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You're exhausted today. God knows why - maybe you overexerted yourself, or the burnout caught up, or a million other reasons. You slept in late, later than usual, until you were tired of sleeping the day away and crawled out of bed to do something, anything else.
The anything else culminated into you sitting in front of the door, opened wide, to watch the rain fall.
It's cold out, but you're too tired to get a jacket from the hangers nearby. You just let the chill hit your face, hug your body, spill into the warm house behind you. A blanket laid out underneath you cushions your butt from the entryway mat. You don't bother trying to pull up the edges around your shoulders. You just lean against the door, hugging yourself, and watch.
It's been raining all day. The earth is soaked and muddy. The streets and paths, all washed out. The sky is a dull grey. Branches and leaves bounce under the onslaught. Water from the gutter gushes out of the pipe at the bottom in a low chug, bleeding out onto the ground. A puddle nearby is full of restless ripples, reflecting back the world in blurred lines.
A blanket is draped across your shoulders. Your husband bends overtop of you to pull it closed at the front, scarred hands ensuring you're wrapped up tight against the chill. He presses a kiss to your head. "I hope you don't catch a cold."
You smile sleepily. As Zayne steps carefully onto the blanket and sits down beside you, you heave your body from leaning against the door to lean against his shoulder instead. He wraps an arm around your back, hand curled around your arm to rub the chill away through the blanket. He leans his head atop yours.
Rain dominates the conversation. Tapping away at the house for entrance. Passing cars drive through the water with a rough sound, splashing puddles up onto the sidewalks, casting their beams of light into the reflections on the ground. But through it all, you feel the brush of Zayne's lips against your forehead as he speaks softly, just loud enough for you to make out the words.
"Are you alright?"
You don't know how to answer. You're tired on a bone-deep level. Exhausted, but so sick of sleeping. But you're not upset, not really sad in any way. Not that you're happy, either. Just existing. A ghost floating through the day.
The worry radiating off of him ratchets up in time with the dripping water. Seconds ticking by in silence that allows him to run through every symptom you're showing to assess the best course of action to make you feel better. He lays his cheek on your forehead, subtly feeling your temperature, trying to figure out if you did happen to catch a cold, or some other illness, worsened by the chilled wet air hitting you in the face.
Finally, you hum. Slowly turn into his side to wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his neck. He wraps his other arm around you in return. Both hands rubbing up and down your back to warm you up, assuring you of his support. Your eyes fall closed on their own accord. Heavy, weighed down, strained. "'M so tired," you mumble, lips barely parting around the words. You sigh, long and low. "It's like a vampire came by and sucked me dry of energy."
He hums his acknowledgement. "Could it be due to the weather?"
"Maybe..." You rub your cheek against his shoulder, cold nose tracing ticklish lines against his neck. You sigh. "I hate it, Zayne. I just want to be not tired. I don't want to keep feeling like this."
"You've been working hard lately. It's possible your body is forcing you to rest to make up for the strain."
"Mmm, and what does Dr. Zayne recommend to deal with it?"
"I recommend not fighting against your body, and allowing it the rest it needs. There are other ways to rest aside from sleep that may interest you more. A good meal, for one. Watching or listening to something familiar or doing some low-energy hobbies."
"And will Dr. Zayne be overseeing these treatments personally?"
He smiles softly, pulling you tighter against him as a cold wind blows by. "Of course. I think we should begin treatment immediately, starting with getting you warmed up and away from the cold. If your body isn't well rested, you're more susceptible to getting sick."
You sigh, long and drawn out, like he's just told you to climb up the side of a mountain on your hands and knees while carrying 80 pounds of supplies on your back. But you know he's right; it would be best not to get sick now, when you're already feeling drained and awful.
Still, you hug him tighter. "Just a little longer. I like sitting here with you."
He readjusts the blanket around you, bringing the edge up to cover part of your face from the cold. You can stay for as long as you want, but that won't stop him from playing damage control. Won't stop him from continuing to rub your back and arm through the blanket, or sharing his warmth with you. His head resting on yours to further block you from the wind.
You open your tired eyes again. Both of you, staring out of the doorway, watching the rain.