Work Text:
When Wille doesn’t show up for breakfast, Simon isn’t too worried. It looks like Wille is coming down with something, given the unfocused blur in his eyes and frequent yawns over the past few days, so Simon just assumes he’s sleeping in before class. He shoots him a text, though, just to check in and see if he needs anything––Simon makes a note to find some tea for Wille later if he’s still not feeling well. Whenever Sara got sick at home, Linda would make her a cup of herbal tea and it provided instant relief. There’s something about earth fairies that makes herbal remedies extremely potent, so he figures it’s worth a shot with his boyfriend. So, as soon as class is over, he heads to the student kitchen, throws a teabag in a mug of water, and heats it up in the palm of his hand as he walks to Wille’s room.
Even though he’s allowed to come and go as he pleases, he still makes a point to knock if he knows that Wille is in. He’s a bit surprised when there’s no answer from the other side, but he hopes that Wille is just getting some much-needed rest. When he steps inside, though, Wille is curled up in a ball under his duvet, whimpering with his eyes scrunched and his wings curled protectively around him.
“Wille?” Cautiously, he approaches the bed and crouches down, the steaming mug of tea in his hand as he takes in the sad sight of his boyfriend.
His forehead is sweaty with fever but they’re shivering, pale fingers wrapped around the duvet in a death grip. Wille’s eyes flutter to peer over at Simon, green flecks pulsing like he’s using magic. Simon sets the mug on the desk and reaches out to touch Wille’s forehead, wincing at the temperature.
“You’re burning up.”
Wille hums nonkcomittedly and scoots back, leaving room for Simon to sit down next to him on the bed. Simon sits beside them and runs careful fingers through his sweaty hair.
“What hurts, baby?”
It takes a moment for Wille to answer. “Magic. My magic.”
Simon frowns, not sure what to do with that. “Your magic?”
Wille nods and groans, another wave of pain washing over them, eyes flickering again. Simon looks over at the plants lined up meticulously on Wille’s windowsill, fear wrapping around his heart when he sees that they’re all dead.
Simon closes his eyes and reaches out for Wille’s magic, hoping that he can at least try and feel whatever they’re feeling so he knows what they’re dealing with here. Normally, their magics are so intertwined that it takes little effort to bridge the small divide between them, but he can’t feel Wille’s magic now. It’s like coming to a deadend in a maze or a concrete slab where a door should be––it’s intentional and it hurts to know that Wille doesn’t want to let him in. This has never happened before.
“Let me in,” Simon pleas, voice gentle, fingers continuing to card through Wille’s hair.
Wille shakes his head. “Just need to rest.”
When they were kids and Sara got her magic, she suddenly fell ill. It was a terrible, terrible sickness that made her bedridden for days. They all thought it was the flu at first, but when she said it was her magic that hurt, they called in a faefolk doctor to have a look at her. The prognosis wasn’t good by any means. It’s a rare illness that happens when a fairy’s body rejects their magic, and for a lot of children, they lose it. Sometimes, they lose their lives. With a concoction of pain meds and herbal tea, they were able to keep her semi-comfortable while her magic and body were at war with each other, and it took days for her to come back to herself. She got to keep her magic in the end. A lot of kids aren’t that lucky.
Wille’s symptoms bring him right back to those terrible, stressful days when he and Linda huddled close together on the sofa at night, crying and praying for Sara’s swift recovery. It brings him right back to thinking that he was about to lose one of the most important people in his life and that he would have to just sit there and watch it happen. Panic makes his body constrict and his breathing go shallow, absolutely terrified that he’s going to watch Wille suffer through the same thing. And maybe not be as lucky as Sara was.
Jesus Christ, he cannot lose his shit right now. Wille needs him. Wille needs…
“You need a doctor,” he says, filing to hide the franticness of his voice.
“Don’t leave me,” Wille cries, reaching out and clutching onto Simon’s arm. “Don’t leave me, Simon. Please.”
Simon’s heart cracks in his chest. Wille needs a doctor, and Simon is terrified that waiting will only make it worse, but he can’t exactly leave Wille right now, can he? Not when they’re looking at Simon with those puppy dog eyes tinged with pain. He makes an executive decision in the moment––one that he knows will make his stomach sour later when he thinks about it, but it’s not like he has much of a choice.
“Okay,” he coos, giving Wille’s hand a squeeze, “I’ll stay right here. But I need to grab my phone and text Sara, okay? And you need to drink this tea I brought for you.”
Wille nods, letting Simon move to grab the tea from the desk. He helps Wille sit up a bit to drink it, wincing as Wille’s face twists in pain with the movement, eyes still flickering with magic. As Wille starts to drink the tea, Simon pulls his phone from his pocket to text Sara. He explains the situation and asks her to get the nurse––he trusts that her own experience with the illness will make her able to explain it to the nurse.
“Wait, Sara?”
Simon looks over at his boyfriend, their eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
“Yeah,” he sighs, shoving the phone back into his pocket after getting Sara’s confirmation. “I think she had the same sickness you have. She’s getting the nurse.”
“No,” Wille grunts, trying to teach for Simon only to wince in pain again. Simon quickly takes the tea out of Wille’s hands, frowning when his boyfriend immediately returns to his shriveled ball, wings arching around himself again. “Yo––You’re mad at her. Don’t need…didn’t have to talk to her. For me.”
Each word sounds like agony and Simon’s heart cracks. He shakes his head, sets the tea down, and runs soothing hands through Wille’s hair. “Oh, mi amor,” he whispers, “I’d do anything for you.”
Wille whines and his body tenses again, back arching off the mattress as he cries out. Simon makes soft, soothing sounds as he continues to stroke Wille’s sweaty hair, praying for the nurse to hurry.
It takes ten minutes for the nurse to come, and Wille’s pain doesn’t seem to be going away. They writhe and whine on the bed and Simon doesn’t think he’s ever felt this useless, but he needs to be the strong one now. For Wille. Anything for them.
“Well,” the nurse huffs, taking a step back after her assessment of Wille, “you and your sister were right. It’s Faefever.”
Simon reaches out and squeezes Wille’s hand in his own, not sure who’s comfort it’s for. “Why is it happening now? They’ve had magic for months.”
The nurse rifles through her bag and produces a kit, unzipping it on the desk. “Hard to say, I’m afraid. Normally, we see this with young children just coming into their magic, but it seems that your friend’s suppressed connection to their magic might have, well, for lack of a better term, jumbled everything up, as it were.”
Simon sighs and looks down at Wille’s pale, sweaty face. “Is there anything we can do?”
The nurse returns to Wille’s side with a needle. Wille sees it and their eyes widen, another whimper escaping their lips. Simon feels magic surge through him, red hot and familiar, and suddenly one of Wille’s dead plants is alight on the windowsill. Simon frowns, watching the pulsing of Wille’s eyes––did Wille just draw magic from Simon? Did he just use Simon’s magic like it was his own?
The nurse points a finger at the plant and a stream of water pours from her fingertip, extinguishing the flame. She cocks and eyebrow at Simon.
“We have…combined magic,” he mutters, eyes still focused on the water-doused plant. “It’s never done that before, though.”
“Yes, your sister told me about your combined magic.” She approaches Wille with the needle again. Thinking that their physical connection might be the thing allowing Wille to access his magic, Simon removes his hands from Wille’s body. He can see that Wille is afraid of the needle, probably afraid of everything right now, and while Simon aches to comfort them, he won’t put anyone at risk. Wille’s magic on his own is strong, but it’s a nurturing kind of magic. Life, growth, love. With his power and Simon’s fire magic, on the other hand…Simon shudders to think of what Wille could accidentally do in this state.
“I’m sorry, Wilhelm,” the nurse coos as she prepares the needle, “this will only hurt for a moment.”
Wille whimpers again and Simon’s heart breaks, but he can’t touch him right now. He won’t risk it.
It only takes a second for whatever the nurse gave him to work. His eyes flutter and his body relaxes instantly. Finally. Rest.
“You knocked them out,” Simon says, looking down at Wille’s sleeping form. At least the pain doesn’t seem to be touching them now. At least Wille can have a moment of peace.
“Combined magic can be a very tricky, complicated thing,” the nurse explains as she puts everything back into her bag. “Tell me, can you feel their magic? Harness it as your own?”
Simon furrows his brow, not sure how to reply. He’s never tried to put it into words before, his connection to Wille’s magic. It’s intimate and personal and only for the two of them. He’s not sure he’d want to explain even if he knew how.
The nurse smiles softly at him. “Can you feel it, Simon?”
He nods.
She sets a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “While they sleep, reach for their magic. Nurture it. Soothe it. I believe you might be the only one who can fix this.”
With one last squeeze, she leaves them.
Simon sits on the edge of the bed, still not touching Wille, wondering if the nurse was right. With a careful hand, he touches Wille’s shoulder and closes his eyes, finding their connection. With Wille unconscious, the doors have opened, the maze is unblocked. Simon gasps as he reaches into the connection, as he tugs on the tether between them, and finds Wille’s side hot and angry and screaming for him.
“Fuck,” he hisses, “Wille…” He knows, now, why Wille wouldn’t let him in.
The pain radiates through his body, burning him from the inside out. This must be what Wille has felt since they first fell ill––this all consuming, scorching pain that feels like it’s tearing him up from the inside out.
Silly fae, Simon thinks as he pushes through the pain, always trying to protect me. Oh, how I adore you.
Simon grits his teeth and holds on for dear life, pushing past the flaming thorns and the rest of the defenses until he feels Wille’s center.
In the very middle of Wille’s magical core, surrounded by a raging war on all sides, sits a sprouting seed. Calm, small, terrified. Simon reaches for the seed, wraps it safely in his palms, and feels it grow to wrap around his wrist. He pours his love and magic into the small, vulnerable thing, begging it to take whatever it needs to nourish itself, to heal the broken magic around it.
The seedling’s green arm grows and grows until leaves and stems are all Simon can see, until he’s wrapped up in it. In Wille.
With another gasp, he opens his eyes and he’s back on the bed, the seed gone, Wille’s shoulder still in his grasp.
He reaches for Wille’s magic once more, tugging lightly at the tether, and finds peace. No fires, no thorns, just Wille.
“Thank god,” Simon mutters, pressing a kiss to Wille’s forehead. It’s still sweaty, but he’s not running a fever anymore.
Tired and still on-edge, Simon lies down and curls around his love, his wings coming up like a cocoon to protect them from the rest of the world.
“Sleep, mi amor,” he coos, pressing another kiss to Wille’s forehead, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”