Chapter Text
Freminet awakens with a low, fluttery groan as his stomach growls painfully. For a moment, he lies in bed, eyes still closed, trying to discern the source of his discomfort. He can't help but groan again as he checks the clock on the wall. It’s early in the morning, earlier than when he usually wakes up. With great effort, he finally wills himself to sit up and place his feet on the frigid wood floor. The moment he stands, he feels a fresh wave of nausea wash over him. The worst possible thing to wake up to. Though maybe he’ll be able to force it back down and stomach breakfast… oh no, never mind.
Freminet claps a hand over his mouth as he rushes to the bathroom and practically throws himself over the toilet, hurling up the remains of last night’s dinner. As soon as the heaving subsides, he's struck with a dull, empty feeling in his stomach and a dizzy feeling in his head. He clutches it and whimpers. He feels so sick, but he tries not to make any noise for fear that his siblings might hear him and be concerned. Freminet straightens and wipes the sweat from his forehead. His breath is shaky, his cheeks are pale, and his legs feel wobbly.
A sharp knock comes from the bathroom door.
“Yes?” Freminet answers in a shaky voice, trying to hide the fact that he was just vomiting his guts out a minute ago.
"You okay, Fremi?" Lyney's muffled voice speaks from behind the door.
“I’m fine,” Freminet lies, stifling a belch. “Just tired,” he adds through gritted teeth, pressing into his stomach with the tips of his fingers.
Lyney pauses, trying to listen through the door. "You sure you don't need anything?" Freminet's face twists as he bites his lip. He feels a little embarrassed. What if Lyney laughs at him for being such a baby over a tiny illness? "No, really. I'm— nngh … wait... Lyney. Can you come in here?"
Lyney opens the bathroom door and steps inside. One look at Freminet's wan complexion and hunched posture and he knows something is amiss. "You look terrible, Fremi." His tone is gentle and sympathetic as he approaches his brother.
Freminet just gives a feeble groan of acknowledgement. "I do? Ah..." He's even more embarrassed now. "J- just got a little dizzy is all."
Lyney approaches and crouches down as if Freminet was a frightened animal. "Why don't you let me take a look at you?" He says, taking note of the trembling in Freminet's limbs. Freminet opens his mouth to protest but can’t find the energy to do so. As Lyney touches the diver’s forehead, he notes the boy's flushed yet clammy skin. "Fremi..." He speaks quietly and with concern. "You're burning up..."
“I am?” Freminet says, feeling his own forehead with a quivering hand. He can’t feel anything unusual. If anything, he feels cold. Usually he enjoys the cold, being a cryo vision holder, but this cold feels like a biting pain all over his body.
Lyney slides his hand down so it’s resting on Freminet’s cheek. Freminet's flushed skin and high temperature are alarming enough, but the boy is shaking so fiercely that Lyney is worried he might faint. “Yes," he confirms with a sigh. "You have a fever."
A troubled frown curls Lyney's lips as he continues to observe Freminet. He knows Freminet doesn't like the idea of depending on others to take care of him. "I'll..." Freminet starts, but is interrupted by a piercing pain throughout his body. He gasps softly and winces, curling his legs tighter against him.
“Fremi?” Lyney says in surprise. “What's wrong? Can I touch you?”
The thought of Lyney comforting him, of Freminet having to lay there like a helpless child, pains Freminet more than he cares to admit. With some reluctance, he nods. His breathing, while still shaky, has evened out somewhat. "It hurts... all over..."
Lyney carefully touches Freminet's forehead again before wrapping his arms around Freminet’s waist and letting his baby brother lay down in his lap.
"Your pulse is so fast; I'm worried about your heart." Freminet's eyes flutter closed as he feels Lyney's warm hands press into his skin. Lyney swallows the lump in his throat, mind jumping to the worst possible conclusion. The image of Freminet unconscious and coughing up water on the cold metal floor of the Fortress of Meropide crosses his mind.
"You’ll be okay,” Lyney mumbles, more to reassure himself than his brother. "Everything is going to be okay," Lyney whispers soothingly. Freminet lets out a small sob. After a long pause, he loops Freminet's arm around his own shoulders and helps him up, guiding him to bed.
Freminet is too weak to protest and too tired to care. He lets Lyney support him as they make their way towards his room. "Lyney..." Freminet speaks quietly, leaning his head on his brother’s shoulder. "Thank you." He turns his head to peer at Lyney. With the faintest hint of a smile on his face, Freminet closes his eyes and rests his head against Lyney, too overwhelmed to say anything else.
“You are definitely staying in bed today,” Lyney mutters, guiding Freminet to lay down.
Hearing that, Freminet's eyes snap open. “What? no, I’ll be fine, I swear! I- I have a diving expedition planned for today, I- I c-c-can’t miss it…”
"Fremi," Lyney says, a hint of sternness to his tone, "I know what you're thinking right now, but you'd have to be out of your mind to go diving in this condition. You're sick, and you need rest." Freminet feels a soft tug on his arm and looks over to see Lyney gently pulling back the covers of his bed. "You can go when you're better. They’ll understand."
“It's just a stomachache. I- I can still work. If I don’t… th-then… then I can't be useful.”
"Stop talking nonsense," Lyney says, trying to maintain his stern demeanor, but a tear forms in his eye. "You're sick . You're pale as a ghost and your eyes can barely open." He pulls Freminet's legs from beneath him and gently prods the boy into laying down atop his bed. "I'm telling you to stay in bed and get some rest. End of discussion."
Freminet's resistance wavers and he curls into himself on the bed. He hates being talked to like this, but deep down he knows Lyney's right. He just never admits it. Trembling, he mumbles, "...fine..." With a soft sigh, Lyney covers Freminet with the duvet. Freminet squirms a little, trying to find some semblance of comfort within it, but his stomach is still in too much pain. "...Lyney...?"
“Yes?”
"...Could you maybe... could you hold me?"
Freminet's embarrassment and discomfort are visible, as is evident from the flush on his cheeks. He grips the duvet and pulls it closer toward himself, trying to find some sort of comforting warmth in its embrace.
Lyney blinks in surprise as his gaze falls to Freminet. His heart breaks, knowing exactly how much strength this request must have taken. He can't say no, so he nods and climbs onto the bed, wrapping his arms around the boy and holding him close. Freminet tucks his head against Lyney's shoulder.
Freminet’s eyes start to well up with tears as he rests his head against Lyney’s chest. He suddenly recalls how his mama would hold him when he was little, when he had a fever or a bad dream. He buries his face in his brother’s shirt, trying to stifle a sob.
"Shh..." Lyney coos, cradling Freminet's head against him. He rocks the boy in his arms, like how Freminet's mama used to. As Freminet breathes more deeply, he begins to relax. His feverish mind grows calmer as he relaxes against his brother. Lyney pulls him close. "It's okay to depend on people, you know."
As Freminet's eyelids begin to droop shut, he mumbles in response, "I hate being weak."
“You’re not weak. Everyone gets sick, Fremi.”
Freminet's eyelids grow heavy. "...I guess you’re right," he mumbles, his voice so faint that Lyney hardly hears it. "...Thanks, Lyney." Freminet slips into a peaceful slumber, completely unaware of how his big brother is choking back his own tears.