The dim light of the hotel room cast long shadows across the walls, the muffled sounds of bustling trainers and Pokémon outside creating a distant hum. I was lying in Red's bed, the fever making my skin clammy and my head spin. Despite the warmth of the blanket wrapped around me, I felt cold, a shiver running down my spine.

Red sat in the corner of the room, arms crossed, his crimson eyes watching me intently. He hadn't moved much since Blue and the others had gone out for supplies. The silence between us was heavy, but I couldn't bring myself to break it-until now.

"Red," I began, my voice hoarse and weak, "you don't have to do this. I'm not your little girl anymore, and I get that now."

His head tilted slightly, his gaze unwavering as he studied me.

I forced a smile through the haze of my fever. "It's fine, Red. You should go. I don't want to keep you stuck here."

For a moment, he didn't move, didn't even blink. His expression was unreadable, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight clenching of his jaw. Finally, he stood up, his footsteps soft against the carpet as he approached the bed.

He crouched down next to me, his eyes level with mine. "... You're still my little girl," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. It was rare for Red to speak, and the sound of his voice-gentle, yet firm-caught me off guard.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away. "Red..."

He reached out, placing a hand on my forehead to check my temperature. His touch was cool against my burning skin, and I couldn't help but lean into it slightly. He frowned, clearly not pleased with how warm I was. Without a word, he stood and grabbed a damp cloth from the bedside table, gently pressing it against my forehead.

"You don't have to do this," I murmured again, my voice trembling. "I'll be fine. You should be out there-with them."

Red shook his head, his expression softening. "No."

That single word was all he needed to say, but I couldn't help pressing on. "But why? You've got better things to do than sit here with me."

His hand stilled for a moment before he sighed quietly. "Because you need me."

The simplicity of his answer made my chest tighten. I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear those words until now. A lump formed in my throat, and I looked away, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

"You're too good to me," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Red leaned closer, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from my face. "You deserve it."

I looked back at him, my vision blurry from the fever and the tears I was trying so hard to hold back. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice cracking. "For being such a burden."

"You're not," he replied firmly, his eyes locking onto mine. "Never."

His words broke something in me, and I let out a small sob, the tears spilling over despite my efforts to hold them back. Red didn't hesitate. He pulled me into a gentle hug, careful not to disturb the damp cloth on my forehead. His arms were strong and steady, grounding me even as my emotions threatened to spiral out of control.

"I'm here," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. "And I'm not going anywhere."

I clung to him, my fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice muffled against his shoulder.

Red pulled back just enough to look at me, his hand reaching out to boop my nose lightly. "Rest," he said, a small, rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

I couldn't help but giggle, despite the tears still streaming down my face. "Okay, okay. I'll rest."

Satisfied, he pressed a quick, gentle kiss to my forehead before tucking the blanket more securely around me. He stayed by my side for the rest of the night, his presence a quiet comfort as I drifted off into a fitful but peaceful sleep.

Even in my feverish haze, I knew one thing for certain: Red would always be there for me, no matter what.

Red stood frozen in the dimly lit hotel room, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound. His piercing crimson eyes, usually unreadable, were now filled with something raw. Worry. Hesitation. Pain. He stood at the edge of the bed, staring at me as I lay feverish and pale against the white sheets, my body visibly trembling despite the thick blanket tucked around me.

I mustered a weak smile, though my head throbbed and my throat burned. "Red, you don't have to do this," I said, my voice hoarse but steady. "I'm not your little girl anymore, and I get that now."

Red's jaw tightened, and his fists clenched at his sides. He didn't move, didn't speak, but I could see the conflict in his eyes. He wasn't just worried. He was scared.

"I'm fine," I continued softly, my smile faltering for a moment. "It's fine, Red. You should go."

He shook his head almost imperceptibly, his lips pressed into a thin line. His gaze dropped to the floor for a brief moment before snapping back to me, more intense than ever.

"... ... ..." he finally said, his hands gesturing sharply.

I frowned, struggling to sit up despite the fever's weight on my body. "Red, don't start with the 'I'm not leaving you' stuff. You have other things to do. Important things. I'll be okay."

Red moved quickly, placing a firm yet gentle hand on my shoulder to keep me from getting up. His touch was warm and steady, grounding me in a way that made my heart ache.

"You're not okay," he said quietly. His voice, though soft, carried a weight that made me stop arguing immediately. "You're sick."

I blinked, stunned. Red rarely spoke, and when he did, it was usually a word or two at most. Hearing him string together a full sentence, with such conviction, made my chest tighten.

"Red..." I whispered, unsure of what to say.

"You're my sister," he continued, his voice steady but low. "I'm not leaving."

Tears welled up in my eyes despite myself. "But-"

"No." He cut me off firmly, shaking his head again. "You need me. I'm staying."

For a moment, I could only stare at him. The usually stoic, silent Red was standing there, telling me in no uncertain terms that I was more important than anything else. That he wasn't going anywhere.

I smiled weakly, the tears slipping down my cheeks. "Okay," I whispered. "You win. You always win."

Red's expression softened, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from my face. "Rest," he said simply, his voice returning to its usual quiet tone.

I nodded, sinking back into the pillows as he adjusted the blanket around me. His movements were careful, almost tender, as if he was afraid of hurting me.

"Red..." I murmured, my eyelids growing heavy as exhaustion took over. "Thank you."

He didn't reply, but as my eyes closed, I felt the faintest press of lips against my forehead-a rare, fleeting gesture that spoke louder than words ever could.

The dim light of the hotel room flickered slightly, casting soft shadows on the walls. I was curled up under Red's blanket, my forehead slick with sweat and my body trembling from the fever that had been plaguing me for hours. Red stood near the window, his back to me, the golden hue of his brown eyes reflecting in the glass as he stared out at the night.

"You don't have to do this," I murmured, my voice weak but sincere. He turned slightly, just enough for me to see the sharp line of his jaw tense. "I'm not your little girl anymore, Red, and I get that now."

At my words, he froze. His hands, which had been fidgeting with his cap, stilled completely. Slowly, he turned to face me, his expression unreadable. But his eyes... they were softer than usual, filled with something I couldn't quite place-concern, maybe even guilt.

"It's fine, Red," I continued, offering him a faint smile despite the unease twisting in my stomach. "You should go. The others need you out there more than I do."

For a moment, he didn't move. Didn't speak. That was typical of Red-he wasn't one for words. But this silence was different. It wasn't the calm, confident quiet I was used to. It was hesitant, almost pained.

Finally, he walked over to the edge of the bed and knelt down so he was eye-level with me. His gaze searched mine, as if he was looking for something, though I couldn't imagine what. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough, as if he wasn't used to the sound of it.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, each word deliberate and certain.

I blinked, startled. Red rarely talked, let alone said something so direct. My throat tightened, and for a moment, I couldn't find the words to respond. Before I could try, he reached out and placed a hand on my forehead, his touch gentle as he checked for fever. His brow furrowed, and he muttered something under his breath-probably about how warm I still was.

"But the others-" I started, but he cut me off with a shake of his head.

"They'll manage." His voice softened as he added, "You need me more."

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening at the sincerity in his tone. I wasn't used to this side of him-so open, so vulnerable. It made my heart ache in a way I couldn't quite describe.

He stood briefly, only to grab a glass of water and press it gently into my hands. I drank obediently, the cool liquid soothing my dry throat. When I handed the glass back, his fingers brushed mine, and I noticed his hands were trembling slightly.

"Red..." I began, but he shook his head again, his expression firm. Without a word, he climbed into the bed beside me, careful not to jostle me too much. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close against his chest.

"You're still my little girl," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. The words were barely audible, but they hit me like a tidal wave.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I burrowed into his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding me. He didn't speak again, but he didn't need to. His actions spoke louder than words ever could.

As I drifted off to sleep, cocooned in his warmth and the safety of his arms, I realized something. Red might not have been big on words, but when it came to me, he didn't need them. Every action, every gesture, every rare word-each one was a testament to how much he cared. And that was more than enough.