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The loudspeaker chimed with a sound similar to a school announcement to signal morning and the lights flicked on. Isagi had been ready for this, after one too many times of being blinded first thing in the morning, and had stuck his arm over his eyes the minute he heard the familiar jingle.
The usual chorus of rustling blankets and tired groans echoed around the mostly empty room. Some people woke quicker than others, Isagi had noticed, like Kunigami and Kuon, while others dragged, like Igaguri and somewhat himself. Not that he couldn’t get out of bed at the sound of an alarm if he wanted to, to set things straight.
Waking up did have the advantage of seeing wherever the hell Igaguri had ended up overnight. He was absolutely horrible to have as a bed neighbour, seemingly incapable of staying both in place and clothed.
Curious, Isagi removed his arm slowly, letting his eyes adjust, and turned his head towards Igaguri’s futon. Sure enough, he was not there.
Isagi sat up and rubbed his eyes, then stretched his arms over his head to pop his spine back into place. Even if these futons have sleep mats that separate them from the hard floor, they weren’t very comfortable or kind to the pressure points. If they were, there would be no point to the “high quality bed” goal reward.
Across the room, a good few yards from his futon, was Igaguri, stripped to his boxers and completely upside down.
Mornings like this were times when Isagi really wished he had his phone back.
Once he’s awake, it doesn’t take Isagi long to fully wake up . A couple more stretches, and he’s ready to get dressed in the provided uniform. Although, it would never not be a pain to peel skin-tight clothing on first thing in the morning.
Before that, there was one more thing Isagi did most mornings. This being: to wake up Bachira.
It used to be the job of whoever lost the game of “not it” but quickly became Isagi’s job, since he was Bachira’s best friend here and also his bed neighbour. It wasn’t that Isagi minded the task anyways, it didn’t take much effort to turn to the side and tap his friend on his shoulder.
“Hey, time to wake up,” Isagi said somewhat gently.
Bachira, who was cuddling his pillow, didn’t react beyond slipping his thumb further past his lips. Cute, but that’s the opposite of what Isagi was going for here. So he tried again, this time with a soft shake and a little bit firmer of a voice.
“It’s morning Bachira, we have to get up.”
This time he got a whine in response.
“Hnnn no,” Bachira mumbled, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.
Within seconds, it was clear he’d fallen back asleep.
Isagi sighed, he’d try again after getting dressed.
“I’ll give you five more minutes.”
Five minutes was usually how long it took Isagi to switch from the Blue Lock brand loungewear/pajamas and into the training suits. Though they were stretchy and able to be rolled up to either the knee or elbow in the respective places, it was always a pain in the ass (literally) to pull past the thighs. For some reason it always got caught, but that was fixed with a little bit of shimmying and the occasional hop. Like fitting into the dreaded skinny jeans.
But once it was on, the suit was on. And honestly, not the worst thing in the world to wear. It didn’t restrict movement too badly, and the smooth texture didn’t bother Isagi much at all.
Bachira was still asleep when Isagi pulled his shirt on. Not that he had expected his friend to be awake in the first place. So Isagi knelt down on his futon again and tapped the boy on the shoulder.
“I gave you five more minutes,” he started. “Time to wake up.”
No response.
“Come on, let’s go,” Isagi said, giving Bachira a firm shake this time. “They only serve breakfast for an hour before training.”
At first, all Bachira did was whine again and try to push away Isagi’s hand. Then when that proved unsuccessful, he tried squirming away. Emphasis on “tried” because all that ended up happening was him rolling over to his back.
“Sleepin’” was the eventual reply.
Isagi huffed a laugh.
“Yeah? That’s kinda the issue here.”
“‘S not an issue…”
“Look,” Isagi said, sitting criss-cross applesauce on his futon. “You don’t wanna miss breakfast do you? This is the only time to get it. I’d take some back, but it’s hard to sneak rice out of the dining hall. So get up.”
Finally, Bachira’s eyes opened, just a little. They closed shut immediately, squeezing as tight as they seemed to be able to go.
“It’s too bright!” He complained, dragging his pillow to his face.
Isagi sighed again. This morning seemed to be a particularly difficult one. Usually it took two, maybe three attempts before Bachira was sitting up, albeit still drowsy.
“The longer you take to get up, the harder it’s gonna be,” Isagi said, reaching over to pull the pillow down.
Bachira’s expression was one of betrayal, which almost made Isagi laugh.
“But I don’t wanna get up,” he whined as Isagi full on took the pillow away.
“Too bad,” Isagi replied. “We’re strikers, we can’t miss a meal.”
Very reluctantly and with the haste and grace of a waterlogged slug, Bachira peeled himself off the sleep mat, his hair sticking in all directions. He rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands and yawned, before slightly pitching forwards, as if he was gonna fall asleep again.
Luckily Isagi noticed this and pushed his friend’s shoulders to keep him upright, before standing and dragging Bachira to stand and leading the way down the hallway to the center of the building.
***
Now, sleeping late wasn’t anything unusual. Sure, the amount of attempts was more than normal, but Bachira was in no way a predictable person, so that could easily be excused.
What couldn’t be excused, was the fact that he was practically silent.
Bachira didn’t say a single word for the entire walk to the dining hall, nor when they got their food, or when they sat down. He didn’t reply when a couple of their teammates greeted them, only offering a halfhearted wave before face-planting onto the table.
Isagi frowned. This is a tad bit concerning, to say the least. But it was a slower morning, yeah? Maybe he wasn’t fully awake yet. Bachira did seem to have a hard time falling asleep sometimes if he was too excited or energized, so maybe he just didn’t get much sleep the night before.
But as Isagi ate his breakfast and chatted with his teammates, Bachira only stabbed at his rice, not even lifting his head from the table.
Isagi thought he was being sneaky with his staring, but apparently he wasn’t because Kuon caught on to the fact that this was concerning and leaned across the table.
“Extra tired this morning?” He asked Bachira, who was still absently playing with the rice.
Bachira hummed and nodded.
“Not feeling that hungry either?”
Bachira shook his head in reply.
“Come on,” Kuon prompted, much like Isagi usually does. “Sit up a little. We have a lot of practice today and you need at least some food beforehand. And you didn’t flavour your rice yet so it’s still bland, it shouldn’t be too much. At least try half the bowl, okay?”
“Okay…” Bachira sighed, pushing himself upright, but still not really doing much with the rice.
His voice was different. Usually, no matter the time, Bachira remained at least at volume level six out of ten. He was expressive, and shameless about it. But instead, it was quiet and soft, almost alarmingly so, around a two or three. And slow as well, like it was physically taxing to speak.
It took a few tries for Bachira to get his chopsticks to work. His coordination seemed off and one of the sticks would slip and drop its contents.
Isagi had half a mind to just shove a fork into his friend’s hand if that was easier.
But luckily, Bachira seemed to remember how chopsticks work. Isagi’s face relaxed as his friend began to eat, even if it was slower than usual.
His suspicion that Bachira hadn’t gotten much sleep seemed to be more likely than not at this point. Hopefully he could hold out for the rest of the day. Or at least until lunch.
***
Isagi only got more concerned as the morning went on. After a lot of coaxing from Kuon, Bachira had eaten almost exactly half of his rice before he gave up and went back to laying on the table. Isagi had managed to get some water in him before he went to the training room, telling Bachira to meet him there after he got dressed.
Isagi kept checking the door ever so often as he ran on the treadmill, disappointed whenever someone else came through the door. And his worry only increased as the minutes ticked by, going from five, to ten, and so on.
Eventually, after the twenty minute mark, the doors slid open and Isagi turned his head to look. Finally Bachira had made his appearance. Although nothing had improved. If anything, he seemed worse than at breakfast. His shoulders were slouched and he walked much slower than usually, shuffling to a jump rope that was tucked away in the corner of the room by the hand weights and kettlebells.
It was hard for Isagi to keep running and spy on his friend at the same time. Luckily there were a few leg press machines closer to the “loose equipment corner,” so Isagi switched off the treadmill and discreetly changed location. Pay no mind to the fact that he’s five minutes early on a thirty minute run, that’s no one’s business but his own.
Normally, Bachira was very good at jumping rope. He’d switch from both feet, to one, to the other, to alternating, to criss-crossing his arms, double jumps, whatever really. It was spontaneous, like his dribbling was. However, today he kept missing the cord, letting it slap against his shins and ankles.
Or, based on the annoyed expression on Bachira’s face, he wasn’t letting it happen. It was just happening anyway.
Isagi tried to focus on his own workout at the same time. Thinking like an egoist was easy when it came to crushing the other teams and some of the players on his team, but it was harder when it came to Bachira. Probably because Isagi had grown attached, something about the boy endeared him to Isagi, and it was always a great time practicing with him.
In short, while Isagi was going to be the top striker and the victor of Blue Lock, he didn’t want to see Bachira fail.
And currently, watching his friend pathetically flop a rope around and potentially bruise his shins was coming pretty close to what he didn’t want.
Needless to say, that was the saddest forty minutes of attempted jump rope that Isagi had ever witnessed.
Isagi wasn’t the only one who seemed worried now. Other than Kuon, a couple others had been sneaking concerned glances in Bachira’s direction. When the hour chimed, Isagi quickly signaled that he would check in with his friend and for them to go on ahead.
Isagi grabbed his water bottle, double checking that it actually had water in it, before crossing the room. He didn’t see Bachira come in with his own water, which probably means it’s back in the sleeping room.
“Here,” Isagi said, offering his water bottle.
Bachira took it gratefully and plopped down on the floor.
“Are you alright?” Isagi asked, sitting down as well. “You look a little pale.”
Bachira shook his head as he sipped from the straw.
“Nope,” he replied. “I’m fine.”
Right. And Isagi is Noel Noa.
“You sure?” Isagi said instead.
Bachira nodded and went back to drinking water. But this did absolutely nothing to convince Isagi, because if he really was alright, the answer would have been enthusiastic and kind of flippant.
Isagi frowned. Something was definitely off.
“Are you getting sick?”
Bachira wrinkled his nose at that.
“ What ? No, don’t be silly,” he waved off.
Isagi took back his water bottle when Bachira started chewing on the straw.
“You’re quiet,” Isagi said as he wiped the straw on his sleeve. He’d clean it better before practice started. “You’re not a quiet person.”
Should he check Bachira’s temperature? They didn’t have a thermometer and there wasn’t an infirmary in Blue Lock (or at least in the main building they’re in) so Isagi would have to feel his forehead.
So he reached out, ready to check his friend’s forehead, but Bachira pushed his hand away.
“Seriously Isagi, I’m fine. In fact, I’m better than fine! I’m great!” Bachira pushed himself up, his movement bouncy like normal. But Isagi didn’t miss the way his eyes zoned out for a brief second.
“Thanks for the water, see ‘ya at group running!” Bachira exclaimed before quickly exiting the room.
Isagi sighed. Bachira is overcompensating now, since Isagi’s caught on that something’s off. But genuinely, how do you stop such an unstoppable force like Bachira Meguru?
***
If anyone has ideas, Isagi is open to suggestions. Because Bachira is currently trying to run laps around the field with the rest of the team (minus Igaguri, who’s doing meditation instead).
Isagi was where he always was in group running, towards the center of the group, not too slow, but not the fastest. Usually, like today, it was Raichi in the front, very ahem eager to show off his stamina, and Bachira was always somewhere towards the front as well.
Today however, Bachira was a good few meters behind the group, and the distance was only growing larger. Whatever energy he had managed to summon in an attempt to get Isagi off his case had left, along with any colour that remained in his body. Every time Isagi looked over, Bachira seemed to get more and more pale.
It wasn’t soon before the team was lapping him. Isagi slowed down to a jog so he could be next to Bachira.
He was breathing very heavily, despite barely being above a speed walk. His forehead was also beginning to bead with sweat, causing his bangs to stick to his face. His eyes were just as unfocused as when he left the training room.
Needless to say, this wasn’t good at all. This wasn’t normal fatigue or lack of sleep.
“You need to sit down,” Isagi said, not wasting any time. “Stop being a fucking idiot, you’re not well.”
“‘M fine,” was Bachira’s reply. Same bullshit he’d been saying all day. “Didn’t sleep well, but I’m fine .”
This is frustrating. Why did Bachira have to be so fucking stubborn? Stupid egoist mentality making people focus only on soccer and not their own well-being.
Actually, if he thinks about it, Isagi would also probably try to play while sick if he was the one under the weather. He might not be able to forgive himself if he didn’t. So yeah, he’s a hypocrite, but so what? Do as he says and not as he would do.
“You’re as pale as fucking paper, at least take a water break.”
Bachira shook his head, his steps drifting to the side with the motion.
“I’ll take it when everyone else does.”
Isagi glared at his friend, then at the ground in front of him. He didn’t miss that their pace had slowed down even more, nor had he missed the slight change in stride from Bachira after his head shake, or how his words slurred together.
But he couldn’t exactly physically stop Bachira from doing anything. He couldn’t force him to stop practicing or to drink more water, or to go back to bed. Hell, would it even be allowed? Ego hadn’t covered what would happen if someone got sick or injured. For all they all knew, they were meant to keep going.
Maybe that’s why Bachira hadn’t stopped yet. Or maybe he’s just that determined. Maybe a combination?
It didn’t really matter.
It was clear that he couldn’t really do anything to stop his friend. All Isagi could do right now was stay as close to Bachira as possible, in case something happened or he got worse.
***
So something happened sooner than later.
Someone called a water break about twenty minutes into the hour. If Isagi believed in a god, he would be praising it right about now. Because now Bachira doesn’t have any excuse to not take a break.
He’d acquired his own water bottle, thank goodness, at some point between leaving the training room and starting the run. Isagi must have missed this when he was rinsing out his own.
To put it quite frankly, Bachira looked like a dead man walking. Pale as a sheet, unfocused and glazed over eyes, movements that seemed to drag.
He brought the back of his hand to his mouth and came to a stop. Immediately, Isagi heard alarm bells ringing in his head.
“Bachira? Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, moving to his friend’s line of vision, although he didn’t really expect a response.
Bachira mumbled something that Isagi couldn’t make out. His pale face was dripping with sweat and his whole body was shaking. His eyelids fluttered for a moment and he swayed on his feet.
Oh fuck.
Bachira was gonna pass out, wasn’t he?
“Shit, okay… fuck,” Isagi stuttered. He knew what he was supposed to do at this point. Get Bachira to sit down and have someone bring water. But instead he was fumbling around like an idiot!
Isagi grabbed Bachira by the shoulders, lightly pushing to signal “ you sit down now. ” But instead of following directions, Bachira’s eyes rolled back and he slumped forwards into Isagi’s chest, completely limp and deadweight.
Internally, Isagi began to panic as he instinctively hooked his arms under Bachira’s. Because holy shit, his best friend just passed out, probably from a fever. What the fuck do you do when someone faints from a fever!
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Isagi remembered that he should probably get Bachira laying down. Focusing on anything around him became hard as all Isagi could think about was his immense worry and fear and holy shit what the fuck does he do ?
As he moved backwards, Isagi didn’t realize that his teammates had noticed until he felt the weight in his arms grow significantly lighter. He moved on autopilot, down to a kneeling position, still keeping some sort of a grip on Bachira, even though someone else was supporting him now.
“Move your legs,” that someone said. “He needs to lie flat.”
“Someone go get a wet cloth!”
“On it!”
A hand came to grip Isagi’s shoulder.
“Hey, focus, you can’t panic right now.”
Isagi looked up from his lap and tried to focus his eyes again. Bachira had been positioned on his back with his head between Isagi’s knees and his legs elevated on someone else’s.
“Isagi,” the helpful someone, who now was registering as Kunigami, said firmly. “What happened?”
“He passed out,” Isagi replied, unhelpfully.
Yeah, no fucking shit, Sherlock .
“I mean,” Isagi tried again. “I’m not entirely sure. He’s been strange all day, kinda spacey? I think he’s sick, probably fever, but he wouldn’t let me check.”
Kunigami pursed his lips and reached a hand to Bachira’s forehead. Then he held that hand over Bachira’s mouth and nose, and finally checked his wrist, probably taking his pulse.
“Definitely a fever,” Kunigami confirmed. “He’s breathing fine and his pulse is there and stable, so that’s probably what caused this. Has he been drinking water?”
Isagi nodded, absently brushing Bachira’s bangs away from his forehead. God, he was burning up. Why did he think it was a good idea to keep running?
“Yeah, but probably not enough.”
At this moment, Naruhaya returned with one of the locker room towels, which was now dripping wet.
Kunigami took the towel and twisted it to get rid of all the excess water. Then he expertly folded it up and placed it on Bachira’s forehead.
“Where did you learn this?” Isagi wondered aloud.
“My sister’s anemic,” Kunigami replied. “Sometimes she passes out, so I learned how to help if she did.”
Isagi nodded an acknowledgment and turned his attention back to Bachira. The colour was still gone from his complexion, but his chest was rising and falling at a steady rate. With the limited knowledge about fainting that Isagi had, he knew it usually didn’t last longer than a minute or so. Right?
How long had it been?
It seemed longer than a minute.
Luckily, before Isagi could panic again, the towel seemed to work. It wasn’t a very large movement, but Bachira’s face scrunched up a very small amount. Then his head moved from side to side. Was he trying to throw off the towel?
Bachira’s eyes opened, just the tiniest bit, and his mouth slipped into a confused frown. Slowly, he blinked a couple times. His arms twitched, as if he was trying to move them but couldn’t.
“Why ‘m I on th’ ground?” Bachira mumbled, eyes closing again.
“Dumbass,” Isagi huffed endearingly. “You face-planted into me because you have a fever.”
“Hmm? No I don’.”
Isagi glanced up and shared a look with Kunigami that said “ and this stubborn denial is how we got here in the first place ” or, at least that’s what Isagi was trying to convey. The gist of it seemed to get across at least.
“Can you move your limbs?” Kunigami asked. “Don’t try to stand up yet,” he added quickly. “Just lift them.”
Bachira was still for a few seconds. His arms twitched again, and for a moment, Isagi was worried that his friend actually couldn’t move on his own. But much to his relief, it seemed that mobility just took a bit to kick back in, because Bachira was able to bend his arms and give them a little wave.
“Isagi,” Kunigami said. “Help him sit up. Someone else grab water.”
Isagi nodded and hooked his arms under Bachira’s to pull him up. It was easier said than done, but Blue Lock training actually had a benefit outside of just murdering everyones spirits. Because Isagi was able to pull his friend up to a sitting position, using himself as a support for Bachira to lean against.
Just like he’d been the rest of the day, Bachira was eerily silent, just letting himself be moved around and manipulated. When the straw of his water bottle was pressed to his mouth, Bachira took it without complaint, taking slow sips as instructed.
It was… wrong, Isagi decided, to see Bachira like this. Not in the sense of him not being allowed to be sick or vulnerable. But in the sense of Isagi didn’t want Bachira to be in this position in the first place.
He wanted Bachira to be the same hyperactive and slightly socially awkward boy he’d come to know. He was starting to miss the random things that came from his mouth. Or the way Bachira always jumped on him whenever he so pleased, despite the fact that Isagi wasn’t even the biggest fan of physical contact.
“Everyone get back to training,” Kunigami instructed. “I’m gonna take him back to the dorm.”
The rest of team Z (or at least most of them), who had gathered around in a loose circle formation immediately seemed to decide that, no, they had not in fact been concerned, and they were focused on the training that had all but been forgotten about.
“Can I go with you?” Isagi asked as Kunigami scooped Bachira (who was falling back asleep) into his arms. “I don’t really wanna leave him right now.”
Kunigami shrugged.
“You don’t need my permission, I don’t control you.”
***
Kunigami had carried Bachira back to the dorm, trying to keep him from falling back asleep with minimum success. Bachira was essentially limp, save for his right arm, which was held to his chest so he could put his thumb in his mouth. Funny that the habit stuck with him even when incredibly out of it.
Meanwhile, Isagi had trailed behind with Bachira’s water bottle, a little unsure. Kunigami said he didn’t need permission, but Isagi still felt as though he did. If not from the hero himself, then from who? Ego? That asshat hadn’t even popped up on the screen when a child in his care literally collapsed, so why did Isagi need his permission?
It’s stupid , he thought. Because Kunigami was right, Isagi didn’t need anyone’s permission to stay with his best friend, who was sick as hell right now. Stop being a doormat, you’re an egoist.
When they’d got back to the dorm, Kunigami put Bachira on his futon and gave Isagi a few instructions. Try to get Bachira out of his bodysuit and into the loungewear, have him drink more water, don’t let him get up and move around too much, and attempt to get medicine from somewhere (ask Ego and hope his scrawny ass comes through). Isagi had nodded and thanked Kunigami profusely, who in turn had flushed red and insisted that it was nothing.
Now, Isagi was sitting in the dorm in silence, the only sound being Bachira’s steady breathing. He’d managed to peel off the training suit, but Bachira had dozed off again after so Isagi hadn’t gotten his friend dressed again. And to avoid too much interference, Isagi had taken this moment to more or less yell at the cameras and demand medicine. The response had been to wait for 20 minutes, so now, Isagi was waiting for the medicine.
Occasionally, through the silence in the room, Bachira would mumble something in his sleep. Normally, Isagi had no issue deciphering what his friend would say. It was usually something about passing the ball or something else soccer related. But this time, Isagi couldn’t quite make out what his teammate was saying.
He was shivering, curled tightly up around himself, despite the blanket that Isagi had draped over him. Isagi frowned. He still didn’t want to leave Bachira alone, even for the few minutes it’ll take to run to the cafeteria to collect the medicine.
But it was inevitable. With one last look, Isagi pushed himself to his feet and quickly left the room.
He was on a mission, get the medicine and come back. Quick enough.
Ego had said it would be in the food drop-off and to just scan his ID number. Sure enough, a plastic syringe came rolling out, filled with a pink-tinted liquid. Isagi snatched it up and booked it back to the sleeping room.
‘Nothing can get bad in five minutes,’ they say. Who they are is up for debate, but they say it nonetheless. However, apparently things can get lowkey bad when it comes to this particular teenager, because when Isagi returned to the room, Bachira was somehow on the opposite side of the room that he’d left him on, haphazardly bundled up in the blanket, leaning heavily against the lockers.
Two out of five tasks failed so far…
“Where are you going?” Isagi asked, doing his best not to stutter or laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of his friend’s willpower.
Bachira seemed very confused. He didn’t respond, which was a running theme for sick Bachira at this point. Isagi helped him to the ground and held up the medicine.
“I got medicine,” he said. “Can you take it yourself or do you need help?”
Bachira stared unfocused at the syringe, then wrinkled his nose and looked away.
“No thanks, tastes bad.”
“What? You haven’t even tried it.”
Bachira stuck out his tongue in reply.
“Don’ make me,” he whined, hiding his face in Isagi’s shoulder.
Maybe a choice would be better?
“Wanna put some clothes on instead?” Isagi offered, as Bachira was still only in his boxers.
Isagi couldn’t tell if Bachira was shaking his head yes or no, or if he was just nuzzling in closer to Isagi’s shoulder. Isagi pulled the blanket up so that his friend’s body wouldn’t be fully exposed.
Bachira whined and shrugged it off, with the complaint of “cold” leaving his lips. Which is silly, because why would he be pushing away the object that’ll keep him warm?
Isagi made an executive decision.
“Let’s get dressed,” he declared, attempting to stand up while arms were entangling themselves around his neck.
Luckily, after nearly a month, Isagi had grown used to holding Bachira, so it wasn’t a huge struggle to stand up. (It was a medium struggle, but that was neither here nor there, Isagi got them both standing and that was that.)
Now, Isagi had no experience dressing anyone besides himself. And until today, he’d had no experience undressing anyone besides himself as well. These two combined to mean that there were clothes strewn about the room from the first attempt, making it complicated to collect them and support a sick teenager at the same time.
Isagi ended up kicking Bachira’s sleep clothes back to the futon.
“Can you put your clothes on yourself or do you need help?” Isagi asked, even though he had a feeling the answer was ‘I’ll say I can do it but I won’t be physically able to because I’m sick but still stubborn as all hell.’
“I can do it,” Bachira said, just as predicted.
Isagi had his doubts, but he let Bachira try anyway.
And to his surprise, it seemed to go alright at first. Because Bachira was able to mostly get pants on. Granted he was leaning against Isagi the entire time, but it was more than he expected.
He probably shouldn’t let Bachira strain himself too much. He’d passed out once already, after all.
“Put your arms up,” Isagi said.
“I can do it,” Bachira responded.
“Up.”
Bachira pouted, but listened nonetheless, holding his arms above his head and wiggling his fingers. Isagi bunched up the fabric of the shirt and slipped the sleeves over Bachira’s hands. His head vanished, then reappeared with his hair poofing out of the neckline, though it was still damp from sweat.
The second his shirt was on, Bachira bonked his head into Isagi’s shoulder.
“I don’t feel good,” he whined.
Finally! An admittance!
“What doesn’t feel good?” Isagi asked, though he had an idea as to the answer, and began running his hand up and down Bachira’s back.
“It’s too hot, an’ too cold,” Bachira said quietly. “My head hurts and I don’t ‘member how I got here. And my tummy feels weird, I think it’s mad. And ev’rything’s heavy.”
“You passed out during running,” Isagi reminded him. “Kunigami took you back here.”
Isagi directed them into a sitting position, Bachira’s head still hiding in his shoulder, though now his arms were wrapped around Isagi’s torso, holding tight, and his legs were positioned that he was sitting sideways in Isagi’s lap. Apparently being sick means that Bachira gets extra clingy. Not that Isagi really minded, his aversion to physical touch didn’t apply to this particular boy.
Two things left to do, technically that is. Get Bachira to take the medicine, and then get him to drink water. Resting was probably the next step after those were accomplished. And maybe Isagi should locate a bin of some sorts, since Bachira feels a bit nauseous.
“Ready to take the medicine?” Isagi asked.
Predictably, Bachira shook his head, then winced.
“Nooo, it’s evil.”
“It’s not evil,” Isagi said with a slight chuckle. “It’s probably bubblegum flavoured, it’s pink.”
At this, Bachira turned his head away from Isagi’s shoulder, apparently curious. Isagi held up the syringe, which had thankfully not emptied into his pocket, holding it in Bachira’s eyesight.
“If you don’t like it, just drink water to chase it down.”
Bachira pouted, but didn’t turn away. He also didn’t make any moves to grab the syringe, so Isagi gathered that he’d have to do it himself.
Bachira could be so childish at times. Actually, he was quite childish most of the time. Isagi found it endearing in a way, that Bachira could just be himself openly, even if it was sometimes a tad bit annoying or random.
Isagi pushed the tip of the syringe past the pout, cringing when he bumped it against Bachira’s teeth and quickly readjusting so as not to do that again. When he pressed the plunger down, Bachira made no attempt to swallow, instead puffing his cheeks out like a chipmunk.
Just before Isagi was sure he would spit it out and he’d have to argue with Ego again for a second dose, Bachira swallowed down the medicine. He stuck out his tongue and made a face of disgust.
“Not bubblegum,” he complained. “Weird cherry.”
Isagi laughed.
“Want something to drink?”
Bachira nodded, and Isagi reached behind him to blindly search for the water bottle. He almost knocked it over, but luckily was able to save it and hold it out for his friend to drink.
Bachira took long sips from the straw, obviously trying to wash away the taste of the medicine. When he pulled away, Bachira slumped against Isagi’s chest, breathing heavily.
“Wanna sleep,” he mumbled, eyes already closing.
Isagi nodded, despite knowing Bachira couldn’t see him. He squeezed his friend’s shoulder and began to shift him off to lay down. But that only prompted Bachira to whine and hold on tightly.
“Don’t you wanna lie down?” Isagi asked, a little perplexed.
Bachira’s response was to bury his face in Isagi’s shoulder again. And Isagi sighed.
“Want me to lie down with you?”
A nod.
If Isagi laid down with Bachira, that would probably mean missing out on the rest of training for the day. Which would honestly suck. They had their match against Team W coming up soon and Isagi needed all the training he could get. But he didn’t have it in himself to let go of the trembling form that was clinging to him like a life raft.
“Okay, if it’ll help,” Isagi said after a moment of letting his brain buffer.
He could feel the smile against his neck.
It didn’t take long after they laid down for Bachira to fall asleep, halfway on top of Isagi, thumb in his mouth as always. Isagi brushed the sweaty bangs away from Bachira’s forehead to check his temperature. Still so warm.
Hopefully he’d be feeling better when he woke up.