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I think, I’m dying – Numbers told his partner, looking sadly at him.
Wrench, however, remained calm and raised an eyebrow. “Why?” you may ask.
No matter how talented Numbers was as a hitman, when it came to his health, he was instantly turning into a paranoid. For example, he had this insane habit of rubbing his cutlery in a restaurant ("There might be bacteria and I don’t want to spend next few days crying in pain on the toilet!"). And it’s better not to remember the look he once gave Wrench, when he opened the package of strawberries and began to eat it without washing them. Usually it was the same issue every year – Numbers was founding some signs of a disease (usually it was incurable), then he was getting ready to die for a week and eventually recovered and continued to live his normal life. He usually fell ill in the winter, as he always rejected all the options of winter clothing.
This time it happened in the summer. It was unusual 92 degrees and they both were languishing in the heat. Wrench was trying to distract himself with the old TV, which had problems with the image and Numbers was lying on the couch with a book. Finishing with the TV, Wrench got up and found Numbers mournfully staring at the ceiling. He walked over to the couch.
- What happened?
- I have a bad news. I think, I’m dying.
Wrench rolled his eyes. Here we go again..
- What now?
- A Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease.
- And what are the symptoms?
- Look – Numbers handed him a book with a sorrowful expression on his face.
“The first symptom of CJD is rapidly progressive dementia, leading to memory loss, personality changes, and hallucinations. Other frequently occurring features include anxiety, depression, paranoia, obsessive-compulsive symptoms, and psychosis. This is accompanied by physical problems such as speech impairment, jerky movements (myoclonus), balance and coordination dysfunction (ataxia), changes in gait, rigid posture, and seizures.”
- Wow. I thought you’ve only got hallucinations and balance dysfunction when you’re drunk.
Numbers sat up on a couch, serious as ever.
- I’ve been noticing that before... Memory problems and I’m guessing it’s a common thing for an old men..
- You only 41!
- I am ALREADY 41, and the disease begins to emerge after 40, according to that book.
- Mark my words – one day I’ll burn this fucking encyclopedia.
They stared at each other.
- You know, maybe you are sick indeed. – Wrench smirked. - Last week, you lent twenty bucks and it seems like you’ve totally forgotten about that fact since then.
- Fuck off! I’m talking about serious things. Bring me some coffee, huh? It’s freezing.
- It’s 92 degrees outside.
- That’s right and we’re inside! And I can tell it’s freezing.
- You’re sweating.
- I’m freezing!
Wrench decided not to argue with him anymore – if this asshole wants to feel that syndrome or whatever, he’ll get the opportunity. He brought him a coffee and left. Sipping a bit, Numbers put the cup on the table and fell asleep.
When he woke up, Wrench still was absent. He took a cup, sipped and coughed – in a cup there was tea instead of coffee.
Reaching the bathroom, he turned on the light, which was suspiciously dim. Since Wrench wasn’t hanging around nearby, he decided to take a shower. Wrapping the towel around his waist after, he turned off the water, turned to the mirror and froze – there was inscription on the mirror, saying "EPACSEON". Running out of the bathroom, he found Wrench sitting with a newspaper in the living room. Noticing Numbers, who stared at him with wide eyes, he put it down.
- How’s the shower and why are you half-naked?
- Did you do that?
- Did what?
- Wrote some bullshit on a mirror
- I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about
- Liar.
- Man, I was in the local shop, buying you some more tea. By the way, did you like the one I’ve just did for you before I left?
- I asked for a coffee!
- Eeeehm, nope. You asked for a tea. A herbal one, your favorite one.
- Stop it.
- Isn’t that one of the symptoms you told me about earlier? Like hallucinations or so.
Numbers looked scared and angry at the same time, which was really adorable, but Wrench kept a straight face.
- Wrench, you’re joking, right? I asked for a coffee, then had one, then fell asleep, then woke up and you weren’t here. So I went to the bathroom, saw that shit on the mirror and the light..
He looked up, confused.
- What’s with the light?
- Dunno, it’s ok right now.
- It’s dim!
- No, it’s okay. I think, you’d better lay down. I’m starting to get worried about you.
He stood up and took Numbers by the shoulder, pulling him on a couch.
- What the fuck is going on..
- When you woke up, I’ve been there. Don’t you remember? You asked me about the weather and then I told you I’m going to the shop.
- I.. oh my god.. I don’t even know..
- Stay here. I’ll call for a doctor.
Syndrome of whom you’re saying you’ve got? – asked doctor with an interest.
- It’s not a syndrome, it’s Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, I believe.
- Well, the blood pressure is okay, your pulse is normal and, to be honest, you look quite fine. We’ve took the analyses, so we’ll call you if there is something you should worry about. Try to drink these vitamins for a month and we’ll see if it helps.
- After leaving the hospital, Numbers found his partner sunbathing peacefully, leaned against the car.
- So, had they found anything?
- No, they told me I’m okay
- Sorry to hear that.. I mean, how do you feel tight now?
- I feel fucked. Was that you?
- Maybe..
- YOU’RE A FILTHY MOTHERFUCKER
- Look, I’m sorry, but I’m done dealing with your panic attacks..
- For a moment I actually thought I'm sick!
- You may..
- I’m not looking at you!
Wrench snapped fingers in front of his face. Numbers gave him a death look.
- What I was going to say is that the only syndrome you might have is a Werewolf one. Look how much hair you have. – grinned Wrench.
Rude. – answered Numbers after a pause, but smiled too, eventually.
He leaned back on a seat and closed his eyes. One day he’ll get his revenge.