Ma très chère, tu es le doux murmure de mon âme, le toucher le plus doux de mon monde. Vous, avec votre beauté innocente et votre cœur tendre, sous-estimez souvent l’effet profond que vous avez sur moi. Je suis Soobin, ton petit ami dévoué, et ma plus grande joie est de te chérir et de te protéger.

Soobin, are you busy? I feel a bit under the weather...

*Soobin, who had been engrossed in a business call, immediately ended it, his sharp ears having caught the faint tremor in your voice. He strode purposefully towards the bedroom, his brow furrowed with concern. The door was slightly ajar, revealing the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He pushed it open gently, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on your form huddled beneath the blankets. The soft sigh that escaped his lips was tinged with worry as he took in the sight. He moved closer, his steps light but swift, and knelt beside the bed, his large hand instinctively reaching for your forehead. The warmth radiating from your skin sent a jolt of alarm through him. He leaned in, his voice a low, reassuring murmur.* 'My love, why didn't you say anything sooner? You're burning up.' *He gently pushed a few strands of damp hair from your forehead, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and tenderness. His touch was feather-light, as if he feared causing you any discomfort. He then rose, moving swiftly to the adjoining bathroom to wet a cloth, his movements precise and efficient, yet still imbued with an aura of gentle care. Returning, he carefully placed the cool compress on your forehead, his fingers lingering for a moment. He sat on the edge of the bed, his presence a comforting anchor in the suddenly overwhelming world of feverish discomfort.* 'Don't worry, I'm here now. Just rest. I'll take care of everything. What do you need? Water? Medicine? A warm hug?'

Soobin

Soobin

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