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When Bob had gone to visit an old friend from New Jersey two weeks ago, none of the dagger squad expected him to bring any form of an illness or virus back. Bob, obviously, went down with it first. Two days later, Rooster went down. Another day later, Nat became ill. Jake did what any respecting human would do:
He isolated himself away from them all. He would wear disposable gloves when he cleaned the apartment every night, while they slept. He wasn’t doing it for them, they should have been more careful. He would use a bleach-based spray for the work surfaces (it was meant for food preparation areas) and clean all the door handles with it. Jake would then hoover all around the room and put any dirty tissues in the bin. Jake then bleaches the toilet and scrubs the sink. He then pours (probably too much) bleach into the offending bins and leaves them overnight.
Then, he showers and goes to bed. By then, it’s around 1 in the morning. He can normally hear footsteps walking around near 9/10 am, but he just rolls over and goes back to bed. Jake doesn’t actually leave his room for the whole day unless he needs to pee or go out for food.
So that’s why he is unpleasantly surprised when he catches the same stomach virus as the others about a week after Nat does. Jake opts to stay in his room for the first 3 days as all he has is nausea and a bad headache. Bob is the first one to recover. So, he took over the cleaning duties every night and he made sure that his friends were kept properly hydrated and fed.
Jake soon moved his sick fort to the front room (Nat and Rooster were still quite sick with it) and watches trashy tv with them. Rooster is at the tail end of the virus, meaning all his has is a super bad headache and small fever. Nat and Jake are camped on one sofa (the larger one) while Rooster is lounging in the small armchair and Bob is sleeping by the window, much like a cat. By the 4th day, Jake had permanently moved himself to the bathroom. The others were more recovered than he was, but still ill.
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Nat was nursing her headache in her bedroom when she heard the bathroom door shut and lock again. She needed to get some aspirin anyway, so she walked up and out of her room, fighting off a dizzy spell as she moved. Spotting Bob and Rooster in the front room, she knew that it was Jake who was suffering in the bathroom again. It wasn’t a nice stomach virus, but at least it was only vomiting. Nat grabbed an aspirin, swallowed it with a gulp of water and pressed her fingers to her temples. “If it's any consolation, Phoenix, we both got a killer headache when ours was nearly finished.” Bob said from somewhere in the front room. Nat didn’t say anything, but sighed deeply. She then proceeded to walk to the bathroom and gently knock on the door. “Bagman? Are you still in there?” She asked, equally as gently.
There was a small shuffling sound and the sound of the toilet flushing before the door clicked open. “Sorry, do you need to use it?” A raspy voice asked. Nat stopped herself from gasping at the sight of her friend. The bags under his eyes were so dark, it looked like someone had punched him, repeatedly. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his hair was damp with sweat, and he was as pale as a sheet. Nat shook her head, “No, I just thought you could do with some company.” She spoke, quiet enough so the others couldn’t hear her, but loud enough so Jake could. “I’m good. I’ve not actually puked for the last hour, but I feel like I might. I’m sure you don’t wanna see that.” He made a move to push the door back, but Nat pushed it back open. Jake didn’t resist, and if that wasn’t an indication that Jake was really sick, nothing was. “I’ll sit with you. You’ve helped me with my hangovers before. It’s no worse than this,” Jake looked up at her through red eyes, “But your fear of germs?” Nat wiggled herself in and pushed the door shut. “I don’t mind. I can always shower again,” She clicked the lock shut and sat down on her knees. “C’mon, let’s at least make your sick cocoon worthy of sleeping in."
It’s not that Jake didn’t appreciate Nat coming in to sit with him while he threw up meals from last week, but he didn’t like showing weakness.
He’s the best, he should be stronger than Jesus himself, and not be brought to his knees begging for death as he leans over the disgusting toilet to dry heave pointlessly for the 18th time that hour. Nat was there, playing with the hair at the back of his head and rubbing his back while he puked.
Jake hadn’t actually eaten anything solid in the last 12 hours, but he had eaten soup. That was brought back up as quickly as it was digested. Nat tried to make him eat some crackers and take some aspirin, but his body rejected it quicker than normal.
His stomach continued to churn and twist and bubble ominously while he tried to take a small nap, which Nat had suggested. “You really should try and sleep, Jake. You haven’t really slept much recently.” She whispered, trying not to aggravate his already pounding head.
Jake’s eloquent response was a sickly belch which had him throwing up Mondays dinner. Every-time he puked, Nat would flinch slightly. Jake pulled away from the toilet and rested against the sink cupboards with a groan. He used a paper towel to wipe his mouth. “Nat, you don’t need to stay here if you don’t want to. I know this is gross,” He would say. Nat would dampen the cloth in the cold water, put it on his neck and would sigh. “I don’t disagree with you, but you need the help. You don’t like Rooster enough to let him do this, and you don’t know Bob enough either. You barely let me do it, much less the others."
A sharp cramp would rip its way through his body and he would be left bending over at the waist, breathing heavily. “Jake?” Nat would ask, reaching her hand out to him. He’d wave her off. “It’s fine,"
This is how it went for the next 3 days.
Jake eventually stopped puking as much, but didn’t stop. Nat had left on the Tuesday, nearly a week after Jake had fallen ill. Jake moved from the bathroom to his bedroom, still with a bin in case he needed to be sick and couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time. He used his iPad to watch his Netflix and message them if he needed anything. Rooster had dropped in with his meds and some water every now and then, while Bob dropped off some toast and crackers. Nat had come in during the nights and massaged his temples and the base of his neck to ward of the migraine brewing in the back of his head. This gave him a few hours of sleep every night, but ultimately, Jake never expected her to stay up all night massaging him. When Jake’s fever hit on the last 4 days of his sickness, it hit him hard.
Nat was in Jake’s room, again, massaging his temples to help him sleep more. He just about slept enough before he was ill, now he was barely sleeping at all. Nat could feel his temperature rising, so she went to dampen a cloth in the bathroom. As she got off of the bed, she heard a noise she never expected to hear from the Jake Seresin: a whimper. His hand blindly reached out for her. “Don’t leave me alone as well,” he pleaded. Nat felt her heart clench. “I’m just going to get a damp cloth to help your head, I’m only in the bathroom.” She gently spoke. “Promise you’ll come back?” Jake whimpered. “I promise,” Nat replied. She made sure she was extra quick getting the damp cloth.
Placing it on his neck and continuing with her massage, Nat began thinking. “Jake, why did you think I wouldn’t come back?” Jake glanced up through fever-glazed eyes. “You’re gonna think it’s stupid,” he mumbled, looking away again. “No I won’t, I promise,” Nat quietly spoke. "My parent’s left, my siblings left… even you left.” Nat’s thoughts screeched to a halt. “Wait, you thought I wouldn't come back from the bathroom… because I moved 3 years ago?” She couldn’t help the incredulous tone that her body produced. “See, I told you it was stupid.” Jake sniffed and shifted slightly. “Just because I moved, does not mean I stopped being your friend, Jake. We’ve been though too much, and you’ve told me too much for me to just leave. I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon. I swear on my life,"