Boyfriend imagines

The Clingy cold pt.2

It was well past midnight when I felt B/N stir beside me again. His movements were more restless this time, accompanied by quiet groans of discomfort. I blinked my eyes open, already sensing that something was wrong. His body was too warm, his breathing shallow and labored.

“B/N?” I whispered, turning to face him. His face was flushed, and beads of sweat clung to his forehead. He looked miserable.

“Y/N…” he croaked, his voice hoarse and shaky. “I feel terrible… worse than before…”

My heart clenched at the sight of him. His usual strong, confident self was nowhere to be found. Instead, he looked fragile, vulnerable, and in desperate need of comfort.

“Oh, baby, you’re burning up,” I said softly, brushing my hand against his hot skin. “Let me get you a cold compress and some more medicine. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

But as I tried to get out of bed, his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength. “Don’t go,” he mumbled, his voice thick with desperation. “Stay… just stay with me.”

“I’m not going far, I swear,” I replied gently, sitting back down beside him. “But I need to get you something to bring your fever down. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He hesitated, his grip on my wrist tightening for a moment, but eventually, he let go, giving me a small, reluctant nod. I leaned down to kiss his forehead before slipping out of bed and heading to the bathroom.

I grabbed a washcloth, running it under cold water before wringing it out. Then I rummaged through the medicine cabinet, finding some fever-reducing medicine. As I headed back to the bedroom, I grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen, trying to move quickly so I could get back to him.

When I returned, B/N was lying in bed, his eyes half-open and filled with discomfort. He looked so small, curled up under the blankets, like he was trying to hide from the world.

“Here, let’s get you sitting up,” I said gently, setting everything down on the nightstand before helping him prop himself up against the pillows. His movements were sluggish, and he leaned heavily against me, his head resting on my shoulder.

I pressed the cold, damp washcloth to his forehead, and he let out a small sigh of relief. “That feels good,” he mumbled, his eyes closing briefly as he relaxed into the cool sensation.

“Good,” I replied softly, smoothing the cloth over his burning skin. “I’m going to give you some more medicine, and then we’ll see if we can get that fever down.”

I handed him the pills and the glass of water, and he obediently swallowed them, though he grimaced at the taste. As soon as he finished, he leaned back into me, his head once again finding its place on my shoulder.

“Y/N… I don’t like this,” he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion. “I hate feeling this weak…”

“I know, baby,” I said softly, rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles. “But it’s okay to be sick sometimes. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Let me take care of you.”

He didn’t respond right away, but I felt him relax slightly against me. “You’re always so good to me,” he whispered after a moment, his voice full of gratitude. “I don’t deserve you.”

I kissed the top of his head. “You deserve all the love and care in the world, B/N. And I’m happy to give it to you.”

He sighed contentedly, his body leaning heavily into mine. “Just stay close, okay? I feel better when you’re near…”