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It was becoming increasingly common for Fang to stay the night at Tan’s place, especially because his brother wasn’t home much anymore either. So when Fang opened his eyes this morning, it was only natural that he woke up next to Tan. The room was quiet and he would probably be cold if he wasn’t holding onto Tan’s warmth. Sometimes Fang suspected that Tan purposely kept his apartment cold, but Fang never made plans to confront him about it; because then he would have to admit that he in reality just wanted to hug Tan, and didn’t mind the cold much. So instead he’ll keep quiet about it, to keep both of their secrets safe. However, he also suspected that Tan already knew.
So Fang stayed silent, holding onto Tan, not wanting to wake him up with any sudden movements. He can feel Tan slightly shiver against him, and he can hear Tan's inconsistent breaths. The noise stops for a second which scares Fang momentarily, but is dismissed when Tan abruptly groans. He then turns to face Fang, eyes shut tightly, but nonetheless presses into him, bringing Fang closer than before. Fang adjusts to the new position and once again wraps his arms around Tan. Apparently, this wasn’t close enough for Tan, because he moves again, latching an arm around Fang’s waist, pushing his body deeper somehow, mumbling something incoherent into Fang’s chest.
Fang pulls back his arms, and the most worrying part is that Tan doesn’t immediately yank him back in. There’s a small whine, but no real fightback, and if Fang didn’t think there was something wrong before, he did now. As soon as Fang is able to move his arms he pulls Tan away from his chest gently to look at him for a moment. His eyes are still shut tight, and he seems to be in pain based on the expression he is making. Fang raises his hand to Tan’s forehead and gently pushes back Tan’s unstyled bed hair to palm his forehead, “You’re sick,” he confirms. It had already been noticeable, as Tan wasn’t great at hiding any illnesses, but still, Fang feels obligated to acknowledge his discovery aloud.
Fang should tell him off and tell Tan to focus on himself more and stop being so reckless. Sometimes Fang got frustrated at Tan’s discard of personal care. If he paid more attention to himself, maybe he wouldn’t be sick right now. Fang sighs to himself, but ultimately decides not to scold him this time. Tan probably wouldn’t really process anything he might say anyway, so instead, he removes his hand from Tan’s forehead and pets the back of his hair slowly, “I’ll be back.”
Tan groans again, and Fang feels a bit guilty leaving him, even if it’s just for a moment. Seeing Tan in this sickened state, it breaks into Fang’s memories a bit. Thoughts of a time before, when he had been sick. How he had just been left to sink into his bed. Weight pushing deeper and deeper into the mattress, the cold, the inability to breathe. The feeling of loneliness is only enhanced by all of these things. The isolation seeped through his skin through the sweat on his forehead.
That’s why he needs to take care of Tan in the present.
Fang removes himself from Tan’s weak grip and sets down Tan’s arms as carefully as possible. Before leaving the room Fang covers Tan fully with the comforter, and adjusts his head to rest on a pillow.
He generally understands what should be done; despite his lack of knowledge. Fang leaves the room to bring Tan some things. At this point, Fang knows his way around Tan’s apartment pretty well, so it isn’t hard for him to find things he needs.
Fang grabs a rag from the bathroom and brings it with him to the kitchen. He sets it down on the counter for a moment to grab a glass from the cabinet. Putting the empty glass next to the rag Fang then turns on the sink. He fills up the glass, switches the faucet to hot, and after waiting a couple of seconds he soaks the rag with warm water. He turns off the sink and begins to walk back into Tan’s bedroom.
Fang enters the room as softly as he can and walks to where Tan is laying. He seems to have not moved much from where Fang had previously positioned him before he left. Fang heads over and brushes back Tan’s bangs to check his temperature once more. Hand to forehead might not be the most precise method to check someone’s fever, but it would have to do for now. It feels the same as before, which is what he had expected, Fang replaces his hand for the warm rag, watching Tan’s face closely as he did so. Tan wore the same uncomfortable expression from before, but he was starting to open his eyes now. Fang waited for Tan’s eyes to fully adjust before speaking, “Drink this.” Fang said, handing Tan the glass of water. Tan doesn’t retaliate but instead sits up to take the glass and drink it. Fang takes the now empty glass back and sets it down on the nearby nightstand, “Are you hungry?” Fang asks, to which Tan replies with a simple shake of his head. Fang is doubtful of this reply, but he also knows that sickness does make it hard to have an appetite, so he won’t press too hard until it starts getting to later times in the day, “Do you want medication?” Tan once again shakes his head in reply. Fang looks at Tan skeptically, “Are you cold?” This time Tan nods.
He just wanted Fang back in bed. It was obvious, but then again, he didn’t seem to care to hide it either. Another ‘secret’ he supposed.
Fang crawls back into bed to join Tan once again. He makes his way closer to Tan and nestles into the crook of his neck. Fang places an arm on Tan’s chest and grazes over the surface lightly in circular motions. Tan plants his hand on top of Fang’s and intertwines them. In contrast to Tan’s forehead, his hands are quite cold.
Later in the day Fang will switch out Tan’s tepid rag, bring him more water, and towards the end of the day they’ll eat the same familiar spaghetti Fang makes any time he cooks. This might mean Fang will be sick tomorrow, but Tan wanted to be with him while he was sick today. That made the chance of fever worth it to him.