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Kaeya hates being weak, looking weak, and so when he’s sick and trapped in the bed because his body can’t move, he’s miserable
Typically, he is always suave, always on point, everything is as it should be - this laying around and being forced to rest was awful and he, above all, dreaded the idea of someone seeing him like this
--
Jean had asked you to check in on Kaeya, which you were glad to do since for the last several days he seemed unreachable. It wasn’t unusual for you to not see him for days, especially if he was out on a subjection request or leading one of the research groups out to gather supplies. Still, what was unusual, was for him to not tell you anything about it.
Checking the note that Jean had given you, you looked up to the tall building and double, triple-checked that you were in the right place. As you made your way up to his home, you wondered what could possibly be keeping him. He’d been here all this time and never let you know, it was odd.
You knocked on his front door, it was the first time you’d been to his place before so you were nervous about being there. Would he find you a bother? Would you just be in his way, maybe there was a reason he hadn’t told you about what was keeping him? Were you doing the right thing?
The response was slow, so slow you were about to knock again when the door flew open and a disheveled Kaeya stood in the space. His hair falling at about his face, untied and ragged. His normally put-together outfit was nowhere to be found, his shirt wrinkled and baggy around his torso, his pants a mess. It was completely different than what you were used to, and yet, he was still as handsome as ever.
His head dropped and rested into the door frame, “What are you doing here?” He asked, but it sounded more like a statement. His skin seemed off-color, there were dark circles underneath his eye, his nose raw. You could see the sweat on his brow and the ragged way he breathed which told you something was wrong.
“Jean asked me to check on you … you sound terrible, are you okay?.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine, you look sick.”
He coughed, rolling his forehead over his hand and pressed further against the doorframe, “I’m not … it’s nothing.” you lifted your hand to his forehead and the heat of his skin was intense.
“Kaeya, you’re burning up.”
--
He hated this - he wanted to be the one taking care of things, not being taken care of - relying on others required one to trust that person, and he didn’t trust very many people so it was easier to just do it himself
Though, he trusted you most of all, so his reason for not wanting you to see him look so pitiful was different, he didn’t want you to see him brought to his knees like this, for something so stupid
(please don’t think less of him)
--
“For the thousandth time, lay down.”
“If I had known your goal was to take advantage of me, I would have called you over sooner.” Kaeya flirted, leaning upon the bed, his elbow digging into the mattress, the pressure, and tiredness showing as his arm shook. Even when he was barely together, he still tried to show you how in control he was.
“You’re being ridiculous. You need to rest.”
“I need to get out of this bed.” He flopped back onto the bed and let out a heavy sigh. You chuckled and pulled the sheets over his body, fixed his lovely hair. In the back of your mind, you worried about the temperature of his skin.
“Being sick isn’t fun, but I’ll take care of you, so just be good for once.”
“I’ll be good as long as you’re gentle.” You rested your hand against his shoulder before standing up and making your way out of the room.
You worked with what you had, and not surprisingly he didn’t have much to work with. After getting as much as you could you made your way back into his room and were pleased to find him still laying in bed, his head turned to the window, and slow steady breaths moving his chest.
You placed the items down on the end table and sat back on the edge of the bed. Your presence rustled him from his sleep. He shifted under the sheets and turned to you, his long lashes fluttering open.
“I’ve brought you something to eat and some medicine.” He seemed more complacent than he was before. Taking the food you made and eating it all, swallowing the medicine without in an instant. He didn’t even follow it with water, he just did what you asked without complaints. Once he laid his head back down on the pillow and turned his head toward the window he finally spoke.
“This is the worst.”
“What is? My cooking? Rude.”
He chuckled and turned to face you, “No, being sick. It’s … unbecoming.”
You reached for a dry towel and ran it across his brow, down the edge of his face, and along his neck. “Everyone gets sick.”
“I don’t.”
“Well I have the perfect remedy for you, it’s not much fun, but it works every time.”
“What is it?” You placed the items back onto the tray before turning back to him.
“Rest.” You replied, crossing your arms and giving him a playful smile.
“Ugh….”
“Just lay here and try to sleep.” You shifted and started to stand when his hot hand reached out to your arm. It made you pause and your heart skipped a beat.
“Are you coming back?” He mumbled, his face dipping into the pillow and his pleading eye staring straight at you.
“Mhm.” You responded and nodded your head, that seemed to be enough because he let you go after you confirmed to him you’d be coming right back.
For the next couple hours, you sat by his side, changing the cold towels on his forehead, stroking his hair, or rubbing lines up and down his arms as you watched him sleep. He looked more relaxed than you had ever seen him.
You made a mental note to thank Jean for asking you this request, how could you ever repay her for this opportunity.