Why do I ruin myself when writing prompts? Why do I continue writing prompts when I know that they aren't going to be good due to writer's block (I started this in the summer and wrote all of this at once)? Why do I not correct them afterwards?

It's almost as if I'm punishing my future self for something that I've done, making myself write something on a whim before turning it in- like my homework assignments when I've forgotten that I had homework last night.

Day Eighteen: One of them is sick

Seventeen hours, thirty-seven minutes, and six seconds.

It has been approximately thirteen hours, thirty-seven minutes, and six seconds since he was forced to stay home and rest in bed. He understood staying at home and resting so he could prevent the spread of the disease around the office, but he didn't quite understand why he wasn't allowed to work at home. He told her that and shared a look of disdain with her.

"So your body can rest," she said again, crossing one leg over the other and giving a particularly sharp glance. "It can heal and get better faster if you aren't stressed."

"I'm not stressed."

"You are stressed; you may not notice but I do." Taylor said, glaring down at the pages of her textbook.

"Thinking about the work I have to make up once I get back makes me stressed." Saguru moped, crossing his arms and leaning back against his headboard. "I'm losing thirteen hours-"

"I know how much time you're losing, Saguru." She rubbed her forehead. Was she stressed? He asked her that. "Taking care of a sick person kinda makes a girl stressed, ya know."

"Does it?" He asked, tilting his head. "It wasn't as stressful when I was taking care of you."

There's a sickness going around. Saguru was doing a very good job at avoiding getting it at his office, wisely staying away (not ignoring them, just keeping a safe distance away) from them and making sure his immune system was the best it could be. Then Taylor got sick and, as her boyfriend, he was obligated to take care of her whether she wanted him to or not.

She sighed. "No, it probably wasn't." She looked at the clock; it was a little past noon. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," He responded. "And it's almost time for my medicine again too." She tossed him the pill bottle from the desk as she stood.

"Hang on to that while I make some tea." She paused before speaking almost hesitantly. "...White tea, right?"

Saguru smiled. "That's right. It seems that you've been doing your research." She flushed and looked towards his door, biting her lip. He told her to stop doing that. "Don't be embarrassed about caring for me."

"I'm not embarrassed." She said instantly. He opened his mouth to state evidence that yes, she was embarrassed, but was struck with a harsh coughing fit instead. She was by his side immediately. "Are you okay?" She asked. He nodded, tears coming do his eyes as he clutched his stomach. "Here, give me a moment while I get your tea." She dashed to the door, took three steps, then came back, leaning through the doorway. "Don't move."

He tried to smile at her but ended up grimacing. "Even when you're mad you still care."

Taylor's face flushed again, but in anger this time. "I'm not angry!" She snapped before leaving the room again. He stared after her before leaning against his pillows, sighing. Why does she insist on not being mad when she clearly was?

As he waited, not daring to make her even more mad by moving, he drummed his fingers against his arm. He thought about the possible reasons why she would be mad at him. Did he say anything to her these past few days? Forgotten something that was deemed important to her (he nearly laughed at the thought. Him, forgetting something? Nonsense.)? No, nothing that he could think of, anyway. Her mood seemed to have been better once she got over being sick, but dropped once she found out of his illness.

Ah, so that's the reason why she's so mad. He stared towards the door. If he listened closely, he could hear her moving around the kitchen. She should be back up in about a minute and a half, depending on how rushed she was to make it and bring it back. He closed his eyes, feeling them burn under his eyelids as he did so. He should take a nap sometime today as well, maybe relax just like she ordered him to. His lips curled as he lightly chuckled. How strange, he hasn't admitted to being wrong outside of a case for awhile.

"What are you laughing about?" His eyes opened, and he found himself getting a slight headache from the light above. The tea and medicine would help.

"Nothing," he replied, reaching out to take the cup and holding two pills loosely between his fingers. "Thank you."

"Mm-hm," she responded, watching him as he took the pills with ease. "Anyway, I'm going to make some soup."

"Alright," He closed his eyes again, but darted out and grabbed her arm before she could move. "I'm sorry."

He could feel her stiffen under his touch; was it in anger or in shock? Perhaps it was both. "Do you even know why you're apologising?"

"Of course I do," He said, slightly irritated at her accusation. Did she honestly think that he would apologise without reason to do so? How long did she know him- she should know better by now. "Who do you take me for?"

"An idiot detective."

He tried to chuckle but coughed again. He squinted up at her. "I didn't tell you that I was sick. I was only thinking about how much work I needed to get done and didn't tell you. I'm sorry."

She sighed and lightly touched his hand. "You're forgiven. Just make sure you tell me next time, alright?"

"I won't forget." She scoffed.

"I know you won't." She pat his hand to loosen his hold. "Alright, stay here and fall asleep or something while I go make your soup."

"Alright," he said, resting his head on his pillows and closing his eyes again. He never realized how tired he was before this exact moment.

It was approximately thirteen hours, fifty-two minutes, and fourteen seconds after he was forced to stay home and rest that Saguru had realized that he should actually rest, just like he was told.

Fun fact: since I take honors classes, it's far too much of a risk of missing out on something important if I miss a day. This especially goes to my new class of business and law (it was my first day today) where all of our notes- every single one of them- are written orally. It's going to be a love-hate relationship with that class, I swear.

But I figured that it would be the same with Saguru in school, where he feels like he can't miss a day, and I decided that this would transfer to his adult work-life. I know that it'll probably transfer to mine as well. Sigh.

I think this turned out kinda well for something that was written for you on a whim. I'm impressed with myself. Are you impressed with me? Don't answer that.