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"Waru? Are you sick? Are you sick?"
Waru stirred slightly, having awakened from his slumber on the floor, an involuntary decision that he regretted immediately. A slow, smoldering warmth pooled behind his eyes and at the base of his skull, turning every thought thick and sluggish. The air around him seemed wrong, either stifling and close or suddenly, cruelly cold. There was no middle ground. He felt unmoored from himself, trapped in a heat that was not just physical but disorienting and dreamlike. As if he were both here and somewhere else, adrift in a fevered tide he couldn't quite wake from.
"Are you sick?" the voice piped up, having received no answer.
"G… Gabriel?" Waru mumbled weakly. A shiver rippled through him, sharp and electric, setting his teeth on edge. The contradiction was maddening. He was burning, yet his bones felt packed in ice. He hugged himself without meaning to, fingers trembling against overheated skin. Lifting his hand felt like dragging it through syrup.
"We're all here," came a deeper, sharper voice.
(Except Felix and Dante, that is.)
"Kuromashka…" Waru said, opening one bleary eye to survey the room. Sure enough, everyone was there, gathered around him in concern. Even introverted, withdrawn Cleo and aggressive, unsociable Spade were present, mild concern etched on their features.
Sound dulled and light sharpened. The room tilted slightly, as though it were floating on dark water. His pulse thudded in his ears, too loud, too present, an intrusive reminder that his body was working overtime.
Helen gently dabbed at the shiny wet stuff on his face with her handkerchief - no telling if it was sweat, tears, or a mixture of both. Waru instinctively withdrew from her, a mix of not wanting to ruin his tough guy reputation even in this state and feeling like he didn't deserve that kind of gentle care.
Zontik placed a hand on Waru's forehead, feeling it for a moment.
"Yep, he's definitely got a fever," the blue clone frowned, pulling Waru into a semi-hug that was meant to be somewhat comforting.
(It wasn't, because Waru had never enjoyed hugs in the first place, but now hugs also served as a reminder that Felix wasn't around to give them anymore.)
"We'll need to put him to bed," Kuromaku instructed. "Nicole, get some medicine to give him. No experiments, please."
"Of course I wouldn't do that," Nicole said indignantly. "That would be… sick!"
Nobody laughed. The only reaction this got was Emma lightly punching her on the arm.
"I'll go make some soup," Helen offered, heading towards the kitchen.
"I'll help," Zontik volunteered. "Spade? Emma? Can one of you take it from here?"
Emma stepped forward and Zontik gently released Waru. Waru begrudgingly noted that her hands felt nice and warm as one drifted along his back and the other was positioned under the back of his knees. The world spun as she hoisted him up with a surprising amount of care and carried him to the bedroom, Spade helping her open the door and place the covers over Waru's limp, shivering form.
As Waru settled into the bed, the room seemed to exhale with a quiet, shared tenderness. Each presence felt like a soft tether to reality, grounding him even as the fever tugged him elsewhere. Helen and Zontik’s soup simmered gently in the kitchen, Kuromaku hovered nearby with a frown that somehow radiated warmth, and Romeo sat at the edge of the bed, murmuring small reassurances that made his chest ache in a good way. For the first time in a long while, Waru allowed himself to lean fully into their care, to feel the weight of their concern not as an obligation but as something quietly sustaining. Somewhere between the spinning of the room and the steady rhythm of their voices, he realized that even in weakness, he was not alone - and that realization wrapped around him like a soft, unbreakable blanket, not that he'd ever admit it to them. He didn't need to, after all; they knew.