Work Text:
Snowball let out a loud, dry cough. Blocky put the thermometer in his mouth, and as expected, the white-haired boy had a wicked fever. Blocky sighed as he shook his head. "You probably have a cold. You should take this as a sign to get rest for once in your life. And to stop smoking." Blocky was right. Snowball was a workaholic, taking extra shifts and pulling many all-nighters, just to make ends meet. Except they were already meeting. They met a long time ago. And as for smoking, Snowball smoked at least a pack a day.
"I have to make money," Snowball replied, staring his boyfriend in the eyes. "It's always nice to have extra cash," He continued, "The more, the merrier, righ-" He immediately was cut off by his coughing fit, which lasted a few minutes.
"What was that?"
"Oh, shut up."
Blocky rubbed the top of his lover's head, running his rough fingers through the soft, silky hair. "Please, take time to rest. You don't need to do extra. I can handle it myself. I love you." Snowball just groaned in response, too tired to talk anymore. "Mmph. 'Kay." Blocky kissed him goodbye before heading off to work. "Get well soon, love you!" Snowball smiled. "I love you too, Blockster."
Alright. Now he had the house all to himself. And his throat hurt too much to smoke and get high. Just amazing. He had a splitting headache as well, so scrolling on his phone wasn't an option, either. Snowball could feel his eyelids get heavier and heavier. He wasn't planning on it, but he had nothing better to do than sleep.
Blocky closed the car door, locking it before walking to the apartment complex, where he and his boyfriend lived. Blocky checked his phone. It was 9:00 PM. Shit, he forgot to text Snowball that he was gonna come home a bit later than usual. He hopes he hasn't worried him too much. Blocky goes up the elevator (why does it smell like piss? Some people need to control their dogs.) and then to their home. Unlocking the door, Blocky announced that he was home.
But there was no answer.
Blocky smiled. It seems that Snowball finally heeded his advice to rest. He walked to the bedroom to grab his pillow. As much as he loved him, he didn't wanna sleep in the same bed as Snowball tonight. They couldn't afford to have them both sick. He grabbed a new pillow from the closet before walking over to his boyfriend. He looked so peaceful.
But Blocky had a pit in his stomach, for whatever reason. A lingering worry. Probably nothing.
But then he put the back of his hand on Snowball's forehead to check if he still had a fever. Burning hot. He also noticed that he was sweating, a lot.
And that his breaths were shallow.
It was probably nothing, Blocky thought. He shouldn't wake him up over a stupid paranoia thing. But he just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Blocky gently shook Snowball, but he didn't stir. He kept on trying to wake him up, but Snowball was still unconscious.
Oh god. Oh fuck.
"SNOWBALL," he yelled. He didn't care if he was disturbing his neighbors at this point. "SNOWBALL WAKE UP." He was shaking him violently now, freaking out.
That's when Snowball opened his eyes, and then immediately shot up, coughing. Hard coughing. He gripped at his shirt, eyes wide.
He couldn't breathe FUCK he couldn't breathe.
Blocky hastily grabbed his phone, dialing 911, and ordering an ambulance, all while Snowball was trying to take in a single breath. Why now, shit, why now. Things were just starting to look up for them why did this have to happen why did he have to get sick what if he dies what if-
Blocky's train of panicked thought was interrupted by paramedics shoving him to the side, putting an oxygen mask up to Snowball's mouth so he could respire properly. Blocky anxiously followed them to the ambulance with Snowball on a stretcher, despite his protests and "I'm fine I swear I just had a bad coughing fit"s. He was soon loaded into the back of an ambulance and taken away to the hospital. Blocky quickly got into his car and followed, not caring about the numerous traffic laws he was breaking along the way.
"Viral pneumonia. It started as a simple cold, but due to your smoking, making it harder for you to get rid of mucus in the lungs, and your drinking plus drug habits, weakening your immune system, it became more and more severe. Also due to the poor living conditions, (Snowball had physically flinched when the doctor said it. They weren't doing that bad, damnit.) we suspect that air filtration was not the very best. Living near a factory probably didn't help, either," The doctor explained, pushing up his glasses as he typed away at the computer before stopping and turning his tool to face both Blocky and Snowball. "He should be fine with antibiotics. We ran some tests, and it doesn't seem like he has any underlying health conditions. Just unlucky, is all." And with that, he stood up and left the room, gently closing the door behind him.
It was silent. There wasn't much to say. Blocky stayed with Snowball the entire night last night, sleeping on the small couch that was along a big window. Snowball looked at the IV in his arm, his stomach churning. He could feel the cold liquid run through his veins. Blegh. At least he was feeling a small bit better. His head was pounding like crazy and his throat hurt like hell, but at least it was easier to breathe now.
To be honest, he felt kinda bad. Blocky was flipping the fuck out.
"... I'm sorry, hun." Blocky raised an eyebrow at this, obviously very confused. "What? You didn't do anything?" "For, like, smoking. And stuff. That's probably the main reason why my lungs basically failed me." "Oh."
Blocky stayed silent.
"To be honest, I'll probably never pick a cigarette again after this, that was a scare," Snowball continued. "Well, no, I'm underplaying it. I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life." Blocky looked at him, now smiling. "Scarier than that one time we went to that haunted house and there was a ghost animatronic that jumped at you?" Snowball shivered. "Okay, that was pretty damn scary. Ghosts are fucking scary." "You shit your pants, dude," Blocky laughed. He didn't mean that metaphorically, either. He literally shat himself. Snowball started cackling before he was cut off by his coughing. "Shit, sorry." "Nah, you're good."
Snowball yawned, rubbing his eyes. He's been awake the entire night, not being able to sleep after knowing what it feels like to nearly choke to death. He turned to his side, quickly dozing off after tiredly mumbling goodnight to his lover. Blocky softly grinned as he watched Snowball's chest rise and fall slowly, then got on his phone to pass the time until they were allowed to go back home.