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A stabbing sensation like that of a miner’s drill through his head woke Pi from his restless sleep. The dim lights of his shared bedroom with Duean attacked his eyes so violently he had them scrunched shut to prevent the added pain. His clothes stuck to his skin as if it were the heights of summer; but he knew it was just the in betweens of winter and spring, when cooler temperatures had only started to rise just the tiniest bit. The fact that he was sweating so much in one night meant something had to have been wrong.
He sat up in bed, too quick however, which makes all the blood rush to his head and makes him feel faint and dizzy. He falls back into his sweaty heap of blankets and pillows, cringing from the disgust, but can’t bring his aching muscles and joints to move normally and allow him to walk about the house. The sun seems to be shining brightly in through his blinds, and he doesn’t hear Duean snoring from atop his bunk– what a shock– which probably means his older brother’s at university already.
Pi rummages his hands underneath his covers for a few moments until he ends up finding his phone among the many things laid scattered on his bed. Upon opening it, he realizes the time is half past ten in the morning and that he’s completely missed his morning classes and– holy fuck– Mork has called him eleven times and texted him fifteen all since 7:15. What the hell, Sutthaya?
Despite being annoyed beyond compare at the fact that this dude managed to contact him twenty-six times in the past three hours (and maybe a tad flattered somebody cared enough to do so), Pi shoots him a brief dismissive text along the lines of:
Pi, 10:38 AM:
I’m sick. Don’t bother me.
But before he can even put his phone away and close his eyes and pray he is unbothered for the next two to five business days, Mork sends back a text almost by the second:
Mork, 10:38 AM
??You’re sick?? Why didn’t you tell me earlier
Pi rolls his eyes at the response.
Pi, 10:39 AM:
I just woke up, Asshole.
Now let me sleep in peace. God knows I don’t need someone bothering me while I’m sick and trying to recuperate before I have to miss more school.
With that blunt and slightly ticked off response, Pi locks his phone and closes his eyes to try and get some more hours of sleep. He can sense the smirk Mork’s got right now reading that text, that godforsaken smirk that he always has on his face, the one that Pi sees in his dreams no matter how much he wakes up staring relentlessly at the picture above his bed. The smirk he tries so hard to force away to the back of his mind, but keeps popping up like a whack-a-mole.
He shakes his head frustratedly at the very thought of Mork, flops over on to his side with the words, I like Mueang Nan, I like Mueang Nan, I like Mueang Nan, I like Mueang Nan playing constantly in a loop in his brain. Soon enough he finds himself drifting off, and he’s in a restless state of tossing and turning; throwing the blankets off because he’s too hot, and pulling them back on once he’s too cold again. At least he’s somewhat deep in consciousness, deep enough to sleep for a while and wake up a few hours later.
Though he might have missed one text that might have been essential.
:Mork, 10:41 AM
.If you’re sick, I’m coming over to take care of you
.I don’t want you to be in pain and suffer alone
~
The next time Pi wakes up, the sun is setting outside his bedroom window. As he lets his eyes open and adjust to the light coming from his desk lamp, he feels a cold sensation on his forehead– something’s there, he thinks– and his head hurts less from earlier, and there’s someone’s fingers on his wrist. Smooth, slender fingers that are holding his wrist delicately, almost too– wait.
His eyes flit to Mork, who’s brought over his desk chair and is sitting next to Pi, lying in bed looking like a fool in gross, sweaty clothes. This was not how Pi wanted to encounter Mork for the first time today. He wanted to look decent and smell decent, not be in yesterday’s pajamas with his hair all messed up, his glasses on and his gross retainer still in his mouth. Ugh. This put a damper on his day.
Wait. This could easily be one of his nightmares, right? Like the time he thought Mork was in his house after he came back from the movies, and he’d left his phone in Pi’s car. But really Mork wasn’t in his house and he was hallucinating because Mork was the only thing on his mind in that moment. He decides to test his theory out by pinching Mork on the arm.
“Ouch!” comes the pained shout from Mork, who pulls his hand away from Pi’s wrist, cradling his own and wincing. “What the hell, Pi?”
Pi’s eyes widen, because oh shit, the guy he thought he was only imagining was in his house. But instead of apologizing like he really should’ve, the words that he spits out are, “Why are you in my house? How did you even get in?” He sits up in bed once again, but again exhausts himself and almost falls back on the headboard– before Mork catches him in his arms.
The silence between them is too obvious as his breath hitches and he gulps at the sight of those dizzying brown eyes and the lips that– surprise surprise– also enter his dreams in the dead of night. His heart thunders– as much as he doesn’t want it to– and insists to himself over and over that his heart is pounding so quick because he was taken by surprise when he caught him. That’s all there is to it. He’s surprised, and shocked, and a little bit nervous for what has to come next– and then he pushes Mork away, a safe distance from him so that he can collect his thoughts.
“You texted me that you were sick and that’s why you weren’t at uni,” Mork says, grabbing the cup of soup he’d placed on the desk and holding it in front of Pi. “So I came over to take care of you and make sure you feel better soon. Duean gave me the keys once he heard my motives, and he went over to my house to study with Meen.”
Pi was taken aback by the explanation that all he uttered out was a sigh. He stared at Mork in a daze, unsure if it was the fever altering his vision of Mork, but he seemed less of an asshole here, in this moment, taking care of him.
“Have you eaten yet today? If not, I made some soup earlier down in the kitchen.” The moment Mork uttered those words, Pi’s stomach rumbled loudly, making Mork chuckle. Pi flushes with embarrassment. “I guess not. I don’t know if I’m the best cook, but you should at least try to eat some if you can.” He holds the spoon in front of Pi’s mouth, and Pi leans forward to take the spoonful– which actually tastes kinda good. It warms his heart and he blushes at the thought there was someone that cared this much about him to come to his house and take care of him while he’s sick.
That blush is most definitely from the fever that he’s sporting right now.
“You seem to enjoy the soup,” Mork says, bringing him out of his daydream. “Or maybe you’re just enjoying my presence. Don’t think I can’t see the smile across your face and the blush all over your cheeks.” Mork smirks, which makes Pi immediately stop smiling and will himself to stop blushing.
“Whatever.” He pushes away Mork’s hand that’s holding the soup and stands from his bed. Mork follows him down to the kitchen, where he’s searching for some paracetamol tablets to make his fever go away.
Mork stops his hand that’s going for the pills and takes them away– holding them out of Pi’s reach. “What the hell are you doing, asshole?”
“You shouldn’t take pills on an empty stomach. It could make your stomach upset and make you even more sick.”
“What do you know about medicine?”
“Have you forgotten that I’m from the Faculty of Medicine?” Mork says through laughing. “It’s basic knowledge to know that pills on an empty stomach will make it upset. That being said, please eat the soup I made for you before taking these.”
Pi rolls his eyes and lets out a grumble that goes along the lines of, whatever, asshole. He’s hungry enough anyway to at least eat some of the soup Mork made for him. The fact Mork even cared about him enough to make soup for him while he’s sick gave him a sense of delight– no one ever did that for him besides his mom. It made him feel like Mork’s hand was reaching for his heart, and when it did touch his heart, it felt warm and gentle, like it was going to imprint there forever.
But why is he thinking of Mork’s hand imprinting on his heart forever? It should be Mueang Nan’s hand going to touch his heart and imprinting there, since he didn’t even like Mork! It should be Mueang Nan, it should always be Mueang Nan.
“What’cha thinking of?” Mork’s voice rings into his ears again, and suddenly they’re back in his room, in the same positions they were a few minutes before. Pi on the bed, Mork in the chair, a mug of soup filling the space between them.
“Not you.” Pi says before he realizes his grave mistake. He wants to slap himself so hard he passes out so he doesn’t have to face Mork. “I mean–I–You–” He scrambles for words before shutting up indefinitely to save himself.
“I never said you were thinking of me,” Pi’s cheeks redden as Mork ruffles his hair gently. “But thanks for doing so, anyway.”
Pi takes the mug of soup from Mork’s hands, almost spilling the hot liquid all over himself but managing not to, and begins shoveling spoonfuls of soup into his mouth. It burns his tongue, but he doesn’t care– he just wants to finish the cup quickly so he can take his pills and so Mork can go on home and quit bothering him. Mork looks taken aback and tries to take the mug out of Pi’s hands, but Pi’s grip is strong and he’s determined to finish this cup before Mork can wrestle it out of his hands.
“Hey, slow down.” Mork places his hand on Pi’s, the one thing he knows for a fact will make him stop whatever he’s doing and pay attention to him. “If you eat too fast, you’ll get hiccups. So let me feed you the soup.”
Pi doesn’t know what happens next, between his shock and his rose-colored daze being caused by the damn fever, the world moves in a slow-motion blur. All he sees is Mork grabbing the spoonful of soup, yet still leaving the mug in Pi’s hand and holding it right in his face. He glances down– not at the spoon, for some reason his eyes decide to trail down to Mork’s lips for god’s sake– before he forces himself to tear his eyes away from the guy entirely, staring up at the book in the shafts above his bed and under Duean’s. That book.
Next thing he feels is Mork nudging him with the spoon, soup threatening to spill over and stain Pi’s clothes. But Mork is extra careful, and Pi has a little faith in him that he’d be a decent enough guy to not intentionally do that, no matter how much he likes to call him an Asshole.
“Please?” Mork says in that disgustingly sweet voice of his, the voice that sounds like he’s trying to take care of a puppy or persuade a kid to give him something. It’s so sweet and gushing and loving, and it rings in Pi’s ears seconds after. It makes him feel like the fever is just melting him away into oblivion– and no, he will not give Mork the satisfaction of this situation by letting a single smile grace his face. No matter how he feels at the sound of his voice. “Please eat the soup. You won’t get better quick enough if you don’t.”
Pi rolls his eyes with an irritated grumble. “I hate that sickly sweet voice of yours, it makes me want to spew.” He sees a wide grin come across Mork’s face at his words, which he’s sure is a smile of amusement. “But whatever. Fine. I’ll let you feed me the soup.”
“You’re so obedient when you want to be.” Mork chuckles.
Together, they finish the soup. And he’s not going to lie, he probably caught himself staring at Mork at least five more times while being fed– but he’s more surprised he didn’t force himself to tear his eyes away and quit staring. Instead, he rather enjoyed it.
He lies back down on his bed and faces the wall, covering himself in blankets and shutting his eyes. “I’m so… tired.” Truthfully, he really is– even if it’s just from arguing with Mork and trying to take care of himself instead of letting Mork do it– he’s so exhausted.
“Before you head to sleep, I need to take your temperature and give you the paracetamol pills.” Mork grabs his shoulders, guiding him to sit up and hands him the bottle of whater with two pills in hand. Pi downs them at once, while Mork searches his backpack for the thermometer he brought over to take Pi’s temperature with. As Pi caps the bottle and turns to face Mork, he sees Mork bring out some sort of contraption from his bag– it looks like a glass container with purple liquid inside, the container coiled into thin loops and loops swirling about until it reaches the top– where there is a heart shaped formed out of the glass.
“What kind of thermometer is that?” Pi asks incredulously. No, seriously, he’s actually intrigued.
Mork smirks, and once he sees that smirk, he just knows things are going to go bad. Mork gives him the benefit of the doubt, only saying, “Rub your hands together and we’ll find out. It’ll take your temperature and let me know whether you still have a fever or not. I promise.”
Pi fixes him with a suspicious glare, but reluctantly begins to rub his hands together, creating friction between his palms. Once he thinks his hands are warm enough, he opens them, curious to what happens next– and Mork places the thermometer in his hands delicately, cupping his hands around it tightly.
What happens next shocks Pi– the purple liquid in the container instantly shoots up and fills it whole, the heart at the top filled with it. Mork starts to explain the science behind it– not gonna lie, him explaining science is kinda hot, Pi thinks to himself. “The temperature of your body has increased; because your body is so warm from the friction between your hands and the fever running, the volume of the container increases as well, since change in temperature is proportional to change in volume. So, I guess it looks like you do have a lot of love in your heart for me after all.”
At first, Pi says nothing, too flustered by Mork’s attempts at flirting (that are really starting to work on him now, even though he doesn’t want it) and unsure of how to respond. Then, he has the brief thought that he wants to kiss the guy because oh, my god, you fucking nerd you’re so hot; but he quickly pushes that thought away, horrified that even crossed his mind because he likes Mueang Nan! And then, after all those flustered and horrified emotions move off to the side, his fight or flight instincts kick.
“What the hell, Mork?!” He exclaims, placing the love thermometer into Mork’s hands and pushing him away. “Why are you always flirty with me? I don’t get it- there’s so many other people who love you, why not go for them?”
Mork’s next words sentence him to silence. “But none of them act the way you do with me, and none of them talk the way you do with me. I see all of them as ordinary, but I see you as one of a kind. Special.”
Pi doesn’t think he heard the last words Mork said very clearly, but he can pick some of the words out and string them together. “My fish upon the sky.” Mork had muttered under his breath ever so quietly, hoping they wouldn’t be heard.
“Whatever, I’m going to sleep now.” Pi turns over in bed, eneveloping himself in the thick blankets, trying to hide his blush that was a result of Mork’s flirting. His eyes close and he can feel himself slip into drowsiness because of the paracetamol. Just before he drifts off, he says, “Thanks for taking care of me today. I don’t think I would’ve survived if I was just left to my own devices. I appreciate you. You can sleep in Duean’s bed, just make sure to let him know unless you want him screaming in the dead of night.”
“Will do. Good night. Get a lot of rest and sleep well so you’ll feel better.”
“Mn. You too. Thanks for everything. Sleep well, good night.”