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Winnie had thought that it was nothing.
He had hoped that it was nothing.
He’d woken up that morning feeling like he’d fallen down the stairs again, everything hazy and aching.
He’d thought it was a common cold. He’d thought- he’d thought-
He didn’t know what he’d thought. He didn’t know anything. He didn’t know anything, except that everything ached.
His brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton, but that didn’t dull the pain of his headache. All of his muscles felt like they’d been stretched out as far as they could go, achingly sore. His throat was sore, too, every swallow painful. Everything hurt, and he was so, so, so cold.
Winnie needed to… take a nap. That was it. He needed to take a nap. He’d take a nap, and then everything would stop hurting, and he’d be okay. He’d be okay, and he wouldn’t be so cold anymore.
He was a little sick, that was all. He’d be okay. He was a little sick.
He needed to take a nap.
As he buried himself in blankets and cuddled Sunny close to his chest, he had half a mind to wonder where Auggie was.
* * *
Auggie toed off his shoes as he stepped back through the door of his apartment.
“Winnie, I’m home!” he called, dropping his backpack on the floor and letting his suitcase roll away from him. It took until he’d hung up his jacket and pulled his hat off to realize he hadn’t gotten an answer.
That was… odd.
Auggie had had to go up north for a week for a family friend’s wedding. Normally, when he was gone for any longer than a day, Winnie liked to have the apartment all pretty for him and his favorite pastries freshly baked on the counter, and he always greeted Auggie with a massive hug like they hadn’t seen each other in months, even when he’d only been gone for the weekend.
Auggie always insisted that he didn’t need to, that their place would be as messy as it was before by the time they woke up the next morning, that Winnie really didn’t have to go full housewife for him. Winnie still did it, every time.
But as he looked around the apartment, it looked as messy as it was before he left. Maybe even messier. There was no sign of pastries, and more concerningly, no sign of Winnie.
He made his way to Winnie’s room, but it was empty. All the blankets were gone from his bed, but his stuffed elk, Willow, was still there, lying on his side like he’d fallen over when the covers had been pulled out from under him.
On a whim, Auggie checked his own bedroom next.
There was a pile of blankets on his bed. When he got closer, he could see the pale face and tufts of blond hair poking out of it.
“Winnie?” he called softly. Winnie’s eyes were closed, but his brow was furrowed and his forehead was shiny with sweat.
Auggie put a hand to Winnie’s forehead and then yanked it away, swearing. Winnie was burning up.
Winnie’s eyes opened slowly. He looked at Auggie for a heartbeat, then his eyes wandered farther into the room, looking at something Auggie couldn’t see.
Winnie didn’t seem to hear anything he was saying.
Auggie swore again. He ran to the bathroom for their thermometer.
* * *
Winnie slowly lifted heavy eyelids. Everything was hazy, but he could almost see a silhouette, short and broad shouldered with fluffy hair. Auggie.
Auggie was red, red, red, bright bloody red marbled with black and swirling in and out of focus.
Winnie looked past Augustine to the thing behind him.
It was an animal. Two animals. Two things that were never supposed to be one thing but had made themselves into that anyway. Fur and claws and antlers and teeth and tongues. Two animals that didn’t quite fit together the way they wanted to. It looked at him with its red, red, red eyes. Two things tangled together.
He wondered if they would ever untangle themselves.
Auggie’s silhouette was gone, he realized, leaving him alone with the monster. Leaving him alone at the bottom of the stairs.
That was where he was, wasn’t it? He was lying at the bottom of the stairs. Auggie had left him, so he was alone. He was alone at the bottom of the stairs.
He could still see the monster, flames licking at its fur. It was almost beautiful, in the light, gleaming shades of gold and brown and black. Winnie could feel the flames lapping at him, too, which didn’t make sense. If he was on fire, then surely he wouldn’t still be so cold.
He was cold because he was in the snow, wasn’t he?
He felt like he was in the snow again, wearing even less than he had been last time. He was so cold, he couldn’t even feel his fingers. He wasn’t sure if he even still had fingers.
The thought brought tears to his eyes. If he didn’t have fingers, how could he stop himself from falling? How could he stop Auggie from falling?
Auggie, who was everything. Auggie, who he loved. Auggie, who he needed like he needed the blood in his veins. Augustine, who had left him once and would almost certainly leave him again.
Auggie, who was back in the room with him.
Augustine had wide slashes in his chest, like he’d been attacked by something with massive claws. No, wait, they were holes, like he’d been ran through on the something’s antlers. His wounds were bleeding, red red red, like his red face, like his red hands.
He was a teenager, the boy who had looked at him from the top of the stairs and walked away. He was a child, the boy who had told him to be sincere and then taught him how. He was an adult, the man Winnie didn’t really know, not in all the ways he wanted to know him.
He felt the car they were in rumbling underneath him, taking them somewhere far away from where they were. The red bled out of Augustine’s face as he leaned in close, his brow furrowed, something in his eyes Winnie couldn’t name.
As Auggie came into focus, Winnie realized that the monster was gone.
* * *
Thirty-nine point four.
Auggie glared at the thermometer, like he could intimidate it into changing the number on the blinking display. Winnie’s eyes were too bright, still staring past him. He twisted back and forth, getting himself more tangled in his blankets.
“Gotta get your temperature down,” Auggie said, but Winnie didn’t seem to hear him.
He almost ran from the bedroom, filling up one of his reusable water bottles and getting out one of the glass mixing bowls Winnie used for baking. He filled the bowl with lukewarm water before getting a washcloth from their bathroom. As an afterthought, he grabbed Willow from where he was still sitting on Winnie’s bed and a sports drink from his stash, setting everything down on the nightstand by his own bed.
As he started to gently pull the blankets away, Winnie’s eyes finally settled on him.
“Auggie…” he whispered, his eyes bright with fever. “...We’re friends, right?”
“Of course, Winnie. Of course we’re friends.” Auggie brushed a lock of sweat-soaked hair off of Winnie’s forehead.
“...Oh.” Winnie was still looking at him, but Auggie didn’t think he was really seeing him. “You’re not going to leave me?”
“I’m not going to leave you,” Auggie promised, gently untangling Winnie from his blankets.“We gotta get you cooled down though, okay?”
“No,” Winnie sobbed, shivering as Auggie pulled the blankets away. He was clutching something to his chest. It took Auggie a moment to realize it was Sunny, his stuffed bear, as Winnie sobbed harder. “No, Auggie, don’t make me go back to the snow. I don’t wanna be cold anymore, Auggie, I don’t wanna go back to the snow.”
“You’re not going back to the snow,” he said softly. “You have a fever, Winnie, we need to cool you down.”
Auggie had to harden his heart against Winnie’s pained whines and the way he shivered despite the tepid water Auggie was using to cool him down. “We’re gonna get your temperature down, and then you’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”
He wasn’t sure how long he spent there, sitting on the edge of the bed, whispering reassurances and running the damp washcloth over Winnie’s flushed skin.
Auggie checked his temperature again. He almost cried at the numbers on the display. Thirty-eight point nine. His temperature was going down.
“Auggie?” Winnie asked, his voice heartbreakingly small. “We’re not back in the snow, right?”
“We’re not back in the snow.” Auggie ran his fingers through sweaty blond hair. “We’re in our apartment. You’re sick, Winnie, but you’ll be okay.”
“I’ll be okay?”
Auggie nodded. “You’ll be okay. I’ll be right here the whole time, okay? I’m not leaving.”
“You’re not leaving,” Winnie breathed, like he’d said something that deserved that kind of of awe, like he’d said that the sun was coming up after months of winter.
Auggie didn’t know what to do with that kind of awe, so he didn’t say anything, his throat closing up. It didn’t really matter, anyways, as Winnie’s eyes fluttered shut and he fell back to sleep.
* * *
When Winnie woke up, he was lying in what felt like an entire bathtub full of sweat. Everything still ached, but the cotton in his head had been significantly cleared out, and he felt much more coherent.
He sat up slowly. Auggie was sitting in a chair he’d pulled to the side of the bed. He was asleep, his head pillowed on his arms on the edge of the bed.
He woke up, slowly at first, then shooting up with a gasp when he saw that Winnie was awake.
“Winnie!” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re up! How are you feeling?”
“Better now that you’re here, beautiful,” Winnie teased.
Auggie rolled his eyes, his face flushing. “I think your fever broke.”
“I think so too,” Winnie agreed. “I still feel like I’ve been mauled by a bear.”
“You wish,” Auggie snorted. He grabbed something from the nightstand. “We need to get some fluids in you. Sports drink, water, and then we can see about getting you some meds, okay?”
“Okie dokie, Doctor Augustine,” Winnie said cheerfully. He drank the bottle Auggie had handed him and then slowly sipped his water.
“Thanks for… not leaving,” Winnie said quietly, his hands tight around the water bottle.
Auggie looked away. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he huffed. “Of course I wasn’t going to leave.”
Winnie bit back a smile. “Yeah, I figured.”