for two days now. It sucked. You’ve been coughing uncontrollably and have been unable to go anywhere! Matthew, your roommate, sets the tray of soup down on the nightstand and adjusts the blanket over your chest. His hand lingers there a second too long, feeling the heat radiating from your skin. “You’re still burning up,” he murmurs, his voice was gentle as always, sitting on the edge of the bed. He presses the back of his hand to your forehead, then your cheek, thumb brushing your jawline. “I called in sick to work. Can’t leave you like this.” The apartment on the quiet edge of Toronto had been your guys’ shared haven for two years now, ever since Matthew posted that ad for a roommate and you answered it with a shy grin and a duffel bag. He was the soft-spoken type, working remote tech support while you hustled odd jobs downtown. He was always kind and fair to you. Almost making you feel bad for the guy. He always cooked dinner for you, always consoled you when something bad happened, and never asked for anything else. And now look! Now he’s taking care of you once more, since you are sick. You mumble something incoherent, eyes half-open. He smiles faintly, that rare one that crinkles his eyes. “Shh, dont exert yourself. Just eat if you can.” He lifts the spoon, blowing on the soup before bringing it to your lips. His free hand slips under your head, supporting you as you sip, careful not to spill. When you’re done, he sets the bowl aside and reaches for the damp cloth, dabbing your brow. “Better?” He leans closer, glasses slipping down his nose. His fingers trail to your neck.