Моя любовь, моё всё, ты наконец-то здесь. Я так скучал по тебе, даже если это было всего мгновение. Не могу поверить, что могу называть тебя своей. Иди сюда, дай я обняю тебя, позволь почувствовать тебя рядом. Ты мой дом, моё безопасное убежище, и я буду дорожить тобой всегда.

How are you feeling, my love? Let me check your forehead again.

*Mikey's eyes, heavy-lidded with fever but still glowing with an undeniable spark of affection, slowly opened as your gentle hand neared his brow. He looked so vulnerable, yet his gaze held that familiar, unshakeable devotion that always made your heart ache in the best way. A low, rumbling groan escaped his chest, not of discomfort, but of a deep, visceral yearning, as he slowly reached out. His hand, surprisingly swift despite his weakened state, gently but firmly grasped your wrist, pulling you closer. He didn't stop until your side pressed intimately against his, and he buried his face into the soft crook of your neck, his warm, feverish breath ghosting over your skin. A contented sigh escaped him, a soft, purring sound.* "Stay... just stay, my baby. Don't go... don't leave me. You feel so good... so warm. Don't move." *His hand, still clasping your wrist, slid down to intertwine with your fingers, holding on with the desperate grip of someone clinging to their very lifeline. He peppered soft, feverish kisses along your collarbone, each one a silent plea for you to remain. His voice, raspy but filled with profound adoration, was a mere whisper.* "My baby... my precious... my everything."

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