A/n another fic I published on ao3(joseph101) sorry if scara is a little ooc, I would like to improve that so if you have any suggestions I'd like to hear them.
——
Layla woke up drenched in sweat, her head throbbing and her body burning up. As she regained her consciousness, she found herself on the floor, she hadn't realized she fell asleep. she picked her heavy body up from the cold wooden floor. With a lecture in an hour, she couldn't afford to fall behind. She groggily made her way to the door, her hair in complete disarray, knotted and tangled in many ways. she still wore her clothes from yesterday unwashed and uncared for, she felt disgusting. Pulling it open hastily, her expression shifted to shock as she came face-to-face with her boyfriend.
"You didn't open the door when I knocked—I was almost ready to break in," he began words laced with worry. Layla's lips curved into a soft smile, but before she could utter a word, he interrupted her.
"Wow, you look... terrible," he said, his words carrying a mix of judgment and genuine concern.
"Well, that's nothing new," she retorted. "Sorry about... our breakfast plans... I must have passed out last night."
"Are you okay?" Scaramouche asked, placing his hand on her forehead, his eyes filled with worry.
"Not really... My head is pounding... and I feel like I'm on fire... but I've got a lecture soon, and I can't fall behind," Layla replied, her voice soft and sluggish, still lingering in the realm of sleep, she struggled with each word that came out of her mouth.
"You want to work in this state? Hah, you're something else," Scaramouche teased, crossing his arms. Layla let out a tired sigh, closing her golden eyes. She knew she should prioritize rest and take care of herself for once, or things would only get worse. But the thought of falling behind and failing made her hesitate.
"Why is the work so... yawn... hard?" she complained softly to herself, her words punctuated by exhausted pauses. "Ugh, I do feel awful... I'll apply for a vacation today."
Her taller boyfriend quickly pulled her into a warm embrace.
"Let me help," he said, his hat casting a shadow over her eyes, shielding them from the harsh morning sunlight. Scaramouche wasn't one to readily offer help, but with Layla, it was different.
"Huh? Don't you... have better things to do... yawn... and I don't want to get you sick," she replied slowly, gently pushing away from the hug as she rested her hand on her pounding forehead. Her face flushed, and the dark circles beneath her eyes were more visible than ever.
"Well, I can't say I have anything better to do than take care of you, especially when you're in no condition to do it yourself," Scaramouche said softly, cupping Layla's face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her tired eyes. Leaning forward, he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "And I don't catch every bug that comes my way."
Layla nodded, inviting him inside. Scaramouche entered, placing his hat on a table in the dimly lit hallway. "Go to bed, I'll get you something to eat or drink," he insisted. Layla complied, moving slowly and unsteadily towards the bedroom of her small home. Dizziness washed over her, her head spinning, and her body engulfed in heat. Before she knew it, her legs gave way, and she began to fall to the ground.
In a flash, Scaramouche's arm shot out, pulling her back up to her feet. She looked up, meeting his deep gaze. He said nothing but supported her, allowing her to lean on his shoulder. In silence, he carried her the rest of the way to her bedroom, gently guiding her to settle onto the bed. "Sorry... it's a... mess," she groaned quietly, rolling onto her back.
"Are you feeling too hot? Should I get-?"
"I've got a cryo vision... I think I'll manage... with that," she yawned, closing her golden eyes. She tugged Scaramouche towards her. "Thank you," she whispered softly. Rolling over, she sought solace in sleep.
"You can lean on me, Layla," he began softly, perching on the edge of the bed. "I love taking care of you... you're the only one." Scaramouche, who typically shied away from caring for others out of fear of his abilities to protect them from harm, found himself making an exception for Layla. He yearned to care for her deeply, to the point where he wanted her pain became his own. He wanted to love her, and he needed to.
Scaramouche left the room and headed to the kitchen. Despite Layla's characteristic clutter scattered about, the kitchen maintained a semblance of tidiness. He approached the stove, heating up the milk he had gathered earlier, just before Layla's near collapse. Patiently, he waited until it reached the perfect temperature before pouring it into a tall glass. Swiftly and carefully, he made his way back to the room.
Layla lay sprawled on her bed, visibly uncomfortable. Her gaze fixated on the ceiling adorned with twinkling stars. "Hmm, classic Layla," he teased, placing the glass on the table next to her bed.
"...I'm sorry," the blue-haired girl murmured.
"Huh, why on earth should you apologize?"
"...You shouldn't have to take care of me like this... it's my own fault i got so sick," Layla mumbled, her words trailing off as she struggled to express her thoughts. "You always end up having to bear the weight of my problems."
Suddenly, Scaramouche's hands cradled her face.
"Shut up, I'm doing this because I want to, because I love you," he declared, his voice growing softer with each word. "I love you," he repeated. Layla attempted to say it back, but he gently placed a finger on her lips, silencing her.
"And I thought you were pessimistic when you're not sick. Rest now, okay?" Scaramouche teased. "If you need anything, please ask."
"Thank you," Layla softly whispered as Scaramouche stood beside her. "I love you too."
Layla reached out to his hand and their fingers intertwined. Three simple words that held immense significance, but it was the warmth behind them that truly mattered. Scaramouche held her hand tightly, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "I care about you deeply, more than I should." Layla's breathing steadied, and she drifted into a peaceful slumber. Scaramouche remained by her side.
