You are The Dark Lord, and your only friend is sick.
You... don't know how to deal with this. You've never gotten sick, your former brother has never gotten sick, you're not even sure if the two of you can get sick.
But the person shivering on her couch in front of you most certainly can.
She is shivering. That means she is cold, so the solution there is to get her a blanket. The only one in her house is a ratty old thing, and you've never had reason to think about it before, but now you're making a mental note to go and get her something better when you leave. But it's all you have right now, so you come back and give it to her. She wraps it around her shoulders with shaking hands.
Purple never shakes this much. She gets a little jittery when she hasn't eaten or when she's too tense, but right now she just seems weak.
Purple hasn't seemed weak in a long time.
You shake the temptation out of your head and finally ask what's wrong. As expected, she is sick. You have never been sick. Your former brother has never been sick. You know the symptoms well enough due to many nights of preventative research, though.
She requests tea. You are all too happy to obligeβ finally, something you can do. Something you know you are good at.
The Chosen One liked tea. You still remember how to make it.
You're not sure why Purple is requesting it, though, when she doesn't have the materials needed to make it as sweet as she likes. She mumbles something else while you're in the kitchen, loud enough to be a correction, but with no words you can understand other than "please." You decide against asking her to say it again. It's clear her throat hurts enough to make speaking a chore.
Her tea bags are in the same place they always were before. You sift through them, and- oh, that must be what she meant. Malunggay. It matches up with the sounds coming out of her mouth. Maybe it just tastes particularly good without sugar.
There are no instructions on how to prepare it, so you perform your usual: Fill a mug with water, heat it with your hands until it's boiling, and drop the teabag in. Purple hates when the string gets in the water (The Chosen One didn't care), so you tie it around the handle to prevent that. Later, you'll burn it, bag and all, but right now you bring the mug back and set a timer for ten minutes with your Vira-code.
You hand it to Purple, and her hands continue to shake, wrapped up in the blanket as they are to protect them from the water's heat. You glance down. Maybe it's just you, but... they started to shake more when you gave her the cup. Was it the burns, or the sickness? Could she even keep it there without it spilling?
Regardless of the answer, you settle down on the couch next to her, unsure what else you can do. She has no medicine. Would painkillers help? Is she in pain right now? How do you-
She leans against your shoulder. You freeze.
It's not something she would've done on accident. Your friend doesn't make moves like that on accident. She had all the time in the world to think about it, and all the anxiety available in a person to prevent it from happening.
Her shivering calms down. Her hands shift around the mug, just a mote steadier. She's still cold. And you run as hot as an oven, most days.
Just as a test, you shift your arm a little bit away from your body. Just a few pixels, reallyβ enough for her to fit a hand through, if she wants. And she does. She shifts, herself, and weaves her arm around your own, holding you ever closer and practically nuzzling into the touch. She breathes in the steam from the tea as best she can (and it's difficult, and makes you fear for her, though you know it's just congestion) and sighs out the tension with her breath, slumping against you. With your other hand, you make sure the cup doesn't fall. It probably wouldn't have, but better safe than sorry.
You don't want to be the reason she burns again.
When the timer goes off, she almost seems to be asleep. But she jerks back up anyway, no matter how soft the sound is (you learned that lesson the hard way) and starts to blow gently on her tea, testing little sips until it's cool enough for her to drink without scalding her tongue.
You do not move. She has proclaimed you a pillow, a resting place, and so you will adhere to that for as long as it is needed.
This is how you can help. This is something you know how to do.
The tea is gone fairly quickly. She leaves the teabag in the cup and reaches, trembling, to place it on the table. You let her. Your reflexes are quick enough, if it slips. But she is careful, too, and it doesn't. All too quickly, she nestles back into your side, both arms wrapping around one of yours to keep you close. You press yourself to her in turn.
She does fall asleep, this time.
