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Veritas's current tragedy began a week ago.
He had woken up with a headache that resounded deep within his skull, pulsating and nauseating in a way that made every step difficult. The cough developed later in the day, scratching his throat with the incessant need to get it out no matter how much tea he made. A temperature check proved his theory correct: the good doctor was sick with a cold.
Luckily, there wasn't much he needed to do that week. He cancelled and rescheduled any in person meetings, moved whatever classes he could virtually, and even cancelled some virtual classes and assigned some supplementary readings. Contrary to popular belief, Veritas does get sick and he does cancel class because of it. He would be a fool not to, though he despise it all the same. He had considered himself lucky that this happened during a week where the university campus was closed for most of the days.
Speaking of luck, Veritas had powered through his headache to let Kakavasha know of his illness. His boyfriend offered to come over— and it still makes his heart flutter when he used that word— but he had declined. Even with the gambler's luck, Veritas would never risk it. With some cheeky emotes, Kakavasha wished him well and promised to send him soup. It was delightful.
It had been a boring week of recovery for Veritas. The cough lingered despite the medication but the headache went away after a few doses. His classes were manageable to teach despite the glare of his computer screen, and he made sure to drink plenty of water and have plenty of rest. Kakavasha periodically texted him videos of their cakecats playing in his apartment and sent him food that was already paid for despite Veritas being well enough to cook for himself. Things could've been worse, and he was feeling better as the week went on.
Veritas never liked the drowsy feeling he gets when he's sick. Drowsy wasn't entirely the right word for it, but it was good descriptor. He often felt listless, drifting around his apartment or stuck in bed with only the sound of documentaries playing. Kakavasha's voice over the phone became a pleasant addition to the tiring routine. So, when talks about a date planned at the end of the week began to sound more like a reality, Veritas had found himself hopeful.
He had a goal now. All he needed to do was feel better enough to go with Kakavasha to some apple picking event he was interested in. It'd require a disorienting warp and a long drive but Veritas knew it would be worth it to see Kakavasha's bright smile and joyous laughter. It'd been a while since he saw or heard it. It'd also give him a reason to leave the house and get some air. It would be beneficial for multiple reasons.
It sounded simple enough. And Veritas truly did feel good the night before. He had answered Kakavasha's excited texts with a smile on his face as they planned what time he would be picked up. He went to bed feeling good about their plans, content with the job well done he did to manage his illness.
He couldn't explain the nausea when he woke up. It was jarring, especially after days of feeling fine. Still, Veritas forced himself out of bed so he could get ready. He woke up early so he could wash his hair, having skipped his usual day because he had been feeling too sick at the time. If he planned efficiently, which he always does, he can finish with enough time for his hair to dry before Kakavasha arrives.
The shower was disorienting. No matter how he changed the temperature he couldn't get over the tremble in his legs and the overwhelming urge to cough. Even though Kakavasha confirmed he would be alright with Veritas wearing a mask at the event, his current cough felt too violent for a mask to be enough. The force of it wasn't making his emerging headache any better. Veritas could barely get through his shower, like his body was working against him.
He wouldn't let it win. He had made those plans with Kakavasha. He was going to see it through.
But his sides ached painfully with each cough, and before he could even process it Veritas had fallen to his knees by the toilet. He got the lid open just in time as bile traveled up his throat. A horrible retching sound echoed throughout his bathroom as he steadied himself with a hand on the counter. None of it helped his aching sides, which now ached more from the pressure.
Veritas had gasped for breath at the end, barely able to stand back up to flush the disgusting contents he threw up down the toilet. He washed his face again, writing off the sudden vomiting as a bad start to the morning. Maybe he pushed himself too hard when he decided to wash his hair instead of his usual bath, but that was something he could live with. The plans were still in place.
Breakfast would be challenging after that fiasco. Food didn't sound too appealing to the doctor when not even mouthwash could get rid of the taste lingering in his mouth. He settled for water, and resigned himself to lying on the couch and getting the world to stop spinning before the pickup time arrived.
Why was Veritas so obsessed with remembering the events of the past week?
Because the doctor is currently kneeling on the cold concrete as bile threatens to come back up. Kakavasha had just texted him that he was outside ready to drive them to the warp station and Veritas made it a few steps out of his apartment before he was overcome with nausea and vertigo. Blinking back tears, he could barely hear the sounds of outside. He would not ruin this day for Kakavasha. He would get over himself like he always did and he would enjoy a nice date with his boyfriend. He was not the frail kid he used to be growing up that could barely handle a cold. He—
There's a comforting hand on his back as Veritas retches. Someone's talking to him but he can't hear it. All he can hear is the sound of something wet hitting the pavement and his own dry heaving. The bravado he carried all morning melts away, leaving behind the scared and sickly kid he tried to leave behind. Vaguely he thinks he can hear himself apologizing, the words all muffled in his head. "Sorry, I'm so sorry, Vasha—"
"No, no, no, don't say anything." Kakavasha whispers, too nice for him. "C'mon, lets get you inside."
Gentle hands hold him as he's guided back into his apartment. Distantly, he thinks about the mess he'll have to clean up outside. The thought disappears quickly as he stumbles towards the bathroom again. His mind drifts to and fro, barely able to process anything as it battles the ever growing headache that's formed. The cold tiles of the bathroom help, giving Veritas's skin a cool respite.
He blinks, a glass of water having materialized by his side. He knows it didn't come from nowhere. When his hands don't shake as much he grabs the water and brings it to his lips, the cool liquid soothing his throat. Already he began to feel better. And then he remembers why he was trying to avoid all of this.
He stumbles back to his feet, the cup held tightly in his hands so it doesn't fall and break. He finds Kakavasha waiting by the door, patient and not showing a hint of sadness. A gambler who could hide his true emotion with ease. "Vasha, dear, I'm—"
Veritas doesn't get to speak as Kakavasha takes the cup from his hands. "Don't apologize." he says, leading Veritas back to the bedroom he clawed out of hours ago. He all but forces Veritas back into bed, taking advantage of his stunned expression. The glass of water gets placed on the nightstand. "Why didn't you tell me you were still feeling sick? I would've come over anyway."
Veritas frowns, the blankets Kakavasha throws over him soft and perfect. It felt wrong. He ruined their date, his perfect plans meaning nothing in the face of illness. "I didn't think I was still sick. I did everything right." He hates the way the words come out of his mouth. Whiny. A petulant child.
The bed creaks as his partner sits next to him. A tissue is pressed into Veritas's hands right as he's about to sneeze. "Veri, you're the doctor here. You should know when you're sick, you're sick." Kakavasha's words are on the teasing side, but they burn anyways. He could speak carefree and easily as someone who rarely got sick. He wouldn't know of Veritas's childhood avoiding people not just because of his intelligence but because of his weak constitution. How ironic. People literally make him sick.
"Yes, that is why I was trying to get better." Veritas emphasizes. "Everything was going smoothly until this morning."
Kakavasha pauses, his mouth curling into a frown. "I shouldn't have asked about planning a trip when I knew you were sick. I'm sorry, Veri." he apologizes, the words sounding even worse when they came from him.
"Vasha, you have nothing to apologize for. You didn't know I would get worse— hold on." Veritas's eyes furrow, distinctly feeling like he just walked into a trap. His partner's smirk confirms it. "That's rather unfair of you."
"Oh, so I couldn't have known you would be feeling worse today? Sounds like the same could be said to you." Damn this infuriating man. He always knew how to turn the conversation around. His voice grows softer. "Seriously. I know to you this is a big issue but trust me when I say it isn't to me. You're sick, I'm here, and I'll stay here until you get better. The trip can wait."
It felt odd to be so cared for. Veritas has had comfort before, obviously, but this felt so different. It felt real, like Kakavasha really meant it. He stops fighting him on it, letting his head rest on the pillow as Kakavasha somehow pulls the blankets up even higher. "Alright." he mumbles, admitting defeat. His headache doesn't go away but it does feel manageable now that he's lying down. Maybe he does need some more rest. He won't admit that though, and Kakavasha doesn't seem to mind.
There's a soft kiss pressed to his forehead as Veritas closes his eyes. A melodic voice whispers "Sweet dreams." as he falls asleep.