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The first thing Hazel noticed was that Frank wasn't eating.
Normally, Frank inhaled food like he hadn't seen a meal in days. Camp Half-Blood meals disappeared from his plate with impressive speed, especially after training.
Tonight, however, he spent more time pushing roasted potatoes around than actually eating them.
"You okay?" Hazel asked quietly.
Frank looked up, blinking as if he'd forgotten she was sitting across from him.
"Hm? Yeah."
"You've eaten...maybe three bites."
"I'm just not that hungry."
Hazel frowned.
Frank always got hungry.
She watched him spear another potato, hesitate halfway to his mouth, then quietly put the fork back down.
His shoulders looked strangely tense.
His face...
His cheeks were a little pink.
Maybe it was the campfire.
Maybe.
The next clue came during sword practice.
Frank usually had excellent control.
Not flashy. Jason had been flashy. Percy was instinctive. But Frank was dependable. Precise.
Today...
His sword slipped.
‘Clang.’
It hit the arena floor.
Hazel stared.
Frank stared harder.
"I-"
He bent down to grab it.
Too quickly.
His balance disappeared.
He caught himself on one knee.
Hazel was already beside him.
"Frank?"
"I'm okay."
"You almost fell over."
"I stood up too fast."
"You've never done that before."
"I'm fine."
He smiled.
It was the weakest smile she'd ever seen him make.
By lunchtime, Hazel had made up her mind.
Something was wrong.
Frank was quiet.
He wasn't laughing at Leo's ridiculous stories.
He turned down dessert.
He actually looked relieved when practice ended early.
Then she saw him rub a hand over his forehead while he thought nobody was looking.
That settled it.
She found him hiding in the Mars cabin.
Well...
Attempting to hide.
Frank was six-foot-something.
There was only so much hiding a person that size could do.
He sat on his bunk with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
"You skipped afternoon archery."
He jumped.
"Oh."
His voice sounded rough.
"Didn't hear you."
Hazel closed the door behind her.
"You've been acting strange all day."
"I'm just tired."
She walked closer.
"Frank."
"I'm okay."
"Frank."
He sighed.
"...Mostly okay."
Hazel reached out before he could protest.
The back of her hand rested gently against his forehead.
She barely touched him before she pulled back in surprise.
"Oh."
Frank looked guilty.
"You're burning up."
"It's probably not-"
"Frank."
"I'm fine."
"You're hot enough that I could probably fry an egg on your forehead."
"I don't think that's medically accurate."
"It doesn't have to be."
He chuckled.
The laugh immediately turned into a cough.
A deep one.
He covered his mouth with his arm.
By the time it stopped, he looked exhausted.
Hazel crossed her arms.
"How long?"
"...Today?"
She gave him a look.
"...Yesterday."
Another look.
Frank sighed.
"...Maybe yesterday morning."
"Frank Zhang."
"I thought it'd go away."
"You've been training."
"I didn't want everyone worrying."
"So instead you just..."
She gestured broadly.
"...got sicker?"
"I guess?"
Hazel pinched the bridge of her nose.
"You know Will is going to yell at you."
"I know."
"And you're still going."
"I know."
"And you're not arguing."
"I don't think I have enough energy."
"...Yeah."
That worried her more than anything.
The walk to the infirmary took twice as long as usual.
Frank insisted he could walk.
Hazel insisted he walk slowly.
By the halfway point, Frank had gone from merely flushed to visibly swaying.
"You okay?"
"Mhm."
"You don't sound convincing."
"I am convincing."
"You nearly walked into a tree."
"...The tree moved."
Hazel looked at the perfectly stationary pine.
"...Sure."
Will looked up exactly once before sighing.
"Oh, Frank."
Frank winced.
"...Hi?"
"How long?"
Frank looked at Hazel.
Hazel looked at Frank.
Will looked between them.
"...That's never a good sign."
Frank scratched the back of his neck.
"...Couple days."
Will closed his eyes.
"I see."
His voice was frighteningly calm.
"You know what's coming."
"...Lecture?"
"Lecture."
Ten minutes later…
"You trained with a fever?"
Frank nodded.
"You skipped meals?"
"...Yeah."
"You've been coughing?"
"...Yes."
"You almost passed out?"
"...Maybe?"
Hazel raised an eyebrow.
Frank sighed.
"...Yes."
Will rubbed his face.
"I leave camp for ONE morning."
Diagnosis:
A nasty viral illness.
Fever.
Dehydration.
Exhaustion.
Thankfully nothing more serious.
"You," Will declared, pointing at Frank with the authority only the camp's head medic possessed, "are on strict bed rest."
Frank looked horrified.
"...How long?"
"Until you stop trying to die from stubbornness."
"I wasn't-"
"That wasn't a suggestion."
Frank hated being sick.
Mostly because he hated feeling useless.
There were monsters.
Training.
Cabin responsibilities.
Things to do.
Instead…
Blankets.
Soup.
Medicine.
Sleep.
He hated it.
Hazel noticed.
She also noticed the way he'd apologize every time she brought him something.
"Sorry."
"For what?"
"You keep taking care of me."
"I brought you water."
"...Still."
Later,
"Sorry."
"I adjusted your blanket."
"I know."
"You don't have to apologize."
"I know."
Another hour,
"Sorry."
Hazel finally sat on the edge of his bed.
"Frank."
He looked over.
"You've apologized twelve times."
"...Really?"
"Really."
"I didn't mean to."
"I know."
She took one of his hands.
It felt much warmer than usual.
"You don't have to earn being cared for."
Frank looked down.
"I know."
"You say that."
"..."
"But I don't think you believe it."
Silence.
Finally…
"I always feel like I'm inconveniencing people."
Hazel squeezed his hand.
"You know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think if I got sick..."
"You'd refuse help."
"I would not."
He gave her a look.
"...Okay, maybe a little."
"A lot."
"...A lot."
She smiled sheepishly.
"But you'd still take care of me."
"Of course."
"Would you think I was an inconvenience?"
"What?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you're Hazel."
She smiled softly.
"And you're Frank."
He blinked.
"I don't understand."
"You deserve the same kindness."
"..."
"...Oh."
She watched the realization slowly settle in.
Not completely.
Not enough to erase years of habit.
But enough.
Enough that, when she adjusted the blanket over his shoulders again—
He didn't apologize.
The fever peaked that evening.
Frank drifted in and out of sleep.
Sometimes he mumbled.
Sometimes he shivered despite the blankets.
Sometimes he reached for something in dreams Hazel couldn't see.
Each time,
"I'm here."
His breathing steadied.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Eventually, he managed to find her hand without opening his eyes.
His grip was loose.
Sleepy.
Trusting.
Hazel stayed exactly where she was.
By the third day, the fever finally broke.
Frank woke feeling wrung out but noticeably cooler.
Hazel looked up from the book she'd been pretending to read.
"You look alive."
"I feel..."
He considered it.
"...Like I got trampled by a herd of pegasi."
"Improvement?"
"Surprisingly...yes."
She laughed.
"There he is."
Frank smiled.
A real one this time.
"...Thanks."
"For what?"
He looked around the infirmary.
The empty soup bowls.
The pile of books she'd brought.
The blanket she'd tucked around him more times than he could count.
"For staying."
Hazel looked genuinely puzzled.
"Frank."
She squeezed his hand one more time.
"There was never anywhere else I was going to be."
For the first time since getting sick…
Frank let himself believe her.