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Hizashi sat up, and the room spun, colors blurring and the bed tilting. Only when he hit the floor did it register that it hadn’t been the bed tilting, it had been him. The thought was unimportant, as he immediately threw up, all over the carpet. He heaved for a moment, before puking more at the smell, tears running down his cheeks as he tried to catch his breath.
He tried getting up, trembling, his legs feeling like jelly, his stomach twisting and turning. He was burning up, sweat trickling down his temples. He failed the first couple tries, but eventually managed to get to his feet, staggering towards the bathroom.
He leaned against the doorframe, saliva welling in his mouth, bitter and thick, the indicator he was about to hurl again.
He made it to the toilet, puking violently, most of it getting in the toilet, some on the sides, some on his shirt. His head was spinning, and he sucked in a breath, grimacing, head pounding. He jumped at the feel of cool hands at his neck, tugging his hair back. He then relaxed and leaned into the touch slightly, grateful for the relief from the burning heat.
He wiped his mouth, at this point not caring about getting puke on his clothes, his shirt was already stained with it. He continued to tremble, and Shouta rubbed his back. “Hey.”
“Hey,” He rasped back, voice raw and scratchy. He tried to slow his breathing, calming down a little, though he still felt hot, too hot, and his entire body ached. He felt Sho tie his hair back, or at least that’s what he thought he was doing. He was suddenly bone-achingly tired, and closed his eyes.
“Don’t go to sleep on me yet, ‘Zashi,” his husband said, and he grumbled with protest, brows furrowing. He was so tired, though. Shouta shifted away from him, and there was the sudden sound of running water. Hizashi let Sho undress him, not exactly helping as he sat there droopily, leaning against the other, thoughts spinning nonsensically.
He leaned against Sho as the other helped him up, flinching and straightening up as he was gently dumped in the tub, the water cold, at least to Hizashi.
“You must have caught what’s going around at the school,” Sho hummed, and Hizashi tried to find words, but couldn’t. He tried to think, wondering who he could have gotten this sickness from, but then forgot about it as Sho started washing his hair.
A while later, Hizashi was back in bed, in different pajamas, leaning his head tiredly on Shouta’s shoulder as the other took his temperature. “Damn, ‘Zashi..”
“What did I do?” He asked, opening his eyes wearily.
His husband kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back, I’m getting you some medicine.”
“What? Nooo. Don’t leave,” Hizashi protested.
Shouta sighed, “I’ll be right back.”
Hizashi sat forlornly on the bed, upset that Shouta had just left him. He perked back up, as much as he could, when his husband returned, sitting next to him, trying to hug him. Sho gently nudged him back, and suddenly there was a spoon at his mouth.
He glared at it, for a moment, before resignedly taking the proferred medicine. Sho’d just force feed it to him if he refused to take it, he knew in the back of his mind.
He laid back down, Sho curled around him, propped up on one elbow, combing his fingers through his hair. “I’ll call the studio tomorrow, for you,” He heard the raven-haired man say, and he hummed, already starting to drift off.