Chapter Text
The creeping cold that ran through the house sent shivers of ice and fire through my spine. This usually happened in the winter months, I noticed. I never did listen to anyone’s warnings, after all, and yet I could never grow used to the seeking feeling of danger that I got whenever it hit.
My illness, though not exactly chronic, was recurring during the late and early times of the year, and though I hated help and was stubborn to any affection, I acquiesced when even the small movement of reaching to his face hurt.
Hair the color of pale sand and eyes of the same sharp ice piercing my skin entered my view, and I sighed, happily; he was back, alive and well and here to see me. It was not often I got to see him during this time; I usually called a member of Knights, or Maa-kun; but getting to see his beautiful face was almost enough to pull me from my slump.
It was strange to have the roles reversed, honestly. His hand, usually a sickly cold, was unusually warm against my cheek, and he bent down to rest his forehead on my neck. He was warm, my shimmering sun when the rest of the room froze over like Pluto. I tried, futilely, to bring my hand to his soft hair, the strands teasing my neck and yet I cold not properly embrace. God, I really wished I could be stronger when he was here.
My voice was but a shrill whisper, but I spoke anyways; it was worth my life for his heart, of course. “Ecchan...thank you for coming today...”
He moved, slowly, as though he did not want to leave my side. He took my hand in his and bent over me, his eyes bright and shining like an angel. Ecchan’s voice was warm; once again, a sight not many got to see and yet one I had engraved in my mind as to never forget. “Winter is almost over, my love...I do hope to see you in good spirits soon.”
He kissed my hand as he said that, and moved to the counter to pour a cup of-something; it seemed warm, with fragrant steam erupting across the room, but I could not identify the scent. I watched him from my bed carefully, his actions always fluid and phantasmic, almost as if he was a ghost that could slip from my eyes at any moment.
We always had an unspoken tension between us; love, and yet strain; perhaps due to our clashing stubborn natures. But I didn’t mind, for we knew our boundaries and could put down walls around each other that were only meant for the other. I considered him my secret garden, I suppose.
I was broken out of my contemplative daydream when he lightly touched my arm, offering to sit me up so I could drink the tea. Now that it was close, I didn’t have to ask the flavor; echinacea - an expensive, North American variant; only Ecchan could acquire something like this, as he had many other times when I was ill. I gently pulled on his weight into a sitting position and he grabbed a chair, sitting next to me and holding the cup near my lips.
His eyes squinted with a smile as he spoke, holding the tea carefully with the expertise of the high-class that he spawned from. “My love, please do try to take a few sips. I heard this tea does wonders in reducing the long-term effects of your cold.”
“Mmm,” I grumbled, shying away from the cup but turning back almost immediately as he sighed into a pout. I smiled, giggling as I put my lips on the cup. “You’re such a child, Ecchan~”
“Oho? You’re still not sick enough to drop your usual demeanor, hmm?” He was smiling too now, our genuine banter lightening the dreary room tenfold. My heart fluttered as he let out an angelic giggle, and I thanked the world for allowing me to spend these moments with him.
Worry was still thick in his laugh, and I could almost imagine the way his laugh may contort into a hacking cough, ripping his lungs to fragments of cells and I shivered. I knew he was doing better now, but it still always stuck in the back of my mind; that the moments I would treasure between us could one day fall into pieces on the ground, lying at my feet and residing only in memory.
The liquid ran down my throat and the soothing touch of his palm pulled me once again from my mind; an evil place, sometimes, for some reason always reminding me of the scary things rather than those right in front of me. He knew, of course, the scenario that played in my head every so often, and he rubbed my thumb in calming circles.
A few glistening tears slipped from my cheeks and my voice, in quiet sobs, escaped again. “Thank you, Ecchan. I love you.”
“And I you, my love.”