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"Ruskin... please, put more wood on the fire. I feel cold."
Ruskin watched his employer's burning red face and his body which was already wrapped in the blanket and felt like his heart just broke inside. It was Mr. Milverton who got sick all of a sudden, yet, Ruskin was also suffocating from the pain. He loathed that he needed to watch his beloved employer, the meaning of his life suffer and he couldn't really do anything to ease his torture. He could only hope that the medicine will work and Mr. Milverton will recover soon. Or else...
Ruskin closed his eyes for a moment when the fear flooded him. There was no "or else". Mr. Milverton will recover from this illness. The medicine will make his fever go down and he will stop trembling from the cold. He felt the urge to leave the room, it was so hard to watch and listen to. Those golden, feverish eyes... that faint order and the wheezing breath Mr. Milverton took every second.
"Yes, sir." Ruskin quietly answered and stepped to the fireplace. But despite what he said, he only mimed that he put it on the fire. He was not allowed to do so. The doctor told him to keep the fire that way and he could only wrap Mr. Milverton into one blanket. The fever couldn't go any higher... or it would cost Mr. Milverton's life.
"See, Mr. Milverton? I put it on the fire." He noted, but he hated that he needed to pull this act. The doctor ordered him to seemingly play along, pretending that he fulfilled Mr. Milverton's wishes. Mr. Milverton nodded to that and closed his eyes. Ruskin could see that his body didn't stop shaking under the blanket. His cheeks were wet from the sweat, but he couldn't feel anything from his own body heat. Oh, how much Ruskin wished if he would feel hot! That would mean that he started to heal.
However, this didn't happen yet. Mr. Milverton was trembling from the cold feeling. His mouth was left open, but breathing was hard for him. Ruskin wanted to take his place, his suffering, but there was no exchange in the world like that.
No exchange. No more help. He couldn't do anything for Mr. Milverton. Only hope.
"Ruskin. I still feel it. The cold..." Mr. Milverton whispered. Ruskin needed to lean closer to hear it. He shook his head with sorrow. He couldn't warm his employer up. His body was already too hot. Or...
Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. He looked into Mr. Milverton's face, watching the sick man for a moment. Then he gently wrapped his arms around his neck and pressed his head to the burning, sweaty cheek.
"This is the only way I can warm you up." He told Mr. Milverton softly. "Can you feel my warmth, sir? I can feel yours."
He heard the weak answer.
"Yes. I can... feel it. You are warm, Ruskin. It is good."
He let out a sigh. Ruskin could feel that the air which caressed his skin was shaky. The tears came to his eyes. He tried to swallow them, but one drop of tear ran down on his cheek.
"Then feel it, sir. I will be here and hold you until you feel cold. I will not leave you." He promised while he hugged Mr. Milverton's head slightly stronger to himself.
He hoped that he would have a chance to hold him for the rest of his life.