[Friday Night ]
Celeste stepped through the sliding doors of the apartment building, arms full with a plastic bag of snacks and energy drinks. Her hoodie sleeves were pushed up, and her hair was messier than usual, the kind of mess that said 'I tried to study but gave up halfway.'
She was humming softly to herself when she saw him.
Ash.
Walking into the lobby from the opposite door, head down, shoulders hunched, still in his office uniform. His coat was uneven, collar askew. His steps… unsteady.
Celeste's heart clenched.
He looks like hell.
She took a deep breath.
Stay cool, don't overreact, don't scream or cry or—
She stepped into his path.
Ash looked up slowly, noticing the shadow in front of him. His eyes met hers, glazed with fatigue. His face was pale. His lips almost colorless.
But he smiled—weakly. Genuinely.
Then, he stumbled forward.
"Ash—?"
Celeste barely caught him as his body collapsed against her. Her snack bag crinkled to the floor.
He slumped onto her shoulder, his breath hot and uneven against her neck.
He's burning.
Celeste blushed.
"W-Wait—are you seriously getting a fever and this close to me right now? Rude."
He didn't respond. Only a muffled groan left his lips.
Despite his weight, she grit her teeth and supported him the best she could.
"Okay. Okay. Focus. You're sick. Not sexy. Sick."
She dragged him toward the elevator, struggling, panting.
"You better not pass out completely—I am not strong enough for this, Ash."
.
.
.
In front of Ash's apartment.
Celeste patted his pockets.
"Where's your key? Don't make me dig through weird places."
Ash groaned again, half-conscious.
"Great. Of course you wouldn't make this easy."
She gently eased him down to sit against the wall. Then she slung his bag off his shoulder and rifled through it.
"No wallet. No key… what do you even carry in here—" she paused, pulling out a calculator, a pen, a wrapped mint, and finally, a silver key.
"Thank God."
.
.
.
Celeste helped him stand and half-dragged him to the door.
She fumbled the key in the lock, kicked it open, and steered him toward the bedroom.
"Okay, almost there, please don't die. Or pass out completely. Or sneeze on me."
She kicked the door closed with her heel and dropped him gently onto the bed.
He flopped back, weak and flushed.
Celeste crouched beside him, working to untie his shoes.
"You are so lucky you're cute when you're miserable."
She pulled them off, then hesitated at his shirt.
"Alright," she muttered to herself. "Just getting you out of your sweaty clothes. For hygiene. Not for pleasure. Not for staring. Definitely not for touching abs."
She unbuttoned his outer shirt, revealing a clingy undershirt beneath—plain, sleeveless, slightly damp from sweat.
She covered one eye with her hand and placed the other cautiously on his chest. His heartbeat was fast.
Celeste groaned under her breath.
"Are you seriously seducing me while unconscious? Is this your power move?"
Ash twitched and muttered something incoherent.
Her eyes widened.
"You're dreaming, aren't you? Probably about taxes or spreadsheets."
She shook her head hard.
"Nope. Not the time. Not the time to be a perv."
She checked the kitchen.
Nothing.
Bathroom? Empty.
Drawer? Just paperwork.
No medicine.
Not even cold tablets.
"…Seriously?" she muttered. "You're the kind of guy who takes care of everyone else but doesn't even keep meds for yourself?"
She grabbed his apartment key again and headed toward the door.
"Stupid Man" she muttered. "Can't even take care of himself. Guess someone has to."
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