"Really, Nari, I'm fine," Cyno protests.
"You're sick. You need to drink it," Tighnari insists, holding a cup of hot herbal tea.
The moment he heard that Cyno had been laying sick in bed for a week, he rushed to forage herbs, then carefully prepared them at Cyno's cooking pot.
I swear, he never uses it, Tighnari had thought to himself.
"You know why they call it tea?" Cyno says now, his voice laced with mischief.
"Cyno—" Tighnari warns.
"Because Teanari always makes you drink it!"
Tighnari resists the urge to spill the scalding tea on Cyno's smug grin. "You're pleased with yourself, aren't you?"
Cyno chuckles in response.
"Just, please Cy," Tighnari says, taking a deep breath, "I'm worried about you."
Cyno goes silent. His mouth ajar, he stares at Tighnari, who's turned from him. He can't read Tighnari's face, but his ears are down.
"Don't be so blue, it'll turn you into a blueberry and who knows what'd gobble up a berry like you," Cyno says with a sigh, then reaches out toward the tea, cupping his hands under Tighnari's. Tighnari sucks in a quick breath of air, but remains still as Cyno drinks from the cup.
Cyno releases Tighnari's hands and lays down, turning away from him. "Yeah, yeah, I drank your tea. I'm gonna sleep now." He flaps his hand at Tighnari.
Tighnari breaks out of his paralyzed state, and looks at the now empty cup in his hands. He turns toward Cyno, opens his mouth to speak, then decides otherwise. He smiles, shaking his head, and silently leaves Cyno's room.
When Tighnari's footfalls grow distant, Cyno looks at his hands, the warmth of Tighnari's skin lingering on his fingertips.