The rain hadn't stopped since yesterday, and neither had Raka's stubbornness.
Kirana stood at the doorway of his room, arms folded, watching the lump under the blanket barely move. The lights were off, save for the gray wash of the cloudy morning slipping through the window. She sighed, stepping inside with a damp cloth and a small bowl of warm porridge.
"Still trying to act tough?" Kirana asked, placing the bowl on his desk.
Raka groaned, peeking out from under the blanket. His face was pale, his lips a little dry. "Tough guys don't get sick," he mumbled.
"Then clearly, you're not one," Kirana shot back, rolling her eyes.
She dipped the cloth into the water and wrung it out, then sat beside him carefully. Raka flinched a little when she laid the cool cloth across his forehead, but he didn't protest. Instead, he leaned into the touch—slightly, almost like a reflex.
Kirana paused.
"You're burning up," she said softly.
Raka opened his eyes just a bit, enough to see her face up close. Her brows were furrowed with concern, her usually sharp expression now softened by care.
"I told you not to go out in the rain," she muttered.
"You also told me to stop being annoying," he whispered with a small grin. "I'm not good at listening to you."
Kirana rolled her eyes again, but this time with a hint of a smile. "You're lucky you're pitiful right now," she said, then picked up the spoon.
"Open your mouth."
Raka blinked. "What, you're gonna feed me like a baby?"
"Yes. Because you're acting like one."
He chuckled faintly, too tired to argue, and opened his mouth. Kirana gently spooned a bit of the porridge and blew on it before giving it to him. Raka swallowed slowly, never taking his eyes off her.
"You're really pretty when you're not yelling at me," he said in a half-delirious whisper.
Kirana froze, the spoon hovering in mid-air.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing," Raka smirked weakly, closing his eyes.
She didn't say anything for a moment. Just stared at his flushed cheeks, the way his lips curved into a sleepy grin even in his fever. Then, with an exhale, she dipped the cloth again and placed it back on his forehead.
"Get better first. Then we'll talk about your choice of compliments," she said, standing up.
Before she left, Raka opened one eye again and said, "Don't go far, Kak. I might need you again."
"I'm just in the kitchen," she replied, almost smiling. "Try not to burn the house down while I'm gone."
The rain hadn't stopped since yesterday. The sky outside was a sheet of gray, and the sound of water tapping the windows felt like background music to the quiet tension inside the house.
Raka lay curled under a thick blanket in his room, cheeks flushed with fever. His skin was clammy, and sweat clung to his temples. Normally, he would've been blasting music or sneaking into Kirana's room to annoy her—but today, he barely had the strength to keep his eyes open.
A soft knock landed on his door.
Kreet... The door creaked open slowly, revealing Kirana holding a bowl and a small towel draped over her arm.
"Still alive?" she said with a teasing smile, stepping in without waiting for a response.
Raka groaned, half-burying his face in the pillow. "Just barely. I think I'm dying."
"Drama much," Kirana muttered under her breath, setting the bowl on the nightstand. "You probably got sick from walking home in the rain yesterday. Told you to wait for me."
Raka opened one eye, watching her as she carefully dipped the towel into the bowl of cool water and wrung it out. She was wearing one of her oversized T-shirts, hair tied messily into a bun, and no trace of makeup on her face. She looked... oddly comforting.
"You came to take care of me?" he mumbled, his voice raspy.
Kirana rolled her eyes. "Well, someone has to. Mom and your dad are still out of town, and I'm not about to let you turn into a dehydrated zombie in my house."
Raka grinned weakly. "Wow. So caring."
"Shut up."
She gently placed the damp towel on his forehead. Raka flinched a little at the cold but didn't say a word. For a moment, there was only the soft sound of the rain and the feeling of Kirana's hand smoothing the cloth into place.
"...You're burning up," she murmured, more to herself than to him.
"Yeah. I can feel it," Raka said, his voice low. "But now that you're here, I feel slightly better."
Kirana scoffed, but a small smile tugged at her lips. She adjusted the blanket around him and sat beside the bed, folding her arms.
"Don't get used to this," she warned.
Raka peeked at her through half-lidded eyes. "You're kinda cute when you're worried."
Kirana glared at him. "And you're delusional when you're sick."
Still, she didn't get up.
After a few minutes of silence, she took the spoon from the bowl she brought and stirred it. "You should eat something."
Raka wrinkled his nose. "What is it?"
"Hot porridge. Not amazing, but it'll help."
Raka groaned. "You're gonna feed me too? Is this a fever dream?"
Kirana didn't answer. She simply scooped a spoonful, blew on it gently, and brought it close to his lips. "Open."
He hesitated.
"Don't make me force you, Raka."
With a sigh, he parted his lips and took the spoon. It was warm, bland, but oddly comforting.
"You're spoiling me," he said after a few bites.
"I'm being nice for once. Don't read too much into it."
But he was. He couldn't help it.
Kirana didn't seem annoyed today. Her face was calm, her gestures gentle. She stayed by his side longer than necessary, occasionally checking his temperature or rewetting the towel. Raka watched her through the fever haze, noticing how her eyelashes fluttered when she blinked, how her lips moved when she muttered to herself.
"Hey, Kak," he said softly.
Kirana turned, halfway through folding the empty towel.
"...You're really pretty, you know?"
Her hands paused mid-air. She stared at him for a second, unsure if he was joking.
Raka blinked slowly. "Like... super pretty."
"You're just sick," she said quickly, looking away. But her ears were visibly red.
"No, seriously," he said, eyes heavy but voice honest. "Even when you're mad at me. Even when you yell. I still think you're... really, really pretty."
Kirana didn't respond for a moment. Then she shook her head and let out a breathy laugh. "You're something else, Raka."
Silence settled again. Not awkward, but quiet—like the air before a storm or the space between two heartbeats.
Kirana stood up eventually. "Get some rest. I'll check on you later."
Before she turned away completely, she leaned down and gently ruffled his hair.
"Feel better, dummy," she whispered.
Raka didn't reply. He was already half-asleep, a soft smile playing on his lips.
But long after she left the room, the warmth of her hand on his head lingered like a memory he didn't want to forget.