Chapter Text
William Stebbins is a very stubborn guy. It's one of the things Harkness loves about him the way he sticks to his convictions, the way he doesn't back down when he believes in something. But it's also the thing that almost kills him.
It started on a Tuesday night. Harkness was in Stebbins's dorm room at nearly midnight, pacing while he talked through a new book idea.
"So I'm thinking," Harkness said, "the main character is unreliable. Like, actually unreliable. Not just a little biased full-on can't trust anything they say."
Stebbins was sitting at his desk, laptop open to an essay he'd been working on. "Hasn't that been done?"
"Not like this. What if the reader doesn't know they're unreliable until the very end? What if"
Stebbins coughed. Just once, short and sharp, covering his mouth with his hand.
Harkness stopped mid-sentence. "You good?"
"Fine," Stebbins said, waving him off. "Keep going."
"You sure? Because"
"Harkness. I coughed once. Continue with your brilliant idea."
But Harkness noticed things. Stebbins's voice was hoarser than usual, rough around the edges. And he looked pale under the desk lamp, shadows under his eyes that hadn't been there yesterday.
"Maybe you should get some sleep," Harkness said.
"Maybe you should finish explaining your book idea."
Harkness smiled despite his concern. "Fine. But if you die from lack of sleep, I'm stealing all your notes."
"Deal."
By Wednesday, Stebbins had left his morning lecture halfway through. Harkness only knew because Pete mentioned it later.
"Saw Stebbins bail on American History," Pete said in passing. "He okay?"
Harkness pulled out his phone immediately.
you okay?
The reply came ten minutes later: peachy. prof was boring anyway 👍
Harkness stared at the text. The thumbs-up emoji and the joke felt like Stebbins, but something about it sat wrong in his chest. He typed out seriously, are you feeling alright? then deleted it.
If Stebbins said he was fine, he was probably fine.
Probably.
Thursday afternoon, Harkness found Stebbins in the library hallway, one hand braced against the wall, breathing hard.
"Stebbins?"
Stebbins looked up, and Harkness's stomach dropped. He was shaking slightly, face flushed, eyes unfocused.
"Hey," Stebbins said, trying for casual and missing. "Just stairs, you know?"
"The stairs are killing you?"
"I'm just tired. Didn't sleep well."
"You need to go to the health center."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You can barely breathe."
"Harkness." Stebbins straightened up, still bracing himself against the wall. "I'm fine. It's just a cold or something. I don't need to waste hours at the hospital for them to tell me to drink water and rest."
Harkness wanted to argue. Wanted to physically drag Stebbins to the health center. But Stebbins had that stubborn set to his jaw that meant he wasn't going to budge.
"Fine," Harkness said. "But I'm getting you cough drops. And tea. And you're going to drink it."
"Yes, mom."
"Shut up."
Stebbins smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Harkness noticed.
By Friday afternoon, Harkness found Stebbins asleep in the common room, curled up on the couch in the middle of the day. His face was pale and sweaty at the same time, and when Harkness got closer, he could see Stebbins shivering despite the blanket.
"Stebbins?" Harkness touched his shoulder gently.
Stebbins's eyes opened, unfocused. "Hey."
"You have a fever."
"Just tired."
"You're sweating and shaking. That's not tired."
Stebbins coughed violently, his whole body jerking with it. When he finally stopped, he slumped back against the couch, breathing hard.
"Hospital," Harkness said firmly. "Now."
"No."
"Stebbins"
"I said no." Stebbins's voice was rough, barely above a whisper. "Just let me sleep. I'll be fine."
Harkness wanted to scream. Instead, he sat down on the floor next to the couch, pulled out his phone, and stayed. Every time Stebbins coughed, Harkness flinched. Every time Stebbins shifted in his sleep, Harkness checked to make sure he was still breathing okay.
Hours passed. The sun set. Stebbins woke up occasionally, mumbled something incoherent, then fell back asleep.
Harkness touched his forehead burning hot.
"You're killing me," Harkness whispered.
Stebbins didn't answer.
By Saturday evening, Stebbins was worse.
Harkness had convinced him to come back to his room where there was at least a bed. Stebbins sat propped up against the headboard, breathing in short, raspy gasps that made Harkness's chest tighten.
"This is just a bad cold," Stebbins said, voice barely audible.
"This is not a cold."
"Harkness"
"Your breathing sounds like you're trying to breathe through a straw. Your fever hasn't gone down. You've been coughing nonstop for days."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fucking fine!" Harkness's voice cracked. "Why won't you let me help you?"
Stebbins looked at him, and for the first time, Harkness saw something like fear in his eyes. "I just need to sleep it off."
"You can't sleep off pneumonia or whatever this is."
"It's not"
Another coughing fit cut him off, violent enough that Stebbins doubled over, gasping. When it finally stopped, there were tears in his eyes from the strain.
"Please," Harkness said quietly. "Please let me take you to the hospital."
"Tomorrow," Stebbins managed. "If I'm not better tomorrow, I'll go. I promise."
Harkness didn't believe him. But he nodded anyway.
Sunday morning, Harkness texted Stebbins at 8 AM.
how are you feeling?
No response.
9 AM: stebbins?
10 AM: please answer me
11 AM: I'm getting worried
12 AM: seriously answer your phone
By 2 PM, Harkness was calling. Straight to voicemail.
"Stebbins, please. Just let me know you're okay. Text me anything. I don't care what. Just please."
By 5 PM, Harkness was pacing his room, phone clutched in his hand.
By 7 PM, he was running to Stebbins's dorm.
He pounded on the door. "Stebbins! Open up!"
Nothing.
"Stebbins, I swear to god"
He tried the handle. Unlocked.
The room was dark except for the glow from the streetlight outside. Stebbins was in bed, blankets pulled up to his chin, shaking violently. His blonde hair was dark with sweat, plastered to his forehead.
"Stebbins?" Harkness crossed the room in three steps, hands already reaching. "Stebbins, can you hear me?"
Stebbins's eyes opened barely. "Harkness?"
His skin was ice cold. His breathing was shallow and rapid, punctuated by coughs that sounded like they were tearing him apart from the inside.
"Oh god," Harkness breathed. He pressed his hand to Stebbins's forehead burning hot despite the cold skin. "Okay. Okay, it's okay. I'm here."
"I'm fine," Stebbins mumbled, words slurring together.
"You're not fine. You're hypothermic and fuck, I don't know what else but you need help."
Harkness grabbed every blanket he could find, piling them on top of Stebbins. He ran to the bathroom, filled a cup with lukewarm water, came back and held it to Stebbins's lips.
"Drink. Just a little."
Stebbins managed a few sips before turning his head away, coughing again. The sound was wet and horrible.
Harkness's hands were shaking as he pulled out his phone. Then he ran.
Down the hall, taking stairs two at a time, bursting into the common room where he knew people would be.
"Pete!" Harkness's voice came out strangled. "Ray! I need I need help!"
Pete was on his feet immediately. "What's wrong?"
"It's Stebbins. He's really sick and he won't go to the hospital and he's cold and shaking and I don't know what to do"
"Where is he?" Ray was already grabbing his jacket.
"His room. He's"
"Show us."
They ran. Pete texted as they moved stebbins emergency his room now and by the time they got there, Collie and Barkovitch were coming from the other direction. Art and Hank appeared moments later, both looking worried.
Harkness pushed the door open. "He's here."
Everyone crowded in. Stebbins was exactly as Harkness had left him shaking, pale, barely conscious.
"Jesus," Collie breathed.
"We need to get him to the ER," Pete said immediately. "Now."
"My car," Collie said. "It's old but it fits eight if we squeeze. Let's go."
They moved as a unit. Art and Hank grabbed extra blankets from Stebbins's closet, wrapping them around him but removing the heavy layers so they could check his breathing. Pete and Collie carefully lifted Stebbins Pete under his arms, Collie supporting his legs.
"Keep him as horizontal as possible," Ray said. "And watch his head."
Harkness stayed by Stebbins's face, one hand on his shoulder. "I'm here. I'm right here. You're going to be okay."
Stebbins's eyes flickered open. "Harkness..."
"Don't talk. Just breathe."
They moved down the hall, Art clearing the path ahead, Hank holding doors. The stairs were slow one step at a time, Collie and Pete moving in sync.
"Careful," Harkness kept saying. "Careful."
They reached Collie's beat-up Honda a massive old sedan that had seen better days but still ran. Pete and Collie laid Stebbins across the back seat, Harkness climbing in beside him immediately.
"I've got him," Harkness said, taking Stebbins's hand. "I've got him."
Collie got in the driver's seat, Barkovitch in passenger. Ray, Pete, Art, and Hank squeezed into the middle row, everyone silent and tense.
"Hold on," Collie said, and pulled out of the parking lot faster than was probably safe.
The drive was a blur. Someone was yelling giving directions, maybe, or just talking to fill the silence. Harkness couldn't hear it. Everything had narrowed to Stebbins's face, to the way his breathing sounded wrong, to the fever burning through him.
"Stay with me," Harkness kept saying, tears streaming down his face without him noticing. "Come on, baby, please. Please stay with me. I need you to stay with me."
Stebbins's fingers twitched in his hand barely, but there.
"That's good. That's so good. Keep doing that. Stay with me, okay? Just keep breathing. You're doing so good." His voice cracked. "I love you. I love you so much. Please don't just stay with me."
The ER entrance appeared ahead bright lights and automatic doors.
"We're here," Collie announced, pulling up to the entrance.
Everyone moved. Doors opened, hands reached in to help. A nurse appeared with a gurney, and they transferred Stebbins onto it carefully. He was shaking so hard the whole gurney rattled, coughs wracking his body, breaths coming in short, desperate gasps.
"We need to get him inside now," the nurse said.
Harkness tried to follow, but someone Pete, maybe grabbed his arm.
"They've got him."
"I can't I need to stay with him"
"We'll be right behind you. Let them work."
Harkness shook him off, running after the gurney. He caught up just as they were pushing through the double doors.
"I'm not leaving him," Harkness said to the nurse.
She looked at him took in the tears, the desperation but shook her head. "I'm sorry. Family only past this point. We need to work on him now."
"But I"
"We'll update you as soon as we can. Please wait in the waiting room."
"No, you don't understand" Harkness's voice broke.
They were already moving, wheeling Stebbins through another set of doors. Harkness could see them hooking him up to monitors, see the oxygen mask being placed over his face, see Stebbins's hand reaching out reaching for him.
"Stebbins!" Harkness lunged forward, but a nurse stepped in his path.
"Sir, please. Let us help him."
Harkness watched helplessly as they wheeled Stebbins deeper into the ER, watched as his what were they exactly? Boyfriend felt too official for what they had, but it was more than friends disappeared behind swinging doors, watched as those doors closed with a finality that made his chest cave in.
Stebbins's hand had still been reaching.
Harkness stood there, frozen, tears streaming down his face as the reality crashed over him. He couldn't follow. He couldn't hold Stebbins's hand. He couldn't tell him it would be okay.
He could only watch as they took him away.
Someone Ray, he realized distantly put a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him toward the waiting room. The rest of the group followed, all of them silent and shaken.
Harkness collapsed into a chair, hands covering his face, and the only thing he could see was Stebbins's hand reaching for him through the chaos.
Reaching, and him not being able to reach back.