Chapter Text
Pico felt f**king awful.
When he had gotten a small headache, he shoved it off. He got them all the time.
He didn’t pay much mind to it, thinking it would go away.
It didn’t.
In fact, It got worse.
Headache turned into a giant stomach ache after a few nights, and he managed to push through it while killing his target that night.
But at 4:45 that morning he vomited onto the floor of his apartment.
After getting no sleep because of his splitting headache, he finally gave in and postponed all of his hitman work because of the pain.
This continued for days.
Days of feeding himself with only the Coke next to his bed and the candy he has stashed under it.
Days of only a few hours of sleep.
Days of pain so bad he couldn’t think.
He now lays on his bed. His eyes hang heavy, but his throbbing head and ringing ears chased away even the thought of sleeping. His stomach was in constant pain, yelling at him nonstop to feed him food, but the thought of even an ounce would make him want to to chunder. His scratchy throat felt dry to the bone, and it hurt to breathe. He’s hot and sweaty from overexhaustion and overheating, and his whole body is tense with pain and discomfort.
His phone rumbled from his nightstand.
It could be one of two things.
A client complaining, or Darnel asking him what was going on.
Neither of which he felt like dealing with.
He chooses to ignore it, but then his phone buzzes again. Then again. And then it starts to ring.
It was definitely Darnel.
He slowly reaches over and manages to grab his phone. He answers, puts his phone on speaker mode, then goes limp, allowing his arm to rest on the nightstand.
He tries to speak, but his dry throat barely makes a sound, and even that is snuffed out by his pillow.
“Pico?”
“Hm.” He manages this time.
“Pico, what are you doing? Why haven’t you done anything for three days straight?” He waits for Pico to respond, but continues when he doesn't. “Nene and I have been worried about you, and it becomes much harder to maintain three people when a third of their income is abruptly stopped.”
He rolls over to face the wall and instantly regrets it. “I feel horrible.” He whispers.
There is silence on the other side of the call for a few moments, then a soft conversation Pico is too tired to listen in on, and then Darnel abruptly hangs up.
He sighs, going back to his miserable existence.
Eventually he starts to drift off, but his doze is interrupted almost immediately by the doorbell ringing.
Of course Pico doesn’t get up to answer it.
After a few moments he hears his doorknob being messed with, and then his apartment door opening.
This is rather concerning, but he suspects that it is someone he knows, considering it sounded like they have a key to his apartment.
He can hear muffled sounds coming from outside his bedroom, and they don’t stop for at least 20 minutes.
Finally, the person opens the door to his room. They enter softly, and Pico can hear them stepping closer. Finally when they seem to be hovering next to his bed they speak.
“Hey, Peek, you awake?”
He sits up very quickly, his sheets being thrown off as he turns around. The sudden movement causes his whole body to spike with pain. Everything hurts all over, but he is more awake than he has ever been in these past couple days. (He doesn’t notice himself hurling onto the floor)
“Boyfriend!?” Escapes his hoarse throat.
“Woah, Pico, take it easy, I-” He pauses, clearly stunned by something. Eventually he talks again. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days. What have you been doing to yourself?”
He clutches his head, and when he quietly speaks he can’t even hear himself over the ringing in his ears, “Wh- What are you doing here?”
“W-well,” He stutters, clearly still distraught by Pico’s state. “Darnel called me and told me that you were sick, and had been that way for a couple days.”
Of course, of course Darnel would send Boyfriend of all people to help him. Pico hated that Darnel even told someone to help him in the first place.
“He asked me to come and look after you.”
Boyfriend had always been good at looking after him. Had Darnel known that?
“Go away.” He lays back down.
Boyfriend huffs. “I’m not leaving Pico, not until I know you can care for yourself again.” He places a tray on Pico’s chest, careful to avoid having him throw up again. “Now eat.”
On the tray is a bowl of chicken noodle soup with a glass of water.
Real food.
Real water.
He was gonna throw up.
“No.” He coughs.
“Yes.” Boyfriend retorts.
He takes the glass of water and brings it to Pico’s lips.
Reluctantly, he allows the water to slip down his throat.
He sputters as the water instantly helps his throat to feel better. His stomach both thanks him and screams at him, and when it tries to push the water back up he manages to keep it in.
He gasps and rubs his cheek.
Boyfriend sets the cup back down. He clicks his tongue while looking down at Pico with a worried look.
Eventually he sighs and leaves for a moment. When he comes back he has Pico take a pill with some fruity tasting drink.
He takes the tray off of Pico. “While I work on some things you are going to fall asleep. When I wake you up you are going to tell me how you’re feeling, kay?”
Knowing Pico won’t respond, He walks out and shuts the door.