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The day went by in a fever-induced blur.
Henry awoke that morning in a startle. Alex palmed at his clammy forehead, concern etched in the knit of his dark eyebrows. A sideways glance to the clock on his bedroom wall revealed Henry had slept through his alarm. He sat up quickly and immediately winced at the pain lancing through his temples.
As Henry opened his mouth to ask what on earth Alex was doing, although it was obvious, his throat constricted uncomfortably. The faint itch he felt last night had turned to knives scratching at the sides of his throat, rendering him nearly speechless. Henry mirrored Alex’s worried expression, his own eyebrows furrowing as he fell back into the pillows.
Morning had quickly turned to late afternoon.
The last thing Henry remembers is Alex stroking his sweaty hair away from his forehead and shoving a thermometer under his tongue.
Now, as he squints his eyes open, body trembling from chills, his room is no longer bathed in early morning sunlight but rather darkened by the curtains hanging from both windows. Henry typically keeps them drawn—he finds that the natural light helps a little with his depression—but Alex must’ve pulled them shut to soothe his budding headache.
He makes a soft noise as he rouses, heart—and body—aching with the simple realization.
“Hen? You awake?”
Alex takes a seat on the side of Henry’s bed, startling him for the second time that day. He presses his knuckles to one of Henry’s flushed cheeks, humming thoughtfully. The sensation is such a relief to the heat coursing through Henry’s body that he can’t help but lean into Alex’s touch, cool and comforting against his skin.
“Miraculously,” Henry croaks, genuinely surprised that he hasn’t succumbed to a week-long coma with how frail and foggy he feels.
“Wow,” Alex says, drawing the syllable out longer than necessary. His lips quirk into a playful grin. “That’s a big word for someone who’s been knocked unconscious for the majority of the day by a common cold.”
If Henry wasn’t suffering from what feels like more than a common cold, he’d think about punching Alex in the shoulder and telling him to sod off. Instead he pouts, sniffles, and pulls the comforter up to his neck, shuffling beneath its warmth.
Alex tilts his head and swipes a thumb across Henry’s cheekbone delicately, the touch featherlight and gone entirely too quickly.
“Why are you so cute like this?”
Henry blinks. The words are murmured, barely audible over his constant sniffling, but Henry hears them loud and clear. His ears are attuned to every word that leaves Alex’s beautiful, clever mouth.
But before Henry can think of something witty to reply with, before he has a chance to laugh it off, as if Alex actually thinks he’s cute, especially like this—
Alex clears his throat. “Anyway,” he stumbles, batting his eyelashes. Demon, Henry thinks deliriously. Reprobate. “I went to the store earlier and bought you a few things.” He gestures toward the full paper bag on Henry’s nightstand. “There’s a bottle of medicine in there that’s supposed to relieve congestion symptoms. I looked it up and made sure it’s safe for you to take with your antidepressants. I grabbed a box of tissues and some cough drops, too, just in case.” Henry stares at Alex in wonder as he lists off a few more random items he bought. For Henry. Because he’s sick. “Oh, also,” Alex adds, like he hasn’t upended Henry’s entire bloody life and split open his heart, “I picked out a handful of fruits that are high in vitamin C content. The internet says they help fight off fevers, so…” he trails off, picking at a loose thread on Henry’s blanket.
I adore you, Henry longs to say. I’m devastatingly in love with you.
“Thank you, love,” is what Henry settles on.
He hopes the words sound as genuine as they feel on his tongue.
“Truly,” Henry whispers, voice betraying him as it cracks. “I appreciate you.”
Alex nods, eyes soft and tender, gaze looming over Henry. Henry tries not to shrivel under the attention, but then he melts into the sheets when Alex gently tucks his overgrown hair behind his ears.
“Yeah, baby,” Alex murmurs. “Anything for you.”
For now, Henry carries the words close to his chest. Tucks them safely beneath his ribcage, and promises not to forget.
Soon, though, when he finds the courage—he’ll take the jump.
Henry has a feeling Alex will be there to catch him.