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Suguru sighs, stretching and groaning as his shoulder pops when he walks through the front door of his and Satoru's apartment. He expects his partner to come barreling out, but the absence of pounding footsteps and slamming doors raises a spark of concern. He resists the urge to crack his neck, wrists, or anything out of the habit of exhaustion and fear. He slips off his shoes and settles for socks. With quiet footsteps, he rounds the corner into their living room. Satoru is absent. Maybe he's not home yet, Suguru considers. Their missions are deathly long nowadays.
"I'm home, " Suguru announces, keeping his pace as he scouts the rooms.
The kitchen is empty and the lights are off. Odd, because Satoru always raids it for sweets and Suguru has to remind him every day to turn off the damn lights when he's finished. He blinks, looking around. The blinds are shut. Suguru opened them before he left this morning. Suguru glances at his phone, eyes sharpening when he sees no messages, and he almost stumbles.
A burst of cursed energy, right beside, enough to send his mind spinning and his body folding. He reaches desperately towards the wall, his other hand clamping over his mouth... just in case. He follows along the wall to the sickening pulses of cursed energy, slipping in through a door. He's barely aware of what room he's swaying into. He's hit with a wave of heat past the threshold that makes his stomach roll. God, it's so unbearably hot that it feels like summer, even though little snowflakes stick to the ground outside. It's dark, too. He can't see anything, so he taps beside the doorframe until he flicks a switch.
A pained, raspy groan comes from the bed, then a dry cough.
Suguru's eyes widen in curiosity and caution. Strands of white locks are spilling over the navy blue blanket, brighter than the pillow they're upon. The entire thing is shaking and Suguru knows that Satoru is probably not just taking a nap, something is very… wrong.
“Satoru? You awake?” Suguru's gentle voice rings out through the room.
To his surprise, Satoru violently flinches and practically starts hyperventilating based on how rapidly his chest jerks. Suguru's face drops.
He walks beside Satoru's trembling body, pulling off the blanket a little to reveal his squeezed-shut eyes, soothing him with a hand on his forehead. “Shh, shh, it's just me. Suguru's here. You're alright.” He decided to state his name because Satoru has flames dancing under his skin, tearing apart his conscience and leaving him disoriented. Suguru sits.
“S'g'ru?” he wheezes in such a pitiful tone.
“That's right. I'm here. You've got a bit of a temperature,” Suguru explains casually, watering down the truth to not panic Satoru. “How are you feeling?” He swipes Satoru's sweat-slicked bangs from his face, clinging grossly to his skin. Suguru barely sees any of that beautiful blue under Satoru's lids.
He coughs again. “M-M’cold…” Satoru retracts his feet farther into the blanket, his movement creating waves on the fabric. “Heat's on.”
Suguru clicks his tongue. “Yeah? Okay, honey, you're definitely sick,” he mutters, twisting towards the nightstand to get a thermometer.
“N-No,” Satoru rasps.
Suguru's eyebrows raise. “No?”
“Not s'ck. M'ss'n—” he begins to say, but the congestion in his throat and pain catches up to him and he descends into a coughing fit.
“Shh, shh, don't talk. You've got a mission assigned?” Suguru inquires softly.
Satoru nods, tears jumping to his hazy eyes.
“Hey, no, you're okay. It's okay,” he whispers, quickly leaning in and petting back Satoru's hair. “I'm here. I've got you. Don't worry about missions right now. You need to rest, sweetheart.”
“B-But—”
“No, you're staying home. Don't talk, don't fight. It's okay. I'll take care of you.”
A few salty tears slip down his face and he hides in his sleeves, sobbing quietly, resigning himself to stay in bed. He hiccups, his broken-down body scooting closer to Suguru.
“I'm sorry, I know it hurts,” he murmurs, leaning down to hug Satoru's torso, his head, touching against searing hot skin. He rubs between Satoru's shoulder blades, cradling the back of his neck with his other hand. “We're gonna get your fever down. Let me check you first. Could you open your mouth for me, please? Sit up a little.”
Satoru complies as Suguru helps him sit up, his vision blurred and his head dizzy. He parts his trembling lips and allows Suguru to put a thermometer under his tongue. Suguru holds his head up from under his chin throughout the entire process, keeping him steady until the thermometer beeps.
Suguru glances at the number. “40.3 degrees Celsius,” he hums, seeing a glimpse of 104.5 °F under the large numbers. “Alright, time for medicine.”
Satoru whimpers, sitting back as Suguru wipes at his soaked face. He leans against the bed frame. He watches Suguru get up and walk to the bathroom, emerging with a dreaded bottle of liquid medicine. His brain produces many, many curse words directed towards whoever invented this stuff. The phantom taste of fake, awful cherry seems to settle permanently in his mouth. Suguru grabs a random bottle of water out of the many Satoru has on his desk.
“You know the drill,” he says, pouring a small capful. The red syrup quickly settles and already stinks as it's handed to Satoru.
Satoru moves his jaw to complain, but his vocal cords won't work. He simply coughs and groans. He grabs the medicine—not thinking, but on the brink of hesitation—and downs it like a shot glass. His hands are reaching at the water before he even gets the chance to swallow it, and then the next thing he knows he chugs half the bottle.
“Gross, right?” Suguru jokes and Satoru would laugh if he weren't disgusted.
He nods, eyes still glassy.
“Come here, ‘Toru, lie down,” he directs, letting Satoru's body weight fall against his arms as he's guided back onto the pillows. “It'll sound like bad news to you, but I've got to turn the heat off, alright? Let's change your blanket, too.”
He whines when Suguru pulls off the blanket, no matter how tenderly he does it. Satoru grapples blindly at it, his breathing starting to hitch again as primal emotions bubble up. He doesn't know where he is, or who—but, still, arms of a strong build lift him effortlessly, and he instinctively wraps his own arms around their neck and buries his face. There's a hand putting soothing pressure on his back. Satoru sighs, sniffling, wishing the pounding in his head would cease.
“Just relax, shh, shh. I've got you. It's okay to be worked up, I know you're feeling bad,” Suguru speaks, and Satoru can feel the warmth near the nape of his neck as he talks.
Satoru cracks open his eyes and he's vaguely aware that they're moving. The ceiling is changing every few seconds, and there's a sway with every step. His eyes suddenly begin burning so he retreats into Suguru. Six Eyes isn't doing squat, apparently, just overwhelming him more. He subconsciously starts digging his palms in, doing anything he can to make them stop. He can hear the deafening, high trills of birds, detect so many low-grade curses within miles, and feel every fiber of his shirt grating against him.
Suguru sits him down on the living room's couch. “Woah, woah, easy.” He puts his hands over Satoru's and guides them away from his face, despite how Satoru begins to thrash in discomfort. “I know, shh, I know,” he whispers as he grabs the hem of Satoru's shirt and slips it off over his head, effectively calming him. “You're okay, love.”
Satoru is so, so, so grateful for someone like Suguru.
“We'll get your blindfold and you'll feel a lot better. Do you know where it is?”
“Bed,” he croaks in a shattered voice.
“Good. Here's that new blanket I was gonna get before you hitched a ride.” Suguru smiles, wrapping a blanket from the couch around his bare shoulders and chest. The material feels… okay. It's good. “You gonna be safe here while I get it?”
Satoru, even through the disorientation, nods. He pulls the blanket's edges closer to his chest. He watches Suguru leave the room and apparently, he's not gonna be safe for a few moments alone. A scratchy cry builds in his throat and his lungs tighten. He tries to keep his composure, sitting straighter and attempting to take deep breaths. Suguru returns and Satoru stumbles off of the couch, bolting towards him, but his legs can't support his weight.
Suguru catches him as he slumps into his arms, pulling him up and back off the ground. “Hey, woah!” Suguru yelps.
Satoru lets out a huffed, relieved breath. He's just happy to be where his goal was, in Suguru's arms. He feels the familiar fabric of his blindfold being wrapped around his eyes and tied, filled with care. He's decided that he definitely cannot live without Suguru. The neurons in his brain can't connect anymore through some layer of thick fog. The medication soothes the throbbing in his skull.
“Sleepy?” Suguru asks in that sweet voice of his.
Satoru nods sluggishly, and the next thing he's aware of, is that he's being put back into bed. Suguru wraps his arms around him from the front and they both cuddle, close to each other's hearts.
“I'll be here if you get sick, baby. You don't need to worry, I've got you,” he whispers, tugging Satoru's head closer to his shoulder.
Satoru sighs and stretches out. “M'kay… g'nt—” a cough, “—l-love you, S'g'ru.”
“I love you too. Goodnight.”
Suguru finds that he doesn't sleep well in a hot room, but he's okay with watching over Satoru for the night.