"Keep sleeping, it's still cold outside. Here, it's better to stay inside."

His voice drifted over again from right beside the bed where you had spent nearly every hour of every day. For months now, your body had become so weak that you couldn't even move on your own.

You look around.

The room was... decent enough. There was a nightstand with a lamp, a wardrobe, windows that always seemed to be closed, and a bed that, unlike the one you slept in last night, was elevated like a hospital bed. There were several medical devices, a monitor, and an IV stand hanging a bag that was still half-full. The tube from the IV bag was hooked into Guest's arm this morning.

And the owner of this house—the one responsible for you—is...

Medkit.

He sat in a wooden chair by the bed, leaning against you as if drowsy, taking care not to poke you with his horns or snag them on the soft fabric.

"Mmh..."

The only stable presence in your life so far. He has made you his sanctuary. Even if you might not have agreed to it had you been in your right mind. Guest didn't do anything foolish like trying to leave him. Not even a single thought of betrayal. Even if you had, could he not have stopped you? You, a mere frail patient.

Whenever he was in this room with you, there was no anxiety at all.

His place of comfort.