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It had taken Vox a painfully long time to realize that illnesses existed in hell and were in fact much worse than the illnesses he was used to in life.
Vox never had a good immune system to begin with, and honestly it's a miracle in itself that he hasn't been sick at all throughout his decades in Hell.
Of course, all good things had to come to a end eventually.
Vox had always been a bit of a germophobe. His employees knew well that he was very particular about things, and especially about keeping things clean.
You can't avoid anything forever, and Vox would have to learn this the hard way.
It had started when one of his employees had gotten sick. Vox hadn't known this, and if he had he would've sent them home as soon as he got the word. While his employees had no excuse to call out for any other reason, being sick was the one exception, at least if it was contagious.
Unfortunately, he never found out until it was too late to prevent getting sick himself. It passed on from one employee to the next, and eventually Vox received paperwork that, unbeknownst to him, had been touched by one of his sick employees, which was what ended up getting him sick.
It had taken a long time for the illness to actually set in. He hadn't really acknowledged what was happening when it started. Sure, he was a bit more sluggish than normal, but maybe he just slept bad the night before. And maybe he was achy, but that was to be expected at his age and with how much he worked.
He had gotten more lethargic as the day went on, but he thought nothing of it and just went to bed early.
He's asleep by the time his head hits the pillow, and he doesn't even have enough time to think about why that is.
When Vox wakes up, he has a sense that something is wrong, though he can't quite place his finger on it.
There's a strong sense of unease, and he's soaked with sweat, yet shaking with chills. It takes him a while to gather the strength to lift his head from his pillow, and he finds that Valentino isn't in bed with him. That was odd- it was rare that Valentino woke up before Vox.
It makes a little more sense when Vox notices the time on the alarm clock- 9 am. Vox wakes up a little more from just the shock of it all. Vox never slept past 6 am, no matter how long he had been up the night before.
He assumed that Valentino must've turned off his alarm. Whether because it was annoying him or he wanted to let Vox sleep in, Vox was sure it didn't matter much.
It takes him even longer to fully sit up, and when he swallows thickly, he immediately notices the pain whenever he swallows.
…yeah, he's sick.
God, he's avoided it for so long and today of all days? Just his luck.
He also soon realizes that he's almost entirely lost his voice, his voice coming out as a weak rasp instead when he tries to call for Valentino to see if he's near. Vox doubts Valentino even heard him if he was close by, let alone understood him.
Vox had forgotten how much he loathed being sick. He couldn't get anything done and could barely get out of bed. This was miserable.
He also absolutely hates feeling this weak. Vox is very unused to it, and it feels wrong.
Vox manages to get out of bed, but he can't muster up the energy to bother getting dressed.
Vox shuffles into the kitchen, his eyes still half-lidded. To his surprise, Valentino is not at work and is still in the kitchen. "Val?" He rasps, rubbing his eyes.
Valentino smiles fondly, and Vox is half-sure that Valentino stayed until he woke up on purpose. "Morning, sleeping beauty." Valentino teases.
Vox's arm falls limp to his side. "Did..did you turn my alarm off?" Vox mumbles.
"I did. You were talking in your sleep all night, and you don't do that unless something is wrong." Valentino says. "Besides, I assumed if you didn't wake up on your own at your normal time, then you probably needed the sleep."
"…I need to work," Vox says eventually.
Valentino stands from the table, guiding Vox away from the coffee machine he was eyeing. "No, you do not."
Vox's face screws up in distaste as Valentino presses the back of his hand to Vox's forehead.
"..that's what I thought. Back to bed for you," Valentino says, pulling him back to their bedroom.
Valentino is immediately concerned when Vox doesn't protest at all, but it makes his job easier to just put Vox back in bed.
Valentino helps Vox back into bed and kisses his forehead. It isn't long before Vox is asleep again, the sickness clearly taking a toll on him.
The next time Vox wakes up, it's not quite right. His entire body is heavy, and he can barely open his eyes.
Vox's eyes open a sliver, and it's immensely painful to swallow. He shifts uncomfortably, feeling too hot to be covered up but too weak to actually do anything about it.
He stews in his own misery for a few more moments before Valentino's voice startles him out of this weird half-awake state. He doesn't quite process what Valentino is saying, just that he sounds worried, and Vox doesn't like to hear Valentino upset or worried.
Vox feels Valentino's hand press to his cheek, and it feels unusually cool to Vox's face. If Vox's brain wasn't practically boiling itself, he'd probably realize that was a bad sign.
Vox startles when he feels Valentino lift him into his arms, gripping tightly onto Valentino's shoulder. He tries to ask Valentino where he's taking him, but his voice is too far gone to even get a word out.
Valentino is incredibly worried by the way that Vox seems to be entirely unaware of his surroundings. Vox's eyes are just barely open, but they're glazed over.
Valentino presses his hand to Vox's cheek, and is unsurprised but still concerned when he feels that Vox is burning up, worse than before.
Valentino bites his lip, unsure of what to do. While Vox wouldn't stay dead if he died from this, regenerating was miserable and Valentino wasn't going to make him go through that if he could prevent it.
"I'm so sorry for this," Valentino murmurs an apology in advance, knowing what he was about to do wouldn't be very comfortable for Vox.
He picks Vox up and he can tell that he startled him, feeling Vox grip weakly onto his shoulder. "It's alright, it's just me, amorcito. You're safe," Valentino murmurs, though he's not too sure that Vox is processing anything he's saying right now.
There's a rasping noise from Vox, like he was trying to talk and just couldn't get it out. It's almost pitiful, how small he looks right now.
Valentino carries Vox into the bathroom, and he props Vox up by the side of the bathtub as he turns the faucet to fill the tub with lukewarm water.
"You're going to hate me for this," Valentino mutters, more to fill the silence than anything, as he undresses Vox and eases him into the tub.
There's an almost immediate gasp from Vox, and honestly it's the loudest sound he's made for hours, and Valentino is almost relieved to hear it.
"I know, I know..just until you cool down a bit, and then you can go back to bed," Valentino promises, gently grabbing Vox's hand and stroking it with his thumb.
Vox has started shivering again, and Valentino's brow furrows. He knows it's normal, but it doesn't mean that makes him feel any less guilty.
When he got into this relationship with Vox, this wasn't the sort of thing he imagined would happen. But he had grown to appreciate whenever Vox could feel safe to be vulnerable or even weak around him, even if he didn't like the events leading up to it.
Once Vox's fever has gone down just enough for Valentino to feel comfortable putting him back in bed, Valentino lifts him out of the tub and wraps him in a soft towel. He carries Vox into their bedroom, and Vox is dead weight as Valentino gets him into pajamas. Valentino isn't surprised by how quickly Vox fell asleep, with how out of it he was earlier.
"Sleep tight, amor," Valentino murmurs as he tucks Vox into bed.