The next time Fry showed up, he wore a mask over his nose. Just his nose.

"You know I can't get you sick through the dome," Leela said.

"I know! There was a public hall today on the vaccines," Fry explained. "Professor made us all go so we could boo Wernstrom. So I masked up. Then I realized it was dinnertime, so I came here as fast as I could."

"Do you not watch the news?" she scoffed, then coughed. "Wear it over your ears or mouth." She sure would like some masks to put over her ears whenever Fry came around. Especially after his recent attempt at a serenade.

Her boyfriend pulled at his mask and snapped it back over his mouth with a wince. He then pulled out two paper bags. "I didn't have time to make dinner," he said, "so I grabbed some Fishy Joe's along the way." He put it through the little slot in the dome. "Your usual. A bit of ice cream too, cuz I think that's good for your throat?" He jiggled the leftover bag. "Got some for me too. We'll have a dome dinner date! You on one side, me on the other, and we'll finally eat together again, except not together, but sorta together."

He sat down on the floor, opened his bag, and waited with bated breath. "Come on, Leela," he coaxed gently, "the ice cream's already melting."

It didn't matter what he got for her, because it all tasted terrible and bland anyway, just like everything was in this stupid dome. But this felt insulting somehow.

"Oh, I get it," she said. "Now that we're not living together, you're giving up on cooking for me."

"What?" Fry's eyes went wide. "No! I just didn't have time–"

Leela pushed the bag out onto the floor and pulled the slot shut. Its contents spilled out next to Fry. "You're just like everyone else!" she shouted. "Selfish and stupid and way too addicted to carbs!" She started coughing again. How cruel that the virus that wrecked her throat also made it her first instinct to yell at everybody.

Fry took a deep breath. "I know that's just the virus talking." He said that a lot, mostly for his own sake, because no shit she knew it was the virus talking. In her mind, the virus was screaming.

"You don't have to eat it," he continued, closing his dinner bag and standing up. "Do you want anything else?"

Leela crossed her arms. "Maybe get me something that'll actually help me feel better." Nobody knew what foods were good for Explovid, but she was certain deep-fried fishy bits weren't it. She was worried enough as-is about how this virus would fuck up her body. She could only do half as many push-ups as usual now before her body started aching, and she lost her breath within minutes when she tried to jog in circles. Hopefully this would change when she felt better, but who could guarantee if she ever truly would feel better? It wasn't like anything had gotten better in the past week. The CDC had no idea how long it took for Explovid to pass, if it ever did.

She missed her treadmill and punching bag. She missed feeling strong and capable. She shouldn't have to rely on her boyfriend to feed her like a fucking zoo animal.

"I'll run by the market and get you something fresh and healthy," Fry said. "But there is one surprise in the bag I want you to see." He dug through the food garbage and took out a folded piece of paper, shaking off the grease and melted ice cream that had spilled onto the corner.

"You know I don't like cards, Fry." And she was sure any "get well soon!" signatures from her coworkers were bullshit. If they cared, they'd visit her. She was literally just above their stupid workplace!

"It's not really a card." Fry clumsily pushed the folded paper through the slot. "It's… well, you'll see."

He twiddled his thumbs as Leela unfolded the paper. It was a crude color drawing with a few food stains, but the two figures were distinct. Leela and Fry, lying in a green field, cuddling up close. Their hands were jagged and stubby, but they were unambiguously touching.

"I figured since we can't touch each other yet," Fry explained, "it might be nice to remember what it'll be like when we can." He pointed through the dome to the top corner of the paper, where a scratchy drawing of Bender's giant head loomed over the scene. "And Bender did that cuz he wanted to be involved."

Leela just stared at the drawing. It looked like a child had drawn it, and the unfamiliar eye might even call it sloppy and rushed. But even though it felt so natural to assume the worst of everyone right now, she knew this was drawn out of love. She knew this gentle scene, her being able to touch Fry without worry, was right.

It just hurt, so bad, that her brain kept screaming at her that it was wrong. She couldn't finish a happy or even complex thought without her head pounding like a drum to cut it off. The only thing that came out clearly was her raw senseless rage.

"You're mocking me, Fry."

"I didn't mean to! I thought it'd make you… well, I didn't know if it'd make you happy, but I thought maybe it'd remind you that you can be, someday."

"I'm stuck in this hot fucking dome with only my own germs to breathe, unable to go out and interact with any flesh-and-blood beings, knowing everybody hates me and my body is being wrecked from the inside out." She pressed her fists against the dome, getting as close to Fry as she'd ever get for a while. "I'm not gonna be fucking happy!"

Fry's chest heaved with another deep inhale, but this looked less reassuring and more like he was holding in tears. "I don't hate you. I love you."

Her response without even thinking: "I don't care." She crumbled up the drawing in her hands.

Fry sniffed. "You know…" his voice cracked. "I'm just glad you didn't rip it up." He put the Fishy Joe's bag – his own dinner, not the one spilled on the floor – through the slot just in case, then turned away. "Goodnight, Leela."

And he was gone. Maybe for the night, maybe forever.

Leela slid down the glass and just slumped on the floor. She knew she was being awful. But she had no idea how to stop.

She remembered when she visited her parents without knowing how sick they were. She had no idea why they were so rude to her, no matter what she did to help them clean up or how many compliments she gave. It confused and upset her, but she figured maybe they were just having another fight, and that having her around could be a nice distraction. Leela loved her parents so much, she was willing to put up with whatever digs they threw at her, because she knew from their history together that it wasn't their true selves.

But it still hurt to try your best and be met with nothing but dismissal and rage. She'd called her parents out so many times this week for how they acted when they had Explovid, and how little shame they seemed to have for getting her sick. But maybe they did feel guilty, and it was just buried under the nonstop fury flooding their minds.

Maybe she was healing, or maybe her brain was just tired, but there were pangs of guilt starting to poke through her impenetrable wall of anger. Maybe the virus let them through because she was still angry – just at herself for a change.

She uncrumpled the drawing, then slowly, carefully, ripped it down between the two touching hands.

Even as a drawing, she didn't deserve to be with Fry right now.