Chapter Text
It seemed the day was meant to begin beautifully. Outside, a gentle sun was shining; a light breeze drifted through the half-open window into the pink room, while birds chirped melodiously beyond the glass.
But a sudden, sharp “ACHOO!” shattered the fragile peace, as though breaking the calm idyll in an instant. The birds fell silent. The curtains flared with a gust of wind. And the world itself seemed to lose all its color.
Isabella jerked upright from her pillow, her eyes brimming with tears. Her body burned with fever, yet trembled with cold. Her nose was so terribly blocked that she could barely breathe, forcing her to gulp in air through her mouth. Her stomach twisted painfully, while a chilling weakness spread relentlessly through her body.
How awful. Today, Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro would be at her gardening classes until evening, and Isabella had no idea whether there were even any nasal drops or medicine left at home.
With a weak groan, she collapsed onto the other side of the bed and curled into a tight ball, fumbling blindly for her phone. Her fingers brushed against the fireside girls-embroidered keychain attached to the case, and she pulled the device close to her face, squinting through watery eyes as she tried to call her mom.
After pressing “call,” she dropped the phone beside her and switched it to speaker.
“Mom…?” Isabella croaked weakly as the call connected. “I feel… really…bad… please, could you pick up some medicine on your way home…”
She rolled onto her back, not even sure if she was being heard.
“And painkillers…” she exhaled heavily. “God, I think I’m dying…” Taking the phone again, she murmured, “Thanks… love you…” and pressed the side button to end the call.
The phone slipped from her hand onto the bed as she curled tighter beneath the thick down blanket.
If only I can make it to the evening… she thought, burying her face in her already tangled curls.
_______
“Thanks… love you…” came faintly from the other end of the line, followed by the abrupt beeping of a disconnected call.
Phineas stared at his phone screen, where the contact “Isabella-la 🎀” still glowed. Then he lifted a slightly alarmed, suddenly serious gaze toward the table, where Candace and Ferb sat across from him at breakfast.
“Who was that?” Candace asked curiously.
Phineas didn’t answer. He jumped up at once and hurried to the shelves where they kept medicine. His eyes scanned the labels rapidly as he tossed anything resembling painkillers or antiviral drugs into a bag.
Candace exchanged a puzzled glance with Ferb before turning back to her brother.
“What happened?”
No answer came whether he ignored her or simply didn’t hear.
Ferb cleared his throat, catching her attention, and silently held up Phineas’s unlocked phone. On the screen, the recent incoming call from Isabella was still visible.
Candace raised an eyebrow and smirked.
“Ah… I see,” she said quietly.
A moment later, Phineas rushed back, bag in hand, grabbed his zip-hoodie and phone.
“I’m going to Isabella’s. I won’t be back soon,” he said briefly, already heading out through the backyard door.
The siblings watched him leave, then glanced at each other again.
“He’s so sickly sweet,” Candace muttered with a grin.
Ferb only smirked in quiet agreement.
________
For nearly ten minutes, Isabella had been staring blankly at the ceiling. She had no strength for anything at all. Even lying in bed felt exhausting; every movement was unbearable. Isa couldn’t lift her arm let alone her aching, throbbing head
She thought about how wonderful this day was supposed to be. She had so many plans: preparing for the FireSide Girls’ graduation, helping Phineas and Ferb with their latest brilliant invention, seeing him again sweet, brilliant, dazzling, with that unmistakable triangular head.
If only he could invent something that instantly cured every illness in the world. Or at least a simple cold. She let out a weak, bitter sigh.
Even dreaming felt impossible in this state. Every thought circled back to the same thing: She felt awful.
Absolutely awful.
Closing her eyes, she hoped at least to fall asleep and let the morning pass faster. Even the clock on her nightstand reading 8:58 am seemed to beep unbearably loud.
Then, suddenly, she heard the front door open.
Her eyes snapped open. Mom? No… that was impossible. It hadn’t even been ten minutes since the call. Then who?
A thief?
Great. Just perfect timing.
She wasn’t even strong enough to stand, let alone defend herself.
The footsteps sounded like just one person. Strange. Usually, burglars worked in pairs… unless this was someone inexperienced.
Too weak to think further, Isabella pushed herself up on trembling elbows, trying to sit and at that moment, her bedroom door burst open.
“Sorry I took so long!!”
She blinked.
Was she hallucinating… or was that really Phineas?
“I couldn’t find the keys at first and the painkillers, but I brought everything you might need,” he said quickly, setting down her mug and a glass of water, then emptying a bag of medicine onto the bed. “I don’t remember which ones you usually take… but ibuprofen is universal, right? It should help.”
He spoke more to himself than to her.
“Are you feeling really bad? Did you check your temperature?” His hand reached for her forehead.
And Isabella’s breath caught.
That wasn’t a hallucination.
That was really Phineas.
Isa, who had only just been managing to keep her eyes half-open, suddenly froze. She flinched slightly and held her breath.
“Phineas…?” she asked hoarsely.
He didn’t respond to her quiet voice. Instead, he rummaged through the pile of medicine until he found a thermometer.
“Shh, lie down,” he said softly. He gently placed a hand behind her head and eased her into position. “Let’s check your temperature first, and then I’ll give you something to bring the fever down, okay?”
His voice calm and unusually quiet for someone so energetic and loud lulled Isabella into a strange, hazy state. Like a rag doll, she offered no resistance to his movements. The countless questions how he had known she was sick, how he had gotten into her house faded into the background.
His soft muttering soothed her. He was saying something about temperature and the thermometer. After turning it on, he was about to place it in her mouth when he suddenly paused.
Isabella looked at him questioningly.
“That’s my thermometer,” he murmured. “I don’t think you’d like sharing germs with me.”He gave a quiet huff and began searching through the pile again.
A fleeting thought crossed her mind that she wouldn’t mind sharing germs with him at all.
Phineas pulled out a small blue packet of alcohol wipes. A sharp, unpleasant smell reached her as he tore it open.
“Now it’s fine.”
He tossed the used wipe and its wrapper into the trash can beside her desk and finally placed the thermometer gently on her tongue.
Her head fell back onto the bed, and she closed her eyes from sheer exhaustion. Too much had happened at once too many questions, too much confusion. It drained what little strength she had left.
Isa was just about to drift off when she suddenly felt herself being lifted.
Her eyes flew open in panic.
And there he was the boy (of her dreams) holding her in his arms like she weighed nothing, carefully placing her back onto the pillow.
Isabella had completely forgotten she’d been lying sideways across the bed and she certainly hadn’t expected this.
“Wh-what are you -” she began, but he cut her off.
“You need to stay warm,” he said gently, adjusting the blankets with his knee to make space. “Under the covers.” His gaze flicked briefly to her legs. “And you’re wearing shorts with the window open…”
He settled her properly onto the bed and tucked the blanket around her. A bright blush spread across her pale face. She was, in fact, wearing short pajama shorts and a tank top.
And he had noticed.
Isabella turned her head away, embarrassed.
“Here,” his voice came again a few minutes later.
With effort, she opened her eyes and followed his movements: Phineas removing the thermometer, clicking his tongue in quiet concern, then handing her two similar-looking tablets and a glass of water.
It took all her strength to sit up and swallow the pills, draining the glass in one go.
“How… how high is it?” she murmured, looking up at him.
“Thirty-eight degrees,” Phineas said sympathetically. “But it’s okay, we’ll bring it down.” Phin smiled and gently helped her lie back down after she handed him the empty glass.
Isa wanted to ask how, exactly, he planned to lower her fever but the cool touch of his fingers brushing against her flushed cheek as he adjusted her on the pillow made it impossible to think clearly.
He tucked the blanket all the way up to her neck, almost cocooning her in it to keep her warm, then sat down on the floor beside the bed, resting his arms on the mattress.
Turning onto her side to face him, Isabella gathered her thoughts.
“So… how did you know I wasn’t feeling well?” she asked quietly.
Phineas reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and opened the call log.
“You called me,” he said, pointing at the screen.
She blinked in surprise.
“I mean you meant to call your mom,” he added, “but I couldn’t just ignore it.”
“Thank you,” Isabella whispered. “But… how did you get into the house?”
Phineas hesitated, suddenly looking uneasy as he glanced away.
“It’s… um… going to sound kind of strange,” he admitted carefully. “But I have your keys.”
Isabella actually lifted her head despite the pounding pain.
“My what?”
“You dropped them in our yard once. I was going to return them right away honestly! I just… kept forgetting,” he confessed sheepishly, fidgeting with the familiar keychain with the pink fluffy pom-pom. “Sorry.”
For some reason, Isabella blushed again. Her feelings about this were… complicated.
“But on the other hand,” he added quickly, “if that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have been able to come help you, right?”
After a brief pause, she nodded slowly.
He was right. And besides, she trusted him completely. The fact that he had her keys didn’t feel frightening at all.
“Thank you… again,” she murmured with a faint, tired smile.
“It’s too early to thank me,” Phineas waved it off. “I haven’t cured you yet.”
He stood up, brushing himself off.
“Do you want breakfast? Are you hungry?”
Isabella bit her lip, thinking, trying to suppress a small smile. She still couldn’t quite believe this was happening.
“I wouldn’t mind some coffee…”
“I wouldn’t mind making you some,” he said, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed after placing a blanket beneath himself, “but you shouldn’t. It’ll raise your blood pressure make the headaches worse, and your condition overall…” He even began counting on his fingers for emphasis. “Wow, I sound like Ferb,” he added with a laugh.
Isabella blinked slowly, as if processing his words in delayed motion.
“I’ll make you some tea instead, okay?”
Honestly, just seeing his pleading expression made her ready to agree to anything. And his unusual voice would have made her agree to anything at all. Without waiting for an answer, he stood up. Before leaving, he closed the window, then almost absentmindedly placed his hand against her forehead again, checking her temperature.
Then, with a proprietary carelessness, he brushed her hair away from her face so it wouldn’t fall into her eyes. And finally, he left the room, softly closing the door behind him.