Chapter Text
Lyney doesn't dare to move, for fear of waking Freminet. Instead, he watches as the boy sleeps, holding him in his arms and wishing with all his heart that Freminet didn't always have to be so strong. He's been alone in the world for far too long. As Freminet's breaths grow slower and deeper, Lyney settles down beside him, cradling Freminet's body in his arms and stroking his hair.
The door opens, startling Lyney out of his relaxed state.
“Fremi— oh, Lyney, there you are,” Lynette sighs. “Breakfast is ready. It’s getting cold.” She narrows her eyes, looking at Freminet curled up in bed with their oldest brother holding him close. “Is he alright?”
Lyney turns his head to meet Lynette's concerned gaze. "Just a stomachache. Nothing..." He pauses for a moment, a pang of guilt pricking in his chest. The words get stuck in his throat. "... not serious. He just needs to rest."
Lyney glances at Freminet and sees him squirm. He doesn't seem fully awake but he's probably still hearing their conversation. "Fremi..." He calls out, putting a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezing. Freminet whines in response but doesn’t wake.
"I- I don't know what's wrong with his stomach. We had dinner last night and everything was fine. Now he's feeling sick."
Lynette's expression softens when she sees Freminet shift slightly in his sleep. "Maybe... he has a stomach bug," Lynette suggests. "Or maybe he ate something off... or maybe it's… it's all the stress." Her eyes narrow as she studies Freminet's pale expression. "He’s been… on edge lately. The incident at Meropide took quite the toll on all of us.” She seems deep in thought for a moment, glancing back and forth between Freminet and Lyney.
“Hmmm… I'll put on a pot of tea for when he wakes up. Hopefully it’ll settle his stomach,” Lynette murmurs, giving Freminet a quick pat on the head before making an exit.
Lyney turns to Freminet, rubbing a soft palm along the boy's cheek. Freminet groans, seemingly stirring from his short rest.
Lyney sadly smiles at him. "I'll watch over you while you rest," he whispers. Freminet looks so much more comfortable in the arms of his big brother. His face softens before he shuts his eyes fully once more.
Freminet's expression tenses and he presses his lips together, clearly unhappy about his sudden bout of illness. "Lyney, 'm not sick," he repeats, a note of defiance in his tone. "It's just… just cramps, or something. I promise."
"Well, it sure seems to me like you're sick, buddy." Lyney pushes Freminet's hair from his face. “You’re throwing up and you have an awful fever." His face turns serious, and he adds, "You need to go back to sleep, Fremi. You’ll have an easier time recovering if you’re well-rested."
Freminet groans at the idea of resting, but it's more of a half-hearted groan than an outright complaint. He looks up at Lyney, his forehead creased with worry and his flushed cheeks growing pale. "I- I have to go diving today," he mumbles, his voice hoarse and weak. "I can't... I have to dive today. I can't cancel at the last minute."
Lyney looks at him with an expression of dismay. His voice is sympathetic but stern as he replies, "Fremi, we’ve been through this already. The sea will still be there tomorrow. Let your body heal a little, please."
“But…” Freminet croaks. “I- if I don’t work today… I- I won’t be helping anyone. You’ll hate me.”
Freminet's words strike a chord with Lyney. He frowns and sighs, cupping his brother’s face in his hands. "No, I'd never hate you. Never ." He caresses Freminet's forehead. "I'm just worried about you. I”m worried you’ll hurt yourself because you're trying to accomplish so much, and you keep pushing your limits."
The diver rolls onto his side, facing away from Lyney. The magician can hear him sniffling.
"Hey. It's okay," Lyney says in a comforting tone. "You can relax. I worry about you, you know?. You always try to make me proud and I don't... I don't want to take advantage of you, but you have to let me help you." He sighs and pulls Freminet closer, rubbing the back of his head as he looks down at the boy with a conflicted, yet tender expression.
Freminet says nothing, only struggling out of bed and rushing into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Lyney can hear him gagging a few seconds later.
"Fremi?!" Lyney calls out in a worried tone. When he gets no response, he gets up and rushes to the door. He knocks on it softly, concerned that the boy might be sick again or have hurt himself in some way.
After a moment, he cracks open the door to see Freminet doubled over the toilet, retching and coughing. "Fremi! Are you okay?!"
"I..." Freminet groans, struggling for words as he hangs his head over the toilet. His breath comes out in short bursts as he continues to retch. "I'm fine." He tries to stand, but stumbles due to a sudden wave of dizziness. He looks awful, pale and shivering despite the warm temperature inside the house. His face is streaked with tears; he quickly wipes them away, but not quickly enough to keep them hidden. "I just... don’t feel good."
“Lay down and catch your breath,” Lyney says once Freminet stops throwing up. “You’re awfully pale. I can feel your heart pounding.”
Freminet manages to nod as he lays down, head resting on Lyney’s soft thighs. "I'm okay. I'll be okay," he groans.
"Take your time." Lyney cradles the boy's head in his lap, using his thumbs to rub the boy's temples in a calming gesture. He pauses for a moment, growing worried as Freminet's chest heaves. "Are you... are you having trouble breathing?"
"Yes!" Freminet chokes out. "I- it… f- feels like… my lungs are full of water." He winces in pain as tears creep into his eyes.
Lyney gently places a hand on Freminet's back and presses the boy's torso forward, trying to help him relieve the pressure in his chest. Once he catches his breath, his cheeks color with embarrassment as he leans his head back down onto Lyney's lap. "Sorry... don't... don't want to be a bother."
Freminet's eyes are closed as he shivers on the cold bathroom floor. After a few moments, he hears Lyney talking to someone— a girl? Oh, Lynette is back. She’s worried about me . A cold hand presses against Freminet’s forehead. He can vaguely hear the twins talking, but he can’t comprehend what they’re saying. It's like his head is underwater. Freminet's eyelids flutter and he tries to sit up, but his body feels like it’s made of lead.
"Easy," Lynette says, her voice soft and soothing. Freminet blinks rapidly as he focuses on her. She kneels down beside Freminet and touches her fingers to his forehead, rubbing them in small circles. Someone presses the opening of a bottle up against his lips, and the boy sighs in relief as he gulps down a mouthful of cold water.
Freminet lets out a tiny moan as the bottle gets pulled away. Lynette's eyes linger on Freminet's tummy for a moment before her brows furrow. "Does your belly hurt?" she asks in a soft tone. "Can I... touch it?" She hesitates, not sure if Freminet will want to be touched.
"Yeah..." Freminet says in a quiet voice, his attention still on Lynette's eyes. As the girl begins to press and prod, Freminet's body tenses. He winces and bites his lip, as if he’s trying not to throw up again.
“Tell me if it starts to hurt too bad,” Lynette says softly as she continues to probe Freminet’s abdomen, lightly pushing down on different spots. Lyney sits across from her, holding Freminet’s hand in a futile attempt to offer some comfort.
Freminet squirms slightly, but says nothing as Lynette searches for the source of his discomfort. As she presses down on one particular spot, Freminet lets out a small, pained whimper. And once Lynette presses the area a little harder, with more pressure than he can stand, the boy finally lets out an anguished, hoarse cry. It's not particularly loud, but it sounds painful. He clings hard to Lynette's fingers and buries his face into Lyney’s soft belly.
"You're going to be alright. Can you tell me where it hurts? Just point to it for me, okay?" Lynette asks, keeping her voice soft.
Freminet sniffs and whimpers. "R-right... here," he chokes out, pressing a finger against the area just above his belly button. But as he speaks, the whole thing becomes a bit too much for him to handle. He starts to get teary and shakes his head frantically as he's practically hyperventilating.
"Shh, it's alright, it's alright," Lynette whispers, rubbing circles with her fingers to soothe Freminet. She reaches over with her other hand to press her palm against his temple. "Do you feel any better now?"
Freminet coughs and dry heaves a few times, but he can breathe much easier now. He can feel himself being picked up and carried back to bed. He whines softly and clutches the blankets with shaking hands, his breath coming in short, rapid bursts.
Lyney and Lynette exchange a concerned look as Lyney presses a cool, damp cloth against his flushed cheek. Freminet seems to appreciate that small bit of kindness, smiling slightly through his tears as he nods his thanks.
Lynette offers a cup of tea, and Freminet grasps it with two shaking hands. As he brings the cup up to his lips, the steam tickles his nose and he closes his eyes to savor the taste. It's sweet without being nauseating, and the warmth of it eases some of the chills that have wracked his body.
"Thanks," he murmurs, some of the color returning to his face.
"You're welcome," Lynette says. "It's nice to see you relaxing."
Freminet takes a few small sips of tea, then looks up at Lyney with those big, brown eyes of his, like a puppy begging for attention.
"Hey, Lyney?" he asks after a moment. His throat is scratchy and the taste of vomit still lingers on his tongue. "Will you... do you think you could just... sit here with me for a bit? To keep me company and stuff?" He tucks his arms beneath the blankets in an attempt to stop them from shaking.
“Of course I can, little brother,” Lyney says, before turning to Lynette and saying something Freminet can’t quite hear. She promptly exits and Lyney turns his attention back to Freminet. “Is there… anything you want to talk about? Or do you just need to relax for now?”
Freminet hums in thought. Then he slowly nods his head. "Could you... maybe tell me I'll be alright? I know that's kinda weird, but I'd... I'd like to hear it." He leans back against the pillow, his head resting against the mattress. The boy's brow is no longer contorting and he breathes steadily—he's managed to calm down significantly. "I, uh... I don't feel well..."
“That's okay," Lyney says, his tone soothing. "You’ll feel better soon, I promise. And... you know... you can be honest if it gets bad again, alright? You can tell me. Or Lynette. We won’t be upset with you.”
As he speaks, he gently combs his fingers through Freminet's hair. His strokes are comforting and he seems to have an innate ability to reach Freminet in a way that most other people can't. He's gentle, but also direct. He speaks in a tone that's reassuring and, to Freminet, feels like it truly cares. Maybe everything will be okay, Freminet thinks as he drifts off to sleep with Lyney beside him.