japhou

an almost uncomfortable warmth pressed against your side. your brows pinched together as you blinked into the darkness, the room only faintly lit by the glow leaking through the gap in the curtains. it took a second for your eyes to adjust before the shape curled against you came into focus.

megan.

at some point during the night she’d moved completely across the bed, abandoning her own pillow entirely.

one arm was lazily draped over your waist, her cheek squashed against your shoulder, dark hair spilling over both of you in messy strands. the pale pink streaks framing her face had long since escaped wherever she’d tucked them before bed, falling across flushed cheeks and brushing against your neck every time she breathed.

she looked… exhausted, not asleep in the peaceful way she usually was. her lips were slightly parted as she breathed through her mouth, every inhale sounding heavier than it should have. wisps of hair clung to her forehead, damp with sweat, and even in the dim light you could make out the faint redness dusting the bridge of her nose.

carefully, trying not to wake her, you brushed the loose strands back. the second your fingers touched her forehead, your stomach dropped.

she was burning “…mei?” nothing.

just a quiet, sleepy hum as she instinctively leaned further into your touch. you rested the back of your hand against her forehead again, hoping you’d imagined it but you hadn’t.

“megan.” this time she stirred, eyebrows knitting together before one eye cracked open.

“…mm?” her voice came out rough, thick with sleep, the single syllable dissolving into a congested sniffle.

“you’ve got a fever.”

she frowned as though you’d accused her of something ridiculous. “…no, i don’t.”

a tiny cough interrupted her before she could finish the sentence. she let out a quiet groan, burying her face against your shoulder like that somehow ended the conversation.

“i’m fine…” the words were almost completely muffled by your t-shirt.

you looked down at the girl practically folded into your side, her breathing already evening out again despite insisting she was awake.

you stayed where you were. there wasn’t much else you could do.

the coolness of your palm remained against megan’s forehead while the rest of your hand disappeared into the soft strands of dark hair fanned across the pillow. every few moments your fingers would brush the pink pieces framing her face back behind her ear, only for them to slip loose again as she shifted.

she really was burning. you’d never felt her skin this warm before. her breathing came through slow but heavier than normal, every inhale catching slightly against the congestion before leaving in a soft sigh through parted lips.

every now and then she’d wrinkle her nose in her sleep, letting out a quiet sniffle before instinctively pressing herself even closer to you.

she’d always been affectionate. normally she’d end up on your side of the bed at some point during the night anyway, tangled around you without either of you remembering when it’d happened.

tonight felt different as if she wasn’t just close because she wanted to be. she was looking for comfort without even knowing it.

your thumb brushed absentmindedly across her temple. she hummed quietly, barely awake, her forehead unconsciously nudging into your hand before settling again.

the corners of your mouth softened. for another ten minutes, maybe longer, you simply lay there.

watching and listening. every so often checking her forehead again, almost hoping it’d somehow cooled.

it hadn’t and if anything, she felt warmer.

her breathing finally evened into something deeper, the little furrow between her brows smoothing away as sleep pulled her under properly this time.

only then did you consider moving, very carefully. you started with the arm trapped beneath her shoulders, easing it free an inch at a time.

megan frowned and you froze. a sleepy sigh escaped her as she buried her face further into your pillow, replacing you with the duvet she’d instinctively pulled closer.

you waited another few seconds. when she didn’t stir again, you slowly slipped out from underneath her.

the mattress shifted beneath your weight. another pause. you quietly tucked the edge of the blanket back around her shoulders before standing.

the floorboards were cool beneath your feet as you padded into the hallway, careful to avoid the spots you already knew creaked.

the apartment was dark, illuminated only by the faint blue glow of the microwave clock.

3:34 a.m.

the kitchen light stayed off. instead, you opened the cupboard by memory, fingertips brushing over boxes of tea before finding the small plastic container tucked behind them.

the thermometer.

next came the medicine drawer.

paracetamol or ibuprofen?

you hesitated for a second before taking the paracetamol instead, setting two tablets beside the thermometer. she’d need to eat something before taking anything stronger.

the tap squeaked quietly as you turned it the smallest amount. cold water streamed over a clean face cloth, the sound seeming impossibly loud in the otherwise silent apartment.

you squeezed the excess water out until it was damp instead of dripping, folding it neatly into a rectangle the way your mother used to whenever someone was ill.

lastly, you filled a glass halfway with water. just enough that she’d actually drink it without having to force herself.

the bedroom door clicked softly behind you as you nudged it open with your shoulder.

the glass of water trembled ever so slightly against the thermometer in your hand, careful not to spill as you crossed back to the bed.

megan was still curled into the dip you’d left behind, the duvet gathered beneath her chin, one arm stretched lazily across your side of the mattress. her face was almost hidden by the pillow now, dark hair spilling over it in tangled waves, the faded pink pieces brushing against her flushed cheeks.

you set everything down on the bedside table one piece at a time: the thermometer, the folded cloth, the water, two tablets pushed carefully from their foil packet.

the mattress dipped beneath your weight as you settled beside her again.

you brushed your knuckles lightly across her cheek.

“baby.”

her breathing stayed deep and slow.

“…mei.”

a little hum vibrated in the back of her throat. her brows pulled together before her eyes blinked open, unfocused at first, taking a second to find you sitting beside her.

“there you are…” her voice was barely more than a whisper, rough from sleep and thick with congestion.

“i’m right here.”

she looked at you for another second before lifting one hand towards you without thinking.

you slipped your fingers through hers, smiling when you felt the tension leave her shoulders almost immediately.

you squeezed her hand gently before reaching for the cloth beside you.

“i’m just gonna put this on your forehead, okay?”

she gave the smallest nod. the cool fabric touched her skin and she let out a quiet breath, her face softening almost immediately.

“…that feels nice.”

for a while neither of you spoke. you simply sat there, your thumb absentmindedly tracing over the back of her hand while she rested with her eyes closed.

her skin was still far too warm. when you lifted the thermometer from the bedside table, she noticed the movement.

“…do i have to?”

“you do.”

a tiny sigh. she opened her mouth just enough for you to slide it beneath her tongue before letting her head tip against your shoulder.

outside, dawn was beginning to soften the sky beyond the curtains, though the room remained dim enough that the bedside lamp cast most of the light.

the thermometer beeped.

you frowned at the number, still high and higher than you’d hoped. you set it back down before reaching for the glass.

“come on, baby.” you slipped an arm behind her back “let’s get you sitting up.”

she tried, but halfway there she paused, closing her eyes “…everything’s spinning.”

“i know.” you kept an arm around her until the dizziness passed, letting her lean as much of her weight against you as she needed.

once she’d settled, you held the glass out.

“just a little.”

she took two careful sips before making a face “my throat hurts.”

“i know.”

another sip.

“good.” you placed the tablets into her palm. she stared at them for a second before swallowing them without complaint, chasing them with the last mouthful of water.

the effort alone seemed to tire her out. she rested her forehead against your shoulder, eyes falling shut again.

you could feel the warmth radiating from her even through your t-shirt. quietly, you rubbed your hand up and down her back “meg?”

“hm?”

“i think you need to stay home today.”

she was silent for a moment, then she shook her head against your shoulder“we’ve got rehearsals.”

“i know.”

“we’re only a couple weeks out from olivia’s festival.” her words came slowly, each sentence separated by a small pause while she gathered enough breath “i really shouldn’t…”

a cough caught her off guard. she turned instinctively into your shoulder, coughing into the sleeve of her shirt.

it lingered long enough that you found yourself rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades until it eased.

when she finally looked back up, her eyes were glossy “i’m okay,” she tried again, her voice little more than a rasp.

another cough interrupted her before she’d even finished the sentence. you waited until it passed, then tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“babe.” she looked at you “olivia rodrigo can wait.”

a tiny crease appeared between her brows.

“so can rehearsal.”

she opened her mouth to answer, but you gently shook your head “you’re exhausted.”

“you’ve got a fever.”

“and right now,” you murmured, brushing your thumb lightly across her flushed cheek, “i’d rather have you asleep in bed than pushing yourself because you feel guilty.”

for a long time, she didn’t say anything. she just looked at you. then, almost reluctantly, her shoulders sank.

“…will you text the group?”

“of course.”

“they’re gonna tell me off.”

a small smile found your lips “no.” you brushed another kiss against her forehead. “they’re probably going to tell you exactly what i’m telling you.”

her head found its way back onto your shoulder before either of you spoke again.

~~~~~

by the time morning properly settled over the apartment, very little had changed.

the fever had never really broken. it had dipped enough during the early hours that you’d managed another couple of hours of sleep, curled around megan with one hand absentmindedly checking her forehead every time either of you stirred.

you waited until her breathing slipped back into a deep, even rhythm before easing yourself out of bed again.

this time she barely moved. just a sleepy sound in the back of her throat before instinctively curling around your pillow instead.

you smiled to yourself, pulling the duvet a little higher over her shoulder.

“i’ll be right back,” you whispered, even though you knew she was asleep.

soft sunlight filtered through the kitchen windows, catching against the wooden countertops while the kettle hummed quietly in the background.

you kept breakfast simple. a small saucepan of oats bubbled gently on the stove, filling the kitchen with the faint smell of cinnamon and honey. you sliced half a banana into thin rounds, setting them to one side before reaching for a mug.

hot water with lemon and honey for megan, hoping it’d soothe her throat a little.

the house stayed quiet. you found yourself glancing towards the staircase every few minutes without really meaning to.

she’d usually have wandered down by now, music already playing from her phone while she danced around the kitchen waiting for breakfast.

just as you reached to stir the oats again, a floorboard creaked upstairs. you looked up and a few slow footsteps followed.

when megan finally appeared at the top of the stairs, your heart sank a little. she looked exhausted.

your oversized shirt hung loosely from her frame, the sleeves swallowing most of her hands while the hem fell to the tops of her thighs. one side had slipped from her shoulder sometime during the night, exposing warm skin still flushed from the fever.

her hair was a mess. dark waves fell in every direction and a few strands stuck lightly against her forehead where she’d been sweating overnight.

she paused halfway down the stairs, blinking slowly as though she’d forgotten why she’d gotten up in the first place.

“morning,” you said softly.

she looked over and the second she saw you, something in her expression eased.

“morning.” her voice was even rougher than it had been a few hours earlier.

she reached the bottom step without taking her eyes off you.

“you should’ve stayed in bed.”

“mhm.” she wandered into the kitchen at an almost sleepy shuffle, one hand rubbing at her eye before stopping beside you.

for a second she simply stood there, looking at the saucepan on the stove. then, without saying anything, she stepped closer.

her forehead rested lightly against the back of your shoulder.

you smiled to yourself “hi, baby.”

a tiny hum answered you. her hands found the sides of your shirt, fingers curling loosely into the fabric as she leaned just a little more of her weight against you.

you didn’t comment, just kept slowly stirring the oats with one hand while the other reached back to rest over hers.

“you okay?”

another little hum “…tired.”

“i know.”

“my head hurts.”

“i know.”

“my throat hurts.”

“i know.”

she was quiet for another moment “so does everything else.”

you let out the smallest laugh, turning the heat down before twisting slightly to look at her. she hadn’t lifted her head, her eyes were closed.

“you feeling dizzy?”

“a little.”

“you wanna sit down?”

she shook her head against your shoulder “no.”

“no?”

“wanna stay here.” there wasn’t any whining in her voice, just a simple sleepy admission.

you brushed your fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck “okay.”

the kitchen settled into silence again. the only sounds were the gentle bubbling from the saucepan and the occasional sniffle from where megan stood tucked against your back.

every now and then she’d shift a fraction closer, as though trying to steal whatever warmth you had despite running a fever herself.

the oats were finished before either of you moved. you turned the hob off carefully “baby.”

“mhm?”

“i need to plate this up.”

a small pause, then she opened her eyes, looked down at where she was practically attached to your side, and gave the faintest sheepish smile.

“…sorry.”

“you’ve got nothing to apologise for.”

she nodded once.

“can i still come with you?”

~~~~~

the rest of the day settled into an unexpectedly slow rhythm.

the apartment, usually filled with music or rehearsal videos playing somewhere in the background, stayed almost completely quiet. the television murmured softly from the living room, more for company than because either of you were paying much attention to it.

after breakfast, megan insisted she felt well enough to shower.

“you don’t have to help me,” she’d mumbled, already making her way upstairs.

you let her partly because you knew she valued doing things herself and partly because you didn’t want her to feel like you were hovering.

she made it as far as the bathroom. the shower ran for barely ten minutes before you heard the door open again.

you looked up from your phone just as she appeared in the hallway, damp hair dripping onto the oversized shirt she’d changed back into.

“hey.”

she offered you a tired smile “hi.”

“you alright?”

“mhm.” she took another step then stopped “actually…” her hand found the wall beside her “i think i stood up too fast.”

you were beside her before she’d even finished speaking. one arm slipped around her waist automatically. she let out a quiet breath as some of her weight rested against you.

“easy.”

“i’m okay.” it was the same answer she’d been giving you since three that morning, only this time it sounded less convincing.

you waited until the dizziness passed before walking her back downstairs, one hand resting lightly against the middle of her back.

she didn’t pull away, but normally she’d probably laugh, tell you she wasn’t ninety years old. today she simply accepted it.

~~~~~

by lunchtime, her temperature had finally started to come down. enough that her cheeks weren’t quite as flushed and that she wasn’t shivering anymore but every bit of progress seemed to come with another wave of exhaustion.

you found her standing in front of the fridge a while later. the door was open and she was just… looking inside.

“what’re we thinking?” you asked.

she blinked at the shelves “…i forgot.”

“what?”

“what i came in here for.”

you smiled gently “probably water.”

“…yeah.” a beat “…actually maybe i wanted juice.”

you reached past her, grabbing both “we’ll take both.” she laughed quietly through her nose “i don’t know what’s wrong with my brain.”

“it’s called having the flu.”

“i don’t like it.”

as you closed the fridge door, you felt something brush against your arm. megan had drifted closer, you handed her the juice and she leaned there while she drank it.

~~~~~

it wasn’t until mid-afternoon that you noticed it. every time you stood up… so did she.

“i’m just putting these in the dishwasher,” you said as you collected the mugs from the coffee table.

“mhm.”

you walked into the kitchen and a few seconds later you heard quiet footsteps. you glanced over your shoulder and she was, blanket trailing behind her “what?”

she looked genuinely confused “what?”

“you followed me.”

“i…” she frowned and looked around the kitchen as though she’d only just realised she was there. a soft laugh escaped her “..oops.”

“what happened to watching your film?”

“i thought you were gone.”

“i told you i was putting mugs away.”

“i know.” she rubbed at one eye “i forgot.”

you walked over, brushing a few strands of hair back from her face “you don’t have to keep getting up every time i move.”

“i wasn’t trying to.” she looked down for a second before meeting your eyes again.

“i just…” her voice was quieter now “i like knowing where you are.”

you rested your palm against her warm cheek “i’m not going anywhere, baby.”

“i know.” she smiled “i still wanna be where you are.”

something about the way she said it made your chest tighten. you leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“then come here.”

she stepped forward immediately, resting her forehead against your shoulder with a tired sigh.

outside, rain had started tapping softly against the kitchen window and standing there, arms loosely wrapped around one another in the middle of the kitchen, it occurred to you that this was the first time all day megan had stopped insisting she was fine.

~~~~~

by late afternoon, the rain had settled into a steady rhythm against the windows. the television had long since slipped into the background, neither of you paying much attention to whatever was playing.

megan had fallen asleep sometime during the second episode.

one minute she’d been commenting on something happening on screen, her voice hoarse enough that every sentence ended in a cough or a sniffle.

now she was curled against you beneath the throw blanket, one leg tucked over yours, her cheek resting just beneath your collarbone.

the warmth radiating from her hadn’t disappeared entirely, though when you pressed your lips lightly to the top of her head she didn’t feel quite as hot as she had that morning.

your fingers continued their lazy path through her hair, carefully separating the tangled strands that had dried into soft waves after her shower.

she shifted in her sleep just enough to tuck herself impossibly closer.

you glanced towards the clock on the wall, almost time for another dose. carefully, you reached for your phone to double-check when she’d last taken the paracetamol.

you looked back down at the girl sleeping on your chest “baby.”

a quiet hum.

“i’ve just gotta grab your medicine.”

you waited another minute before trying to move. very slowly, you slid your arm from around her shoulders.

almost immediately she stirred. her brows pinched together before her eyes blinked open, unfocused and heavy with sleep “…mm?”

“i’m just getting your medicine.” you smiled, brushing your thumb gently across her cheek “i’ll be right back.”

she watched you for a second, still trying to wake up enough to process what you’d said.

then, as you shifted forward to stand, her hand found the sleeve of your hoodie. her fingers curled into the fabric.

you looked down “mei?”

she swallowed and her voice came out so quiet you almost missed it “…don’t.”

your expression softened immediately “i’ll only be a minute.”

a tiny shake of her head “no…”

she looked genuinely distressed now, still foggy from sleep and fever, her eyes beginning to glisten in a way that made your chest tighten “please.”

“i just…” her grip on your sleeve tightened a fraction “please stay.”

you sat back down without another thought “hey.” your hand was on her cheek again before she’d even settled “hey, hey… it’s okay.”

the second you were beside her again, some of the tension left her shoulders. she let out a shaky breath she’d clearly been holding.

“i’m right here.”

she blinked hard a couple of times, embarrassed now that she was properly awake “…sorry.”

her voice cracked around the words, rough from hours of coughing “i just…” she sniffed quietly, rubbing at her nose with the sleeve hanging over her hand “i woke up and you weren’t…”

she trailed off, unable to find the words, you didn’t ask her to. instead, you opened your arms a little and she came willingly.

the moment she settled against you, her forehead found its familiar place beneath your jaw, resting against your collarbone.

even after a day of medicine, her skin still held the lingering warmth of the fever. you wrapped the blanket back around both of you before rubbing slow circles across her back.

she stayed tucked against you for another minute, her breathing gradually slowing back to normal as your hand continued moving gently up and down her back.

eventually she tilted her head just enough to look up at you “you’re really just getting my medicine?”

a smile tugged at your lips “that’s all.”

“…promise?”

“i promise.”

she studied your face as though making absolutely sure that was it then, finally, her fingers loosened from your sleeve “okay.”

you brushed a kiss against her warm forehead.

~~~~

by the time evening settled over the apartment, the rain had stopped. megan had spent most of the afternoon drifting in and out of sleep.

her fever was lower now, not gone but manageable. enough that the colour had eased from her cheeks, though every now and then you’d still catch her rubbing absently at her temples when another headache settled in.

you’d made another pot of soup while she’d dozed. chicken broth, soft vegetables and tiny pasta.

just something warm and she’d hopefully keep down. “…dinner,” you murmured as you carried the bowl into the living room. megan looked up from beneath the blanket she’d cocooned herself inside.

her eyes were still heavy with sleep and she sniffled quietly “you made soup.”

“i did.”

“it smells good” she smiled faintly.

you settled onto the sofa, balancing the bowl carefully on the coffee table while it cooled. megan watched you for a second, then she quietly pushed the blanket away.

“what’re you doing?” you asked.

instead of answering, she climbed onto the sofa. one knee first, then the other, before carefully lowering herself sideways into your lap.

you laughed under your breath “comfortable?”

she nodded immediately “mhm.” one arm slipped around your waist while she tucked her face into the side of your neck, letting out a long, tired sigh.

you rubbed a slow hand up and down her back “i thought you wanted soup.”

“i do.”

“you realise sitting on me doesn’t actually get it into your stomach?”

“…i know.” another sniffle “i just wanted to sit here first.”

“take all the time you need.”

for another minute neither of you moved. she simply stayed there, breathing slowly against your neck, but eventually you reached for the bowl.

“think you’re ready?”

she nodded without lifting her head. you scooped a small spoonful, blowing gently across the top before holding it in front of her.

she looked at it and made a tiny face “my throat really hurts.”

“i know, baby.”

“it feels like swallowing glass.” the words came out rough and congested, her voice catching halfway through the sentence before she cleared her throat with a quiet wince.

you set the spoon back into the bowl for a moment. your fingers brushed gently beneath her chin until she looked up at you.

“i know it hurts.” her eyes searched yours. “but the warm broth will help.”

“…will it?”

“it won’t fix it.” you tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear “but it’ll soothe it for a little while.”

she looked unconvinced “i don’t wanna make it worse.”

“you won’t.” a small silence settled between you.

she glanced back at the bowl, then at you “…can you stay like this?”

you smiled “i’m not going anywhere.”

“no, i mean…” she shifted closer somehow, curling herself further into your lap until one arm was tucked between the two of you and her cheek rested properly against your shoulder.

“…can i stay here while i eat?”

your heart melted a little“of course you can.”

she relaxed immediately. you picked the spoon back up, waiting until she’d nodded before offering her another small mouthful.

this time she accepted it and swallowed carefully. her face tightened for a second, then she looked a little surprised “that’s actually nice.”

“i told you.”

between each few bites she’d rest her forehead back against your collarbone, eyes closing while she worked up the energy for the next one.

by the time the bowl was empty, megan was visibly exhausted from the effort of simply sitting upright.

she’d barely spoken for the last ten minutes, only lifting her head when you offered another spoonful before settling back against you again, her breathing heavier through her blocked nose.

you waited another minute, letting her rest before carefully slipping an arm beneath her knees.

“come on.”

she frowned sleepily “…where?”

“just shifting you over for a second.”

“mhm…”

she didn’t protest. you eased her onto the sofa, tucking the blanket back around her shoulders before standing with the empty bowl.

the movement beneath her made her stir, just enough that one tired hand reached out instinctively, fingers brushing your wrist before slipping away again.

“i’ll be right back,” you said quietly.

“mhm.” her eyes never opened.

you carried everything into the kitchen, rinsing the bowl beneath warm water before reaching for the saucepan. you’d just begun filling the sink when you heard it.

“…baby?” it was so quiet you almost thought you’d imagined it. you turned the tap off immediately. another cough echoed faintly from the living room, followed by a congested sniffle.

“…yeah?”

a pause.

“…where are you?”

“i’m in the kitchen.”

silence again. you picked the saucepan back up and even ten seconds later, slow footsteps padded across the wooden floor.

you looked over your shoulder, megan stood in the doorway. her hair was flattened on one side from where she’d been lying against you all evening, loose strands stuck to her warm forehead.

there were faint shadows beneath her eyes, her cheeks flushed again now the medicine had begun wearing off.

“what happened to resting?” you asked softly.

she shrugged and another cough interrupted her. she turned her head into her shoulder, coughing quietly until it eased before drawing a slow, shaky breath through her nose.

the congestion forced her to breathe through parted lips instead.

you crossed the kitchen in two steps. “hey.”

your hand settled gently against the side of her face. she leaned into it before she’d even realised she was doing it.

her voice was barely there now “i just…” she swallowed “my head feels funny.”

you frowned. “dizzy?”

“a little.” she looked embarrassed admitting it “i got up and…” another shrug “…i didn’t like not seeing you.”

you wrapped an arm carefully around her waist and her body relaxed almost instantly “you don’t have to come looking for me.”

“i know.”

“i’ll always come back.”

she nodded against your shoulder “i just wanted you.”

the honesty of it caught you off guard just a feverish confession from someone whose brain was too tired to hide what she was feeling.

you rubbed slow circles across her back “i’m just finishing these.”

she watched the sink over your shoulder “…do you have to?”

“only another minute.”

she stayed quiet. her fingers found the front of your hoodie this time, gathering a little of the fabric in her fist.

“…can they wait?”

you looked at the dishes, then at megan. she was fighting to keep her eyes open. every few seconds they drifted shut before she forced them open again, like she was determined not to fall asleep unless she knew exactly where you were.

the saucepan suddenly didn’t seem all that important. you turned the tap off “they can wait.”

you felt her shoulders drop in relief. you guided her slowly back towards the living room, one arm around her the entire time.

the moment you both sat down, she didn’t even try to hide it anymore. she curled into you immediately. her forehead settled against the hollow beneath your collarbone, still carrying that lingering warmth from the fever, while one arm slipped weakly around your waist beneath the blanket.

within seconds, her breathing had slowed. a quiet, congested little sigh escaped her.

“…better?”

she gave the tiniest nod against your chest “so much.”

you kissed the top of her head “i’ve got you, baby.”

~~~~~

outside, the last of the daylight had disappeared, leaving only the warm glow of the lamp tucked into the corner beside the sofa.

megan lay tucked against you beneath the blanket, one of your arms wrapped securely around her while the other lazily stroked up and down her back.

she’d barely moved in almost twenty minutes.

every now and then she’d shift just enough to get comfortable before settling again, her forehead resting against the hollow beneath your collarbone.

her breathing remained congested, each inhale sounding blocked before leaving in a slow sigh.

you continued running your fingers through the ends of her hair “you doing okay, baby?”

for a moment you weren’t sure she’d heard you.

a tiny shrug “no.”

the made your chest ache. you kissed the top of her head “no?”

she shook her head against you “i hate this.”

“i hate being sick.” her voice was barely more than a rasp now, every word rough around the edges from hours of coughing “i feel gross.”

“you’ve got the flu”

she sniffed quietly “i just…” her fingers twisted absentmindedly in the fabric of your hoodie “i can’t breathe properly.”

“my throat feels like…” she swallowed carefully, wincing“…like i swallowed glass.”

you rubbed slow circles between her shoulder blades “i’m sorry, baby.”

she let out a long breath “i never get this sick.”

“it’s stupid.” she was quiet again “i don’t like needing help.”

your hand paused briefly before continuing its slow rhythm across her back “you’re allowed to.”

“…yeah.”

“i like looking after you.”

she gave the faintest huff through her nose “you say that now…”

“i’ll still be saying it tomorrow.”

that earned the smallest smile but it disappeared almost as quickly as her nose wrinkled.

you felt it before you saw it she sniffed once, then again “…mm.”

“what is it?”

“my nose…” her voice had gone even stuffier somehow. she sniffed again, this time frowning when it didn’t help “it’s running.”

you glanced towards the coffee table, the tissue box was just out of reach.

“hang on.” keeping one arm around her, you leaned forward, stretching towards it.

you’d barely moved a few inches when-

“heh…”

megan froze against you.

“…hh-“p

you looked down “oh baby-

“hh… h’ktschh!”

the sneeze burst out before she had any chance of turning away.

instinctively she’d buried her face into the crook of your arm, muffling it almost entirely into the sleeve of your hoodie then she groaned.

“oh…” her hand immediately flew to her throat the force of it had clearly hurt. she squeezed her eyes shut, coughing once before swallowing carefully “ow.”

you reached the last few inches to the tissue box, pulling out a handful. she accepted one with a tiny mumbled, “sorry,” before gently blowing her nose.

when she finished, she looked miserably down at your sleeve “…i sneezed on you.”

her face immediately screwed up, not because the sneeze had hurt this time, but because she’d realised exactly where it’d landed “oh my god.”

“mei-“

“no” she covered part of her face with the tissue, groaning quietly “i’m actually disgusting.”

she looked genuinely mortified, avoiding your eyes as she rubbed tiredly at her nose.

“i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay.”

“no, it’s not.” she shook her head stubbornly, another sniffle escaping before she could stop it “i’ve been coughing on you all day, now this…”

you waited until she finally looked back up.

then, without making a fuss of it, you reached behind your neck and pulled your hoodie over your head.

megan frowned “what’re you doing?”

you bundled it up loosely in one hand before tossing it onto the armchair across the room “there.”

“it’s going in the wash anyway.”

she stared at the hoodie, then back at you.

“that’s it?”

you smiled “what else was i supposed to do?”

“i don’t know…” she looked down at her hands “i just feel bad.”

you simply reached over, taking the tissue from where she’d been absent-mindedly crushing it in her fist before grabbing another clean one from the box.

“here.”

she accepted it with a quiet, “thanks.”

after blowing her nose, she sat there for a second, shoulders slumped, clearly worn out by what had been a completely ordinary sneeze.

the fever really was making everything feel bigger than it was.

without a word, she shifted back across the sofa until she was against you again. this time there was nothing between you except the thin cotton of her t-shirt. the second her forehead rested against your chest she let out the smallest breath.

“…you’re cold.”

you laughed softly “i’m definitely not.”

“you are compared to me.”

she stayed exactly where she was.

the coolness of your skin seemed to help and within a minute you could feel the tightness she’d been carrying start to ease. her breathing slowed again, the little crease between her brows relaxing as she settled.

“i’m sorry,” she mumbled one last time, her voice muffled against your chest.

after a while, you felt her hand reach for yours beneath the blanket.

you intertwined your fingers with hers and she gave your hand one sleepy squeeze before letting herself sink properly against you again, the warmth of her fevered forehead resting just beneath your collarbone while the room fell back into silence.

~~~~~

the apartment felt lighter the next morning.

the fever had finally broken sometime before sunrise. you’d woken more than once out of habit, checking megan’s forehead in the dark, only to find cool skin beneath your hand for the first time in almost twenty-four hours.

by the time you wandered into the kitchen, megan was still upstairs. you took your time making coffee, opening a window to let the cool morning air drift through the apartment.

the silence lasted all of three minutes then soft footsteps padded across the landing overhead.

you smiled to yourself before she’d even appeared.

megan wandered into the kitchen wearing the same oversized t-shirt she’d practically lived in since yesterday.

she looked better but not completely, her nose was still pink. her voice was still slightly congested when she mumbled, “morning.” but the colour had returned to her face.

“morning.”

she stopped beside you while you poured coffee. she stepped closer until her shoulder rested lightly against yours.

eventually you reached into the cupboard for two bowls. the moment you moved away, she moved too. you walked to the fridge and she followed.

you looked sideways “…baby.”

“hm?”

“you know you’re following me, right?”

she blinked “…am i?”

“oh.” a tiny laugh escaped her ”sorry..again”

she smiled sheepishly before leaning lightly against your shoulder again.

“i think yesterday broke my brain.”

“i think yesterday made you into a koala.”

she laughed properly this time and buried her face in your shoulder with an embarrassed groan. you laughed, wrapping an arm loosely around her waist “you were cute.”

she stayed there for a second before looking up at you “…i’m still gonna do it.”

“hm?”

“the following you around thing.” she shrugged looking almost bashful.

“i mean…” she reached down, absent-mindedly slipping her fingers through yours “just because i’m not sick anymore…”

she glanced down at your joined hands “doesn’t mean i don’t wanna be close to you.”

your smile softened “i was hoping that wasn’t just a flu symptom.”

she rolled her eyes fondly “no.”

your fingers remained laced together as you looked at her.

she still looked tired. there were faint shadows beneath her eyes, her hair still slightly messy from sleep, and every now and then she’d pause to sniffle quietly through her blocked nose.

you reached up, brushing another loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

she smiled “what?”

“you’ve got bed hair.”

she rolled her eyes “you love my bed hair.”

“i do.”

the smile lingered on her face. you let your hand stay where it was, your thumb brushing lightly across the warmth of her cheek.

she leaned into it instinctively. your eyes dropped briefly to her lips before meeting hers again.

“come here.”

she closed the small gap between you without hesitation. the kiss was slow enough that neither of you felt any need to rush it, just savouring the soft press of her lips against yours.

she smiled into it almost immediately, and you felt your own mouth curve in response.

your hand slipped gently from her cheek to the back of her neck, fingertips disappearing into the soft hair there as you held her just a little closer.

she hummed quietly against your lips.

when you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, your noses brushing as the two of you stayed there for another moment.

you smiled “i love yo-“

“hh’ktschh!”

the sneeze came without any warning at all. megan barely managed to turn her head before it escaped, straight into the side of your shoulder.

she blinked, then looked back at you “…maybe i’m still a little sick.”

you looked down at the tiny damp patch she’d left on your t-shirt before meeting her eyes again.

“uh-huh.” still smiling, you reached for the towel hanging beside the sink, giving your shoulder an absent-minded wipe before tossing it back where it had been.

megan watched you “sorry…” she huffed a quiet laugh through her nose then she stepped back into your space.

her arms slipped around your waist, her cheek settling against your chest. you wrapped your arms around her in return, feeling her relax almost immediately as she tucked herself comfortably against you.

a few seconds passed then, in a voice still slightly stuffed up with her lingering cold, she mumbled “…so…”

“…can you make me some soup?”

you laughed softly, pressing a kiss into the top of her hai “of course.”

still holding onto you, she gave your hoodie one absent-minded tug toward the kitchen.

some habits, it seemed thankfully weren’t just flu symptoms after all.