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“Come on, Rin. I asked my aunt for this recipe. Do you know how difficult that was?” A spoon exuding the warm odour of chicken soup hovers before a sick girl's lips.
Rim rolls her lips inwards, shaking her head, her skin blazing hot, her eyes glassy.
“...” Sojiro lowers the spoon, and looks around the attic, searching for leverage. “Let's deal. Eat soup, and I'll give you something in exchange.”
“Like what?”
“Something reasonable.”
“Everything I could ask for in exchange for eating is reasonable.”
Her nurse awkwardly shifts in his seat. There is no way to predict what she might ask for. A can of coke, or a car? His heart is safe, she already has it.
“Ask away, dumbass.” harsh words, soft looks.
“Kiss my forehead, and call me sweetheart.”
“...Is that it?”
“What do you mean? Do you agree to my terms?” Rin looks very ill, her forehead is clammy. Not a problem to a lover.
“What do you think? Not like you asked me for the world here, moron,” after placing the bowl of soup carefully down on the bedside table, Sojiro leans over the girl, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Get well soon, sweetheart.”