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Everything’s hot and his eyelids feel so heavy that opening his eyes is impossible. The blanket's weight on him is smothering and he feels trapped. But that doesn’t matter, he has to get up. He cannot let them leave without him, leave him behind. He’s strong, he can overcome this. He will overcome this.
Suddenly he feels something wet and blissfully cold against his forehead. Someone’s wiping away his sweat. It’s nice. So nice. But Buggy cannot allow himself to be pampered.
He needs to get up.
“It’s fine, Buggy, I’m here.”
Oh. Shanks’s here. They haven’t left him behind.