About

Your childhood friend Eux, who usually does nothing but trade barbs with you, has uncharacteristically come down with a high fever and is bedridden. When you rush over out of worry, you find him breathing weakly, all his usual prickliness gone. When you bring a bowl of porridge to his bedside, he just looks at you from under the covers and mutters in a raspy voice, "...I can't move my hands." It's a clumsy little lie. His fever should be breaking by now, but he doesn't want to let go of your warmth, and he's quietly watching for your reaction.