#writer keith

‘Nah, it’s cool - it’s mostly for you, anyway. There’s enough for probably a small pot. I’ll just grab one on my way to class,’

‘Are you sure?’ Keith bit his lip, guilt flooding through his brain, but Lance nodded with a smile and took a step closer to him, holding out a hand for Keith’s jacket. He shrugged out of it and handed it over, watching arbitrarily as Lance slung it over the back of the couch. ‘I’ll get some tomorrow morning..’

‘Hey - are you okay?’

Keith blinked, startled as his vision was unceremoniously filled in its entirety by Lance’s face, grin replaced by a wavering frown.

‘Yeah, why?’ Keith moved a step backwards, avoiding the hand he could see rising towards his forehead. The last thing he needed was Lance finding out he had a temperature - they had only been going out for a month or so, and that was far too soon to subject Lance to the tortures of caring for a sick boyfriend.

‘I dunno.. you just seem a bit.. out of it, I guess? And your face is flushed. Like, really red,’

‘Oh, I uh, walked kinda fast,’ it wasn’t a total lie, Keith consoled himself - he had walked faster than he had intended, wanting to just get to Lance’s apartment and curl up in a ball on the couch for a few hours. He still had work to do, but the draw of a brief nap was too much to resist.

‘You walked fast..’ Lance deadpanned, seeming anything but convinced. ‘and that made you turn full tomato..’

‘Ugh, Lance, don’t compare me to a fruit, please.. I just wanna sit down, okay?’ he said, brushing past Lance’s side toward the couch. He slumped down into it, sighing in all the pleasure his rebelling body could muster. But his respite was short lived as with a squeal of indignation, Lance face planted right into his knees, rapidly repositioning himself so that he was koala-ed around Keith’s waist.

‘Keith! Shame on you, you vegetable heathen! Tomatoes! Fruit?! How dare you!’

Keith grunted against the weight of Lance’s body, failing miserably in trying to push him off. ‘They are fruit, Lance. Now get the hell off me, I want to nap,’

‘You never nap,’ Lance’s face startled into another, more violent frown. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? You said before that you only nap when you’re -‘

Keith cut him off before he could say the dreaded word. ‘I’m fine. Now get off my lap and hug me like a normal person,’

At Keith’s direct invitation for physical contact, Lance was only too happy to oblige. Maybe Keith could pull of recovering from his cold without Lance finding out after all.

Oh, how Keith had been so, so wrong.

When he woke the next morning, face burning, chest heaving with painful, soaking coughs, any and all hope of hiding his illness from his boyfriend was completely and resoundingly crushed. Adding to the pile a worryingly intense difficulty in breathing and cold sweat trickling down his back, and Keith knew from the moment he opened his eyes to the early morning sun that he was totally and royally fucked.  

Rolling onto his side, he suppressed a moan, kneading his palms into the meat of his eyes and praying silently that Lance would just sleep through until Keith was already up and out of the door.

That prayer, however, was not answered.

‘Babe, did you spill something?’ Lance’s sleepy voice called, words languid and drawled as they washed over Keith’s neck, managing slightly to relax the shaking jitter that had begun in his bones. He just shook his head, mentally resigned to his fate. ‘Then what - you’re shirt’s soaked.. Keith, are you sweating?!’

‘…I think I’m sick…’ he rasped, voice barely functional around the thick mucus his body was ejecting from his lungs disguised as coughs.

‘And how long have you ‘thought’ you were sick for?’ Lance asked, and Keith groaned at the blatant note of irritation seeping into his tone.

‘…Few days..’

‘Goddamnit, Keith.. why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I didn’t want to worry you, okay?’ He shifted into a sitting position, regretting it instantly as his head spun like a top on his neck. Massaging his temples, he risked a glance over at Lance - he looked pissed.

‘Right, we’re going to the doctors,’

‘What? No! I-‘ Keith’s voice cut off around a viscous cough, lungs hacking as they sought to remove the phlegm blocking the passage of air. By the time he was done, he had sunk heavily into Lance’s side, breath panting as Lance drew soothing circles down his back. ‘…I have class..’ He managed once he had inhaled an adequate depth of air.

‘No you don’t, not anymore. You’re too sick for class,’ Lance mumbled, nosing Keith’s hair comfortingly. It smelled of sweat and cinnamon, and Lance wasn’t sure if he should like it quite as much as he did. Keith squirmed in his arms, fighting to remove himself from Lance’s hold, but Lance just tightened his grip imperceptibly, effortlessly cutting off any and all objection. ‘Just stay here today, and I’ll make you some soup when I get back from my forensics labs, okay?’

‘Nngh..’

‘Sorry?’

‘No!’ Keith’s voice was breathless and terse, an unnerving gravel sneaking up beneath it as yet more mucus fought to make its way out along with the sound. ‘I mean to say no. Lance -‘ he panted, lungs starved of oxygen by even such a simple sentence. ‘..Lance.. I have to go to class.. I have two essays due.. and three chapters of my story. All for two weeks time,’

‘And one day off to rest up and get better isn’t gonna stop you from managing that, dummy. You’ve already gotten, what? One essay almost finished and nearly two chapters? See - you’re totally fine,’

‘I am not fine..’ Keith protested, closing his eyes against the spinning pain burning behind his lids. ‘I have so much to do.. and you know they won’t let me keep ghost writing if I don’t maintain my G.P.A…’

Lance frowned. That was true.. Their college had very particular requirements regarding extracurricular activities related to the student’s course, and Keith’s ghost writing job was entirely reliant on his creative writing tutors being happy that he was keeping up with his predicted grade. But that wasn’t justification for Keith allowing himself to suffer alone with an illness that was clearly dipping over into debilitating. As Lance mused, he listened helpless to Keith fail to suppress another round of vicious coughing, only moving when Keith’s hands clamped hard over his mouth.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, but Keith did not reply, instead just waggling his head desperately towards the bathroom door. For a moment Lance thought he was going to be sick, until another two thick, dripping coughs worked their way from Keith’s chest. ‘Shit, okay - wait there, I’ll grab you some tissues!’ All he got in return was a sour glare from Keith.

Once he was back on the bed, Lance slipped the tissues behind Keith’s fortress of hands, grimacing as a small trickle of mucus slid down the back of Keith’s fingers. Keith coughed for another few minutes before finally stopping, tissues balled in a wet pile in his fist.

‘..That was disgusting..’ He whined, and Lance couldn’t help but agree. Not only was it far too early in their relationship for un-vetted access to the full array of bodily fluids, but it was also too early in the morning, and Lance hadn’t even had a cup of coffee yet. But Keith seemed to be waning, and his worry promptly overtook any lingering disillusionment about Keith’s infallible beauty.

‘Babe, seriously - let me take you to see a doctor, you’re burning up,’ he said, palm carding restlessly over Keith’s melting cheeks. But once again, Keith shook his head, determined to go to class even if it killed him. Lance didn’t even want to consider the possibility that that might actually happen.

‘I’m going, Lance..’ he huffed, sliding his body weakly over the edge of the bed. ‘I’ll take some Tylenol and be fine,’

Keith was not fine. Keith was panicking.

Half way through his two hour lecture, Keith had realised that it was physically impossible to repress his cough any further, and having reached a point of no return with the now gushing expulsion of phlegm, he had rushed from the hall and dived into the nearest empty bathroom. For ten minutes straight he had stood, leaning heavily against the sink, as cough after cough wracked his chest, increasing the ballooning pain ten fold with each heave of sticky, green fluid.

The fear that had been blossoming in his gut since that morning only grew worse with each agonising crack of his chest, and for not the first time he wished that he had taken Lance up on his offer to just stay in bed. Maybe something really was wrong with him? He couldn’t remember ever having a cold so bad that his body forced ball after ball of wet mucus from his lungs, or burned his face with such a heat. It felt like he was roasting alive, like the core of his body had melted into flames that were trying to braise their way out. But as yet another round of hacking, crackling coughs forced their way from within him, he remembered the mountain of things he still had to do.

No matter what condition his body was in, he simply could not afford a day of rest. He would have to be hospitalised before he would let that happen.

Forcing as deep a breath as he could past his lips, Keith tried everything in his power to steady himself. The fingers of his left hand were holding his face in a vice-like grip, covering his mouth, while those of his right clutched the rim of the sink for dear life. His knuckles were turning whiter with every fit, and the joints ached for release from the tension, but he was incapable of obliging. And so he continued to cling with everything he had until his knees gave out, pitching him forwards into the counter’s embrace.

The sink caught him beneath the ribs, expelling what little air he had managed to consume, and he couldn’t find the strength in his legs to right himself. Briefly, he considered calling Lance, getting him to drop his chemistry labs and rush to his aid, but the demon in his brain called an end to the plan before it had even really begun. He would not be a burden to Lance. They had only been together such a short time - Lance could still turn around and walk away. Keith wouldn’t risk that even if his life depended on it. Which, right then, he feared it did.

By the time Keith finally got back to Lance’s apartment that night, he was done. The moment Lance opened the door, Keith fell forwards, face first into Lance’s chest and held aloft only by the grace of his boyfriend’s arms. There was so little viable tension left in his body that even as Lance manoeuvred him towards the couch, Keith found himself incapable of providing help. So instead he let Lance drag him, limp limbs dangling, over to the waiting pile of stuffing-filled goodness.

‘Oh my god, babe.. you’re a mess,’ Lance sighed, sliding his body down next to Keith’s as he wrapped his arms tightly around his chest. ‘and hot. Like, burning,’

‘’m fine,’ Keith insisted, but within the safe confines of his brain, he knew that was a lie. And it was developing into a dangerous one at that. Another bubbling cough circulated in his chest, and he shoved a preemptive tissue into his face, trying hard to stifle it.

‘Fine my ass, Keith, you’re ill as fuck, and that cough does not sound normal. I swear to God, if you still sound like that in the morning, we’re going to the ER,’

‘Over my dead body, Lance,’

Or at least, that was what Keith tried to say, but as it came out interspersed by merciless coughing, it sounded far more like a breathy, yet eerily prophetic wheeze.

‘At this rate, Keith, that’s not far off,’ Lance’s tone was amusedly chiding, but he really couldn’t quite shake the fear that Keith’s words were hitting a little too close to home for comfort. He brushed it off regardless - they had just started to find their swing as a couple, and the last thing Lance wanted to do was disturb the status quo by accusing Keith of lying.

But by the next morning, Keith wished more than anything that Lance had in fact called him out on his shit.

Lance had left early, citing some field work practice test - Keith was pretty sure he had heard the words ‘blood splatter’, ‘patterns’ and testing’, but had thankfully tuned out the more gory of details - leaving Keith to doze fitfully in bed for the next few hours. But as ten a.m. rolled round, he knew he had to get up. His writing work shop was at half past, and there was no way he would have time to get a coffee if he didn’t leave within the next ten minutes. And seeing as Keith was nonfunctional without caffeine on a good day, he dreaded to think what he would be like when half dead.

But as he pulled himself out of his sweats, he realised a small problem - he couldn’t think. The words refused to stay ordered, threads of thought drifting off before he could even make out their source, words and meaning becoming confused. Everything blurred together, frightening him with the hazy drawl his brain had become. His mind was like honey, thick and stuck together, but no attempts Keith made to loosen it seemed to work. If anything, they made it worse.

Panic rising in his throat alongside yet another mucus filled cough, Keith hauled himself from the mattress, sweats still dangling by one leg, with the intention of making it to the bathroom. He had to check his temperature. He wasn’t sure why, exactly, but the sudden fear that it had spiked too far for safety had struck his brain and was refusing to let go.

He didn’t make it far. Half way to the edge of the room, Keith felt a stab of pain far sharper than all others before it worm its way through his chest, and with a short cry of alarm, gave up fighting the pull of gravity as it dragged him to the floor. It was with one last shred of consciousness that he thought of Lance, and found himself filled with self hatred at the pain finding Keith going to cause him.

Keith blinked blearily, not quite understanding where he was or why he was lying down. He wasn’t sure what the last thing he remembered was, and the idea was faintly terrifying. But he found it difficult to grasp on to, his mind refusing to focus enough to really contemplate why exactly it was that he was missing a chunk of time.

Groaning softly, he felt something tugging on his elbow - a sharp, metal-like feeling that seemed to cement him a little more in reality. Shifting his arm, he tried to place it, figure out what it was, but nothing revealed itself to him, and so he brushed it off, choosing instead to ignore it in favour of more sleep. But that sleep didn’t come - as soon as the decision had been made, he heard a sound suspiciously like a door opening and let a low keen out from his lips.

‘Keith? Baby, you awake?’

Lance.

‘Can you hear me?’ He was whispering, voice soft and gentle as it tumbled down on Keith from above. Keith whimpered into it, wanting more than anything to open his eyes, but finding himself currently incapable. ‘Hey, hey, shh, it’s okay, baby, it’s alright - I’m here,’

‘..L-Lance?’ Keith’s voice shocked him - it was barely a croak; a wisp on the air, small enough that the slightest breeze might carry it away. ‘W-where.. am I?’

‘You’re in the hospital, baby, I had to call an ambulance,’ Lance’s voice sounded like it might be crying, and Keith wanted to fight that fact, take those tears and cast them away. ‘I came home early and found you passed out on the floor, and when you didn’t wake up, I.. I called 911. Baby, you scared the shit outta me,’

‘What’s wrong with me?’ It was a sob, and Keith was surprised equally by both that and the fact that his eyes were open now, staring up into Lance’s tear-stained face.

‘Shh, it’s okay,’ Lance soothed again, carding his fingers gently through Keith’s hair. ‘You’re gonna be fine now, Keith - you’re on antibiotics, and so much other good stuff that you’ll be out of here in no time, alright? You’ve got pneumonia. They said it was kinda amazing that you were even standing, let alone still going to class, so I guess at least you can be proud of that,’

‘..Pneumonia..?

Lance nodded, smiling soft and sweet down at Keith’s weary face. ‘Yeah, babe. Apparently it’s a pretty bad one, and you literally nearly worked yourself to death,’ he seemed to deliberate something for a moment, making Keith’s breath catch with nerves in his throat. The little hitching sound drew Lance from his thoughts, and seemed to jog him into the decision to speak. ‘I think.. I think when you’re better, we need to have a conversation about your communication skills, okay? You could have killed yourself working away like that, and you didn’t even tell me when you got sick. You know it’s part of my job as your boyfriend to take care of you, right?’

‘’m sorry.. I-I didn’t want to- to worry you..’ Keith had started to cry, but as soon as Lance caught the tears he was wiping them away, frowning replaced by a glow like the sun, bring Keith back from an edge he hadn’t realised he was near.

‘Well, dummy, that kinda backfired, I guess,’ he laughed, low and kind, and Keith wanted to catch that sound and bottle it forever. ‘but we’ll talk more when you’re feeling better, okay? Just sleep now, babe - you’ve earned it. And I’ll be here when you wake up. I’m not leaving your side ever again, whether you’re sick or not - not until you force me,’