stomach hurts is the first thing misa thinks when he wakes up, itâs not serious, just sort of there. they have a game though, and misaâs not really thinking about his stomachache during warm ups, or the first period where mack almost wipes out in front of the net and zack drops his gloves, or during any of the periods actually. misa categorizes the discomfort after the game like he does the light throb of his ankle, and sore shoulders, just facets of playing hockey. heâs not even really thinking about it until sam parks in front of the toffoli house and misa has to brace to get out of the car.
sam is shooting him concerned looks, like heâs seconds away from saying should have talked to the trainers, mis, but he doesnât and theyâre letting it go. misa curls up in his bed as sam putters around his room, threatening to play his own round of rocket league on misaâs account before plopping down on the bed next to him and ordering doordash. itâs probably that point that sam gets clued into something being wrong, because misa doesnât want chipper, doesnât want sandwiches, doesnât greek, doesnât want anything because heâs too nauseous. sam has to hold himself back from being too patronizing, or maybe being too earnestly concerned about the way misa is pitifully curled into himself on the bed, hand protectively over his stomach.
itâs not like misa doesnât have an abundance of stomachaches, he probably has the weakest gut sam has ever seen. misa will think about something too hard and then exclaim his stomach hurts and he needs to lay down. sam has literally pulled off the highway for the guy so he could sit with his head between his legs for awhile. sam even sits next to the guy on the bus, and makes sure he doesnât try something as stupid as reading while theyâre moving. the nausea and the stomachaches are common enough, misa being curled up in the fetal position is not. heâs sick, and sam doesnât know exactly what to do to make it better.
he sets up a little trash can with a plastic bag already inside it next to the bed, just in case, and makes misa down two ibuprofen when he feels his forehead. then he lays very carefully next to misa, does his best not to shake the bed, and he doesnât touch his stomach because misa whines when he tries that, so sam slides in behind him instead. it should be weird. even if they cuddle sometimes, they donât spoon, theyâre not like that. but misa looks so pathetic lying there and sam canât just leave him be, so sticks his own knees into the backs of misaâs and lets himself brush through misaâs hair with his free hand. he doesnât do anything stupid like lean over and kiss the back of misaâs neck, even if itâs tempting. sam likes the plausible deniability that heâs only doing this because misaâs sick, and incapable of taking care of himself, and sam has a very big heart. itâs not gay if your bro is bedridden.
somewhere between dinner time and late late evening they fall asleep, or sam does because he wakes up to what sounds like misa groaning or crying. mis? he doesnât get any response but misaâs shoulders shake. when sam peers over him, misa has his face screwed tightly together, hand still over his belly, and yeah, heâs making little pitiful pained whines under his breath. sam wants to say itâs a night terror again but misaâs awake, and still in pain. hey, hey, youâre okay, sam tries. and he tries again when misa shakes his head, iâm here, i got you. itâs all nonsense because sam doesnât know what else to do but lay there next to him. valiantly, sam does kiss the back of misaâs neck, and up his hairline, and down to his cheeks, and even kisses one tightly shut eye. hurts, sammy, misa whines again.
itâs so wrong. iâm gonna be back, sam whispers into his hair, and slips out to almost no reaction. itâs bad. itâs so bad. sam is getting visions of misa back from juniors laying on the ice writhing in pain. he finds toff on the couch watching an old western with stella in his lap. all it takes is somethingâs wrong with misa, for toff to come clamoring up the stairs with him back up to misaâs room. sam watches with bated breath as toff leans over misaâs body on the bed, whatâs wrong, baby? because toff gets to call misa baby. sam answers for him, nauseous, stomachache, fever, shaking. toff takes it in and gets misa to peel his hand back from his stomach so he can feel it. all it takes is one loud pained gasp from misa for toff to say theyâre going to the er.
appendicitis. thatâs a thing, sam completely forgot that was a thing. toff says he doesnât have to come with when heâs bridal carrying misa down the stairs, and then says he doesnât have to stay when theyâre checking misa in, and the same thing when theyâre sitting in the waiting room. sam is staying, he really doubts thereâs even a version of him out there that doesnât. he sits there and replays misa from juniors, and misa on his bed an hour ago, and his imagined misa laying there under the knife. it takes an hour and a half, sam keeps track. it takes another three hours of sam staring at misa in his hospital bed, groggy and as good as asleep before he gets released. sam sits with him in the backseat while toff drives.
cat greets them at the door, two in the morning, with stella at her feet. toff gets all worried about sending misa up the stairs which seems maybe overkill but sam is just as content to get misa to lay down in the downstairs guest room. he makes misa turn onto his side so sam can line up behind him again, can put his own hand protectively over misaâs fresh scar, can kiss the side of his neck and tell him, weâre all good. sam pointedly does not think about what this might look like when cat will come check on misa in the morning.
