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Soup.
That one word, that one promise of liquid salvation for the ravaged wasteland of his throat and the unbearable churning of his stomach, drives Mika step by step. His bones weep out for him to rest, to just lay down, for a moment, right onto the sidewalk if he must. But still, he persists. He hasn’t eaten anything all day, and his roommate had more demanded than suggested he trudge his way to the diner for food.
“I heard they are serving chicken noodle soup tonight,” Lacus had taunted.
It was when Mika’s stomach gurgled with interest instead of nausea that he had decided to make the trek. He piled on as many layers as he could—sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, an old, grey hoodie from high school—any amount of swaddled warmth he could manage short of just wrapping himself up in his duvet.
The first few steps were fine. But now, mere feet from the diner, a solid 10 minutes into his commute, Mika feels his strength finally beginning to wane.
Just a few more feet. Come on. Keep going.
No amount of self-motivation can distract Mika from the pulsating ache lancing through his body, the haziness clouding around his vision, the heat climbing up the back of his neck. God, why had he worn so many layers in the first place?
Mika blinks, which proves to be a mistake when his eyes refuse to open for a solid few seconds, but once he regains his vision, he sees the prize.
The diner stands tall and proud on the other side of the street, steam billowing up from the ventilators over the kitchen. Mika’s nose is too stuffed to smell grease wafting on the breeze, but the sight alone lurches his pace from pitiful shuffling to sluggish jogging. The promise of soup still holds part of his interest, but the promise of a place to sit down is far more attractive at the moment.
As fast as his legs can possibly move, Mika bounds toward the diner, not even bothering to look both ways before he steps out into the road.
In hindsight, this was probably a bad idea.
A tug on the back of his hoodie sends him stumbling backward, flailing into something warm and solid grabbing around his waist. He doesn’t even notice the bus until it has gone hurtling by, the faces of students behind the windows blurred with the speed.
Mika blinks, once, waiting for the information of what happened to process. It doesn’t. All he knows is that there is something other than his own two legs supporting his weight now, and he slumps against the figure gratefully, fatigue settling into him.
“ Oof ,” the figure says as they take on Mika’s full weight. Mika barely hears them, snuggling closer. They are so warm.
The voice speaks again. “Uh, hey man. Are you alright?”
With all the strength he can manage, Mika cracks his eyes back open and looks up.
The sunlight halos around Mika’s savior, illuminating his tanned skin and worried expression in a heavenly glow. Bright, green eyes blink down, overflowing with concern. His face is framed by dark hair, beautifully disheveled and shining in the midday sun.
An angel.
That’s the last thing Mika thinks before he succumbs to his own exhaustion.
“An angel…”
That is the only thing the blonde boy had said before he promptly passed out in Yuu’s arms.
Yuu had just wanted to get french fries. Now he is bridal carrying a boy he’s pretty sure is dying across campus and back to his dorm.
Whoever it is is surprisingly light, and Yuu carries him easily down the sidewalk and toward his residence hall. He does get several strange looks along the way, and for good reason. This boy looks to be on death’s door, pale and gaunt, a sheen of sweat glistening on his face. Yuu can’t even imagine how he survived underneath all those layers.
With some maneuvering, Yuu holds his student ID up to the lock and lets himself into his building, careful to keep both himself and the limp body in his arms from colliding into any walls or residents. Two flights of stairs make the boy’s weight a bit more noticeable, and Yuu is just starting to lose his breath when he nudges the door of his dorm room open with his hip.
“Jesus Christ,” Kimizuki says upon his entry. “Did you kill someone?”
“Shut up,” Yuu says through clenched teeth. He kicks the door shut behind him and lays the boy down onto his bed, sighing when the blood rushes back into his arms.
Through his unconsciousness, the boy must know he is in a bed. A tiny whimper bubbles past his lips and he turns and buries his face into Yuu’s pillow. Yuu is glad that he actually washed his sheets this week.
Behind his shoulder, his roommate adjusts his glasses and peers down at the bed. “Who is this guy?”
“No idea. I was walking to the diner, I saw this guy almost walk out in front of a bus, I pulled him out of the street, and he collapsed on top of me.”
Kimizuki stares at Yuu incredulously. “And you brought him here ?” he asks. “Instead of, you know, the health center?”
Yuu crosses his arms over his chest. “This was closer! And besides, what if he’s on drugs or some shit? I’m not a snitch.”
Kimizuki rolls his eyes and walks back to his side of the room, throwing his laptop and a textbook into his backpack before hefting it onto his shoulder.
“Great. You brought a potentially dying drug addict into our dorm. Have fun with that.” He moves to the door and spares a glance behind himself. “I’m going over to Yoichi’s.”
Yuu can’t help the smug grin that forms on his lips. “Ohhh. Have fun. Use protection.”
Kimizuki scoffs, but Yuu doesn’t miss the way his face gets red, and he snickers. Kimizuki gives him the finger, mutters something derogatory under his breath, and leaves.
When the novelty of teasing his roommate dissipates, Yuu turns back to the center of his immediate concerns.
The boy’s breath is shallow, labored, and Yuu flinches when he notices how the air is all but rattling past his lips. Yuu will have to do his laundry again it seems; the boy has already soaked a pool of sweat onto his pillow. Stray curls cling to his damp, clammy face.
Yuu really really hopes he isn’t a drug addict.
Cautiously, Yuu reaches down and places the back of his hand against the boy’s forehead. He nearly pulls back immediately. The poor thing is burning up. All those clothes certainly are doing more harm than good at this point.
After a few moments of contemplation, Yuu hooks his thumbs into the base of the hoodie and begins to yank it upward.
“I swear I’m not a creep,” Yuu mutters to anyone who may be listening, though it is mostly just a reassurance to himself. He has to wrestle with the fabric when it gets bunched up around the boy’s armpits. He tugs, and the undershirt gets caught in the movement, hiking up to reveal a sliver of pale stomach.
It’s at this moment that the boy groans and cracks his eyes open.
Yuu is off of him in a flash, hands held up where anyone could see them. “I’m not a creep!”
The boy doesn’t seem to hear him. He doesn’t seem to be comprehending much of anything. He groans again, exhaling long and hard.
“Hot,” he murmurs, wriggling the get his own hands underneath his hoodie.
He lifts it off of himself and throws it to the floor. Yuu’s face flames red when he goes back and lifts his undershirt off as well, tossing the offending item to join his hoodie. Now shirtless and unburdened, the boy falls back into the bed with a sigh.
“Um,” Yuu stutters. He pads back up to the side of the bed. “Hello?”
The boy recognizes his voice this time, and he lolls his head toward him, squinting.
“Who are you?” he slurs. “How did you get into my room?”
“Uh, this is my room.”
The boy looks at his surroundings, as well as he can without lifting his head too far from the pillow, and hums.
“Huh. No wonder this bed smells funny.”
Yuu gawks. “Leave my bed alone! And what’s your name anyway?”
The boy closes his eyes and snuggles back into the covers, apparently fine with the funny smell. “I’m M’ka.”
Yuu leans down. “Huh?”
He turns his toward Yuu’s ear and whispers intently. “ Mikaaaaa. ” He giggles when Yuu pulls away, blushing and rubbing his ear.
“Fine,” Yuu says. “Mika, then. I’m Yuu.”
Mika hums in acknowledgment, but he keeps his eyes closed. “Hey. Earlier, you saved me from that bus, right Yuu-chan?”
The nickname is unexpected, but Yuu doesn’t correct him, choosing to ignore the flush on his face. “Yeah. You looked like some kind of zombie just walking out into the street.”
“I didn’t even see it,” Mika mutters. He scrunches up his nose. “Thanks for that. That would’ve been a stupid way to die.”
For all his delirium, Mika is proving to be quite cute like this, feverish and out of it. Yuu smiles and resists the urge to ruffle his hair. “Just try to be more careful in the future. What were you even doing out of bed?”
Mika turns himself back to nestle into the pillows, face squished up. “Soup,” he mumbles.
Yu leans forward, eyebrow raised. “Soup?”
Mika nods, though the rocking looks to be putting him back to sleep. “Mm-hm. Lacus said there was soup at the diner and I haven’t eaten all day. I thought...”
The rest of what he says is muffled by the pillow as he turns his head, eyes closing. Yuu thinks his window of momentary coherency has probably drawn to a close.
Before Yuu can stop himself, he actually does reach out and pat Mika on the head. He winces when he feels how sweaty his hair is. Discreetly, Yuu wipes his hand on the back of his jeans.
“Just try to sleep,” Yuu says. “I’ll look after you.”
Mika again mutters something unintelligible, but then he speaks just loud enough for Yuu to hear him.
“So nice,” he whispers. His mouth is slack and uninhibited. “Thank you, Yuu-chan...” Then, his breath comes out even, and he slips back into the furthest reaches of unconsciousness.
Yuu blushes and lifts the blanket to cover Mika’s bare chest. He pulls out the desk chair next to the bed and takes a seat, watching as snores fall past Mika’s lips. Sweat shines bright on his forehead as the fever continues to break. Yuu will have to bring him a cold compress later.
As Yuu looks up at Mika, he smiles quietly to himself.
After Mika wakes up, he’ll have to make another trip to the diner. Mika shouldn’t have to risk his life just to get his hands on a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
And if he is too weak to lift the spoon to his lips, Yuu will gladly take to feeding Mika himself.