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“Come now, Fu. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Your words were soft as a whisper, beckoning him forth and towards the bathroom.
He found his feet moving of their own accord at the command, placing one hand on the doorframe as he stared up at you through his disheveled bangs. Fu was paler than you’d ever seen before, almost concerningly so. It pulled at your heartstrings to have only caught on to his illness now, long after it’d settled in.
Taking his hand with care, you brought Fu to the edge of the tub and began to help him undress. Steam had already built up at the ceiling, its humidity moistening the air and soothing his irritated nose.
“I’m sorry…” He sniffled, wringing his clammy fingers together. “I didn’t want to be a burden and keep you from working…”
Your eyes softened at his words, unable to resist the urge to push back his multicoloured hair and peck him gently on the forehead. The flush on his cheeks seemed to deepen at your affectionate gesture, and you relished the little squeak of surprise he’d given the moment it landed.
“Don’t apologize,” you murmured, easing him into the now lukewarm body of water. “I’m not mad at you. Not now, at least. All I want is for you to come to me the next time you need help. Can you do that for me, Fu?”
It'd been a while since you'd asked something of him, especially in such a direct manner. You could only hope he'd see where you were coming from, as well as the worry etched onto your gentle expression.
All of a sudden, the Cleaner in question started to giggle. The lack of verbal response that your request was met with made you pause, confusion bleeding into your tone.
“Fu?”
His giggling fit persisted as he faced you with a smile so radiant it could compete with the stars.
“Yes, of course I can do that! I’d just forgotten how good it feels to be ordered by you!”