Work Text:
Connor sniffed, feeling mucus hit the top of his nostrils. He cleared his throat irritably, sniffing again, and bringing his hand to rest under his nose. The brunette tapped his pencil against his paper, leaving little graphite dots and dashes on his empty worksheet. It was almost break and these teachers were crazy if they thought he was going to do any work. The fact that he had all A’s proved he didn't need to worry, one worksheet won't kill his grade.
To pass the time he idly hummed That's What I Like, he blames Zoe entirely. She sure loved her pop music. Connor didn't hate pop, he could sing along to a good bop every now and then; but he preferred his alternative and rock a lot better. He also really liked rap, and so did Evan, to his surprise. The first time he heard Evan quietly sing “percocets, molly, percocets,” he busted out laughing. His friend just blushed and told him to shut up, this was his favorite song. Connor was sure that was a lie, but now he played it every time they were in the car together, just to spite him.
Connor let himself think about Evan some more, the way the sun brought out tiny freckles under his eyes and across his forehead. The boy had gotten his cast off a few weeks ago and Connor teased him about his major tan line. In response the shorter boy just hit him and threatened to break his wrist too. The brunette smiles softly, thinking of all the ways Evan’s comfortable around him. The smaller boy would never threaten to break anymore else's wrist even for self defense. Well, considering that, maybe Connor should be concerned. He shrugs it off, Evan probably isn't strong enough for that. Probably.
The bell rings, interrupting his visual of an angry Evan snapping his wrist like a chicken bone. He has to pause and question that line of thought very hard.
Throwing his bookbag over his shoulder he leaves the classroom and joins the crowd of students in the hall and makes his way to the cafeteria, stopping briefly at Evan’s -their, he reminds himself - locker and swaps out some binders and snatches his lunch bag from the hook. Connor never used his own locker, seeing as it was on the one hall he never went down. Evan suggested they start sharing his since it was closer to both their classes. The long haired boy enthusiastically agreed, any excuse to get closer to Evan was a good one in his book.
Connor finally made it to the cafeteria and moved on auto pilot to the table they usually ate at. Jared and Alana were already there, eating in silence as they scrolled on their phones. Connor rasped out a hello and cleared his throat as he sat. He set his lunch on the table and stuffed his bookbag under the chair. Jared just grunted in response but Alana frowned and cocked her head.
“Are you not feeling well?” Connor opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a violent sneeze that harshly ripped the air from his lungs.
“Ugh..god,” he wiped his nose, “I guess not. I wasn’t sick yesterday.”
“You're sick?”
The new voice startled Connor slightly and he turned to see Evan with a pitiful look on his face.
“I'm ok Ev, just allergies or something.” Evan just frowns and plops down in the seat to his right and pulls out his food. The two go through their daily ritual of swapping some food items and sharing others. Evan isn't the most financially stable person and sometimes comes to school with no food at all. Connor always makes sure to pack extra food towards the end of the month so Evan gets to eat.
Jared just snorts and shakes his head, muttering something about being gay. Evan flushes and Connor glares, but Zoe takes care of it, flicking Jared as she comes up to the table.
“Jared don’t be a bully. Hello boys, and Alana.”
“Hey,” they all parrot back.
They pass time, chatting about their days as they pick their way through lunch. At some point Connor started sniffling again while Evan threw grapes at him to catch in his mouth. Alana was talking to Jared about some website problem she's having when suddenly Connor sneezed into his elbow, shooting gross snot all over his favorite jacket.
“Dab,” Jared said from across the lunch table. Connor glared at him, face still tucked in his arm.
“I hate you,” he grumbled, “Evan please get me some tissues.” Evan is right on it, shooting out of his chair and walking to the head of the cafeteria to grab napkins. Zoe wrinkles up her nose, ewwing at him and calling him gross. He flips her off with his other hand, head ducked down so no one sees the gross snot. Evan comes back with a fist full of rough, smelly brown napkins and Connor grabs them gratefully. He cleans himself up best he can and groans, leaning back in the chair. Evan is rubbing his back in soothing circles, Connor smiles at him weakly and resigns himself to the sickness looming in his body.
Connor has a head full of cotton and eyelids made of lead. He's made his way through three boxes of tissues so far; he's practically bathing in all his used ones, the trash can beside his bed full and overflowing. His bedside table is full of half empty cups of lukewarm water or ginger ale.
In short he's sick as hell and wants death now.
The morning after he sacrificed his jacket to the snot monster he woke up with a fever and aching limbs. As the day progressed he got worse, now with a cough and skin sensitive from fever. His mom dropped everything to play nurse, but Connor got tired of her hovering and convinced her to go back to work. Now it's the weekend and he's still no better, and he's missed three days of school. His mom things it's the flu and wants to get him to a doctor but his dad insists it's just a cold. Fucking Larry.
Right now he's fading in and out of conscious, groggy and confused. The passage of time is a mystery and his head is killing him, the sun slipping through the curtains and right into his eyes. He groans and rolls over slowly, careful not to disturb his cocoon of blankets. Connor longs for some company, he's tired of spending his suffering alone. Reluctantly he slips an arm out of his cocoon in search of his phone that's lost in the sheets. After finding it he types in the password one handed and opens the message thread to Evan.
come over? bring sicky things
softest boy: :(((( Be there soon.
Connor mentally fist bumps as another cough wracks through his lungs. He spits some green and bloody mucus into a tissue, gross. He decides to pass back out and wait for Evan to get here.
Connor wakes back up to the sound of knocking and conversation downstairs. He figures Evan is here but doesn’t want to open his eyes just yet. There are soft footsteps on the stairs and they get louder as whoever heads down the hall to Connor’s room. Evan creaks open the door and walks in, setting something down on the floor. Then he’s petting Connor’s head, combing the bangs out of his face and tucking them behind his ear. Connor smiles despite himself.
“Hey,” Evan whispers so soft and loving, Connor wants to cry. Instead he cracks open his tired eyes and sees Evan smiling at him. It’s like seeing God; his chest loosens and he didn’t even know it was tight. Evan swipes his thumb under Connor’s eyes, a look on his face so heartbreaking it makes Connor realize he’s actually crying.
“Oh Con, you want me to take care of you?” Connor nods so violently he gets a head rush. Evan just smiles and starts digging through his bag.
He’s propped up on tons of pillows and munching on vitamin C tablet while Evan takes his cups downstairs. The orange flavored tablet makes his mouth flood with saliva and jaw ache. He’s glad he can actually taste it since he hasn’t tasted anything in three days. However, Connor’s discovered a secret method to taste some things. If he blows his nose after taking a bite of food he can taste the food. He has no idea how it works but he’s glad it does. He hates not being able to taste things.
Connor also hates being sick, he has so stay in one place and is useless, he can’t do anything. Being sick brings all of his self-loathing to the surface. The cotton head is too close to the fogginess he gets when his depression is bad and he hates it. He hates it all, he hates himself. He hates how worthless he is.
It’s as if Evan can hear his self deprecating thoughts from downstairs and suddenly appears in the doorway. He’s holding two big, steaming mugs and waiting for permission to come in, Connor’s grateful. Connor nods and he comes in, handing the Marvel mug to the long haired boy. Evan walks to the other side of the bed and climbs on, careful to not slosh his tea. Connor watches him get settled, the steam from his mug warming his face. He waits for instructions from Evan patiently, taking tiny sips of lemon tea. Evan sighs in frustration and gets back up, evidently forgetting something in his bag of secrets. He climbs back onto the bed with his laptop this time and opens it, logging onto Connor’s wifi. He starts up Netflix and let’s Connor pick what he wants to watch. He decides on Midnight in Paris and they settle in to listen to Owen Wilson’s whimsical voice tell them about his adventures through time.
After the movie is done Evan makes him take a hot shower, saying the steam will help loosen the mucus in his chest and nose. Now he sits on the edge on his bed shirtless while Evan brushes his wet hair and rings out the strands. The scrape of bristles on his scalp is soothing, so he closes his eyes, not letting the soft tugs on knots bother him.
Eventually Evan starts to braid his hair, which surprises Connor so he asks, “how’d you learn to braid?”
“Googled it when we became friends, wanted to braid your hair some day,” comes his soft reply. It makes Connor tingle in happiness and warmth washes over him. They don’t speak again until Evan is done with the braid and asks Connor for a hair tie. He pulls a wet one off of his wrist that he forgot to take off before he showered. Evan takes it and ties up the bottom of the braid so it won’t come loose.
Evan pats his back and directs him. “Ok Connor, put on a shirt and come back to bed. We’re gonna have a little chat.” Connor can do that, he’s good at following orders. Especially when they’re from Evan. He chooses a soft, threadbare green shirt and pulls it over his head, careful of the braid. He climbs into bed with Evan, nestles under the covers and moves his head towards Evan’s lap. Connor looks at the shorter boy for permission, Evan smiles at him and pats his thigh, approving. As soon as he’s settled he closes his eyes, waiting for the first question. Hard conversations are easier in the dark, that way Connor can’t see the disappointment in Evan’s face.
“Can you tell what’s wrong?” Connor thinks about that, he should probably focus on one thing first instead of saying “everything but you.”
“I don’t like being sick.” Baby steps.
“Can you tell me why?” Evan isn’t patronizing him, he’s soft and gentle. He’s genuine and kind, wants to help. That makes it easier.
“Reminds me too much of when it’s bad, and after I don’t know if it actually is bad.” He’s proud of himself, and so is Evan. Evan hums in understanding and pet’s Connor’s head, not saying anything. Connor realized he’s waiting for Connor to continue, so he does, hesitantly.
“I don’t like my head being cloudy. It’s so hard to stay aware of anything and I can’t tell if it’s real or not. It’s like I’m always on the verge of crashing but I’m not even sleepy, I’m just mentally exhausted. I always have headaches too, I can’t get rid of them and it’s terrible. The pain is awful. I hate being sick because it means I can’t do anything. I’m not useful or active or anything. I don’t know how to explain it Evan.”
The silence is deafening.
“That’s ok, we can figure it out. It’s ok to not be ok.” Connor just nods and reaches for a tissue, blowing his nose and throwing it somewhere on the floor. Evan tsks at him. Connor turns to look at him, opening his eyes now. Evan has a look of mock disappointment that makes Connor laugh.
“You’re a disgusting menace,” Evan jokes, flicking the brunette’s nose. Connor just smiles.
“Yeah but you love me.” Evan’s face melts into warm devotion, he smiles so tenderly.
“Yeah Con, I do.”
“Love you too, Ev.”
They both blush but keep eye contact, the truth is out now. But it’s always been that way, hasn’t it?
They both love each other, there’s no way they couldn’t, Connor thinks. Connor loves Evan in a way that’s more than romance and not romantic at all. He doesn’t “love him as a friend”, he just loves him. Connor loves who Evan is, all his flaws included. He loves Evan’s mind and the way he moves. He loves the way he can’t handle things and how he needs space. Connor loves when Evan talks, his vocabulary and little lisp. The way he stutters when he’s upset or trying to prove a point. He’d do anything for Evan, all he wants in his life to protect and take care of him. No one sees how bad Evan is sometimes, only Connor, so he has to take care of him. Sure, he wants to kiss Evan senseless, get his hands all over him and show him how beautiful he is. But he also wants to sit in the sunshine talking about politics, to get high in his room, to make up and try to solve math problems with no paper at two am. He wants to be with Evan always, because Evan helps him handle things. Connor knows the other boy will never “fix” him but he does make days easier.
They’ll both have bad days, he knows that. Some days Evan won’t be able to make eye contact, he’ll have panic attacks. He won’t eat anything and sleep for hours. Some days Connor will yell and throw things, he’ll hurt Evan by saying things he doesn’t mean. He won’t sleep or shower and get high everyday. They’re both messed up, but it’s ok, they’ll get better. But right now Evan loves Connor. Right now Connor loves Evan. And everything’s ok.