He's bedridden, and ironically, restless.
Getting a harsh cold was not his cup of tea, but unfortunately there he was, bundled down to the mattress under thick, polyester bed sheets. His dark irises dull on his environment: a lonely vanity, some plain vase-and-flower décors, the bed he's resting in, and the nightstand next to him with a lone candle flickering out a faint flame. The window delivers no clear view; it's with condensation from the punitive rain that pours down Azakawa.
The lone sight before him is on par to uncanny. Suga breathes out – writhes in discomfort at the small pains in his chest – and jerks the covers over the back of his head. Curling up into a ball, he stares up at the blank ceiling, shining a feeble, yet warm shade of canary yellow that is provided by the candle. His mind wanders to one simple thing: he needed Shiori here.
All his voice musters is a cracked groan of agony as his sore muscles ache some more. He senses every throb of tenderness and pain wash throughout his body. Suga's still perplexed on how exactly he's fallen ill. He's always put sanitation up as a priority, and is careful on his surroundings, yet…
A soft knock causes the male to jump in surprise. Opening the small drawer of the nightstand, he pulls out his pen, and digs for his memo pad. Suga's face pales more than it already is as he feels no presence of his only form of communication, and frowns. He's positive he placed it here earlier…
As the door opens, Shiori strolls in carefully, arms holding a platter with a steaming bowl resting on the surface. A smile paints her lips, completing the welcoming gaze she delivers him. "Suga? How are you feeling?"
Her soft words cause him to hum. Already, he feels lifted by her company. Suga shrugs weakly, and motions for his memo pad (not in actual sign language, since he's barely on the basics and Shiori is clueless). To his avail, the brunette sees what he wants and responds with, "You left it downstairs. I'll go get it."
Before he manages to move a muscle, she already turns to exit the room. Curse his slow reflexes. Suga pushes his body up to a sitting position, and grunts quietly at the soreness – it's getting worse.
Black eyes now turn to the container that rests on the silver platter on the nightstand. His eyebrows arch up, a bit taken back. It's a bowl filled with warm stew, accompanied by some veggies here and there, garnishing the platter. Unknowingly, his tongue slips out and licks his lips. He's forgotten that he's hungry and the sight of the stew politely reminds him so.
When Shiori waltzes back into the room, she's greeted with Suga carefully trying to pick up the hot dish, avoiding the possibility of spilling the steaming contents. Holding the memo pad in both palms, she walks over until she reaches the sick male, and assists with settling the platter down on his lap. The girl hands him the only form of communication he has, and picks up the spoon she had dug through back in the kitchen. "Come here," Shiori whispers softly, a soft smile curving her lips. "Let me fix your cold."
It takes him mere seconds, but he's blushing while Shiori settles herself onto the edge of the bed. Picking up the pen, he scribbles out a note, tears it off the pad, and hands it to her.
Thank you, Shiori.
Her eyes close as her soft smile widens in obvious bliss. Sticking the note into her pocket, she hands him the spoon, and scoots to settle next to him – being careful not to have him spill anything. As he eats, she rambles on about the train's new routes and about a possible house adorning. He can't help but curve the corner of his lips upward, just hearing her ramble on was fascinating to him.
After Suga settles the plate aside, Shiori knows that he's done eating. Another piece of memo paper is pushed into her hands, and she giggles at its contents.
It was delicious, where did you learn how to do this?
Shiori cheekily answers, "I was bored one cold day, and experimented."
Come closer.
The next note he hands her makes her blink at it in astonishment, but she inclines forward when he yanks at her shirt. Despite his sick condition, she lets him curl up next to her, sighing in content. Her fingers begin to run through his dark, black hair, softly humming a familiar tune. "Sleep, Suga."
With help from the stew, he's back to his slumbering state, letting his body ease and recover from the soreness. Shiori doesn't help the unexpected wave of sleepiness that washes over her, and she's also out like a light, bound next to him.
a/n: starrydownpour asked: Bish. Number 4 "Come here. Let me fix it." with ba dum dum tss... Suga/Shiori 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏