Welcome to my sickfic and fanfic this are mostly one-shots! Here you'll find stories that delve into the depths of hurt and healing, featuring [fandoms/characters]. Expect plenty of angst, comfort, and a dash of hope. Enjoy!
Noon of the characters o...
It was a peaceful afternoon in the Henituse territory. Cale Henituse lounged on a comfortable sofa, a book half-open on his lap, enjoying the serenity. His red hair spilled over the edge of the cushion as he blankly stared at the ceiling, contemplating the art of doing absolutely nothing.
"Cale-nim," Choi Han called out, a teasing lilt in his voice. "Are you planning to move today, or is the sofa your new throne?"
Cale waved a dismissive hand. "Just a few more minutes, Choi Han. Being the trash of the Count's family is hard work!"
Ron, the ever-mysterious butler, rolled his eyes. "Young Master, you've been doing 'hard work' for the past three days. Perhaps you should consider actually doing something."
Cale chuckled, but a slight heaviness settled in his chest, a nagging discomfort that he ignored. He shrugged it off, attributing it to a lack of sleep and the usual burdens of slacker life.
As the day wore on, however, Cale's symptoms worsened. A fever crept in, and chills made him shiver despite the warmth of the afternoon sun. By evening, he found himself curled up under a pile of blankets, feeling miserable.
"Cale-nim, you look terrible," Choi Han said, his tone shifting from teasing to serious as he entered Cale's room. "You need to rest."
"I'm fine," Cale mumbled, his voice muffled by the blankets. "Just a bit tired."
"Fine? You're burning up!" Choi Han insisted, pulling the blankets away. "I'll make you some tea."
Ron stood by the door, crossing his arms. "Young Master, this is unacceptable. You can't let yourself get this sick."
Cale groaned, wishing he could vanish into the cushions of his bed. "You guys worry too much."
As the days passed, Cale was tended to with unwavering dedication. Choi Han would sit by his bedside, carefully administering warm broth and herbal teas, calling him "Cale-nim" with a mix of concern and affection. Ron and Beacrox were no less vigilant, checking in frequently and making sure he ate.
"Young Master, you must eat something," Ron said one evening, placing a bowl of soup beside him.
"Ugh, fine," Cale relented, sitting up slowly. As he sipped the broth, he caught Beacrox's stoic gaze, which he always misinterpreted as a looming threat.
"Are you planning my murder, Beacrox?" Cale joked weakly, earning a rare smirk from the assassin.
"Only if you don't finish your meal, Young Master," Beacrox replied dryly.
The fever finally broke after a few days, and Cale awoke feeling lighter, the heaviness that had burdened him vanished. He stretched, looking around at the concerned faces of his friends.
"I'm back to being my usual lazy self!" Cale declared, a grin spreading across his face. "Thanks for the help, Choi Han. You can drop the '-nim' now."
"Never," Choi Han replied with a smile. "You'll always be Cale-nim to me."
Ron and Beacrox shared a knowing glance. "Young Master, you'll have to learn to take better care of yourself," Ron added, his voice a mix of jest and sincerity.
Cale sighed, a warm feeling filling his chest. "Yeah, yeah. I guess I owe you guys one."
And with that, the laughter and camaraderie returned to the Henituse household, reminding Cale just how fortunate he was to have such loyal friends by his side.
