FicTator

Elex knew from the second he woke up that something was wrong.

His head throbbed in a slow, punishing rhythm, a heavy weight pressing behind his eyes like a vice tightening inch by inch. His limbs felt sluggish, his body leaden, overheated—but not in the comfortable, lazy way that came with sleeping too long. No, this was different. This was wrong.

Still, he forced himself upright, biting back a low groan as the dull ache in his throat flared into something sharp and raw. His skin prickled with fever, the air in their apartment thick and stifling, but there was no time for this. No room for it. Not now.

Not after everything S7en had just been through.

Elex scrubbed a hand down his face, exhaling slowly, forcing his expression into something neutral before glancing to the other side of the bed. S7en was still asleep, his teal and orange hair a mess against the pillow, his breathing shallow but steady. No more oxygen masks. No more hospital rooms. Just him, here, home, safe.

And there was no way in hell Elex was about to let him worry about this.

So he swallowed against the rawness in his throat, pushed past the fatigue clawing at his limbs, and carefully—carefully—slipped out of bed without a sound.

His body screamed at him the second his feet hit the floor. A fresh wave of dizziness crashed into him, nausea twisting in his gut, but he gritted his teeth and powered through. Mind over matter. He’d been through worse.

S7en stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

Good.

The last thing he needed was the cat noticing.

Because S7en, stubborn as he was, had barely recovered. His lungs were still weak, his body still too frail, and if he caught even a whiff of Elex being sick, there would be no stopping him. He’d hover, fuss, get in his own damn head about it, and the last thing Elex wanted was for him to stress over him when he should have been focusing on himself.

So Elex shoved it down. The ache in his chest, the burning tickle creeping into his sinuses, the sharp stutter of his breath—he ignored it. He was fine. He’d be fine.

He just had to make sure S7en never found out.

And if that meant hiding every cough behind a clenched jaw, stifling every sneeze into the fabric of his hoodie, and downing enough painkillers to pretend his fever wasn’t steadily climbing?

So be it.

The first real warning sign came when Elex went to make coffee.

He had barely poured water into the machine when a violent shiver ripped through him, sending ice-cold prickles down the length of his spine. The air in the kitchen suddenly felt too thin, the light from the window too sharp, slicing into his headache like a knife. He braced himself against the counter, swallowing hard as his stomach twisted, fever heat coiling tight in his chest.

No. No, no, no. Not now. Not today.

He sucked in a slow, measured breath, rolling his shoulders, willing himself back into control. He’d dealt with worse. This was nothing. Just a little exhaustion, a little lingering chill from sleeping without a blanket. He just needed coffee. Caffeine would fix this.

Except—

His nose twitched.

The tickle was sudden, sharp, rising out of nowhere like a spark catching dry grass, flaring hot and fast. His breath hitched—once, twice—his head snapping forward before he could fight it.

“H’UTSSCHHhiew!! Hh—h’UHDTschhiew! Hh’uhSSCHHIHHeewww!”

The force of them knocked him forward, rattling in his chest, leaving his vision swimming and his throat burning like he’d just swallowed glass. He barely had time to straighten before another overtook him, tearing from deep in his lungs—

“hdt’USSCHHIEWW!!!”

Shit.

The sound echoed through the apartment, too loud, too obvious. His stomach dropped as he held perfectly still, pulse thudding in his ears, waiting for movement from the bedroom.

Nothing.

No footsteps. No sleepy voice calling his name.

S7en was still asleep.

Elex exhaled slowly, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, feeling the fever radiating under his skin. He hated this. The congestion, the heat, the way his nose itched relentlessly, teasing him with another sneeze he refused to let out.

And worst of all? The knowledge that he was contaminated.

The very thought made his skin crawl. He could already feel it, the invisible filth clinging to his skin, coating his throat, tainting the air around him. He needed to shower. He needed to scrub his hands, burn his hoodie, fumigate the entire apartment—

But he couldn’t.

Because the second he acted too clean, too frantic about disinfecting everything in sight, S7en would know.

He was already walking a razor’s edge, trying to act normal while his body actively worked against him. If he so much as glanced at a bottle of disinfectant too long, S7en would sniff him out like the suspicious little feline bastard he was.

No. He had to play it cool. Hide this.

S7en had just barely clawed his way out of pneumonia, and his lungs were still weak. If Elex so much as breathed wrong around him, he could get sick again. And that? That wasn’t an option.

So Elex squared his shoulders, forcing the tension from his body, and grabbed a paper towel, swiping aggressively at his nose before moving to make breakfast.

He’d get through this.

He had to.

S7en had gotten used to waking up to Elex next to him. Even when they were both exhausted, even when life was kicking their asses, Elex was always there—half-awake, chewing on something plastic, grumbling about the sun being a “rude little bitch” before slumping into him for five extra minutes of warmth.

But today?

The bed was empty.

The sheets were cold.

S7en frowned, sitting up slowly, still groggy from sleep, his chest tightening with something uneasy.

Elex wasn’t in bed.

Elex was always in bed when S7en woke up.

He ran a hand through his hair, blinking away the haze in his vision before glancing toward the door. The apartment was quiet—too quiet. No sound of Elex shuffling through the fridge, no muttered cursing as he nearly tripped over their shoes by the door, no telltale sound of his knuckles tapping the counter absently like they always did in the mornings.

The silence felt... wrong.

Dragging himself up, S7en swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pushing to his feet with a slow exhale. His body was still weak—he hated it—but he was getting better. He was supposed to be better.

So why did it feel like something else was falling apart?

He found Elex in the kitchen, already dressed, already moving, wiping down the counter like he was trying to erase something only he could see.

S7en leaned against the doorway, watching for a moment before speaking.

"You left me alone," he muttered, voice still rough with sleep.

Elex stiffened.

It was quick, barely there, but S7en caught it.

The hesitation. The delay before answering.

"Yeah," Elex said, too casual, too quick. "Figured I’d let you sleep. You need rest, y’know, what with the dying and all."

S7en rolled his eyes, but the joke didn’t land the way it should have.

Because Elex still wasn’t looking at him.

And for the first time in a long time, S7en felt alone.

But he swallowed it back as much as he could, shuffling into the kitchen with his usual groggy irritation, hoodie sleeves hanging past his fingers, glasses sliding down his nose. His orange eyes were still hazy with sleep, his tail dragging lazily behind him as he blinked toward Elex with a tired squint. He was barefoot, which Elex immediately clocked as a problem.

The floor wasn’t clean enough.

Not for bare skin. Not for someone who had just gotten out of the hospital, lungs still too weak, body still too fragile.

Elex’s hands twitched toward the disinfectant spray, but he forced himself to grip his coffee mug instead, knuckles white.

Just act normal.

"Why the hell are you up first?" S7en muttered, voice rough with leftover congestion.

Elex smirked, masking the way his stomach clenched at the reminder of just how recently S7en had been this sick. "Had to make sure my dumbass boyfriend didn’t wake up and start licking the walls again."

S7en squinted at him.

"That happened once."

Elex huffed a laugh, lifting his coffee to his lips—

And that was his mistake.

The heat hit his throat, scalding against the rawness he’d been trying to ignore, and the tickle in his throat that had been lurking for hours suddenly flared up hard and fast.

His breath hitched.

His lungs clenched.

No, no, no—

Elex barely had time to turn his head, fist clenched against his mouth, before the cough tore out of him, rough and deep and impossible to hide.

The sound of it made his own skin crawl.

And worse?

S7en froze.

For a long, horrible second, the kitchen was silent.

Then—

"What the fuck was that?"

Elex gritted his teeth, forcing his face neutral, the heat of his fever making the air feel thick, suffocating.

"Swallowed wrong."

S7en’s ears flicked.

He was watching him now.

Fully aware, pupils narrowing in that calculating way Elex hated.

"You sure?"

Elex shrugged, already turning toward the sink to pretend to rinse his mug.

"Yep."

S7en didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Elex could feel the weight of his stare, feel the way his lungs wanted to wheeze, feel the next cough curling in his chest like a live wire.

Don’t let him see. Don’t let him hear.

He held his breath.

Held still.

And after an excruciating moment—

S7en grunted, finally moving toward the coffee pot.

Elex exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the way his hands had started shaking.

But the second S7en stepped closer, the air shifted.

It was subtle, just the smallest tilt of his nose, the faintest flick of his ears—barely noticeable to anyone else. But Elex knew. He knew.

S7en smelled it.

He always did.

Elex felt a fresh pulse of panic claw up his spine. If that damn cat caught so much as a whiff of this—

"Something smells weird."

Elex tensed.

"Like—" S7en sniffed the air again, his nose scrunching. "Not bad, just…off."

Fuck.

"Yeah?" Elex muttered, keeping his voice lazy, unconcerned. "Probably just your own breath. You were mouth-breathing like an asshat all night."

S7en scowled, flicking his tail at him in irritation, and Elex almost relaxed.

Then—

S7en tilted his head, squinting harder. His pupils dilated slightly. His ears twitched forward.

The exact fucking look he got whenever he was about to figure something out.

Elex’s entire body went on high alert.

Because if S7en knew? If he caught on?

Elex would be done.

So he did the only thing he could do—he faked a yawn, stretched dramatically, and turned away.

"Ugh, I need to piss," he announced, already heading toward the bathroom.

S7en made a vague noise of acknowledgment, clearly not fully awake yet, but Elex didn’t give him time to press further.

He was gone before S7en could dig his claws into the situation.

Elex shut the bathroom door behind him, locked it, and immediately braced his hands against the sink, breathing hard.

He had seconds before another sneeze hit.

His nose burned, his sinuses prickling unbearably, every breath quivering with the inevitable. He scrambled for a handful of tissues just as his chest hiked—

"Hh'UMFShhhiew!—h'Ushh'iew!—hh’ieXSHHHh!!"

The force of them wrecked him, leaving him gasping against the counter, fever heat pulsing under his skin. He grabbed the faucet, cranking the water to the highest heat, and scrubbed his hands raw, fingers digging into his palms like he could scrape away the sickness itself.

Not clean. Not clean. Not clean.

He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling slow, steady.

No more. No more sneezing. No more anything.

He was fine. He had to be fine.

He couldn’t let S7en know.

Not now.

Not ever.

Elex leaned heavily against the counter, his breath coming in uneven gasps as he forced himself upright. The heat of the water scalded his hands, the sting grounding him, but it wasn’t enough. The sickness was still there, clawing at his throat, pressing against his skull, burning beneath his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the dizziness to pass, willing his body to just cooperate.

Minutes passed. Maybe more. He wasn’t sure.

Eventually, the tremors in his hands eased enough for him to shut off the faucet, but the unease lingered—coiled tight in his chest like a cable ready to snap. He needed to move, to shake the feeling of filth clinging to him, but when he pushed off the sink, his vision tilted. The world blurred at the edges, his knees threatening to give.

He caught himself just in time, fingers gripping the doorframe, heart hammering.

Breathe. Breathe.

By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, his body felt detached—like he was wearing it rather than existing inside it. He forced himself forward, each step calculated, careful, controlled. If he could just keep this up—if he could just last the day—he could make it through this without S7en catching on.

But as the hours crawled by, the fever pressed in harder, suffocating.

And S7en?

S7en was starting to notice.

S7en was used to Elex being a little twitchy. It was just how he was.

Always moving, always chewing on something, always restless in a way that made it hard to tell if he was anxious or just alive.

But this?

This was different.

They were sitting on the couch—or, at least, S7en was. Elex was perched on the other end, practically curling into the armrest, the furthest he could physically get without sitting on the floor.

It was weird.

Elex was always touching him. Always pressing up against him in some way—a foot shoved against his thigh, a hand absently tugging at his hoodie strings, a knee bumping into his as they sat too close for no reason.

But right now?

S7en may as well have been on a different planet.

He frowned, stretching his arms over his head before slumping further into the cushions.

"Y’know, it’s real fuckin’ weird when you’re not all over me," he muttered.

Elex huffed, a short, forced noise. "Wow. Clingy much?"

S7en kicked at his foot.

"You like it."

Elex snorted, but he didn’t move closer.

Didn’t shove at S7en like he usually would. Didn’t sink into him lazily, the way he always did after a long day.

Something about it made S7en’s stomach twist.

He let it go.

But the feeling stayed.

Elex had made it through the morning.

Barely.

Now, the afternoon loomed ahead, and his body was falling apart faster than he could keep up.

His limbs felt weak, heavy like they didn’t belong to him anymore. His fever had climbed, turning his skin too hot, then too cold, then hot again, like his body couldn’t decide what the hell it was supposed to be feeling.

But worse than the heat, worse than the exhaustion, worse than the pounding ache in his skull—

Was the fact that S7en wasn’t an idiot.

Elex had been dodging him all day.

Avoiding sitting too close. Keeping his back turned while cooking lunch. Drowning himself in cups of coffee and forcing a smirk any time S7en’s gaze lingered too long.

But the cat was watching him.

He could feel it.

The slow tilt of his head. The way his orange eyes narrowed, pupils slitting ever so slightly, tail flicking in that way it did when he was figuring something out.

It made Elex’s skin crawl.

And then—

The itch flared again.

A sudden, unbearable tickle climbing sharp and fast through his sinuses, making his breath hitch, eyes fluttering against his will.

Fuck. Not again.

He twisted away, forcing the urge down, down, down, clenching his teeth and balling up his hoodie’s fabric in his hands.

Don’t.

Don’t.

His shoulders tensed hard, muscles locking up so tight it made his head pound worse—

And somehow, somehow, the sneeze receded.

Barely.

His chest was still tight, his breath still uneven, but at least he hadn’t—

"You good?"

Elex’s entire body locked up.

S7en’s voice was casual, almost bored, but there was something off about it. Something too sharp, like he was waiting for the answer to confirm a suspicion.

Elex forced himself to exhale slowly through his nose.

"I'm fine," he said, voice rough, but steady enough.

S7en hummed.

"Sure."

He didn’t believe him.

Elex knew it.

Knew it the way S7en’s ears twitched forward. The way his tail lashed lazily against the arm of the couch. The way he tapped his mechanical pencil rhythmically against his sketchbook, eyes never leaving Elex’s face.

But he didn’t press.

Not yet.

Which meant Elex still had time.

He just had to hold it together a little longer.

Just—

A shiver rattled down his spine, making his breath stutter, and he barely bit back a curse.

S7en’s eyes narrowed.

Fuck.

Keep moving.

Elex turned toward the sink, gripping the edge with white-knuckled force, blinking hard against the dizziness creeping into his vision.

His palms were sweating.

His skin felt disgusting.

He needed to wash his hands again.

But if he did, if he reached for the soap one more time, S7en would—

“You’re acting weird.”

Elex stiffened.

Breathed in slow.

Out.

And forced a lazy smirk as he turned around.

"Am I?"

S7en’s gaze flicked over him, studying.

Too long. Too observant. Too much.

His pupils dilated, nose twitching—like he was smelling something.

Elex’s stomach dropped.

"I dunno," S7en mused, stretching his arms above his head, tail curling lazily. "You’re being... extra twitchy today."

"Maybe you’re just being extra nosy today," Elex shot back, gripping the counter behind him to ground himself.

S7en grinned, but his eyes stayed sharp.

“Maybe.”

Elex’s heartbeat pounded in his skull.

He had to get away.

Elex needed space.

S7en’s eyes were on him—too sharp, too focused, too knowing. He could feel it, the weight of that gaze pressing into his skin, reading into every twitch, every forced breath. It made his stomach turn, made his hands clench uselessly at his sides, made the sick heat crawling under his skin even worse.

He needed to get away.

Elex pushed off the counter, muscles stiff, nausea curling at the edges of his senses, but he forced himself to keep moving. His pulse hammered against his skull, drowning out the soft sounds of the apartment, making it hard to think past the heat pressing against his temples.

The fever was getting worse.

His own body was turning against him, pulling at the edges of his control, but he had to keep going. Had to stay ahead of it.

If he slowed down, even for a second—if he let himself feel the exhaustion sinking into his limbs—S7en would see it.

And if S7en saw it, it was over.

Elex swallowed hard, his throat raw and aching, and forced himself forward.

By the time he made it back to the kitchen, his hands were already reaching for the disinfectant wipes, fingers trembling as they closed around the familiar plastic container. The motion was automatic now—habitual, necessary.

Clean. Fix it. Clean.

But it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

His skin still crawled, his breath still felt wrong, his chest still ached with something he couldn’t scrub away.

And behind it all, the fever burned.

Rising. Tightening.

His head pulsed, sinuses clogging up, making every inhale a slow, labored pull through congestion that was only getting worse. He wiped his phone screen again, third time now, but the anxiety didn’t ease.

Nothing eased.

Because no matter how much he tried to erase the contamination, no matter how many surfaces he disinfected—

The sickness was still inside him.

And S7en?

S7en wasn’t letting this go.

Elex could feel it—the weight of his gaze, the way his energy had shifted from lazy amusement to something sharper, quieter, watchful. He didn’t need to turn around to know S7en was still tracking his every move, pupils just slightly too wide, ears just slightly too alert.

It was only a matter of time before he put it together.

Elex had to stay ahead of him.

So he moved. Kept moving. Forced himself into motion, into habit, into the kind of constant distraction that would keep him from thinking too hard about the fever pressing hot and heavy under his skin.

He had work to do.

He wiped down the counters. Again.

Ran a disinfectant wipe over the fridge handle. Again.

Checked his phone screen—again—and swiped a microfiber cloth over it until the glass shined.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Because no matter how many times he scrubbed his hands, no matter how many surfaces he wiped down, no matter how much he cleaned and cleaned and cleaned—

The sickness was still there.

Thick congestion was already pressing hot and tight behind his eyes, his sinuses burning like someone had shoved a matchstick up his nose and let it smolder, each breath dragging through his throat like smoke, raw and unrelenting.

His hands were clammy, his breath coming in shallow pulls, but he kept moving.

He had disinfected the kitchen. Three times.

Cleaned his phone screen four times just in case.

Scrubbed his hands so many times the skin was turning red, peeling around his knuckles.

And yet, he still felt dirty.

Still felt contaminated.

He had made it this far, hidden it this long, but his body wasn’t listening to him anymore.

The warning signs had been too easy to ignore at first.

The slight chill at the back of his neck.
The dull ache in his limbs.
The tight, nagging itch in his nose that wouldn’t go away—

But now?

Now the weight pressing on his chest felt unbearable, his head ached so badly he could barely see straight, and his nose—

Fuck.

It twitched suddenly, sharply, the burning sensation flaring up out of nowhere, and his breath hitched hard.

No.

Not now. Not here. Not—

The first sneeze tore through him before he could stop it.

“H’USSHHhiew!—Hh’ehHTSCHHHh’iew!—h’UhtTSCHhhiew!!”

It wasn’t controlled.
It wasn’t covered.

It was violent, raw, messy—

And out in the fucking open.

Elex barely had time to process the horror before the next hit, dragging him forward, shoulders snapping down as his entire body shook with the force of it.

“Hehh’EhDTSHhiew!—hh'ieXSHHH!—hdt’USSCHHIEWW!!!”

The sound ripped through the apartment, wet and unrestrained, and the second the fit was over, the panic set in.

Elex froze.

His pulse pounded in his ears, cold dread settling deep in his stomach as his fingers twitched—

His body locked up, hands hovering in front of him like they weren’t his own. He could see the germs—feel them clinging to his skin, crawling up his arms, coating every surface.

His heart pounded against his ribs, his breathing coming fast and wrong as his hands shook violently, fingers twitching as he lunged for the sanitizer.

The bottle nearly slipped from his grasp, but he caught it, shaking it so hard the liquid inside sloshed. His brain was fuzzy, fever-haze clouding his thoughts, but he had to get rid of it. Had to clean. Had to—

He pumped the sanitizer into his palm and scrubbed.

Once. Twice. Again. Again. Again.

It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough.

His breath came faster, too fast, his lungs tightening as he fought against the feeling, against the sickening reality that he couldn’t take back what had just happened.

And Elex gritted his teeth, his pulse hammering in his ears as he braced himself against the sink. His whole body trembled, every inch of him screaming for relief he refused to give it. The fever was pressing in hard now, wrapping around his skull like a vice, but he kept moving.

Scrubbing.

Disinfecting.

Fixing what he had done.

Not clean. Not clean. Not clean.

The whisper crawled up his spine, slithered under his skin. He could feel it—feel the contamination clinging to him like oil, seeping into the air, coating everything he had touched. He wiped down the sink. The door handle. The light switch. The air—

A violent shudder ripped through him, and he choked back a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut.

Breathe. Breathe.

He couldn’t.

His breath stuttered, caught on the thick, unrelenting burn in his lungs, but he forced himself to keep moving. He was fine. He’d be fine. He had to be fine.

Then—

A voice.

"Elex?"

His blood ran cold.

He froze, heart seizing up in his chest.

Footsteps. Slow. Careful.

Too close.

His fingers clenched into the counter, nails biting into the surface as he struggled to keep himself together.

"S’fine," he rasped, voice barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat, forcing something steadier. Stronger. "What? Need me to open a jar or somethin’?"

Silence.

Then, a quiet sigh.

"Cut the shit."

Elex’s jaw locked.

Shit. Shit.

His reflection in the mirror looked like hell. Damp hair clinging to his forehead, his face flushed with fever, red-rimmed eyes filled with exhaustion and something sharp—something desperate.

He turned the sink back on, pretended to be focused on washing his hands.

"I'm literally just—"

"You're sick."

Elex’s stomach dropped. A different kind of heat flushed through him this time—shame, dread, panic.

He forced a short, sharp laugh. "Wow, thanks for the update, doc."

A pause. A shift in the air.

Then—soft.

"You’re sick," S7en repeated, quieter this time. "And you’re hiding it from me."

His voice wasn’t amused anymore.

It wasn’t sharp with teasing or smug with victory.

It was hurt.

The sound of it made something deep in Elex’s chest twist painfully.

"You were gonna keep hiding it, weren’t you?" S7en asked. It wasn’t really a question. "Even after—" A breath. "After everything."

Fuck.

Elex squeezed his eyes shut. His throat burned. His hands curled into fists, nails biting into his palm.

"You think I don’t know what you’re doing?" S7en’s voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of frustration beneath it. "I know you, Elex. I know how you get when you’re freaking out."

"I'm not—"

"You are."

S7en stepped forward. Close enough that Elex could feel the warmth of him at his back. "You're scrubbing the air, El."

Elex flinched.

He hadn’t even realized.

His fingers were still clenched around a disinfectant wipe, moving in circles over the countertop.

Over. And over. And over.

He felt sick. Sicker. Not just from the fever. Not just from the way his whole body ached—

But because S7en was right.

Because he was contaminated. Because he had ruined everything. Because if S7en got sick again—if his lungs gave out again—if he was the reason—

His breath hitched sharply.

Not again. Not again. Not again.

He had to fix this.

He reached for another wipe, but before he could grab it, S7en caught his wrist.

Firm. Unyielding.

Elex jerked, but S7en didn’t let go.

"Stop."

His voice was gentle. Not commanding, not forceful—just there.

Elex swallowed, his hands still twitching, fingers clenching uselessly against the air.

"It's okay," S7en said softly.

Elex shook his head. His breath stuttered, uneven, wrong. "It’s not okay," he rasped. "I—I sneezed—I fucking—contaminated everything."

His voice broke.

S7en’s grip tightened.

"You didn’t contaminate anything," S7en said. "You got sick. That’s all."

Elex shook his head again, panic tightening like a noose in his chest. He tried to pull away, but S7en wouldn’t let him.

"Elex." His voice was steady. "You're okay. You're just sick."

Elex felt his legs tremble beneath him. He hated this. Hated the way his body felt—weak, out of control, vulnerable. Hated the way S7en was looking at him.

He wanted to run. To hide. To scrub his skin raw until he felt clean again.

But S7en didn’t let him.

"You're okay," he repeated, softer this time.

Elex clenched his jaw, his whole body trembling.

His breath came too fast, too uneven, each inhale catching in his throat, clogged and raw. His fingers still twitched where S7en held them, like his body couldn’t decide whether to pull away or clench tighter, hold on.

He felt filthy. Exposed. Wrong.

His skin burned under his hoodie, his fever too high, but none of it compared to the way his stomach twisted, the guilt gnawing at his ribs.

He wasn’t supposed to let this happen.

S7en had just gotten better. He had just started breathing normally again. Elex had watched him nearly cough his fucking lungs out, had sat there through every long, awful night where every breath had been a goddamn fight. He had been so sick. So weak.

And now?

Now, Elex had ruined everything.

Now, he was the threat.

He shook his head again, harder this time, but S7en still wouldn’t let go.

"You don’t get it," Elex croaked, voice wrecked. "I—I can’t—" He squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders shaking, panic twisting tighter in his chest. "I can’t—I can’t be the reason you get sick again."

S7en’s grip tightened.

His voice came soft, steady. Unshakable.

"Elex—"

"You almost fucking died, S7en," Elex snapped, voice cracking straight down the middle. His throat burned, his whole body shaking like it was coming apart, but he didn’t care. "You were in the hospital, you—you couldn’t fucking breathe, and now—now I’m just supposed to sit here and act like it’s fine if I make that happen again?!"

S7en stilled.

Elex could feel it. The way his breath caught, the way his hands tensed for just a fraction of a second, the way his pulse jumped beneath Elex’s trembling fingers.

Guilt crashed into S7en’s expression like a storm.

But before Elex could sink too deep into it, before he could pull away, S7en moved.

He shifted closer, stepping into his space like he was trying to anchor him, like he was afraid Elex was about to tear himself apart right in front of him.

"You didn’t do anything to me," he said, voice rough, thick with something Elex couldn’t name. "You didn’t contaminate anything. You didn’t ruin anything. You just got sick. That’s all."

Elex let out a harsh, shaking breath, his hands still twitching like they needed to be doing something, like he still had to fix this.

"I should have been more careful," he muttered, eyes dropping to the floor. "I—I should’ve—I should’ve stayed away from you, I should’ve—"

"Stayed away?"

S7en’s voice went sharp.

Elex flinched.

And fuck, he was too exhausted to hide it.

S7en exhaled hard, raking a hand through his hair, tail flicking behind him in agitated, frantic movements.

"Elex," he said, gritted out like it physically hurt to say, "you can’t—you can’t just keep me in a fucking bubble every time you get sick."

Elex’s jaw clenched, but before he could argue, S7en kept going.

"Do you even hear yourself?" S7en demanded, his voice raw, frustrated, but not at him. Never at him. "You—you’re not some fucking diseased animal, Elex! You’re a person! You get sick, I get sick, it happens! I can’t just—I can’t just live my whole life in fear of that, and you can’t either!"

Elex’s breath hitched.

Because he wasn’t just scared.

He was terrified.

Because what if?

What if this was the one time it went wrong again? What if S7en got sick and couldn’t bounce back this time? What if it was Elex’s fault?

"I—I can’t—" Elex’s voice cracked. His hands balled into fists, but S7en caught them.

S7en held him.

Didn’t let him pull away.

Didn’t let him run.

Instead, he squeezed, firm but gentle, grounding him.

"You were there for me," S7en said, softer this time, steadier. "I needed you, and you were there. You didn’t leave me when I was falling apart. So don’t ask me to leave you now."

Elex felt his chest tighten.

His eyes burned.

He wanted to fight it. Needed to fight it. But he was too tired. Too drained.

And S7en was too close, too warm, too real.

So instead of fighting—he let go.

A slow, shaky exhale.

His shoulders slumped, tension bleeding from his muscles like air from a punctured tire.

S7en didn’t move.

Didn’t push.

Just held on.

S7en could feel the second Elex gave in.

The fight bled out of his body all at once, his shoulders slumping, hands no longer twitching with the urge to clean, to fix, to escape.

But he was still shaking.

Still burning up.

Still fucking wrecked.

And S7en—who never knew what to do with his hands, who never hovered, who never worried the way Elex did—suddenly didn’t care if it made him clingy or annoying or anything else.

He wasn’t letting go.

Not now.

Not after Elex had spent days breaking himself apart trying to keep this from him.

So S7en did what Elex had done for him not so long ago.

He held on.

Gently, carefully, he guided Elex toward the bed. Not rushed. Not forcing. Just moving, just keeping him close, keeping him steady when his knees nearly buckled.

And Elex—Elex let him.

He didn’t protest.

Didn’t crack some awful joke just to deflect.

He just followed, leaning against S7en’s side, his whole body too hot, the fever finally winning.

S7en eased him down, pulling the blankets up, keeping his touch gentle, steady, careful—the way Elex had done for him a few days ago, when he had been the one fighting for breath, fighting against his own fragile fucking body.

And when Elex exhaled, slow, wrecked, exhausted, something in S7en’s chest ached.

Because he recognized that sound.

It was the same sound he had made when Elex had been taking care of him, when he had finally stopped trying to act like he wasn’t drowning in it.

"You okay?" S7en asked, voice softer than usual.

Elex huffed—a weak attempt at amusement.

"Would be bore okay if by dose wasd’t fugki’g closigg up od be," he muttered, sniffling thickly, his voice a wrecked mess of congestion and fever.

S7en snorted. "Yeah. No shit."

Elex groaned, dragging his hands over his face. "Fugk, by head..."

S7en didn’t even hesitate.

He shifted, fingers moving to Elex’s temple, rubbing slow, soothing circles, the way Elex had done for him when his fever had been the one stealing the air from his lungs.

Elex froze.

And S7en knew—knew he wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to letting someone else do the caring, the fixing, the hovering.

But he didn’t pull away.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t try to brush it off.

Instead, he let out a slow, shaky exhale and sank further into the pillow.

S7en didn’t stop.

Didn’t tease him about it.

Didn’t say anything at all.

He just kept going.

Because he knew—knew what it felt like to finally let someone else take over, to let the weight of it lift, even just a little.

And if Elex could have that, even for just one goddamn night?

S7en would make sure he did.

No matter what.

Elex had gone quiet.

Not in the way he usually did—when his mind got too loud, when he was pulling back into himself, into the places S7en wasn’t allowed to reach.

No, this was different.

This was exhaustion, fever-heavy and all-consuming.

S7en could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, his body shaking despite the thick blankets S7en had pulled over him. His breath hitched with congestion, thick and shallow, and every few seconds, his nose twitched like he was fighting off a sneeze.

Elex never let himself lose control.

But now?

Now he was losing.

S7en frowned, shifting to grab more tissues before pressing them gently into Elex’s hand.

Elex made a weak noise of protest, half-asleep, barely there, but S7en wasn’t having it.

"Blow your goddamn nose," he muttered, voice softer than the words. "You sound like you’re drowning in it."

Elex groaned, cracking one tired, red-rimmed eye open.

"Bossy," he rasped, but took the tissues anyway.

S7en watched as he struggled to sit up, his movements sluggish, hands barely steady.

Before he could make it worse, S7en reached out, bracing him with one arm, guiding him up easily, gently, carefully.

Elex let him.

Didn’t even fight it.

That scared S7en more than anything else.

Elex wasn’t a fighter in the traditional sense, but when it came to himself—his health, his own well-being—he was a goddamn battleground.

And now?

Now he wasn’t even arguing.

S7en swallowed the tightness in his chest and let Elex slump into his side as he blew his nose, harsh and miserable, before immediately dropping back against the pillows like the effort had wiped him out.

"That bad?" S7en asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Elex just groaned.

"Everythigg hurts," he muttered, hoarse and wrecked. "I thidk by skid is bad at be."

S7en snorted. "What, like, personally?"

Elex huffed, half a laugh, half a cough.

"Yeah," he grumbled. "Betrayal. Treacherous little bitch."

S7en rolled his eyes but kept his hand on Elex’s back, rubbing slow, grounding circles like Elex had done for him when he was the one breaking apart.

Elex exhaled, deep and slow.

Then, quieter—

"You should stay away from me."

S7en stiffened.

For a second, he thought maybe he’d imagined it.

But no.

Elex’s voice was softer now, raw and strained, but dead serious.

"I’m serious," he murmured, not looking at him. "You just got better. I can’t—I can’t be the reason you relapse."

S7en exhaled hard, dragging a hand down his face.

"We’re really doing this again?" he muttered.

Elex didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

S7en could feel it, the way his body had tensed, the way his fingers had curled into the blanket, like if he just held on tight enough, he could stop this from happening.

S7en shifted, leaning in closer, pressing their foreheads together, letting Elex feel the solid weight of him, the warmth that was still there, still strong, still okay.

"Listen to me," he said, steady and sure. "You didn’t get me sick. And if I do get sick? It’s not your fucking fault."

Elex swallowed, eyes fluttering shut.

"It would be."

"No," S7en said, firm. "It wouldn’t."

Elex huffed, a tired, miserable noise.

S7en rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, what are you gonna do, Lex? Lock yourself away for the rest of your life? Walk around in a hazmat suit just in case?"

Elex made a weak, stubborn noise, burrowing further into the blankets.

S7en shook his head. "You don’t get to keep doing this. You don’t get to tear yourself apart over shit you can’t control."

Finally, finally, Elex cracked his eyes open.

"Yeah?" he muttered. "Like you didn’t do the same thing?"

S7en froze.

Because fuck.

He was right.

Elex had held him up when he was at his worst, had been right there through all of it. Had never let him fall alone.

And now?

Now S7en was supposed to just walk away?

Like hell.

S7en scoffed, shoving Elex’s hoodie-covered shoulder.

"That’s different," he muttered.

"How?"

S7en sighed, running a hand through his hair, thinking for a second before saying, "Because I don’t give a shit about me. But I do give a shit about you."

Elex went still.

Completely.

Like his brain had just blue-screened.

And before he could overthink it, before he could ruin it—

S7en reached for the thermometer, shoving it into Elex’s hands.

"Now shut up and put this under your tongue," he muttered, ears flicking back. "Before I shove it somewhere else."

Elex snorted.

Another weak laugh.

Another win.

And as he finally, finally relaxed against S7en, letting the weight of the fever take him under, S7en just sat there.

Holding him up.

The way he always would.

Elex had given in.

Not all the way, not completely—but enough.

Enough that he let himself sink into S7en’s warmth, let the weight of exhaustion pull him under, let his body finally stop fighting.

And S7en?

S7en wasn’t going anywhere.

Not after all the bullshit avoidance, not after watching Elex tear himself apart, not after hearing him whisper that he couldn’t be the reason S7en got sick again.

Like he hadn’t just spent the last week watching over him.

Like he wasn’t allowed the same thing.

Like S7en getting sick again was some earth-shattering, world-ending event instead of just...life.

S7en swallowed hard, shaking off the lingering weight of that thought, and pressed the back of his hand against Elex’s forehead again.

Still too hot.

Still burning up.

S7en’s ears flicked with frustration.

He didn’t know how to do this.

Didn’t know how to be gentle, how to be soft in a way that actually mattered. He only knew how to watch and wait and be there when shit hit the fan.

But Elex deserved more than that.

So S7en did what he could.

He tucked the blankets tighter around Elex’s shoulders, making sure he was warm enough but not too hot.

He grabbed the cool rag from the nightstand, folding it before pressing it lightly against his forehead.

Elex made a soft noise, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, his eyelashes fluttering but not opening.

S7en’s chest tightened.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, trying to keep his voice steady, casual. "I know. I’m a fucking saint."

Elex didn’t answer.

Just let out a slow, exhausted exhale, his body melting further into the blankets.

S7en watched him for a moment, fingers absently brushing the cooling strands of his hair back, his mind drifting.

He still remembered the way Elex had sat at his bedside just days ago, quietly rubbing circles into his back when he was struggling to breathe, wiping him down when his fever had spiked too high, watching him with the kind of focus that felt too much, too intense, too raw.

Now S7en was the one watching him.

Noticing every shallow breath.

Every twitch of discomfort.

Every exhausted tremor in his fingers.

It wasn’t fair.

Not that Elex was sick—that happened.

But that he had felt like he had to go through it alone.

Like he had to hide it.

Like he had to carry it on his own shoulders just to protect S7en from something he had no control over.

And S7en hated that.

Hated that Elex had been suffering in silence, scrubbing his hands raw, avoiding him, trapping himself in his own head just to keep from being a burden.

Like S7en wouldn’t drop everything for him in a heartbeat.

Like S7en didn’t already know what it felt like to be in this exact position.

His fingers curled tighter around the edge of the blanket, jaw clenching, tail flicking in agitated movements before he forced himself to breathe.

Not the time.

Elex had stopped shivering.

That was progress.

S7en exhaled slow, shifting so he could tuck the blanket higher over Elex’s shoulders.

That’s when he felt it—

The smallest, barest hint of movement.

Elex’s fingers, still curled into the fabric of S7en’s hoodie, tugged.

It wasn’t intentional—not really.

More of a half-conscious reaction, a barely-there plea for something S7en wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been paying attention.

But he was.

So he didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t question it.

Just shifted closer, letting his weight settle against the mattress, letting Elex press against his side, forehead brushing S7en’s shoulder, his whole body giving in.

S7en just held him.

Didn’t make a big deal of it.

Didn’t say anything at all.

Just breathed.

Because Elex was finally letting himself be taken care of.

And S7en wasn’t about to ruin it.

Moving slow, careful, he reached into his pocket for his keys, fingers trembling just slightly as they closed around the cool metal—

“Oi! Stop.”

S7en barely had time to react before the sound of heavy boots on pavement announced Elex—barreling toward him from the car, arms overloaded with bags, jackets, and whatever-the-hell else he had grabbed from the hospital room. His voice was sharp, authoritative, the kind of no-questions-asked command he only used when he was pissed—or worried.

S7en froze, rolling his vivid orange eyes as his tail gave a singular, weak flick of irritation.

"You know opening the door won’t kill me, right?"

Or, at least, that’s what he tried to say.

What actually came out was an embarrassingly hoarse, pitiful squeak.

His throat was wrecked, voice completely shot, every syllable barely audible through the raw, swollen wreckage that the infection had left behind.

Elex, already shoving his own keys into the door, stopped cold.

Slowly, he turned his head, brows furrowing, mismatched eyes locking onto S7en like a sniper sighting a target.

“…Excuse me?”

S7en, annoyed but too drained to argue, simply coughed weakly into his sleeve, not bothering to answer.

Elex, silent, finished unlocking the door in one sharp motion before pushing it open.

"Inside. Now."

S7en, beyond done, dragged himself forward, stepping over the threshold into the dim familiarity of their apartment. The smell of home hit him immediately—paint, lingering traces of incense, the faint, ever-present scent of Elex’s cologne. Warmth. Comfort. The opposite of the cold, sterile walls he had been trapped in for the past two days.

For a moment, he simply stood there, letting the exhaustion pull at his body, letting himself sink into the sensation of being home.

Then—

A sudden, heavy thud as Elex dropped their bags unceremoniously onto the floor behind him.

S7en turned just in time to see the badger shrugging off his jacket, expression tense, posture stiff—all telltale signs that he was about five seconds away from losing his shit.

Here we go.

S7en’s orange eyes scanned the apartment, taking in the aftermath of the party, and something tight and miserable twisted deep in his chest, his ears pinning back against his skull.

Oh.

It looked like a massacre.

The walls were still adorned with limp streamers, hanging in sad, sagging loops, their once vibrant colors now dulled and lifeless. Half-deflated balloons clung desperately to the floor, some rolling listlessly with the draft from the open door. The hand-painted decorations he had spent hours—days—perfecting were scattered across every available surface, abandoned and forgotten.

And then there was everything else.

Plastic cups, crumpled napkins, empty beer cans—a graveyard of discarded celebration. The coffee table was littered with half-eaten food, and somewhere near the couch, a party hat sat crushed under someone’s boot print, like a cruel, careless afterthought.

S7en felt his throat tighten.

His chest ached—not just from the pneumonia, not just from the exhaustion pressing down on him like dead weight, but from something deeper. Something raw.

He had worked himself into the ground for this party.

Had spent weeks planning it.

Had given everything he had left—his time, his energy, his health—to make it perfect.

And now—
Now it was over.
Now it was ruined.

He swallowed hard, but the moisture was already beginning to build in his fever-glazed, glassy eyes, threatening to spill over before he could stop it.

God. He was so fucking tired.
And his body—his emotions—had nothing left to give.

Behind him, Elex noticed immediately.

“Hey,” the badger murmured, his usual rough-edged voice softened at the corners. “Don’t—don’t worry about this, alright?”

S7en didn’t respond, still staring at the mess, his ears slowly sinking with quiet devastation.

Elex ran a hand through his messy green hair, exhaling before rolling up his sleeves.

“I’ll clean it up. By tomorrow, it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

He said it with the same casual confidence he used when getting out of trouble—like he could will the situation into something manageable just by deciding it would be.

But when he turned back toward S7en—
His breath hitched.

Something was off.

S7en’s distant, unfocused stare wasn’t just exhaustion.
His slight squint wasn’t just from the moisture in his eyes.

Elex knew that look.

Knew it very well.

A slow smirk tugged at the badger’s lips.

“Bless you in advance,” he said.

Immediately, a light pink dusted over S7en’s already fever-flushed face, his shoulders tensing slightly.

His nose twitched again, the slow, creeping itch beginning to build—tantalizingly, maddeningly—deep within his sinuses.

God, not now.

He tried to glare at Elex, something half-hearted and unimpressed, but the mounting sneeze cut him off completely.

“Hh—! Hh'AHHTschh! Hh—! HHAHH—! HAHDT’tchhiew!! Hh—! AHHDT’tchhiiuhh! ”

The force of them jerked his frame forward, and before he could so much as breathe, the sneezes morphed into a brutal, chest-deep coughing fit.

The raw, scraping sound tore through him, his entire body curling inward as his lungs fought viciously against him.

Elex’s smirk vanished immediately.

He was there in a second, one hand bracing S7en’s back, the other gripping his arm to keep him steady.

"Jesus, fuck, S7en—breathe, kid—"

S7en barely heard him, too caught in the wreckage of his own body, his ears pressing flat against his skull.

Elex tightened his grip, grounding him.

When the fit finally, finally eased, S7en slumped forward, his breath still rattling in his chest, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to recover.

Elex exhaled through his nose, shaking his head, but his hand remained firm and steady against S7en’s back.

"...You good?"

S7en cracked open one watery, miserable orange eye, shooting him a weak, glare-adjacent look.

Elex huffed a laugh—quiet, fond, just a little exasperated.

Then, softer—genuinely meaning it this time:

“Bless you.”

S7en wanted to crawl out of his own skin.

The moment Elex muttered, "Bless you," the badger’s warm, steady hand still braced between his shoulder blades, something deep in S7en’s chest twisted in frustration.

He hated this.

Hated the way his body betrayed him every few minutes, tearing through his last scraps of dignity with these brutal, relentless fits. Hated the way Elex looked at him—worried, watching him like he might break apart at any second. Hated that every time he so much as shifted his weight, Elex was there, ready to catch him like he was seconds from collapse.

Maybe he was, but that wasn’t the fucking point.

This wasn’t him.

S7en was used to being sick, but he wasn’t this kind of sick. He wasn’t fragile, wasn’t someone who needed to be taken care of—wasn’t supposed to be this goddamn weak.

Another harsh, rattling cough clawed its way up from his lungs, cutting through the feverish static in his head. He barely had time to turn away, pressing the sleeve of his hoodie against his mouth as his body shook with the force of it.

Elex’s hand tensed, fingers gripping into the fabric of his hoodie, steadying him again.

S7en’s ears flattened in irritation.

Enough.

He jerked out of Elex’s hold, staggering forward a step, breathing hard, barely steady on his feet—but still standing.

"I'm fine," he rasped, voice a raw, scraped-up wreck of sound.

Elex snorted. Loud. Unimpressed.

"Yeah? You sound fine."

S7en ignored him.

Or tried to.

Except—his sinuses had other plans.

The burning tickle had barely given him a break, lingering just under the surface, simmering relentlessly behind his nose and eyes. And now—with his breath still short, his body still weak and trembling—it surged forward again, sharp and overwhelming.

S7en barely managed a gasp of warning before he snapped forward, the fit tearing into him with brutal force.

“Hh—hhAHH’Tschh! HhAHHKTschhh! Hhh—! HHhh! HHAHH—! HAHDT’tchiew! Hhh! AHHDT’tschue!”

Each one ripped through his already shredded lungs, leaving fire in his chest, his ribs aching like something had been bruised or cracked from the sheer force of it.

And then—the coughing hit again.

Hard.

It stole the air from his lungs, wracking through him until his knees nearly buckled under him.

His hands gripped the counter, holding on for dear fucking life as his body fought viciously against itself.

Elex was there again in a flash.

Hands on him, steady, grounding, pulling him back before he could fall.

"You’re fine, huh?" Elex muttered, half annoyed, half furious, but his grip was gentle, voice low and serious. "You think this is fucking fine?"

S7en wanted to answer.

Wanted to tell him to fuck off, to stop looking at him like that, to just back off—

But he couldn’t fucking breathe.

The coughing fit was too deep, too brutal, too much, and his vision spotted at the edges, his lungs screaming, his head swimming with fever and exhaustion.

His fingers trembled against the counter, and his legs wouldn’t stop shaking.

Elex felt it.

And that was the worst part.

The badger cursed under his breath, wrapping an arm around S7en’s waist, pulling him back before he faceplanted right there in the middle of the fucking kitchen.

"Okay, that’s it—I’m done with this bullshit," Elex snapped, hauling S7en toward the couch despite the feline’s weak, half-hearted struggling.

S7en let out a low, frustrated growl, batting at his hands even as he stumbled against him, utterly defeated by his own fucking body.

"Dude, seriously, let me—"

"No."

Elex cut him off sharply, voice hard, final, leaving no room for argument.

Then—his tone softened—just a little.

"You need to sit down, dumbass. And for once in your miserable life, you’re gonna listen to me."

S7en hated how exhausted he was.

Hated how his body wouldn’t move the way he wanted it to.

Hated that—no matter how badly he wanted to fight back—his traitorous limbs had already given up on him.

Elex barely had to guide him down onto the couch before he collapsed against the cushions, completely drained, head swimming, breath still uneven and wrong.

His ear twitched in irritation, but he didn’t move.

Didn’t argue.

Didn’t fight anymore.

Because—fuck it.

He was too goddamn tired.

Elex didn’t let himself relax until S7en’s breathing evened out—well, as even as it was going to get. The kid still looked like hell, slumped against the cushions with half-lidded eyes and a slack grip around the blanket Elex had thrown over him. His tail flicked weakly, more from habit than any real energy, and his ears twitched in irritation every time his breath hitched into a congested wheeze.

It was bad. Still too bad. But at least he was sitting, not swaying like he was about to drop. That was a start.

Elex exhaled sharply through his nose, dragging a hand down his face before pushing himself up from the couch. He needed to get his shit together. They had a whole bag of meds sitting on the counter, and for once, S7en wasn’t going to be the stubborn idiot refusing to take them. No, that was Elex’s job now—figuring out how the hell all this medical bullshit worked.

His boots were heavy against the floor as he moved toward the kitchen, flipping on the dim overhead light. The white pharmacy bag sat there, mocking him, filled to the brim with bottles, blister packs, inhalers—hell, one of these things might’ve just been straight-up magic. He grabbed the first bottle, squinting at the label like it had personally wronged him.

"Take one tablet by mouth twice daily with food—unless otherwise instructed by a physician."

What the fuck did that mean? Was he supposed to wait for otherwise-instruction? Or was that just there to fuck with him?

Elex muttered something under his breath, shooting a glare at the offensive medication. Fucking hell, how did people do this every day?

He scowled, shaking the bottle like it might start making sense if he rattled it around enough.

The next one was just as bad.

"Take two puffs every four to six hours as needed. Do not exceed prescribed dose."

Okay. Cool. That was fine.

Except—the hospital never actually told him what the prescribed dose was.

And then—there was the liquid medication, which had no dosing instructions at all—just a cryptic warning about side effects and some useless-ass guidelines about food intake.

Elex ran a hand through his hair, exasperated, glancing back and forth between the bottles, the inhalers, and S7en, who had been silent this whole time, sitting on the couch, still trying to get his breathing under control.

The kid looked like hell.

Still pale, still feverish, still sitting with his head tilted back slightly, eyes half-lidded, like even the act of keeping them open was just too much effort.

His chest rose and fell unevenly, each inhale too shallow, too weak—not enough to fully fill his lungs, but too much effort to take in anything deeper.

Elex sighed heavily, rubbing at his temple with his free hand.

"Okay, what the fuck is all this shit supposed to do?" he muttered, glaring at the pile of medication like it personally offended him.

S7en huffed softly, the sound half-exhausted, half-amused, and didn’t even look up before he started listing them off.

"Antibiotic, once in the morning, once at night."

His voice was wrecked, but steady, like he had done this a thousand times before.

"Steroid—twice a day, no food restrictions. Just tastes like absolute shit, so, fair warning."

Elex blinked, glancing down at the bottle in his hand.

"Rescue inhaler—only if I’m actually dying. Preventative inhaler—morning and night. That’s the one that makes my heart feel like it’s about to explode, so don’t freak out when that happens."

He cleared his throat, wincing slightly like the action made it worse, before continuing.

"Cough suppressant—doesn’t work, but I have to take it anyway. Decongestant—also doesn’t work. Painkiller—every six hours. Liquid bullshit—tastes worse than the steroid."

Elex just stared at him.

For a solid five seconds, he didn’t say anything.

Then, finally—he glanced back at the pill bottles, thumbing through them until he found the right ones.

"Geezus Christ," he muttered, shaking his head. "You almost have your own pharmacy here with all the meds they gave you."

S7en let out a tired, unamused huff, before scrubbing at his nose with the back of his knuckles, his ears twitching with irritation.

Elex handed him the first set of pills, watching carefully as S7en picked them out of his palm with slightly trembling fingers.

For a moment, Elex debated saying something else, something serious, but instead—

"You know, I feel like if you took all of these at once, you’d either level up as a person or just ascend to the next plane of existence."

S7en snorted, which immediately backfired.

His breath hitched sharply, his body seizing up involuntarily as the tickle surged back with a vengeance.

"Hh—HAHDT’tchhiew!! Hh—! AHHDT’tchhiiuhh!!"

The cat barely had a second to recover before another sharp, breathless hitch overtook him, his sinuses pulsing with maddening intensity. He gasped sharply, trying to brace himself, but the force of the next fit crashed into him with zero mercy.

“Hhh—! HHhh! HHAHH—! HAHDT’tchiew! Hhh! AHHDT’tschue!! Hh! HhAHHKTschh’uhh—!”

The pills slipped from his fingers, scattering across the hardwood floor with a light, traitorous clatter.

His cheeks burned instantly.

For a second, he just sat there, frozen, ears pinning back against his messy teal hair, his tail curling tighter around himself. He wasn’t even sure what was worse—the fact that he had just sneezed the meds out of his own damn hands or the fact that it made him feel so fucking infantile.

He groaned, tipping his head back against the couch in pure miserable humiliation, before leaning forward slightly, already reaching to grab the fallen pills.

Elex swatted his hands away before he could even touch them.

S7en scowled instantly, his fever-glazed orange eyes narrowing as he snapped his gaze up to glare at the badger. “I got it—”

“Yeah, you sure do,” Elex deadpanned, already crouching down to pick up the scattered pills himself.

S7en huffed, irritated, before quickly scrubbing at the underside of his still twitching nose with his knuckles. His tail flicked sharply behind him, his ears twitching again as Elex scooped up the last pill and stood, smirking lightly as he dusted them off in his palm.

Something about the expression made S7en’s already thin patience snap.

He glared up at him. "What’s so funny?"

The moment the words left his mouth, his already destroyed voice cracked halfway through—a pathetic, raspy break that made him sound more like a dying animal than an actual person.

Elex exhaled a sharp, amused breath through his nose. Not quite a laugh, but damn close.

S7en scowled harder, sniffling sharply against his wrist to regain what little dignity he had left.

Elex pressed the pills firmly back into his palm before straightening up, shaking his head slightly. “Nothing’s funny,” he said, voice casual—before immediately following up with, “I was just trying to figure out how the hell you hid being sick from me for so long.”

S7en rolled his eyes, leaning back into the couch with a tired huff. “Elex, I hide shit from you all the time—”

“Yeah, no, see—that’s bullshit.” Elex raised a brow, crossing his arms. “Your sneezes when you get sick are not very… stealthy.”

S7en scoffed, sniffling again, before a slow, smug smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “That’s because I stifled them so well,” he admitted with a nonchalant shrug.

Elex blinked.

Then—he frowned. "You what?"

S7en lazily rolled the pills around in his palm, smirking despite himself. “Yeah, man. I stifled the hell out of them.”

Elex squinted at him, skeptical. “When?”

S7en sniffled absently, rubbing at his nose with the edge of his sleeve. “You remember when we were watching that dumbass action movie, and you wouldn’t shut the fuck up about how the stunt choreography was unrealistic?”

Elex tilted his head, thinking, before snapping his fingers. “Oh, yeah. That one scene with the glass—”

“I was literally dying next to you.”

Elex paused.

Stared.

“…Excuse me?”

S7en smirked slightly, tail flicking lazily behind him. “Had to fake getting a drink so I could leave the room. Barely made it to the kitchen before I fucking lost it.”

Elex’s eyes narrowed, his jaw working slightly as he absorbed that information.

S7en, seeing his moment, went for the kill. “Oh, and also—remember when we were at that corner store and you spent ten whole minutes debating between two energy drinks, like they weren’t both just sugar and violence in a can?”

Elex frowned. “That was an important decision, dumbass.”

“Sure.” S7en’s smirk deepened, lazy and teasing. “Meanwhile, I was behind you, holding onto the counter for dear life because my lungs weren’t cooperating, and I was pretty sure I was about to pass out right there in the snack aisle.”

Elex’s frown deepened.

S7en leaned back slightly, gaze flickering upward in mock thoughtfulness. “Oh, and—you remember when we were in the car and you were yelling at Rex on speaker about how he treats his transmission like a war crime?”

“…Yeah?”

S7en snickered, pressing the back of his wrist against his nose. “Dude. I was dying next to you. Had to time my sneezes with your road rage just to keep you from noticing.”

Elex blinked. “…What?”

“You literally screamed, ‘USE YOUR FUCKING BLINKER YOU GODDAMN TWAT,’ right as I sneezed,” S7en wheezed a short, small laugh, rubbing his nose. “It was a perfect cover. Like, cinematic-level shit.”

Elex’s jaw dropped slightly, blinking at him in pure, stunned disbelief.

S7en grinned wildly. “You really don’t pay attention, man.”

Elex crossed his arms, planting his feet, his entire posture shifting into something stubborn.

“Alright. New house rules.”

S7en blinked. “…The fuck?”

Elex pointed at him. “One—you’re gonna let me take care of you.”

S7en opened his mouth, already scowling. “Oh, absolutely not—”

“Two—” Elex steamrolled right over him, ignoring the protest entirely. “There will be no more of that stifling bullshit.”

S7en’s ears pinned back slightly, his tail flicking sharply. “Dude—”

“Don’t ‘dude’ me,” Elex said firmly, brow furrowing. “I don’t give a shit what the reason is—you’re not doing that anymore.”

S7en let out a sharp, exasperated sigh, tossing his head back against the couch. “Christ, you’re so dramatic—”

“Says the guy who passed out holding a birthday cake.”

S7en froze.

Elex’s smirk was victorious.

“…Low fucking blow.”

“You’re the one who literally hit the floor—”

“I hate you.”

“Anyway,” Elex continued, finally dropping it, as he flopped into the chair across from him, stretching his legs out with a loud sigh. “I’m starving, and you gotta take some of that hospital-grade poison they sent you home with after eating, right?”

S7en hesitated, glancing at the various pills Elex had slipped into his palm. He couldn’t really argue.

“…Yeah,” he muttered begrudgingly.

Elex nodded, clapping his hands together. “Cool. What are we ordering?”

S7en sighed again, dramatically this time. “I don’t care.”

Elex raised an eyebrow. “No, see, that’s how we end up ordering some dumb shit that you pretend to like so you don’t hurt my feelings.”

S7en rolled his orange eyes, sniffling lightly. “Not my fault you eat like an unsupervised toddler.”

Elex grinned, not remotely offended. “Damn right.”

And with that, he grabbed his phone, already pulling up a food delivery app, leaving no room for further argument.

S7en tried to get up.

Tried, being the key word, because the second he started shifting toward the bedroom, Elex shot him a look.

“Oh, no, no, no. You’re staying right here,” Elex said, pointing at the couch like it was some kind of containment zone. “Where I can see you.”

S7en groaned loudly, tail flicking sharply. “Dude. I’m not gonna fucking evaporate if you look away for five seconds.”

Elex raised a brow. “You literally collapsed in front of me two days ago. Forgive me if I’m a little concerned about your ability to stay upright.”

S7en scowled, arms crossing over his chest. “I’m fine.”

“You sound fine,” Elex deadpanned, watching as S7en immediately broke into a chest-deep coughing fit.

S7en glared at him through watery eyes, rasping, “Fugk you.”

Elex just snorted, unfazed. “C’mon, sit your ass back down.”

S7en huffed, annoyed, but conceded—partly because he was too tired to keep arguing, but mostly because the food was almost here, and he was not letting Elex order something objectively terrible out of spite.

The smell of food hit first. The second Elex opened the door, the warm, greasy aroma filled the apartment, making S7en’s stomach tighten in anticipation.

They settled in, their usual chaotic banter tapering off into something comfortable, familiar, easy.

Elex picked a movie—some ridiculous action flick with an actual stunt budget this time, S7en noted—and for the first time in days, S7en actually relaxed.

Until his nose itched.

Badly.

He froze mid-bite, the unbearable, creeping tickle flaring to life behind his sinuses, building way too fast.

Shit.

S7en barely managed to shove his plate onto the coffee table before his breath hitched sharply, his ears flattening as his body jerked forward.

“Hh—! Hhh! HAHPT’tschiew!! HAH! AHHDT’shiiiiew!”

Elex chuckled, not even glancing away from the screen. “Bless you.”

S7en groaned, scrubbing furiously at his nose, already feeling the tickle threatening another round.

Another sharp inhale—

“HAHDT’tchiew!! HAH’tsschhiew!”

Elex snickered, shaking his head. “Dude. Are you even eating anymore?”

S7en just glared at him, sniffling before finally grabbing his food again.

But the damage was done.

Between the sneezing and the growing warmth in his stomach, S7en’s exhaustion finally caught up with him. His limbs felt heavier, his blinks slower, and before he knew it, he had somehow ended up half-laying down, his head resting on Elex’s lap.

Elex didn’t comment on it.

He just kept watching the movie, one hand idly moving to S7en’s hair, running his fingers through the tangled strands.

S7en sighed, melting into the touch, his ears twitching slightly as Elex’s fingers absentmindedly scratched at the base of them.

He didn’t remember closing his eyes.

Didn’t remember the movie ending.

Just the steady warmth of Elex’s lap and the slow, rhythmic drag of his fingers through his hair.

Then—

The tickle.

It built slowly, creeping back to life somewhere deep in his sinuses, sharp and relentless.

S7en’s breath hitched.

Oh, no.

Not now.

Not here.

Not while he was literally using Elex as a pillow.

His ears flattened, his tail curling tighter around himself as his breath trembled, fighting desperately against the overwhelming urge to sneeze.

But it was winning.

Shit.

S7en clenched his jaw, pressing his wrist hard against his nose.

“Hh’NGXT! Ktchhh!—h’NNgch!”

The pressure spiked, throbbing through his sinuses, but he forced his body to stay still, stifling the rest down into silence.

…Or at least, he thought he did.

Until—

A low, familiar sigh from above.

“…Dude.”

S7en’s heart sank.

Shit.

Slowly, hesitantly, he cracked one eye open.

Elex was staring down at him, unamused, brow slightly furrowed.

“Seriously?”

S7en winced, clearing his throat weakly. “…Didn’t wanna wake you.”

Elex tilted his head, voice flat. “You think that’s what woke me up?”

S7en blinked. “…Yes?”

Elex exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Geezus Christ, dude.”

S7en sniffled, grumbling, “What.”

Elex gestured vaguely. “Your head was literally on my lap. I could feel you physically trying not to explode.”

S7en’s cheeks burned, his tail flicking sharply.

“…Not my fault your legs are too bony to absorb the impact.”

Elex scoffed, nudging his shoulder. “Not my fault you’re an idiot.”

S7en huffed, rubbing at his temple.

His head pounded, the self-inflicted pressure ringing in his ears.

Elex noticed.

S7en saw it in the way his expression softened slightly, his lips parting like he was about to say something.

But instead—

Elex just sighed again, shaking his head before gently shoving S7en back down onto the couch.

“Go back to sleep, dumbass.”

And S7en, with absolutely no energy left to fight, did exactly that.

S7en woke up with his body already fighting against him.

The headache was still there, dull but persistent, lingering behind his eyes like an uninvited guest. His throat burned, his chest ached, and every inhale still felt just a little too tight—but it was better than before. Better than the hospital.

And that meant he was fine.

That meant he could get up, do things, prove to Elex—and to himself—that he wasn’t some helpless burden.

So, the second Elex left to run errands, S7en forced himself upright, shaking off the exhaustion that clung to his limbs like lead. He ignored the way the room tilted slightly, ignored the way his chest protested, and made his way to the kitchen.

Dishes. There were dishes in the sink. He could do dishes.

Never mind that he had to lean against the counter for balance, or that his fingers trembled slightly when he reached for a plate. It was fine. He was fine.

Until he wasn’t.

S7en barely made it through rinsing two plates before his breath hitched violently, his lungs locking up like rusted gears. His hands clamped down on the counter, knuckles white, as the coughing started—deep, raw, and completely unstoppable. His body lurched with the force of it, his chest burning as oxygen became an afterthought.

The plate in his hand slipped.

It shattered against the floor.

And, of course—that was exactly when Elex walked in.

Just in time to see S7en wobbling like a newborn deer, gripping the counter like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

His eyes narrowed. Immediately.

S7en, caught red-handed, tried to play it off.

"Chill, I was just—"

"Sit your ass down."

It wasn’t even angry. Just flat, exasperated, and completely done.

S7en barely managed to straighten up before Elex was right there, steering him firmly back to the couch like a misbehaving toddler.

He grumbled the entire way down, but Elex didn’t care.

Instead, he pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and—

BZZT BZZT.

S7en squinted at him. "…What was that?"

Elex, expression blank, held up the screen.

The alarm read: “S7EN MEDS. 3PM. NO EXCUSES.”

S7en blinked. Then blinked again.

"…You set a fucking alarm?"

"Yep."

"To—what, force-feed me medicine like I’m a goddamn child?"

"If that’s what it takes."

S7en stared.

Elex stared back, completely unfazed.

Then, without waiting for an argument, Elex grabbed the nearest prescription bottle, shook out the correct dose, and handed it to S7en along with the half-empty water bottle from earlier.

S7en groaned, dramatically flopping back against the cushions.

"You are such a pain in my ass."

"And you are a fucking menace," Elex shot back. "Now take your damn meds."

S7en grumbled something under his breath, but he took the pills anyway. Partly because he had no energy to argue. Partly because he knew Elex wouldn’t let him off the hook.

As he swallowed them down, he sighed, rubbing the back of his burning-hot neck.

"…I dunno how you’re even standing this," he muttered, not looking at Elex. "You probably wanna burn your whole outfit after sitting this close to me."

Elex snorted. "You’d think."

S7en hesitated. Then, quieter—almost sheepish:

"…Sorry."

For once, Elex didn’t have a snarky response.

He just shook his head, sighing, before reaching over to mess up S7en’s already disaster-tier hair.

"You’re a dumbass," he muttered.

S7en huffed, ears flicking.

But he didn’t argue.

He kept his gaze fixed on his lap, fingers picking at a loose thread on the blanket draped over his legs.

He meant it. The apology.

He knew how Elex was about germs. Knew he was probably the last person in the world the badger wanted to be around right now. Hell, if the roles were reversed, S7en was pretty sure Elex would’ve exiled him to the couch and disinfected the entire apartment on sight.

But instead, here he was.

Sitting barely a foot away, watching him like he actually gave a shit.

S7en’s throat felt tight, but not from the illness.

"...Sorry," he muttered again, softer this time.

For once, Elex didn’t bite back.

No sarcasm, no snark, no immediate smartass remark.

Just a sigh. Then a hand in his hair, ruffling it up in a way that was almost—affectionate.

"Again, you’re a dumbass," Elex murmured, voice gruff but not unkind.

S7en blinked, startled by the sudden shift, his ears flicking instinctively at the touch. He turned just enough to glance at Elex—noticing, maybe for the first time, just how exhausted he looked, too. The shadows under his eyes, the way his shoulders sat with a tension that had nothing to do with annoyance and everything to do with concern.

The realization sat uncomfortably in S7en’s chest.

He’d been so focused on proving he wasn’t a burden that he hadn’t stopped to think about how much of a pain in the ass he’d been anyway.

S7en huffed, leaning just slightly into Elex’s touch before he could stop himself.

"...You didn’t have to stay, y’know," he muttered, almost embarrassed. "Could’ve just thrown cough drops at me from across the room or something."

Elex scoffed. "Yeah. That’s what I should’ve done."

S7en smirked, just a little, but it was softer now—less of a smirk, more of a quiet acknowledgment.

He still felt like shit. But at least now, he didn’t feel like he had to deal with it alone.

For the rest of the night, S7en was weirdly compliant.

Took his meds without arguing. Didn’t complain when Elex adjusted his pillows. Even let himself be half-buried under the weighted blanket without making some snide comment about suffocation.

And Elex didn’t trust it for a second.

He narrowed his eyes as he sat down on the couch across from him, cracking open a can of some disgusting energy drink he probably shouldn’t be drinking at one in the morning.

“You’re being suspiciously cooperative,” he muttered, watching S7en like he was waiting for him to snap back into his usual brand of stubborn bullshit.

S7en just shrugged weakly, tugging the blanket higher like he was trying to disappear inside it.

"Yeah, well," he mumbled, voice thick with congestion and something else. "Turns out fighting you on this whole thing was kind of a massive dick move."

Elex raised an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

S7en exhaled shakily, his ears flattening slightly. He stared down at the blanket in his lap, his fingers fidgeting with a loose thread.

“I just…” he started, then hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek.

Elex waited. Didn’t rush him.

And then, S7en crumbled.

His shoulders sagged, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, rawer.

“…I just wanted you to have a good birthday.”

Elex blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift.

S7en swallowed hard, shaking his head.

"I tried so hard to make it perfect," he whispered, his fever-flushed face twisting in frustration. "And all I did was—ruin it. I passed out in the middle of the fucking party. You spent your whole damn birthday sitting in a hospital with me for two days while my lungs tried to fucking kill me, and I was a complete asshole the entire time because—because I didn’t want—"

His voice cracked. His breathing hitched.

“I didn’t want another thing making me this—weak, fragile thing that everyone has to tiptoe around."

The words came fast, unraveling all at once, like he had been holding them back for far too long.

His ears flattened further, his tail curling tight against his side. His vision blurred, burning hot and heavy, and before he could stop it—a tear slipped down his cheek.

S7en gritted his teeth hard, like he could will himself to keep it together.

But it was too late.

S7en groaned, dragging the blanket higher over his face like it could physically shield him from the absolute disaster this night had become. His chest still ached, every breath too tight, too shallow, his limbs shaking from exhaustion and fever.

And now? Now he was crying.

Like some pathetic, fragile thing that couldn’t even hold himself together.

He sniffled hard, but it didn’t do much—his nose was already a mess, congestion weighing heavy behind his eyes, his entire face burning.

"I’m sorry, El…" he rasped, voice cracking painfully.

Elex, predictably, just snorted.

"Nah. This is new. I’m not used to emotional S7en. Kinda nice, actually. You should be pathetic more often.”

S7en let out a weak, miserable wheeze of a laugh, half-buried beneath the blanket. But the moment the breath left him, his face twisted again, another surge of heat rushing behind his eyes.

He sucked in a shaky inhale, gripping the fabric of the blanket so tightly his fingers ached.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Elex blinked, the teasing smirk dropping instantly.

And then, before S7en could stop it—before he could shove it down like he always did—the words came tumbling out.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered, voice hoarse and broken.

Elex froze.

S7en sniffled again, his breath shuddering, his ears flattening against his skull as the weight of everything crashed down on him all at once.

"I—fuck, I ruined everything,” he choked, his throat closing up mid-sentence. "Your birthday, the party, all of it—I just—I wanted it to be perfect for you. And instead—"

His hands curled tighter into the blanket, his shoulders trembling.

"Instead you spent two days in a fucking hospital waiting for me to breathe properly. Instead of having fun, you were—sitting there, watching me, waiting for me to fucking—"

His voice broke completely, his vision swimming, his face already damp with fever and tears.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he rasped, hiccupping on the inhale. "I should’ve just—I should’ve told you—"

His breath hitched hard.

And then it all went to hell.

The crying set off a coughing fit—a violent, wrecking thing that tore through his lungs like fire. His chest seized, his ribs protesting the force, his body curling in on itself as he fought for air.

The second cough didn’t even fully land before the next one slammed into him, then another, then another—too fast, too deep, too much.

His vision blurred completely, a horrible static rising in his ears as the burning in his chest tightened—tightened—

Fuck.

Fuck.

He couldn’t breathe.

The panic set in immediately, his claws digging into the fabric of the blanket, his body locked in a frantic, gasping spiral. He couldn’t stop coughing, couldn’t inhale properly, couldn’t—

Elex was there in a second.

"Hey—hey, hey, breathe—S7en—slow down, you gotta slow down—"

S7en shook his head wildly, his hands gripping Elex’s hoodie on instinct, but it wasn’t working. His body wasn’t listening. Every breath came out short and frantic, his chest spasming like a malfunctioning engine.

He heard his own name, Elex’s voice breaking through the haze, but the static was getting louder, the world tilting dangerously, his lungs refusing to—

Then—something pressed against his lips.

"Inhale. Now."

S7en barely had time to process before the quick burst of medicated air hit his lungs.

He gasped. Choked. His hands shook violently, his tail flicking frantically as his body fought to cooperate.

Elex gave him another hit, then another, rubbing circles into his back, muttering something grounding and firm.

“That’s it, kid—just breathe—”

Slowly—painfully—S7en’s lungs unclenched.

The hitching eased.

His muscles unlocked.

And when he finally, finally took a full inhale—it actually fucking worked.

S7en collapsed back against the couch, his entire body trembling, his breath still uneven—but at least it was breath.

Elex let out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand down his face.

Then, in true Elex fashion, he let out a sharp scoff.

"Geezus, your fever’s really cranking up the dramatics," he muttered, shaking his head. "It’s never been this easy to tell how you’re feeling."

S7en, still wrecked, let out a weak, exhausted wheeze of a laugh.

"Go fuck yourself."

Elex grinned.

"Yeah, yeah. Love you too."

S7en was spent.

Completely and utterly drained. His body felt like a bag of lead, every muscle too heavy, too sore, too exhausted to do anything except exist.

But for the first time in days, he wasn’t fighting it.

His breath still wasn’t perfect, but it was steady. His fever still lingered, but it was manageable. His body still ached, but for once, he didn’t feel like he had to push through it alone.

So when Elex moved to get up, S7en half-heartedly grabbed at his hoodie sleeve, murmuring something unintelligible.

Elex paused, glancing down at him.

“D’you need something?”

S7en, barely awake, flicked his tail weakly.

“Don’t—” he mumbled into the fabric of the couch, already half-asleep before he could even finish the sentence.

Elex huffed, but instead of teasing him like he normally would, he just sighed, shaking his head.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, shifting just enough to get comfortable.

He grabbed a stack of pillows, carefully arranging them on his lap, then nudged S7en toward them.

The cat didn’t even argue.

Didn’t crack a joke, didn’t make a snide remark—just weakly adjusted himself, resting his head on the pillows, his breath slow and deep.

Elex pulled the blanket up over him, making sure it covered his shoulders, his arms, even his tail. Then, without thinking, he carded his fingers through S7en’s hair, slow and lazy.

The soft purring that followed was instant.

Elex snorted, a small, amused smirk pulling at his lips.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

But his voice wasn’t mocking.

It was fond.

And when he finally let his own eyes slip shut, his fingers still idly combing through S7en’s hair, he barely had time to register the exhaustion catching up to him before he, too, drifted off.

The room was quiet.

The air was warm.

And for the first time in days, neither of them had to fight anything.

Just sleep.

Just breathe.

Together.

It had started as a scratch in his throat, nothing major—just the kind of raw, dry feeling he chalked up to too many sleepless nights and the absolute joke that was his hydration levels. He ignored it, popped a cough drop, kept going. He had too much to do to slow down now.

But then it got worse.

The scratch deepened into a constant ache, turning into that burning, sandpaper sensation that made every swallow a chore. His voice had started rasping sometime around day three, but he played it off, clearing his throat and mumbling that it was just from talking too much.

Then came the congestion.

Thick. Unshakable. A slow-building pressure behind his nose and eyes that made his head feel too heavy, too tight. He kept sniffling between sentences, breath hitching every time he tried to take a full inhale, but he was damn good at keeping it subtle.

Elex never noticed.

When he felt a sneeze creeping up, he’d duck into another room, press the back of his wrist hard against his nose, and wait it out. If he got caught off guard, he’d twist away, stifling into his sleeve so violently it left him dizzy. It left his chest tight, his head pounding, but it was better than Elex hearing and asking questions.

There was too much to do.

If he let himself sneeze once, it would turn into five. Maybe ten. And if that happened, he’d never get through his never-ending to-do list.

So he fought it. Again and again.

S7en had become a professional at dodging suspicion. He had to be—Elex might have been oblivious about some things, but he wasn’t stupid. If S7en so much as sniffled too obviously, the badger would latch onto it like a feral dog with a bone.

So S7en adapted. He learned how to mask it, how to time it, how to slip away just before his body betrayed him.

But sometimes… it got close.

The first time was late—way too late.

S7en had been running on a handful of energy drinks and sheer force of will, hunched over his desk, hand-painting decorations that no one but him would care about. The apartment was silent, save for the soft glow of his desk lamp and the occasional sound of Elex shifting in his sleep.

Which was a problem.

Because that meant every single noise S7en made was way too obvious.

He had been trying—really trying—to keep himself together, but his nose was done playing nice. The burning deep in his sinuses was unbearable, and no matter how much he bit his lip or rubbed furiously at the underside of his nose, it wasn’t stopping.

The tickle teased mercilessly, rising, falling, rising again.

Don’t. Don’t. Not now.

His breath hitched.

He jerked forward, smothering the sound into his hoodie sleeve as hard as he could.

“Hhh’NGXT!—h'KXT’chh!"

He held still, heart hammering in his chest.

The silence stretched.

Then—

A sleepy mumble from the bed.

“...Why you sneezing like a bitch over there…?”

S7en froze.

Shit.

He hadn’t even realized Elex had woken up. The badger’s voice was thick with sleep, slurred and lazy, but there was just enough suspicion in it to make S7en’s stomach drop.

Think. Think.

“Fucking… dust?..,” he muttered quickly, sniffling once for effect. “The paper’s covered in it.”

A long pause.

Then—

A heavy sigh, followed by the sound of Elex flopping onto his other side.

“Go to bed, dumbass,” he mumbled.

S7en stayed still until he was sure Elex had drifted off again.

Then, finally, he slumped forward, burying his face in his arms.

Too close.

The second time was worse.

They were sitting on the couch, half-watching some dumb action movie, Elex’s feet propped up on the coffee table as he mindlessly chewed on the plastic cap of a water bottle. He was in a good mood, talking non-stop about how he "just had a feeling something cool was gonna happen" on his birthday.

Which would have been hilarious if S7en wasn’t actively trying not to sneeze on him.

His nose had been itching relentlessly for the last five minutes. That awful, creeping burn was rising up again, and no matter how much he rubbed at his nose discreetly, it wasn’t enough.

Bad timing. Really bad timing.

His breath hitched—barely enough to make a sound.

Too close.

He needed to get out of there.

Stretching his arms in an exaggerated yawn, he forced his muscles to stay loose and casual as he pushed himself off the couch.

“Gonna grab a drink,” he muttered, already heading toward the kitchen.

“Get me one,” Elex called after him, not even looking away from the screen.

S7en didn’t answer.

Because the second he was out of sight, he barely made it to the sink in time before a violent—

"Hh—! HHAHH—! HAHDT’tchhiew!! Hh—! AHHDT’tchhiiuhh!"

—ripped through him, bending him forward with the force of it.

His hands gripped the edge of the counter, breath shuddering as another chest-deep cough tore out of him immediately after. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to get it together before—

“You good in there?”

S7en nearly jumped out of his own damn skin.

Elex’s voice was casual, distracted, but S7en knew him too well.

The badger had noticed something.

Shit.

He barely had time to smother another cough into his sleeve before he forced his voice to sound normal.

“Yeah. Just—fucking—dropped something.”

A pause.

Then, mercifully, Elex just grunted, attention snapping back to the movie.

S7en exhaled slowly, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples.

Too close. Again.

By the end of the week, he knew.

This wasn’t just a cold.

The signs had been there for days, creeping up on him like a slow, inevitable landslide. At first, it had been subtle—a scratch in his throat, a little extra weight in his chest. But now? Now, every breath ached, every inhale felt like dragging air through soaked fabric.

His lungs weren’t just tight anymore. They were drowning.

And when he coughed—because, at this point, there was no fighting it anymore—it wasn’t some weak, dry little thing he could brush off. No, it was deep, raw, rattling, the kind of cough that came from somewhere low and dangerous, scraping the bottom of his lungs like a dull blade.

It hurt.

And Elex still didn’t notice.

Because S7en made sure of it.

He had perfected the art of hiding it.

Whenever Elex was around, S7en played it off like nothing was wrong. He timed his coughing fits so they happened when Elex was in the shower, when he was digging through the fridge, when he was too distracted ranting about something to notice the way S7en had to brace himself against the counter just to stay upright.

If a sneeze hit, he bit back against it with everything he had, muffling it into his hoodie sleeve until his head pounded. If he couldn’t stop it, he’d make sure to stifle it into near silence, no matter how much the pressure made his already aching sinuses throb.

His voice was going hoarse, his breathing was labored, but he pushed through, kept talking like nothing had changed.

When his hands started shaking, he simply curled his fingers tighter around whatever he was holding—a drink, his paintbrush, the edge of the counter—until they stopped trembling long enough to keep up the act.

His eyes were red-rimmed, glassy, but if Elex glanced at him for too long, he’d just mutter something about being exhausted and wave him off.

Everything needed to be done.

And he wasn’t about to let a little cold ruin it.

Even as it got harder to stand without swaying.
Even as his lungs tightened like a vice with every breath.
Even as his body screamed at him to just stop.

He pushed forward.

Forward. Forward. Forward.

August 10th:

The morning of Elex’s birthday should have been easy.

After all, S7en had spent weeks planning every last detail. The decorations were set up, the cake was waiting in the fridge, and their friends were in on the plan, all waiting for the big reveal later that night.

All he had to do was get through the day.

And yet, when Elex jolted awake that morning—cocky, buzzing with birthday energy, already texting half his contact list like he was about to throw himself the most legendary party of all time—S7en could barely sit up without his vision blurring at the edges.

The second he lifted his head, a fresh pulse of pain slammed through his skull, a migraine so sharp it felt like his brain was trying to escape through his eye sockets. He swallowed against the nausea, trying to ignore the way his throat burned, raw and swollen, while his chest tightened with every inhale.

Bad. Really bad.

But he didn’t have time for bad.

So, S7en forced a grin, let Elex’s nonsense birthday rambling wash over him, and powered through.

“S7en, I swear to God, my birthday instincts are going crazy today,” Elex announced, cracking open an energy drink before he was even fully sitting up.

S7en barely managed to hold back a pained wince at the sound of the can popping. Too loud.

“Oh yeah?” he croaked, then immediately regretted speaking. His voice was wrecked, rougher than usual, like he’d spent the entire night screaming into a pillow.

Not ideal.

But if Elex noticed, he didn’t say anything—too busy stretching with an exaggerated groan before flopping onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. His mismatched eyes gleamed, that lazy smirk pulling at his lips.

“Yeah. It’s like—I dunno, a sixth sense,” Elex went on, taking a sip of his drink. “Like, I just know when something big’s about to happen.”

S7en hummed, noncommittal. “Birthday instincts,” he repeated flatly.

“Exactly.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you might need a refund, dude.”

Elex snorted, waving him off. “Nah, nah, it’s real. Watch—by the end of the day, something sick is gonna go down, and I’m gonna be totally right.”

S7en bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, because if Elex had even the slightest clue about the party, he would not be this calm. But the badger, for all his cocky bravado, was utterly, hilariously clueless.

Good. That meant S7en’s work wasn’t for nothing.

But as he pushed himself up, the room lurched sideways, and his stomach twisted violently.

Shit.

He froze, pressing his hands into the mattress to steady himself, willing the dizziness to pass. But his lungs ached when he took a breath, and his ribs felt like they were wrapped in tight, unrelenting bands.

Breathe. Breathe through it.

Elex, of course, was too busy hyping himself up to notice.

“Bet something sick happens before noon,” he said, checking his phone. “Maybe I’ll win some crazy giveaway. Or, like, get free food somewhere.”

S7en forced out a breathy laugh, ignoring the sharp, rattling sensation in his chest.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Something like that.”

Because at the rate he was going?

Something was gonna happen before noon.

Just not the kind of surprise Elex was expecting.

S7en just had to get through the morning.

Then the afternoon.

Then the party.

Simple.

Except nothing about this was simple when his entire body was actively trying to betray him.

He had barely been upright for two minutes before the pressure in his sinuses flared up again, an unbearable, burning tickle crawling its way deeper. His breath caught just once—a sharp, involuntary inhale—before he forced it down, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to sting.

Not now. Not in front of Elex.

Elex, still riding his birthday ego trip, had zero idea what was going on, stretching like he had all the time in the world. Completely unaware of the absolute war S7en was fighting just two feet away.

"Alright," Elex announced, cracking his neck. "I’m thinking pancakes."

S7en barely heard him. His focus was on not sneezing.

The burning sensation spiked, his nose twitching, his breath threatening to hitch again. He clenched his jaw, exhaling slowly through his mouth, willing the tickle to settle.

No luck.

It was coming, fast.

Shit. Move.

Before Elex could glance his way, S7en swung his legs over the bed and pushed himself up, heading straight for the bathroom. Too fast. His vision swam, dizziness crashing into him all at once, but he barely managed to keep himself upright, gripping the doorframe for balance.

He shoved the door shut behind him, barely able to hold back the gasping inhale before—

"Hh—! Hhh! HAHPT’tschiew!! HAH! AHHDT’shiiiiew!!"

Fuck.

He doubled over against the counter, pressing the heel of his hand against his nose, his breath still stuttering from the sheer force of it. The moment he tried to straighten, another thick, chest-deep cough forced its way up, scraping like sandpaper in his throat.

His lungs felt wrecked. His head was pounding.

And he had approximately five seconds before Elex came looking for him.

Swallowing hard, S7en quickly turned on the sink, splashing cold water onto his face, trying to erase the obvious flush creeping into his cheeks. A second later, he heard Elex’s footsteps outside the door.

“You dying in there?”

S7en cleared his throat, ignoring the sharp pain it sent through his ribs. Make it sound normal.

“Chill,” he called back, voice rough but controlled. “Didn’t know I had to schedule my pisses around your breakfast plans.”

Elex snorted. “I mean, you do. But I’ll allow it, since it’s my birthday.”

S7en exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the sink.

Too close. Again.

By the time S7en forced himself back into the kitchen, Elex had already trashed his pancake idea in favor of raiding the fridge for anything edible. He stood with the door wide open, shoving a piece of cold pizza into his mouth like he wasn’t the absolute most unhinged person alive.

S7en could barely look at food without feeling his stomach twist unpleasantly.

"You good?" Elex asked around a mouthful, finally giving him a passing glance.

S7en shrugged, keeping his movements casual, despite the way his body screamed at him to sit the hell down.

"Tired," he muttered, heading for the cabinet where they kept their mugs. If he had something in his hands, it’d be easier to look normal.

Elex didn’t press, which was both a relief and kind of funny, considering if their situations were reversed, S7en would have had him in a chokehold demanding answers. But Elex just yawned, stretching again.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "Big day. You should nap or something."

The irony almost made S7en laugh.

Yeah. Sure. Great idea. He’d get right on that.

As soon as he survived the next fourteen hours.

But as he reached for a mug, the telltale prickling started up again. His breath hitched before he could stop it.

Shit. No. Not here. Not now.

Keeping his back firmly to Elex, he pressed his wrist hard against his nose, willing it to stop. His shoulders tensed as the itch flared up, teasing mercilessly.

Hold it. Hold it. Hold it.

Elex, blissfully unaware, just kept rambling, his voice distant, drowned out by the relentless burning in S7en’s sinuses.

It was winning.

S7en had no choice.

With as much control as he could manage, he ducked his head into the crook of his arm, forcing the sneezes silent.

"Hh'NGXt! Ktchhh!—h’NNgch!"

The pressure was brutal, his skull throbbing with the effort of holding them back. His lungs seized painfully, a cough clawing its way up, but he swallowed it down, knuckles tightening around the counter.

He waited.

Nothing.

Elex hadn't noticed.

Slowly, carefully, S7en straightened, schooling his expression before turning back around.

Elex was still halfway through his pizza, scrolling through his phone with zero clue about the absolute disaster happening right in front of him.

S7en let out a shaky breath, grabbing his mug with slightly unsteady fingers.

He just had to get through the day.

That was the mantra he kept repeating in his head, over and over, like a scratched CD skipping on the same damn track. Just a few more hours. Then the party. Then the moment when Elex would finally see the absolute masterpiece S7en had spent weeks putting together. Then—maybe—he could breathe.

If his lungs still worked by then.

It was getting harder to ignore. Everything.

The aches had settled deep into his bones, like he was dragging concrete around his limbs. His head pounded relentlessly, his chest felt like it was wrapped in steel wire, and his breath was turning shallow, forced, unnatural.

And Elex?

Still didn’t notice.

Somehow.

It was actually impressive, in a way that was borderline offensive.

Because anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell that S7en was not okay.

His skin was pale, fever-glazed, dark shadows lingering beneath his eyes. His voice had gone from a little hoarse in the morning to full-blown wreckage, scraping and raw like he’d been swallowing glass shards for fun.

And yet.

Nothing.

Elex was still living in his own little birthday world, sending obnoxious texts to his friends, hyping up his own damn existence, and loudly debating whether he should get a new tattoo or a pet snake to mark the occasion.

S7en was dying in real time, and Elex was googling exotic pet names.

Ridiculous.

By the time they left the apartment, the sun was too bright, the air too sharp, and S7en was too damn tired.

He had planned to stay inside, get through some last-minute details, maybe even steal a moment to sit down and pretend his body wasn’t actively staging a rebellion.

But Elex, in all his unmatched, chaotic glory, had insisted on going out.

“It’s my birthday,” he had said, flashing a grin that should be illegal. “You’re legally required to follow me around and do dumb shit all day.”

S7en had just barely held back a groan.

The first stop was some hole-in-the-wall shop Elex swore had the best snacks on the planet. S7en, running on sheer force of will and the lingering effects of a third energy drink, followed him in, head pounding, lungs on fire.

He was so focused on staying upright that he didn’t notice the way his sinuses had been slowly tightening, congestion pressing like a vice behind his eyes.

Then, as he shifted his weight, something shifted with it.

A sudden, sharp readjustment deep in his sinuses sent a blinding tickle straight through his nose, pressure tipping over into something unstoppable.

Oh, fuck.

His breath hitched dangerously, his nostrils twitching, the overwhelming sensation building too fast for him to fight.

Not here. Not now.

He turned sharply on his heel, heading toward the corner of the store, hand clamped over his nose.

The moment he was out of sight, he braced against the shelf, burying his face into his sleeve as his body gave up.

“Hh—HhAH’DTschhh! Hh! HHhih—! HAHDT’tchhhiiew! Hhh! AHHDT’tsschueh!!!”

His ribs screamed in protest, his vision swimming from the sheer force of it. His breath hitched again, another wracking cough tearing out of him immediately after, leaving him shaking, dizzy, breathless.

Too much. Way too much.

He forced himself upright, swallowing against the rawness in his throat, fingers digging into the shelf for balance. He needed to move before—

“Sven?”

Shit.

He barely had time to school his face into something remotely normal before Elex appeared around the corner, holding a pack of sour candy and a soda, looking infuriatingly relaxed.

“You find something?” Elex asked, popping open the drink like nothing was wrong.

S7en cleared his throat, biting back the unbearable urge to cough again. “Nah. Just looking.”

Elex blinked at him, then tilted his head slightly.

For half a second, S7en thought—hoped, really—that maybe Elex was finally putting two and two together. That he’d look at him and actually see what was happening.

But then the badger just shrugged.

“Cool. Let’s hit the gas station. I wanna see if they have those weird energy drinks from Japan.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

S7en swallowed back another cough, another wave of exhaustion, and nodded.

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice scraping at the sides. “Sure.”

And without much more, he followed Elex back out into the sun, lungs screaming, heart pounding, the warmth of the afternoon too sharp, too heavy against his feverish skin.

The heat pressed down on him like a weight, making the air feel thicker, harder to breathe, and for a moment, as they stepped onto the sidewalk, the world tilted dangerously beneath his feet. He forced himself forward, keeping his stride even, controlled, ignoring the way his vision blurred at the edges.

The party was just a few hours away.

He just had to last a little longer.

But his body? His body was done.

The fever that had been simmering beneath his skin all morning had finally boiled over, turning into a suffocating, all-encompassing heat that made the world feel distant and unreal. He felt like he was walking through a fog, slow and sluggish, barely tethered to his own movements.

His hoodie, usually something soft, comforting, familiar, now felt like a weight pressing down on his overheated body. The fabric clung to his skin like insulation, trapping the fever in, suffocating him from the inside out.

It was getting harder to think.

Harder to breathe.

Every inhale was tight, shallow, unsatisfying, as if the air itself had thickened, turning into something too dense to pull into his lungs. He knew he should have eaten something, but the mere thought of food made his stomach twist violently, nausea crawling up his throat.

But none of it mattered.

None of it could matter.

Because Elex was still completely oblivious.

So when the badger shoved his phone into his pocket and announced they were going to the arcade, S7en nodded.

When Elex cracked another joke about his “birthday instincts,” S7en forced out a laugh, even though his ribs ached from the effort.

And when a sneeze built out of nowhere, sharp and relentless, he bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to sting, forcing it back, forcing his breath to even out before it could betray him.

It was fine.

He could do this.

And then—

Elex threw an arm around his shoulders, dragging him closer, leaning some of his weight into him in that effortless, careless way he always did.

S7en felt his legs nearly give out beneath him.

It was only for a second. A brief, involuntary dip in his balance that he corrected just in time, locking his muscles in place before he could actually collapse.

Elex didn’t notice.

Because of course he didn’t.

He just kept talking, laughing, existing, completely unaware that the world around S7en had started to tilt dangerously again.

That the sounds of the arcade were beginning to blur into a low, distant hum.

That every inhale was tighter, shallower, harder to take in.

That S7en, for the first time all day, wasn’t sure if he could keep this up.

A single thought forced its way through the haze.

You’re not gonna make it to the party.

The arcade was a neon-lit blur, the pounding music and overlapping voices slamming into his skull like a hammer to glass. His fever had reached new, unbearable heights, making the room feel hot and cold all at once, the flashing lights too bright, the noise too much.

And still—he kept moving.

Elex was having the time of his life, completely in his element, button-mashing through some fighting game like it was a life-or-death battle. S7en barely processed what was happening, just stood there, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, rocking slightly on his heels to keep himself upright.

The floor tilted beneath him again, nausea coiling tight in his stomach.

Just a little longer.

Just a little—

“Dude, you’re terrible at this,” Elex announced, nudging him toward the machine. “Come on, you gotta play at least once. Birthday rules.”

S7en knew if he sat down, he wasn’t getting back up.

But Elex was staring at him now, actually looking at him, and S7en had to move, had to do something, had to make sure Elex didn’t catch on.

So he shrugged, smirked through the absolute exhaustion dragging at his limbs, and picked up the controller.

The match was a disaster.

His hands were too shaky, his reflexes too slow, but somehow—somehow—he made it through without drawing too much attention.

By the time they left the arcade, the sun had begun to set, and the cool air should have felt refreshing. Instead, it only made his fever chills worse.

S7en barely made it through the door before he was shrugging off his hoodie, the fabric sticking to his overheated skin. His t-shirt underneath was just as bad, suffocating, but Elex was already grabbing beers from the fridge, completely unaware of the absolute train wreck standing behind him.

Elex tossed one over without looking.

“Happy birthday to me,” he announced, cracking his open. “Now drink, coward.”

S7en caught the can out of reflex, but the thought of alcohol sent an immediate wave of nausea rolling through him. He hesitated, fingers tightening around the cold metal, trying to psych himself up.

If he refused, Elex would notice.

So he lifted it, took a sip—

And nearly gagged.

The second the liquid hit his throat, his stomach flipped violently, his body rejecting it on instinct. He swallowed it down, forcing his expression to stay neutral, relaxed, normal, but the warmth rising in his throat told a different story.

Fuck.

The carbonation burned going down, only agitating his raw, sore throat further. He barely contained a cough, throat clenching as he forced himself to lower the can casually, like nothing was wrong.

Mercifully, Elex had already turned away, completely distracted by his phone buzzing on the counter.

“Rex?” he muttered, before picking up.

S7en exhaled silently, relief cutting through the fever haze.

“Yo, what’s up?” Elex answered, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he grabbed his keys.

S7en barely processed the conversation, his focus slipping in and out as Elex and Rexar started talking about car problems, something about the transmission, something about a weird noise.

Then, finally—finally—Elex headed for the door.

“I’m gonna check my car while I talk him through this,” he said, already halfway outside. “Don’t drink all my beer while I’m gone.”

S7en barely managed a smirk, lifting the can in mock cheers as the door swung shut.

The second the lock clicked, his whole body gave up.

The first cough was immediate, tearing through his chest with enough force to make him double over against the counter. The sound crashed through the empty kitchen, harsh and unrestrained, his body finally allowed to react after an entire day of suppression.

Then another. And another.

It was unstoppable now, his body making up for all the times he’d held it back, a brutal mix of hacking, gasping coughs and desperate, shuddering sneezes.

"Hh—hhAHH’Tschh! Hhh—! HhhAHH—! HAHDT’tchhhiew!! Hhh! AHHDT’tschhhiu!!"

His body jerked forward with each one, raw, painful, messy—his breath barely catching before another slammed into him. His hand scrambled blindly for his phone, barely able to see through fever-glazed eyes as he pulled up his contact list.

The party. The guests. He needed to check the plans.

He hit the first name.

Freya.

Her face appeared on screen, and the second the call connected, she took one look at him and frowned.

"Geezus, S7en. You look like death.”

S7en sniffled hard, rubbing at his nose with his wrist, attempting to smirk, but it came out more like a grimace.

“Damn, angel, don’t hold back,” he rasped.

Freya narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Are you seriously still running this party?"

"Obviously."

"You can barely hold your damn phone up."

S7en rolled his eyes, regretted it immediately when the movement made his head swim. "I’m good."

Freya looked like she wanted to reach through the screen and shake him, but before she could argue, another rapid-fire sneezing fit tore through him, leaving him breathless and hunched forward over the counter.

"Hhh! HAH—hhAHDT'shhiiew!! hHh—! HhHPTT’tchhiEW!! hh—! HAHHDT’tchhIEEW!!”

Freya just stared.

Then—flatly: “Uh-huh. Sure. You sound great.”

S7en groaned, sniffling thickly as he waved her off.

"Look, just—are we still good for eight? I don’t have time for a lecture.”

She sighed, clearly not thrilled, but nodded. "Yeah. Everything’s set."

"Good. See you then."

And with that, he ended the call before she could press him further.

Next.

Kriia picked up on the second ring.

And just like Freya, she took one look at him and immediately frowned.

"Yo. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Evening to you, too," he muttered, sniffling into his sleeve.

"You look like you lost a fight. With, like. A bus."

S7en snorted, regretted it instantly as another cough tore through his chest, sending a sharp, tearing pain through his ribs.

Kriia’s expression shifted, concern settling in. "Dude. Are you sure you should be doing this?"

S7en waved her off before she could start, ignoring the way his vision blurred at the edges.

"It’s Elex’s birthday. I’m not ruining it.”

Kriia exhaled slowly, like she was debating whether to fight him on this. But in the end, she just muttered, "Your funeral, man," before confirming the plans.

S7en ended the call and dropped his phone onto the counter, fingers digging into the surface as another wave of dizziness hit.

The door clicked open again.

Shit.

His body snapped upright on instinct, throat still burning, lungs still raw, but Elex was already stepping inside, phone tucked away, beer still in hand.

"Apparently Rex’s transmission’s fucked," he muttered, completely unaware of what had just happened.

S7en forced a half-smirk, voice barely above a whisper.

"Tough break."

Elex flopped onto the couch.

"Whatever. Commute’s gonna be shit, though."

S7en swallowed hard, ignoring the fire in his chest.

"Yeah," he murmured.

Everything was too hot, too loud, too sharp at the edges. His body was dragging, fever weighing him down like cement blocks strapped to his limbs, but the worst part was his head. It was pounding relentlessly, a deep, throbbing ache that had settled right behind his eyes, making his vision swim every time he moved too fast.

And yet—he still almost forgot the damn restaurant reservations.

It wasn’t until Elex, now two beers deep, kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and stretched like he had no plans to move for the rest of the night that it finally hit him.

Shit.

"Alright, get up," S7en said, standing way too fast. The floor tilted. He gritted his teeth, planted his feet, forced himself to stay upright. "We got dinner reservations."

Elex blinked at him, caught mid-yawn. "Wait—what?"

S7en sighed, rolling his eyes like his head wasn’t spinning in slow, miserable circles. "You really thought I wasn’t taking you out for dinner? What kind of boyfriend would I be?"

That earned him a grin, lazy and smug. "Damn. I really am the best."

S7en snorted. "Uh-huh. Now get your shoes on."

And just like that, the plan was back on track.

As long as S7en didn’t pass out before they got there.

The drive was a blur.

S7en shouldn’t have been driving. He knew that.

His vision swam every time he shifted lanes, his hands felt unsteady on the wheel, and every time he blinked, his fever-hazed brain took just a little too long to process what was in front of him.

But if he let Elex drive, that meant questions. That meant attention. That meant a risk he couldn’t afford to take.

So he forced his fingers to grip the wheel tighter, focused on the road like his life depended on it.

Which, honestly, it probably did.

By the time they pulled into the restaurant parking lot, his knuckles were white from how hard he’d been holding on.

Just a little longer.

Except—when they got inside, it all went to hell.

S7en barely processed what the hostess was saying at first, his fever-glazed brain lagging behind reality.

“…I’m really sorry about the mix-up, but unfortunately, we don’t have a reservation under that name.”

S7en blinked. "…What?"

The hostess winced. "It looks like there was an error in our system, and we’re completely booked for the night."

Elex frowned, looking at S7en. "Didn’t you book this, like, a week ago?"

"Yeah," S7en rasped, throat raw, jaw tightening. He turned back to the hostess, forcing himself to stay calm. "So… what’s the wait time?"

She gave an awkward smile.

"About two hours."

S7en nearly laughed out of sheer exhaustion.

Elex sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Welp. Guess we’re going home, then."

And for the first time all day, luck was on S7en’s side.

Because that was exactly what he needed to happen.

He gave the hostess a half-hearted nod before turning back toward the door, shoulders tense, every muscle aching.

Fine. Home it was.

S7en still should not have been driving.

His head was swimming, the world tilting at the edges, but he was too stubborn, too deep into the lie to stop now.

Elex, meanwhile, was perfectly content, reclining in the passenger seat like he hadn’t a single care in the world. "Honestly, I wasn’t that hungry anyway," he mused. "Good call, though. The universe clearly wants me to have homemade pizza instead."

S7en made a noise that might have been agreement, though it came out more like a weak exhale.

His grip on the wheel was tight, too tight, but he didn’t trust himself to loosen his fingers without them shaking.

Then—a problem.

The congestion that had been building behind his eyes all day shifted suddenly, sending a sharp, burning tickle straight through his sinuses.

His breath hitched violently, the urge to sneeze crashing into him like a tidal wave.

No. Not now. Not while driving.

He swallowed hard, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, clenching his jaw so tightly it hurt. His fingers flexed against the wheel, breath quivering, trying desperately to force it back down.

It wasn’t working.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

His vision blurred, breath stuttering, but just as his body jerked forward involuntarily, he lunged for the volume knob on the radio, cranking it up just in time.

"Hh’NGXT! K’tshhh!—h’NNgch!"

The pressure made his ears ring, his head throb twice as hard, but Elex didn’t even flinch.

"Okay, why the hell is the music so loud now?"

S7en sniffled subtly, shifting in his seat. "Needed to wake myself up."

Elex huffed a laugh. "Damn. Didn’t know dinner cancellation trauma hit you that hard."

S7en forced a smirk, even as his sinuses screamed in protest. "Devastating."

And then, thankfully, mercifully, they pulled into the apartment lot.

The second the car was in park, S7en let go of the wheel like it had burned him. His fingers were stiff, locked from how tightly he’d been gripping it the whole drive.

Elex stretched, groaning dramatically. "Man, what a weird-ass birthday. Hopefully, the universe has one more surprise left for me."

Yeah.

You have no idea.

S7en forced himself to stand, lungs protesting, vision blurring dangerously for just a moment.

Almost there.

He just had to get inside.

Just a few more steps.

Just a little—

His breath hitched again, and he clenched his jaw, swallowing it down.

Not yet.

Not until he was alone.

S7en barely made it through the door before chaos erupted.

“SURPRISE!”

The apartment exploded with noise—cheering, shouting, laughter—all blending into one deafening wall of sound.

Elex’s reaction was instantaneous.

His fists shot up, body twisting instinctively, already halfway through swinging on whoever had dared to startle him.

For a split second, S7en had a horrifying vision of Freya or Kriia getting decked in the face, but just as Elex’s arm tensed, realization hit.

His narrowed eyes scanned the room, taking in the decorations, the crowd of friends, the drinks already in waiting hands.

Then—he turned to S7en.

That stupid, crooked grin stretched across his face, all sharp teeth and amusement, his previous fight mode already forgotten.

“You little shit,” he muttered, clapping a heavy hand on S7en’s shoulder, shaking him a little. “You actually got me.”

S7en barely held back a grimace at the sudden contact, his body thrumming with exhaustion, but he forced himself to grin through it.

“Told you your birthday instincts were trash,” he rasped, barely audible over the noise.

Elex laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah—okay, you win.”

The moment should have felt like victory.

And in a way, it did.

S7en had done it. The party had come together exactly how he planned, every detail falling into place just as he had imagined.

He had made it.

But as the music turned up, as drinks started passing between hands, as people settled into the celebration, S7en realized—

He still had to survive the rest of the night...

By the time everyone had arrived, the apartment was a perfect mix of chaos and celebration.

Music blasted.
Drinks flowed.
Elex was in his element, soaking up the attention, grinning like an idiot as his friends hyped him up.

S7en stayed near the edges, tucked into the background, letting the night move around him.

Everything felt far away, like he was watching the party from the other side of a glass wall. The fever had dragged him into a dreamlike haze, every noise muffled, every movement just slightly out of sync.

Still, he could see Elex—laughing, teasing, play-fighting with Rexar over some inside joke about "Toad Biscuit" merch.

The night blurred around him—colors bleeding together, laughter twisting into an indistinct hum, the weight of the room pressing down too heavy, too hot, too much.

S7en had spent the entire day pushing forward, ignoring the way his body was crumbling beneath him.

This was the last thing.

Just one more step.

One more task.

Someone called for cake.

The words barely registered, muffled beneath the fever’s grip, but his body moved on instinct.

S7en stepped toward the table, striking a match with trembling fingers.

The tiny flicker of fire blurred before his eyes, swaying unnaturally, and it took him a second too long to realize—it wasn’t the flame that was moving.

It was him.

The floor lurched beneath him like the ground had been ripped out from under his feet.

His chest tightened—seized—refused to expand.

A sharp, deafening ringing filled his ears.

His vision tilted violently, everything twisting into a warped, spinning mess of distorted colors and movement.

Far away—too far away—he could hear Elex’s voice, lighthearted, distracted, still caught up in the conversation, still completely unaware.

S7en tried to step forward—to finish what he started, to keep going, to keep standing—

But his knees buckled.

His breath stuttered dangerously, shallow and weak, his body losing the battle he had forced it to fight all day.

And then—

Elex’s voice sharpened, cut through the fog.

Something in his tone shifted—not joking anymore, not distracted anymore.

Alarm.

Realization.

“Wait—Sven!?”

Elex saw it happening.

But he was too far.

He was on the other side of the room, still surrounded by people, still grinning one second ago, still completely oblivious to just how wrong things were.

Then he turned.

And his stomach dropped.

He saw it—the way S7en swayed violently, the way his fingers slipped, the way his breath hitched in a way that had nothing to do with laughter.

His body was giving out.

Too fast.

Too soon.

Elex moved instantly, shoving through the crowd, but he was too late.

S7en’s body tilted forward, his orange eyes rolling back slightly.

The match slipped from his fingers, flame snuffing out before it even hit the ground.

His legs crumpled.

And before Elex could reach him—before anyone could react—

S7en hit the floor.

S7en drifted somewhere between consciousness and nothingness, floating in the thick, fevered haze of half-awareness. His body felt heavy, his limbs like lead, his chest wrapped in tight, suffocating bands that wouldn’t let him breathe fully.

He could hear voices.

Familiar, but distant—like sound carried through waterlogged fabric, muffled and uneven.

Then, one voice cut through the haze, clear and sharp.

“His blood oxygen was at eighty-one percent when they brought him in.”

That was bad. Even he knew that was bad.

A sigh—low, exasperated, but not surprised.

Elex.

“Geezus fuck,” he muttered, voice strained with something tired, frustrated, guilty.

The other voice—a woman’s—continued speaking, firm but calm, the kind of voice used to dealing with stubborn, repeat offenders.

“He has pretty severe pneumonia," she said, matter-of-fact. "You’re lucky he passed out when he did. If he’d stayed upright much longer, he probably would’ve just stopped breathing entirely.”

S7en didn’t have to see Elex’s face to know exactly what expression he was making.

Jaw clenched.

Hand rubbing over his face.

That rare moment when Elex wasn’t just annoyed, but genuinely upset.

And not at anyone else.

At himself.

S7en could practically hear the weight settle in his voice when he muttered, “…I should’ve noticed.”

The woman—whose voice was familiar in a way that took too much effort to place—sighed through her nose, not unkind, but firm.

"Yeah," she agreed bluntly. "You should have."

A pause.

Then—paper rustling, the sound of something being shifted from one hand to another.

“These are his prescriptions,” she continued. “Antibiotics, steroids, inhalers—we’re trying these this time. Make sure he actually takes them.”

That voice.

The realization hit sluggishly.

ER nurse.

He knew her.

She had been there every time he’d landed himself in this exact same situation.

Enough times to know him by name.

God, that was embarrassing.

Elex sighed again, and S7en could hear the distinct crinkle of the paper bag as he took it from her.

His voice was quieter this time. Tired. Guilty.

“I got it,” he murmured.

Another pause.

Then—her voice softened just slightly.

“Just… be more observant next time, yeah?”

No sharpness now, just gentle warning.

“Could be worse, next time.”

No argument. No defensive retort.

Just the quiet sound of Elex nodding.

S7en wanted to laugh.

If only he had the breath for it.

After a moment, a long, heavy sigh broke through the silence.

Then—the soft creak of a chair being dragged across the tile.

S7en felt more than heard Elex drop into the seat next to his hospital bed, elbows resting on his knees, the weight of exhaustion settling into his frame.

Then came the sound of both hands dragging down his face, a quiet but telling frustration behind it.

S7en almost would’ve gotten away with pretending to still be asleep.

Almost.

Except—his damn ear twitched.

Elex caught it immediately.

"I know you’re awake, dumbass," he muttered, voice low and uncharacteristically gentle.

S7en hesitated.

Then, slowly, he cracked his eyes open, squinting against the harsh fluorescent light overhead. The world swam for a moment before settling, and when his vision finally focused, the first thing he saw was Elex watching him.

Worried. Tired. Like he’d just come back from a war he hadn’t even realized he was fighting.

S7en’s ears flattened instinctively in embarrassment, a quiet flicker of shame settling in his chest.

The room was small, sterile, impersonal—the same goddamn hospital he had spent far too much time in over the years.

And the weight of his failure hit him all at once.

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

A shift in his nose made him suddenly aware of the cannula, delivering pure oxygen to his wasted lungs.

His fingers twitched, reaching up to pull it off, but Elex’s hand was there first—firm but gentle, gripping his forearm.

"Don’t," Elex said softly.

S7en stilled, swallowing hard, ears pinning further against his head.

A beat of silence.

Then, in the same quiet, unusually careful voice, Elex asked,

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

S7en hated how much that question hurt.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at Elex. Instead, he dropped his gaze to his lap, claws absently picking at the thin hospital blanket.

"I—" He stopped, voice raw, barely above a whisper. He swallowed, trying again.

"I didn’t want to be the reason your birthday sucked…"

Elex stiffened slightly.

S7en continued, ears still pressed flat, tail curling closer to himself.

"I worked so hard to make it perfect," he muttered, barely breathing the words. "And after everything, we’re still here. Another—" his voice wavered, thick with frustration, "another claustrophobic, shitty little hospital room."

Silence.

S7en braced himself for Elex to be pissed. For the usual snark, sarcasm, maybe even an exasperated rant.

But instead—

Elex sighed, slow and deep, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer than S7en had ever heard it.

"Dude. I don’t give a shit about some stupid party."

S7en blinked, glancing up at him hesitantly.

Elex ran a hand through his messy, dark green hair, shaking his head. "You really think I care about that more than you literally—collapsing in front of me?" His voice wavered slightly, jaw clenching before he forced it back down.

S7en didn't know what to say.

Elex exhaled sharply, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees.

"I should’ve noticed." The words came out quiet, guilty. "I mean, fuck, you looked awful all day. I just—I was too caught up in my own bullshit to pay attention."

S7en shook his head weakly, ears twitching. "Not your fault."

"Not entirely," Elex agreed, mouth quirking slightly. Then, more serious, "But you’ve gotta stop doing this, man."

S7en swallowed, feeling suddenly very small.

"You don’t have to—I don’t know—carry everything yourself," Elex continued, voice softer now, tired but firm. "It’s okay to tap out sometimes. Party or not."

S7en hesitated.

Then—finally—he met Elex’s gaze.

And what he saw there wasn’t annoyance, or frustration, or the usual bullshit banter.

It was genuine concern.

That made something tighten in his chest in a way that had nothing to do with pneumonia.

The corner of Elex’s mouth twitched into something softer, and after a pause, he added,

"By the way, next time you try to fake being fine, maybe don’t fucking pass out in the middle of a party. Kinda ruins the illusion."

Despite himself, despite everything, S7en huffed a weak, breathless laugh.

"Noted."

Elex rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it.

And for the first time all day, S7en finally let himself relax.

The night air was thick with the electric buzz of bass-heavy music and the scent of sweat, cheap beer, and faint traces of cigarette smoke. The house party was already in full swing by the time Remi and Levi pushed their way through the crowded living room, bodies packed shoulder-to-shoulder, pulsating with the chaotic energy that followed Rexar Fang everywhere he went.

Remi hadn’t wanted to come. He had made that abundantly clear when Rex first asked, grumbling that he had better things to do than babysit a bunch of overhyped metalheads getting blackout drunk while his best friend set something on fire for fun. But Rex had insisted, pouting like an overgrown child and reminding him that Kriia—his girlfriend and the band’s unofficial but terrifyingly efficient merch manager—was out sick and wouldn’t be there to keep him in check.

"I need moral support," Rex had said, leaning against Remi’s shoulder dramatically. "And someone to get drunk with."

Remi had rolled his eyes but eventually caved, much to Levi’s amusement.

But then Levi got sick.

The morning of the party, he had woken up sniffling, his freckled nose pink and runny, and his normally sharp ice-blue eyes bleary with fever. He had groaned softly, rubbing at his face as Remi perched on the edge of the bed, frowning.

“You don’t have to come,” Remi had said, his voice unusually gentle. “Seriously, you look miserable. I’ll go, have a drink with Rex, and be back before midnight. No big deal.”

Levi had cracked one watery eye open, giving him a skeptical look. “Remi, I know how you and Rex are when you’re alone together. You’re a terrible influence on each other.”

Remi smirked at that, stretching his arms over his head before flashing Levi a sheepish grin. “That’s… fair.”

And so, despite the fever and the congestion, Levi had downed some cold medicine, thrown on one of Remi’s oversized jackets, and forced himself off the couch.

Which was how they ended up here—Levi looking like death warmed over, wrapped up in Remi’s leather jacket for warmth, and Remi already half-dreading whatever chaos Rex was about to drag him into.

The music from the garage-turned-stage was loud, vibrating through the floorboards as Toad Biscuit played their final set. Rex’s guttural screams echoed through the house, his voice a harsh growl over the relentless chug of guitars and the pounding drums. Someone had definitely set off fireworks in the backyard. The air was heavy with adrenaline, booze, and whatever else people were smoking, and Remi was already wondering why he let himself get talked into these things.

He glanced down at Levi, who was huddled beside him, sniffling softly into his sleeve. His pale skin was flushed from the fever, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion. His freckled nose twitched, his breath hitching slightly, and before Remi could say anything, Levi turned away with a harsh, stifled sneeze.

“Hhh—Hihh’GXXTsh! Snfhh.”

Remi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?”

Levi sniffled thickly, straightening up as he gave Remi a tired glare. “Not until I make sure you don’t let Rex burn the place down.”

Remi chuckled, draping an arm around Levi’s shoulders. “That’s fair.”

Across the room, Rex caught sight of them and grinned wildly, his grey and red eyes flashing with mischief as he grabbed two bottles from the counter and started weaving through the crowd toward them.

“Well,” Remi muttered, watching him approach. “Here we go..”

Rex pushed through the sea of bodies with an exaggerated swagger, his sharp grin wide and wild as he swung an arm around Remi’s shoulders and shoved one of the bottles into his chest. “There’s my favorite fucking wolf!” he crowed, his voice already rough with alcohol and whatever reckless energy fueled him on a daily basis. “Was starting to think you were dodging me.”

Remi rolled his eyes but smirked as he took the bottle, twisting off the cap with one flick of his thumb. “Yeah, yeah,” he drawled. “I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t show up, right?”

“Damn right you wouldn’t,” Rex barked a laugh, tipping his own bottle back and downing a mouthful like it was water. “Kriia’s out, and that means I need you to be my chaos partner tonight.” He waggled his brows, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Gotta make up for all the stupid shit I could’ve been doing if she were here to yell at me.”

Levi, wrapped up in Remi’s leather jacket, snuffled wetly into his sleeve before cutting Rex a glare. “Or, and hear me out, you don’t set anything on fire, and we all make it through the night without having to evacuate,” he said, voice hoarse and dripping with congestion.

Rex squinted at him for a moment, as if processing the words through the thick fog of his own drunken thoughts. Then he burst into laughter, clapping Levi on the back. “Dude. That’s adorable. You think you have control over this situation.”

Levi groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “This is exactly why I didn’t let Remi come here alone.”

Remi chuckled, taking a casual sip from his bottle before slinging an arm around Levi’s shoulders again. “Understandable,” he admitted, though there was already a familiar spark in his green, glowing eyes—the kind that only ignited when Rexar was around.

Rex nudged Remi with his elbow, winking. “Alright, man. I need to see if you’ve still got it. Six shots. Back to back. Right now.”

Remi snorted, shaking his head, but there was no real protest behind it. He could already feel the party pulling him in, Rex’s reckless energy as contagious as ever. As he let himself be dragged toward the counter where the shots were being poured, he caught Levi’s exhausted but knowing look.

“Don’t die,” Levi muttered.

“No promises,” Remi shot back with a grin.

The party was in full swing, chaotic and loud, just the way Rexar Fang liked it.

Remi hadn’t even been here for an hour, and he’d already been dragged into taking six shots back to back with Rex, who had clapped him on the back and laughed like it was some kind of endurance test. The room felt warmer now, his head pleasantly fuzzy, and his usual stoic demeanor had cracked—Rex had that effect on him. His voice was louder, his energy higher, and he was laughing more than he had all week.

“C’mon, Connors!” Rex slurred, throwing an arm around Remi’s shoulders, his wolfish grin wild and unrestrained. “Where’s the fire in you, huh? Thought you could drink!”

“I can drink,” Remi shot back with a tipsy smirk, shaking his head as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re just an idiot with a death wish.”

Rex threw his head back and howled with laughter. “That’s why you love me.”

Remi just snorted, shaking his head. He did not love Rex—at least, not in the way he was suggesting. But he couldn’t deny that something about Rex’s reckless, chaotic energy always drew something out of him, made him lean in just a little more.

It was fun.

But not for Levi.

Levi, poor Levi, was miserable.

He sat curled in Remi’s leather jacket, hunched over on a dilapidated couch, sniffling endlessly. His freckled nose was an irritated pink, and his normally sharp ice-blue eyes were watery and unfocused, dark circles settling under them from exhaustion. His nose was running relentlessly, yet he was somehow still impossibly congested, the pressure building behind his sinuses so badly that his head throbbed.

And the tickle. God, the tickle.

It tormented him, dancing just out of reach, keeping him on the edge of release over and over again only to disappear at the last second. It was infuriating.

“Hhh… hhihh… hh’ihhh… snffhh!”

Levi’s breath stuttered, his pink nostrils quivering, his face frozen in that helpless, pre-sneeze expression. His head tipped back slightly, lips parting, eyes fluttering—only for the sensation to vanish at the last second.

His entire body sagged with frustration, and he let out a hoarse, congested grumble, rubbing furiously at his nose with his sleeve. "Fugkig hell," he muttered breathlessly under his breath, scrubbing at the ticklish underside of his nostrils, trying to coax the sneeze back out.

Remi, still buzzed, still grinning at whatever nonsense Rex had been spouting before he wandered off to play beer pong, glanced down at Levi and blinked.

For a second, his expression softened.

Then, an idea sparked in his tipsy brain.

His gaze flickered around the party, assessing the situation. No one was paying attention to them—Rex was somewhere in the mass of bodies, too busy screaming over the music or flipping a table or whatever dumb thing he was doing now. No one would notice if they disappeared for a bit.

Remi turned back to Levi, his smirk returning. “Hey,” he said, his voice low, playful. “Come this way for a second with me.”

Levi, still sniffling and rubbing at his nose, blinked blearily at him. “W-why?” he croaked, his voice completely wrecked.

“Just come on,” Remi murmured, already taking his wrist and tugging him gently up from the couch.

Levi stumbled slightly, still disoriented from the congestion pressing down on his sinuses, but he followed, sniffling softly as he tried (and failed) to look stern. “R-Rem, what—?”

Remi didn’t answer. He guided him through the packed bodies, down a narrow hallway where the noise began to thin. They passed a few doorways, some cracked open to reveal coats piled on beds or couples making out, but Remi didn’t stop until they reached the end of the hall.

He pushed open a random door, revealing a dimly lit guest bedroom, unused and eerily quiet compared to the chaos of the party outside.

Levi, still sniffling, pulled back slightly. “Remi, w-we cad’t jusd go idto—”

Remi ignored him, smirking as he pulled Levi inside and shut the door silently behind them.

The sudden quiet was almost jarring. The only sounds were the muffled bass of the music outside and Levi’s damp, congested snuffles.

Remi turned on the lamp, the dim glow illuminating Levi’s utterly miserable expression. His freckled face was flushed, his red nose twitching helplessly, his breath still hitching ever so slightly. He was trying to glare at Remi, trying to look annoyed at being dragged away from the party, but it was impossible to take seriously when his breath kept stuttering and his watery eyes were half-lidded with irritation.

Remi chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “You look so pathetic right now.”

Levi scowled—or, well, tried to. “Fugk you,” he rasped weakly, sniffling hard.

But then his breath caught again, his lips parting, his nostrils flaring. He hovered there on the edge, right on the cusp of relief—only for it to fade away again.

“Ughhh,” Levi groaned miserably, scrubbing at his nose again. “Id’s right—hhehh—righd t-there…! Snffhh!”

Remi just smirked. “Yeah?” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “You need some help with that?”

Levi blinked up at him, dazed, confused, a little too feverish and miserable to even process the implication of that statement.

Remi, however, already had a plan forming in his booze-fueled brain.

And he was about to have some fun with it.

Levi was still hanging there, his breath hitching sharply, his tired, fevered face stuck in that frustrating pre-sneeze limbo. His nostrils flared helplessly, pink and irritated, his ice-blue eyes fluttering, watery and unfocused. But just like before, the sneeze taunted him, tickling relentlessly but refusing to fully release.

He let out a congested, exhausted whimper, scrubbing at his nose in frustration. “R-Remi, I c-cad’t— hhuhhh… snffhh! —I cad’t g-get id out!”

Remi, still a little buzzed, smirked as the I dea turned into a plan.

"Here," he murmured, voice low and teasing. “Let me help.”

Before Levi could protest, Remi reached out and gently—slowly—took hold of Levi’s chin between his fingers. His grip was firm but careful, his rough, calloused fingers somehow warm against Levi’s feverish skin.

Levi froze instinctively at the touch, his breath still stuttering, his body already leaning slightly into Remi’s hold.

Remi tilted the cat’s face up slightly, his green eyes glowing with arousal as he let his other hand lift. He raised his index finger and, with deliberate slowness, dragged his fingernail from the bridge of Levi’s pink, irritated nose all the way down to the very tip.

The effect was immediate.

Levi’s breath hitched violently, his whole body trembling with the sudden, overwhelming tickle that bloomed deep in his sinuses. His lips parted, his nostrils twitching desperately as his shoulders shuddered.

"Hhh—hihhh—hH’EXTSH’ue!! Hah’ESHHh‘uh!! HET’Shhh’eu! Eh’schh’iue!!”

He barely had time to turn his head to the side, sneezing freely into the air. The sneezes were wet and breathless, leaving him gasping between each desperate release.

“H'ptschu! Hhih’eeshiew! H’etshhiEW! Hihhh— Hihh’EXTSH’ue! hH’EiSCH’iiew!!”

By the time the fit passed, Levi was left panting softly, his cheeks burning both from exertion and embarrassment.

Remi chuckled, looking far too pleased with himself. “Feel better?” he teased, still holding Levi’s chin gently between his fingers. “At least that’s gotta be better than all those false starts you’ve been fighting all night.”

Levi, still breathless, sniffled thickly, his freckled nose twitching slightly as he swatted Remi’s hand away. “Y-you’re ad asshole,” he rasped, but the congested grumble in his voice robbed it of any real bite. He sniffled again, rubbing his sleeve under his nose before reluctantly muttering, “…but yeah, that did help a little. Took some of the pressure off my sinuses.”

Remi grinned, smug but affectionate. “Told ya,” he said, ruffling Levi’s damp fauxhawk.

Levi grumbled again, swatting at his hand before giving his nose a few thick, liquid sniffs. His sinuses were still unbearably full, but at least he wasn’t stuck in an endless cycle of false starts anymore.

Remi, still smirking, turned toward the nightstand, eyeing the brand-new tissue box sitting neatly in a fancy holder. He plucked one from the top, rolling the tip of it carefully between his fingers until it became a pointed, delicate twist.

He turned back to Levi, his glowing green eyes mischievous.

“Alright,” he murmured, holding up the tissue like a makeshift tool. “Wanna see if we can clear all of that congestion up?”

Levi eyed the rolled-up tissue in Remi’s hand, his ice-blue eyes bleary and wary, but ultimately resigned. He knew that look in Remi’s glowing green gaze—mischievous, teasing, but also brimming with a kind of gentle affection that he could never quite resist.

At least Remi hadn’t brought flowers. Or, worse, that damn chhinkni.

Levi still remembered the last time Remi had gotten his hands on some chhinkni, all too amused by how violently it had sent Levi into a spiraling sneezing fit. He’d had to lock himself in the bathroom just to get away from the smug bastard before he completely lost his mind.

So, all things considered, a tissue was fine.

Levi sighed, utterly defeated, before sniffling thickly. “F-fide,” he croaked, voice shredded and raw. “Bud... led be blow by dose first. Snffhh! By sdeezes have beed a liddle... messy lately…”

Remi chuckled at that, the sound low and affectionate, his lips curving into a fond smirk. “Of course,” he murmured, grabbing a handful of tissues from the box and passing them over.

Levi took them gratefully, pressing the soft layers firmly to his red, twitchy nose. He inhaled deeply through his mouth, gearing up, and then—

“Hhhnnnghhfff! Snrrfffhh!”

The sound was thick, liquid, and intensely productive, the tissues quickly filling as he cleared out some of the congestion clogging his sinuses. He winced, swallowing as he glanced up at Remi with a sheepish, embarrassed look.

But Remi wasn’t judging him.

If anything, he looked pleased, leaning back slightly, one arm draped over his knee, watching Levi with an almost amused kind of fondness. “Better?”

Levi nodded, sniffling softly before balling up the used tissues and tossing them onto the nightstand. “A liddle,” he admitted, voice still congested but at least slightly less thick.

Remi grinned, patting the empty space on the bed in front of him. “Alright. C’mere, kitten.”

Levi huffed at the nickname but obeyed, shuffling onto the bed, facing Remi, his freckled cheeks still flushed—not just from fever now, but from the absurdity of the situation.

Remi, looking just a little too entertained by all of this, tilted his head slightly and let his voice drop into something lower, smoother. “You ready?”

Levi sniffled once, thick and wet, before nodding hesitantly. “I’b ready…”

Remi smirked but softened as he reached out, gently cupping Levi’s chin in his hand once more, tilting his face up just slightly. Levi, already feeling the tickle lurking deep in his sinuses, let his breath hitch faintly at even that small movement.

Then, slowly—deliberately—Remi lifted the twisted tip of the tissue and traced it along the pinkened, sensitive edges of Levi’s nostrils.

The effect was instant.

Levi’s nose twitched hard, his breath immediately catching in his throat. “Hhh—hhehh…!” His watery eyes fluttered shut, his whole body tensing, his pink nostrils flaring wide as the feathery touch of the tissue teased at the deepest, most ticklish part of his sinuses.

Even just touching the sensitive skin inside was almost enough to make him gasp.

Remi, watching closely, let his lips curl in quiet satisfaction. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice smooth, guiding. “Let it happen.”

Levi barely had a choice. The tickle exploded into something unbearable, a sharp, shuddering sensation that spread from the bridge of his nose all the way to the back of his skull. His lips parted, his head tilting back slightly, the gasping breaths coming in quick, desperate waves—

“Hhhihh—hH’EiSCH’iiew!! Hihh’EXTSH’ue! Hhihhh—hah’ESHHh‘uh!! HET’Shhh’eu!! Eh’schh’iue!!”

Each sneeze bent him forward violently, his freckled nose buried in the tissues Remi had tucked into his free hand just in time. The sneezes were wet, breathless, completely uncontrollable, leaving him gasping for air in between.

Remi, still holding his chin steady, let out a low chuckle, utterly pleased. “Damn, bless you,” he murmured, rubbing a slow, soothing thumb over Levi’s jawline.

Levi barely had time to recover from the first fit before Remi was tilting his chin back up again, his glowing green eyes sharp and focused, his smirk lazy and amused.

“You’re not done yet, Kitten…” he murmured, his voice deep and almost—almost—sounding satisfied.

Levi’s exhausted, watery blue eyes blinked at him sluggishly, his chest still rising and falling unevenly from the last bout of sneezes. “R-Rebi,” he croaked, voice barely above a whisper. He sniffled thickly, gripping the tissues in his hand with trembling fingers. “I—I thidk I’b good, I’b—”

“Mm, nah, I don’t think so,” Remi cut him off, twirling the tip of the tissue deftly between his fingers. “You’re still all stuffed up, and I know you hate that.” His green eyes glowed with something a little darker, something mischievous. His smirk widened as he slowly traced the now damp tissue along the flushed edges of Levi’s twitching, sensitive nose. “Besides,” he added smoothly, “you let me start, so now you gotta let me finish.”

Levi let out a weak, choked sound, already feeling the feathery touch send an immediate, unbearable itch coursing through his sinuses. His nostrils flared wide, his lips parting, his flushed cheeks growing even pinker as the tickle spread mercilessly, faster than before.

“Hhh—h-hahhh…!”

Remi guided the tissue inside, his movements slow, deliberate, teasing. The instant it brushed against the sensitive walls of Levi’s sinuses, his whole body shuddered. His hands clenched in his lap, his breath completely stolen as the tickle bloomed into something utterly overwhelming.

“Thaaat’s it,” Remi murmured approvingly, watching as Levi’s face crumpled, his nostrils quivering desperately around the delicate pressure of the tissue. “Just let it happen, kitten.”

Levi barely had the presence of mind to glare at him before the sneezes finally tore through him.

“Hhh'KSHIEW! H'ihh’tTSCHhiew!! Hhh—! Hihh’EXTSH’ue! HAHHh—! Hhh’ESCHHh’eu!! H’ptschh-! i’hKSHIEW!!”

Each sneeze grew wetter, messier, more forceful, shaking his slender frame with every desperate release. Remi’s firm grip remained on the leopard’s chin, forcing him to sneeze freely into the air, the mess glittering against Remi’s tanned skin. The wolf couldn’t help but bite his lip firmly between his teeth.

As Levi opened his eyes slowly, his breath still shuttering from the intensity of the fit, he caught a glimpse of the animalistic glaze over his mate’s features. He knew that look. There was no reigning the wolf back in now…

As Remi reached out and cupped Levi's face in his hand, he tilted it upwards again, this time with their lips mere centimeters apart. Levi's heart raced, anticipation making him dizzy with desire. Their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss, tongues mingling together in an age-old dance. Levi moaned into the kiss, feeling warmth spread throughout his body.

Remi's hands began to explore the leopard’s body as their mouths moved together in unison. Fingers trailed down Levi's chest and abdomen, teasingly circling around his nipples and making him shiver with delight. When Remi's hand finally reached his mate’s waistband, he gave the bulge there a gentle squeeze that caused Levi to gasp and break away from their kiss.

"Please… touch me," Levi whispered breathlessly as Remi guided him onto his back and slowly peeled both his pants and underwear off in one fluid motion. He watched with hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly as the wolf knelt between his legs, a smirk playing on his lips. Remi’s strong hands grasped Levi's thighs, spreading them apart and revealing his flushed, aching entrance.

He leaned down to press tender kisses on Levi's inner thighs, his warm breath causing the feline to shudder with anticipation.

"You’re so sensitive tonight," Remi murmured deeply against the soft skin of his mate’s thigh, his voice rich with satisfaction.

Levi's exhausted, watery blue eyes blinked at him sluggishly, his chest still rising and falling unevenly from the onslaught of sensation.

As his tongue finally made contact with Levi's entrance, he felt the quivers that coursed through the smaller male's body. Levi whimpered in pleasure, bucking his hips slightly into Remi's face. “Nnngh.. hhh!”

The wolf continued to tease and pleasure Levi with his skilled tongue, licking and prodding at his entrance while occasionally moving upward to stroke along the underside of Levi's erection. He glanced up at Levi, noting the way his fingers clutched at the sheets and how his blue eyes were glazed over with unbridled lust, his pink freckled nose slight scrunched with pleasure.

Remi’s green eyes were so bright they were almost blinding, letting his lips curl in satisfaction. "That's it," he murmured, his voice smooth and guiding. "Doesn’t that feel so much better?"

Levi barely had a choice. The pleasure built up until it became unbearable; every sensation seemed intensified tenfold. His lips parted, gasping breaths coming in quick, desperate waves.

"Ah—oh god! Yes, Remi…please…"

“And what do you want, hm?” Remi urged, his bright green eyes almost blinding from the intensity in the dimly lit bedroom.

Desperate for more contact, Levi arched his back and moaned, "Remi… please… I need you inside me."

This made the wolf smirk, biting his lip between his teeth again. Without further delay, Remi positioned himself at Levi's entrance, guiding the head of his throbbing cock to the tight ring of muscle. He locked eyes with Levi before slowly pushing forward, inch by inch claiming the leopard beneath him as their bodies joined.

Levi gasped at the sensation of being filled so completely, biting down on his lower lip to stifle a moan. His fingers clawed at the sheets as he whimpered, "H-hhh—nngh...!"

Remi began to move with slow and deliberate thrusts, each time sinking deeper inside until their bodies were pressed flush together.

"God! Remi!" Levi moaned as the pleasure built inside him, threatening to burst from his very pores.

As their rhythm increased in both speed and intensity, Remi bent down to capture Levi's lips in a searing kiss. Their tongues danced together once more as they shared moans and pants of pleasure.

Unable to take any more teasing or restraint, Levi broke from the kiss and pleaded passionately into the wolf’s ear: "Remi… oh god… let me cum..."

His other hand stroked Levi's hard cock in time with the thrusts, applying just enough pressure to keep him on the edge of climax without sending him over. "That's it, kitten," he purred, his hot breath against Levi's ear sending shivers down his spine. "Let me hear you beg for it."

Levi's hips began to jerk erratically as the waves of pleasure crashed over him. "P-please, Rem-mi… I need t-to— Ahh!”

With that final plea, Remi's control snapped and he began thrusting faster and harder, causing Levi's moans to grow louder and more desperate. “That’s it, cum for me, kitten…” Remi commanded in deep, lustful purr.

On the brink of his climax, Levi's body tensed, back arching as he cried out in ecstasy.

Suddenly, Levi couldn't take it anymore. His entire body tensed as he arched off the bed, a sultry moan pouring from his lips as white-hot semen erupted onto both of their stomachs in thick ropes. The force of his climax left him trembling beneath Remi’s firm grip.

With a satisfied smirk, the wolf continued to thrust into him until he too reached his peak, releasing with a guttural growl.

For a moment, the rest of the world fell away and it was only the two of them, Levi’s body still trembling from the force of his orgasm as Remi slowly pulled out, his lips quirked into that trademark smirk of his, but his bright green eyes filled with something dangerous close to affection. He swiped a few more tissues from the box on the nightstand and wiped off the remnants that decorated his mate’s stomach.

“See? Now don’t you feel better?” The wolf mused between ragged pants as he handed Levi his discarded clothes.

Levi responded with an eye roll and an amused huff, a smile playing on his lips as he got dressed again. The air in the guest room was thick with warmth and the lingering scent of sex, but Levi finally felt like he could breathe again. His flushed cheeks were cooling, his sinuses were relieved, and the miserable pressure behind his eyes had faded into a dull hum instead of a relentless throb. He sniffled softly, rubbing the sleeve of Remi’s leather jacket across his nose before giving a content sigh.

“Alright,” he murmured, voice still hoarse but much less congested. “We should probably—snffhh—head back out before people start wond'ring where we wend.”

Remi, sprawled lazily on the bed, still looking way too pleased with himself, smirked at him. “You sure? You look like you’re actually comfortable for the first time tonight.”

Levi rolled his eyes, his cheeks dusted with a soft pink blush, but let out a small, amused huff. “Yeah, yeah. C’mon, before Rex starts burning shots in the air or something.”

Remi chuckled, pushing himself up from the bed before reaching down to take Levi’s hand. With a quick glance toward the door to make sure the coast was clear, he pulled them both out of the dim room and back into the party.

The music was still blaring from the garage, the air was still thick with alcohol and smoke, and the party was still a chaotic mess of bodies and laughter. But for once, Levi didn’t feel like absolute hell while standing in the middle of it. He felt light, more at ease, his usual energy returning bit by bit.

Unfortunately, before they could make it two steps, a familiar, very drunk presence crashed into them from the side.

“THERE you assholes are!” Rex slurred, throwing both arms over Levi and Remi’s shoulders, effectively pulling them both into a sloppy, warm half-hug. “Was wondering where my best fucking friends went!”

Levi let out a startled laugh as he stumbled slightly under the sudden weight of Rex’s embrace, while Remi just grinned, holding steady.

“You guys,” Rex continued, swaying slightly as he spoke, “are the best for coming tonight. Like—fuck, I love you guys. Seriously. I’d set the whole house on fire for you.”

“I know you would,” Levi said, shaking his head, still giggling as he looked away, his face pink—this time not from his cold.

Remi, smug as ever, shot Levi a knowing look before turning back to Rex with a lopsided grin. “Nah, Rex, thanks for inviting us. We had a fun night.”

He tossed Levi a wink, and Levi groaned, reaching up to smack Remi’s arm playfully—but he didn’t disagree.

Rex, squinting between the two of them, clearly drunk enough to sense something but not quite drunk enough to piece it together, just furrowed his brows in slow confusion.

“…What the fuck did I miss?”

Remi just laughed, shaking his head as he slid out from under Rex’s arm. “Nothing, man. Absolutely nothing.”

Levi, still pink-cheeked, ducked away, sniffling one last time before nudging Remi toward the door. “Alright, c’mon, before we really do have to put this place out of a fire.”

With Rex still muttering in tipsy confusion behind them, Remi and Levi made their way toward the exit, their steps light, their shoulders bumping together.

And for once, despite the sneezing, the congestion, and the sheer disaster of the night, Levi couldn’t help but think:

Yeah. That actually was kinda fun.

The sneezes erupted from him in rapid succession, bending him forward until his head nearly rested on his knees. The force left him gasping, the sound of his ragged breath filling the quiet space as he slumped back against the couch, tissues pressed firmly to his nose.

“Bless you,” Rexar said dryly, though the faint edge of concern in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.

“Thadks,” Vaelyn muttered, his voice barely audible as he gave his nose a weak blow. He eyed the mug in his lap as if it held the cure to all his ailments, then raised it to his lips. The first cautious sip was scalding, but the warmth spread through him like a balm, soothing the raw ache in his throat.

A quiet, involuntary hum of approval escaped him, and he sagged deeper into the couch. “Tell Kriia… she’s a saint,” he mumbled.

Rexar snorted, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. “Sure, I’ll let her know. Just don’t keel over before she gets back, yeah? I’d rather not have to explain that to the fans— and I wouldn’t even know how to make a new best friend this late in the game...”

Vaelyn offered a half-hearted glare, but the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying a flicker of gratitude beneath his misery.

The lion slouched further into the couch, dragging a tissue to his nose with a groggy motion as his sinuses waged another war against him. His flushed cheeks only made the irritated red of his nose more pronounced, and the glare he shot Rexar was half-hearted at best.

Rexar, perched casually on the armrest, smirked down at him with a glint of mischief in his sharp grey-and-red eyes. "You know, for someone so dramatic, you’re surprisingly consistent. I think you’ve sneezed more in the last hour than most people do in a week.”

Vaelyn shot him a watery glare, his hoarse voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thagks for the statisdics, Dr. Rexar. Always woddered who kept track of by hist…hh…” He trailed off, his breath hitching violently. He clamped the tissue tightly over his nose, the corner of his mouth curling downward as his blue eyes brimmed with tears.

“...hh’ESHHHhh! Hhh’ISSHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! ...ish! ...SHh!—sh! ………——hh’EISSHHHhew!” Each sneeze tore through him, leaving him gasping and dazed as he slumped back into the couch.

Rexar chuckled, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Man, you sound like someone’s trying to exorcise a demon out of you.”

“At least I dod’t becobe a fugkigg flabethrower whed I sdeeze,” Vaelyn shot back, his words muffled and thick with congestion. His free hand gestured weakly toward Rexar, punctuating his point. “You burdt by favorite jacket, rebebber that shit?”

Rexar barked a laugh, his teeth flashing in the dim bus lighting. “Oh, come on, that was, what? Two years ago? You’re still holding onto that?”

“Id was buhh— blasted leather,” Vaelyn croaked, pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan. His breath caught mid-sentence, his long fingers trembling as he fought to stave off the inevitable. His expression twisted, his watery blue eyes squeezing shut until the sneezes finally erupted.

“hh—ISHHHhew! ISCHHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! —ish! …ish! ...sh! ……..…hh’ISSHHHuhhh!” The final sneeze was so forceful it left him clutching at his tissues like they were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

Rexar shook his head, his grin widening. “You done, or you got more for the highlight reel?”

Vaelyn groaned, wiping his nose miserably. “You’re the wor…hh…worst.”

“Yeah, but I’m your worst,” Rexar quipped, patting Vaelyn’s shoulder lightly. “And don’t worry—I won’t set this jacket on fire. Yet.”

As the day dragged on, despite the show getting closer and closer, Vaelyn’s symptoms were only getting worse. His congestion had reached critical levels, rendering his nose completely useless. Each attempted breath was a noisy, wet struggle, forcing him to breathe through his mouth, which dried out his already sore throat. His fever clung to him like a heavy blanket, leaving his skin clammy and his cheeks flushed a blotchy red.

Every few minutes, his nose would rebel, sending him into relentless fits of sneezes that left his body trembling and his head spinning.

“...Hh’iISSHHhh!! ISCHHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! —ish!-shh! —shh! Hhh... hihhh—huh’IISHHHHHhew!”

“Bless you,” Rexar called out from across the bus, not even looking up from his guitar. “You sound like a dying foghorn, by the way.”

Vaelyn groaned, his head dropping back against the couch. “Thadks for the idsight,” he muttered, his voice thick with congestion.

Rexar strummed a few idle chords, smirking. “Hey, I’m just saying, if this whole music thing doesn’t pan out, you could have a promising career as a lighthouse.”

Vaelyn gave him a withering glare, though it lost some of its edge thanks to the tissue pressed firmly against his nose.

Despite his miserable state, Vaelyn couldn’t let himself wallow all day. The tour wasn’t over yet, and the thought of missing another show—especially after last night’s fiasco—made his chest tighten with guilt. He swung his legs off the couch and sat up, his head pounding in protest.

As Rexar rummaged through the small kitchenette, the sound of clinking dishes mixing with the hum of the bus engine, Vaelyn forced himself upright. His legs felt like they were made of lead, and a wave of dizziness made him grip the armrest for support.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rexar said, not bothering to turn around as he poured milk into a bowl of cereal. “You’re staying here today. Doctor’s orders.”

Vaelyn scowled, his already flushed face deepening in color. “You’re not a doctor.”

“No, but I’m your best friend,” Rexar retorted, setting the bowl down with a clatter, “which means I outrank your stubborn ass. Besides, do you really think you’re in any shape to get on stage tonight?”

Vaelyn opened his mouth to argue, but the hitching in his breath betrayed him. His nostrils flared, his breath stuttering as his head tilted back involuntarily.

“Ugh... I’b—hh—gonnuhhh... sdeeze—hh!” he stammered, his voice hitching higher with each breath. “HH’EISHHhh! ISCHHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! ...ish! ...sh!—sh!” The sneezes came rapid-fire, bending him forward and leaving him clutching the edge of the couch to keep from toppling over. His tea sloshed dangerously in the mug he still held, but he managed to set it down just before it spilled entirely. Vaelyn barely had time to suck in a shallow gasp before the fit resumed.

“...hehhHH!—EEIISSHHuhh!”

Rexar arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Point proven,” he said flatly, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

Vaelyn sniffled miserably, scrubbing at his nose with his hoodie sleeve. “I’ll be fide by todight,” he insisted, though his voice was little more than a congested rasp.

“Sure, and I’m the queen of Hiraeth,” Rexar shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Before Vaelyn could retort, Kriia stepped onto the bus, her arms full of bags from her trip to the store. She paused in the doorway, surveying the scene with a raised brow. “Alright” she started, setting the bags on the counter. “we’ve got a situation tonight.”

Vee groaned softly, scrubbing at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Please tell be it’s dot bad,” he rasped, his congestion thickening his voice even more.

Kriia smirked faintly, crossing her arms. “Depends on your definition of bad… We’ve got a meet and greet before the show tonight.”

Rexar leaned back in his seat, his sharp grey-red eyes narrowing. “Seriously? That’s tonight?”

Kriia nodded. “Yup. And before you even start, Rex, remember: people paid a lot of money for this. Skipping it isn’t an option unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Vee perked up slightly, despite the exhaustion weighing him down. “I could do it,” he said quickly, his voice cracking. “The fads deserve it. I could haddle the beet and greet… as a test, baybe?” He sniffled, wiping at his nose as his determination burned through his obvious misery. “See how I hold up before the show?”

Rexar raised an eyebrow, exchanging a skeptical look with Kriia. “You?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward Vee’s disheveled appearance. “You want to do the meet and greet?”

“I’ll be fide!” Vee protested, sitting up straighter as if that might make him look healthier. But the motion was ill-timed. His breath hitched sharply, his nostrils flaring as he quickly ducked his head into the neckline of his hoodie.

"Hhh… hh-Hhh! HH’EISHHhh! ISCHhh! ISHHh! hh—ISHHh! ISCHHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! ...ish! ...sh! ……………. Hhh—EEISSHHhuhh!!”

The rapid-fire sneezes shook him, his chest heaving with each forceful expulsion as he tried to stifle the fit against his chest. By the time he surfaced, his face was red, his hoodie dampened from the force of his sneezes.

Rexar leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, you’re real convincing right now, Vee,” he said with a smirk. “You’re gonna sneeze on the fans, aren’t you? That’s one way to make them remember tonight.”

Kriia shot Rex a warning look, though her lips twitched with amusement. “Alright, enough,” she said, holding up a hand. “How about this: we let Vee attend the meet and greet. If he can last the whole two hours without having to come back to the bus, then he can play the show.”

Vee’s fevered eyes brightened with determination, and he nodded quickly. “Deal,” he said, his voice rough but resolute. He reached out to Rexar for their signature secret handshake, a series of intricate hand slaps and finger snaps they’d perfected over years of friendship.

Rexar hesitated for a moment, then sighed, giving in and completing the handshake. “Fine,” he said, pointing a finger at Vee. “But if you so much as sneeze on a fan, I’m pulling you offstage myself.”

Vee grinned, though the effect was undercut when he had to abruptly pull away, his face twisting with another sneeze. "Hhh—hh’IISSHHhh!” He sniffled, muttering a congested, “Bless be,” under his breath.

Kriia shook her head, chuckling softly as she leaned in for her turn at the handshake. “Just don’t push yourself too hard, okay?” she said, her voice softer now.

“Dot a probleb,” Vee replied confidently, though he had to quickly pinch his nose as another sneeze threatened to escape. Kriia exchanged a knowing glance with Rexar as the guitarist readjusted his hoodie, his expression determined despite the obvious battle raging within his sinuses.

“Alright,” Rexar said, standing up and grabbing his guitar case. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We’ve got a meet and greet to survive, and I’m not doing all the talking tonight.”

Vaelyn’s day was a fevered blur of cold medicine and unrelenting misery. Somewhere between his second and third dose of the morning—far exceeding the recommended daily limit—his head started to feel light, almost floaty. The congestion in his sinuses remained stubbornly in place, however, and his body continued to rebel against his every move.

Sitting on the edge of his bunk, Vee fumbled with the red tape he wore across his nose, the adhesive sticking awkwardly to his clammy fingers. His breath hitched for the thousandth time that day as his nose twitched relentlessly.

“Hhh—hh’ISSHHHHuhh! HHh’IIESHHhh! Ishh! —shh!………………… Hhh—EEISSHHhuhh!!” The sneezes rocked him forward, his long hair spilling into his face. He groaned, swiping at his nose with a crumpled tissue. The sound of it was wet and useless, doing little to combat the itch that burned deep in his sinuses.

By the time he managed to get dressed—his hoodie pulled haphazardly over his head, his ripped jeans barely zipped—he was visibly worse for wear. His nose was a bright, irritated red, the same shade as the tape now crookedly plastered across its bridge. His face was puffy, his eyes rimmed with pink, and his expression made it look as though he was stuck on the verge of sneezing at all times— which, chances were, he was.

The tour bus rumbled to a stop, and the cheers from the waiting crowd hit Vaelyn like a tidal wave, vibrating through the metal frame of the vehicle. He leaned against the window, his fevered breath fogging up the glass as he stared out at the sea of fans. Their excitement was palpable, their shouts of “We love you, Vee!” and “Toad Biscuit forever!” ringing in his ears. Despite the pressure weighing him down, a faint smile tugged at his cracked lips, softening the perpetual exhaustion etched into his pale face.

Rexar, naturally, was already in full showman mode. The second his boots hit the pavement, he raised his hand, igniting a dazzling burst of flames that roared to life in his palm. The crowd’s cheers redoubled, their energy feeding off his theatrics.

“That’s right! Toad Biscuit’s here, baby!” Rexar bellowed, his voice carrying over the noise like a war cry. He flexed his free arm for added dramatic effect, his sharp grey-and-red eyes gleaming with mischief. He was practically glowing with his usual confidence, the firelight catching on his white hair and making him look every bit the rockstar he was.

Vaelyn shuffled behind him, the stark contrast between their demeanors almost comical. His long hair clung to his flushed, sweat-slicked skin, and his movements were lethargic, each step dragging as though his limbs were weighted down. His hoodie looked oversized and rumpled, almost swallowing his wiry frame, but the fans screamed his name all the same, their devotion undeterred by his disheveled appearance.

He raised a hand in a half-hearted wave, his tired blue eyes scanning the crowd. For a brief moment, he felt a flicker of warmth despite the misery brewing in his chest. But then the persistent itch in his nose surged forward, sharp and relentless, demanding his full attention. His breath hitched violently, his shoulders tensing as he struggled to keep himself together.

“Godda—hh! hh’ESHHHhh! Hhh’EISSHHHH! hh—ISCHh! ish! shh! —sh! ———————Hhh’ISSHHHhhuhh! ” The sneezes tore through him with brutal force, bending him at the waist as he clutched his guitar case for balance. The first two were loud and forceful, but by the third, his body couldn’t keep up, leaving him gasping for air in between.

The fans murmured with concern, their cheers briefly faltering as they noticed his struggle. Still, Vaelyn waved them off weakly, attempting to straighten as he sniffled harshly, his nose red and twitching uncontrollably.

Distracted by the roaring crowd, Rexar spun around, ready to hype them up further—only to walk straight into Vaelyn’s hunched frame. The collision jolted both of them, Rexar stumbling back slightly while Vaelyn barely managed to catch himself on the doorway.

“Dude!” Rexar exclaimed, his voice tinged with irritation before softening into concern. “You okay?”

Vaelyn couldn’t immediately answer, his breath hitching again as another rapid-fire fit overtook him. “Hhh... hh—godda... sdeeze! hh’ESHHhh! hh’EISSHhh! Ish! —ish! —shh!…………….. Hhh’ISSHHHhhuhh!!” He finally straightened with a groan, his flushed face and glassy eyes making him look utterly wrecked.

“Bless you,” Kriia said, materializing at Vaelyn’s side like a shadow. Her sharp purple eyes were full of worry as she placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “Think you can make it through the meet and greet?”

Vaelyn sniffled again, wet and miserable, as he blinked at her through his watery, irritated eyes. Despite every nerve in his body screaming for rest, his resolve remained unshaken. “Y-Yeah,” he rasped, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. “I’b dot... hh! …hh’ISSHHH!—godda disappoint the fads.”

Rexar rolled his eyes, though a small smirk tugged at his lips. “Alright,” he said with mock seriousness. “But if you sneeze on someone, it’s your apology they’re getting, not mine.”

Vaelyn managed a weak laugh, wiping his nose on his sleeve as Kriia shot Rexar a withering look. The three of them pushed through the venue doors, the roaring crowd’s energy still ringing in their ears.

The cheers of the crowd outside still roared faintly as the venue door closed behind them, muting the sound to a dull hum. Vaelyn and Rexar were ushered quickly backstage, Kriia trailing behind with a purposeful stride. Rex threw an arm casually around Vee’s shoulders, his natural charisma masking the tension in his sharp grey-red eyes as he glanced at his bandmate.

“Looking good, champ,” Rex said lightly, though there was a hint of forced cheer in his voice.

Vee didn’t reply, too focused on staying upright as the group wove through the narrow backstage corridors. His breaths were shallow, his congested nose barely allowing any air through, and his skin was clammy under the venue's harsh fluorescent lighting.

They were met by a member of the hair and makeup team, a petite woman with sharp features and an arsenal of brushes and palettes in her hands. “Vaelyn,” she said briskly, motioning for him to sit on a nearby stool, “let’s touch you up before you head out there. We don’t want anyone worrying, right?”

Vee blinked at her, his glassy blue eyes narrowing slightly, but he reluctantly sat down. “Right,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and uneven.

The makeup artist moved quickly, dabbing at his fever-flushed cheeks with a thin layer of foundation. The powder tickled his already inflamed nose, and his nostrils flared wildly as the itch took hold.

“Hhh... fugk, hh—godda... sdeeze! hh’ESHHhh! hh’EISSHhh! Ish! —ish! —shh! hh—huhhh—HHHIESHHHHhhuhh!”

The force of the sneezes bent him forward, nearly knocking the compact out of the makeup artist’s hands. She froze mid-movement, her expression hovering between surprise and exasperation.

“Sorry,” Vee rasped, though his tone was clipped, his frustration barely contained.

She hesitated, then resumed her work, this time with a larger, softer brush. Unfortunately, the thick bristles only made things worse.

“Hhh—hhhehh! Hh—I cad’t—hH’EISSHHhhuh! ISCHh! —Ish! —ish! — shh! —sh! ……. hh’IESHHHhh!”

Vee snapped upright, his watery eyes blazing with irritation as he swiped the makeup off his face with his sleeve. “That’s edough!” he barked, his voice cracking as he stood abruptly, wobbling slightly on his feet.

The makeup artist opened her mouth to protest, but Vaelyn was already moving, storming back toward Rex and Kriia with a huff.

Kriia tilted her head, her sharp purple eyes narrowing as she took in his disheveled appearance. Rex, leaning casually against a rack of stage props, arched an eyebrow and straightened up. “You good?” he asked, his voice lacking its usual teasing edge.

The genuine concern in Rexar’s tone made Vaelyn falter for a moment. He hesitated, his shoulders sagging slightly as he glanced down at his scuffed boots. His throat burned, his nose throbbed, and his legs felt like they could give out at any second, but he couldn’t let himself spiral.

“Fide,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. He sniffled harshly and tried to stand a little straighter, though the effort made him sway slightly.

Rex didn’t press further, but the sharp look he exchanged with Kriia said enough.

Desperate to redirect their attention, Vaelyn shuffled closer to the edge of the curtain and peeked out toward the crowd. The venue was already filling up, with fans pouring through the doors and forming a snaking line for the meet and greet. The low hum of anticipation buzzed in the air, sending a jolt of adrenaline through Vaelyn’s tired body.

“Packed house,” he muttered, his raspy voice laced with faint pride. He turned to glance at Rexar, the corners of his mouth twitching into a weak smile. “Guess we better give ’em a show, huh?”

Rex shook his head, his lips curving into a smirk. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, but there was a note of admiration in his voice.

Kriia stepped closer, placing a hand lightly on Vaelyn’s arm. “If you start feeling worse out there, just say something, okay?”

Vaelyn nodded, though he avoided her gaze. Deep down, he knew he was barely holding it together, but the sight of their fans—his fans—gave him enough resolve to push forward. He took a shaky breath and squared his shoulders, ready to face whatever came next.

The backstage handler motioned for Rexar and Vaelyn to proceed toward the meet and greet area, and the two musicians fell into step, Rexar striding confidently while Vaelyn followed a few paces behind, his movements slower and more deliberate. The muffled cheers from the crowd outside the curtain grew louder as they approached, the air electric with anticipation.

As soon as the fans caught sight of them, the line erupted into frenzied screams. Vaelyn’s tired blue eyes scanned the sea of excited faces, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of his symptoms lifted. He couldn’t help but smile faintly, though the effort felt heavier than it should.

Rexar, ever the showman, smirked and conjured a small flame in his palm, lifting it high as he called out, “What’s up, guys? Toad Biscuit’s in the house!”

The crowd roared in response, their energy feeding Rexar’s charisma. He glanced over at Vaelyn, who was clearly struggling to muster the same enthusiasm. Vee’s movements were mechanical, his pale face flushed with fever and his nose an angry red, twitching constantly.

Still, Vee forced a smile, pushing through the haze of congestion and exhaustion. “What’s going on, guys?!” he called out, his voice cracking slightly but still managing to sound cheerful.

The crowd erupted again, and over the chaos, a girl’s voice rang out, clear and high-pitched. “I love you, Vaelyn!”

Caught off guard, Vee blinked, but a slow smirk spread across his face, his usual swagger flickering to life for just a moment. “I love you too!” he replied, his voice rasping but playful. “Why don’t you tell me all about our love when you come up here?” He flashed a sultry smile that sent the crowd into another frenzy.

Rexar shook his head with a laugh, muttering, “like I said. Unbelievable,” as they reached the head of the line.

The roar of the crowd outside the venue was deafening, and the energy was palpable as Toad Biscuit made their way to the gated off section of the dim room. Security guided them to a small area just behind the meet-and-greet setup where the fans would soon be ushered in. Rexar led the way with his usual swagger, his sharp grey-red eyes scanning the growing line of eager fans just beyond the curtain. The pyromancer couldn’t resist tossing a small burst of flame into the air, eliciting another wave of cheers and screams from the crowd.

“Show-off,” Vaelyn muttered, leaning heavily against the wall as he trailed behind, one hand gripping the strap of his guitar case for balance. His tall frame seemed to sag under the weight of his fever, his broad shoulders hunched as if he were trying to conserve every ounce of energy.

Kriia, walking just behind him, gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before nudging him toward their setup. “Just breathe, Vee,” she said softly. “You’ve got this.”

Vaelyn nodded faintly, pulling his hoodie tighter around his face to shield his flushed cheeks. He could feel the tickle building in his nose again, an unrelenting itch that refused to let him have a moment’s peace.

Rexar turned to glance over his shoulder, catching the look of pure misery etched on Vaelyn’s face. “Man, you’re really putting the ‘death’ in deathcore today,” he teased, though there was a note of concern hidden in his tone.

“Thags for the encourahh—hahh…hh’EISSHHhh!” Vaelyn’s breath hitched violently as the sneezes tore through him, bending him double. “H-Hehh! hh’ISHHhh! ISHh! —ish! —Shh! —shh! …..…hh—hhEISHHHhhuhh!” He barely managed to straighten up, his watery blue eyes darting toward Rexar. “...edcouragembt,” he finished hoarsely, dabbing at his raw, red nose with a crumpled tissue.

Rexar shook his head, his smirk widening. “You’re a fucking mess, Vaelyn,” he muttered.

As they reached the staging area, security gestured for them to wait while the final checks were made before letting the fans in. Rexar stood casually, hands on his hips, his gaze flicking toward Vaelyn as he leaned against the wall, clearly struggling just to stay upright.

“You good?” Rexar asked, his voice softer now, though his smirk remained.

Vaelyn sniffled, the sound thick and miserable, before rasping, “Yeah. Just gotta… catch by breath.” His words were clipped as if it physically hurt to force them out.

The muffled roar of the crowd grew louder as the curtain rustled slightly, and Vaelyn turned his attention to the fans pouring into the venue. For just a moment, their enthusiasm seemed to cut through the haze of his fever.

Rexar patted Vaelyn on the back, his hand lingering briefly in a gesture of unspoken support, before turning his attention to the fans beginning to line up at the front of the meet-and-greet area.

Vaelyn barely noticed, his focus narrowing to the task ahead as he fought to keep his head clear. But with every second that ticked by, the weight of his exhaustion pressed heavier on his frame, his pulse thrumming loudly in his ears. The first fan stepped forward, her excitement shining brightly enough to momentarily cut through the fog of his misery.

“Hi!” she squeaked, clutching a notebook with trembling hands.

Vaelyn glanced up from beneath the hood of his sweatshirt, his glassy blue eyes rimmed with red and underscored by dark shadows. He forced a small, tired smile, the warmth in his features muted but genuine though it barely reached his fevered expression. “Hi,” he croaked, his voice rough and barely audible over the din of the crowd.

Reaching for the notebook, his fingers shook as he signed his name in messy, looping script. The simple act of holding the pen made his hand feel leaden, his muscles aching from the effort. The fan shifted nervously, moving to stand beside him for a photo, but before the handler could snap the shot, Vaelyn’s body seized.

“Hhh—hh’IESHHhh! hh’EISSHH! hh—ISHHHh! hh—ISHHHHhh! —shh! hh—hh… HHHIESHHHHuhhh!”

The sneezes tore through him with unrelenting force, folding him at the waist as he turned sharply into the crook of his arm. His guitar strap slipped off his shoulder, and his knees buckled slightly from the effort. The fan startled, her notebook slipping from her grip onto the floor as Vaelyn scrambled for tissues.

The handler paused patiently, camera poised, while Vaelyn pulled a crumpled tissue from his pocket. He dabbed at his red, swollen nose, sniffling miserably as he looked up at the fan. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, his voice thick and congested.

“It’s okay!” the fan chirped, her brow furrowing with concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

Vaelyn forced a weak laugh, the sound dissolving into a painful cough that wracked his chest. He cleared his throat, though it did little to help his hoarse tone. “Just a cold,” he rasped, though the deep flush of his cheeks and the wet, sniffling sound of his breathing suggested otherwise.

The handler snapped the photo, but before Vaelyn could relax, his nose twitched violently. The persistent itch that had been tormenting him all day surged to the forefront, and his breath hitched uncontrollably.

“Hhh—hh! Hhh—hh’IESHHhh! hh’EISSHH! ISHHHh! hh—ISHHHhh! —shh! —sh! …hahhh… HHHIIESHHHHuhhh!”

The photo had to be retaken twice more, each attempt interrupted by another desperate fit of sneezes. By the time they moved on to the next fan, Vaelyn’s shoulders sagged under the weight of his exhaustion.

The line stretched on, and with each passing interaction, Vaelyn felt his energy drain further. His nose was an unrelenting mess, the redness spreading across his cheeks like a rash, his nostrils flaring with every strained sniffle.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Vee?” someone asked, their voice gentle with concern.

Vaelyn nodded weakly, though the constant pre-sneeze squint on his face made it clear he was barely holding himself together.

One fan, a soft-spoken girl with kind eyes, reached out to touch his forehead, her palm cool against his fevered skin. Vaelyn froze, his breath hitching as he leaned subtly into the comforting gesture.

“Poor thing,” she murmured, pulling back with a sympathetic frown. “You should be in bed.”

Vaelyn chuckled weakly, his congested laugh dissolving into a coughing fit. “Cad’t disappoint the fads,” he said hoarsely, though the toll on his body was undeniable.

Finally, the girl who had shouted her love for him earlier stepped forward, her eyes shining with adoration. “You know, your sneezes are kinda cute,” she teased, offering him a fresh tissue from her purse.

Vaelyn’s tired blue eyes crinkled with amusement as he accepted the tissue. “Thadks,” he said, his voice a broken whisper. He blew his nose with a loud, gurgling sound, sighing heavily as he crumpled the tissue in his fist.

The girl turned her attention to Rexar, her tone shifting to one of mock scolding. “Why are you making him play in this condition?”

Rexar opened his mouth to reply, but Vaelyn cut him off with another rapid-fire fit of sneezes.

“Hhh… hhh’IESHHHhh! hh’EISHHHH! ISCHHH! ISH!…ISH! —SH! hh—IESSHHHHhuhh!”

Vaelyn doubled over, clutching his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. His flushed face and glassy eyes betrayed his overwhelming fatigue, but he straightened up with a faint, defiant smile.

“Dot his fault,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “I… I wadted to be here.”

The girl’s expression softened, and she reached out to pat his arm gently. “Well, take care of yourself, okay? We love you.”

Vaelyn’s lips twitched into a weak but genuine smile. “Love you too,” he murmured, the words carrying a sincerity that shone through his exhaustion.

As the meet and greet continued, Vee’s body began to betray him further. The wave of fans that filed through the line, all excited and eager to meet their idols, felt like an unrelenting flood. Vee smiled through it all, but each photo op was becoming more of a challenge. His chest was tight, his breathing shallow, and he had long since lost count of how many retakes had been necessary because of his persistent sneezing. His head throbbed, every sneeze sending a jarring burst of pain through his skull, and his vision was starting to blur at the edges.

His nose twitched again, the all-too-familiar pressure building behind his sinuses, threatening to overtake him at any moment. “Hh...hH’ISHHhh! Hhh—hh’ISSHH! —ischhh! Ish!—Shh!— sh! hh—! ………..hh—IISHHHHhhuhhh!!” His body bent forward involuntarily with the force of the sneeze, a muffled gasp escaping his lips before he quickly grabbed another tissue, blowing his nose as discreetly as he could manage.

“Okay... th-thadk you,” he muttered to the fan, handing them their signed poster before giving them a weak smile. But as they moved to the next person, he found his hands shaking slightly, his body swaying a little more with each passing moment. His chest felt like it was made of lead. The tightness in his ribcage hadn’t gone away, and the constant tickle in his throat made it feel like he was swallowing shards of glass.

This wasn’t sustainable. He could barely even keep his eyes open as the next fan approached. His head was pounding, his body aching from the exertion. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed, but it felt like hours. He had no idea how long he could keep this up, but he couldn't afford to let his bandmates down again. His pride and stubbornness wouldn’t allow it.

But then his vision blurred more dramatically, and the world around him tilted. The sensation of the room spinning was so overwhelming that he had to grip the wall to steady himself. His breath was coming in ragged, shallow bursts as his hands slid down the wall. He had to take a second to close his eyes, just to regain some semblance of balance.

From her spot nearby, Kriia noticed immediately. Her bright purple eyes narrowed in concern as she tugged on Rexar’s sleeve, nodding toward Vaelyn. “He’s struggling,” she said softly.

Rexar’s gaze snapped to Vee, and he frowned. “Yeah, I see it.” With a quick glance at the crowd, Rexar stepped over to Vee and gently grabbed his shoulder. “Hey, man. Let’s take a minute,” Rex said, his voice low and steady.

Vaelyn shook his head stubbornly, his tired blue eyes meeting Rexar’s sharp grey-red ones. “I’b fide,” he rasped, though his cracked voice and the tremble in his legs said otherwise.

Rexar sighed, crossing his arms. “Vee, you don’t have to do this. Seriously, we’d rather you go back to the bus and rest than kill yourself over one show. You look like you’re about to collapse on me, Vaelyn. Just... go back to the bus. It’s one night. We’ve got this. We’d rather you get healthy.”

Vaelyn opened his mouth to argue, but a deep, rattling cough overtook him, cutting him off mid-thought. He doubled over, clutching his chest as the coughs shook his already worn-out frame.

Without realizing it, the next fan in line had already been let through by security. A short, thin goth girl approached them with a confident stride, her single emerald green eye locking onto Vaelyn with obvious admiration. The left side of her face bore a sewn-shut eyelid, giving her a striking appearance, but her energy was all charm.

Vee forced a smile, trying to push past the mounting dizziness. “Sorry for the hold-up,” he said, straightening his posture despite his body’s protests.

“Oh my god, Vaelyn,” she gushed, her voice dramatic and dripping with affection. “Don’t apologize! You look like you’re not feeling well, poor thing.”

Vee straightened up as much as he could, his 6’2 frame towering over her petite stature. Despite his pounding headache and burning throat, he forced a weak, hoarse chuckle. “Is it that obvious?” he asked, sniffling as he rubbed at his raw, twitching nose.

“Absolutely,” she replied, blinking her good eye at him in an exaggeratedly seductive manner. “But that’s okay—I can always just take care of you back at the bus while they play the show...”

Rexar smirked silently, raising an eyebrow as he looked between the girl and Vee, his amusement barely concealed.

Vaelyn managed a dry laugh, shaking his head slightly before his breath hitched violently. “Hhhfugk—hhhold o—hh! Hh’EISHHhh! IESHHhh! ISHHHhh!—ISH! —SHHh! —shh! —sh! ………………….hh—IISHHHHuhh!” He barely had time to breathe before the rapid-fire sneezes took over, bending him at the waist as he desperately buried his face in the crook of his arm.

The girl pouted, her gaze filled with something close to desire. “Bless you, babe,” she cooed, placing a hand on his arm as he straightened, sniffling harshly.

Rexar snorted softly, unable to hold back his amusement any longer. “So… you gonna take her up on that, Vee?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Vaelyn shot him a tired, unimpressed glare before turning back to the girl with a weak smile. “As dice as that souds,” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper, “I thidk I’d just edd ub sdeezing all over you.”

She laughed, her confidence undeterred. “I wouldn’t mind,” she teased, winking as Rexar barked out a laugh beside her.

Vaelyn raised an eyebrow at the girl’s bold response, his glassy blue eyes narrowing slightly as he scrubbed at his raw, irritated nose with the heel of his hand. He sniffled wetly, mulling her words over in his fever-addled mind. On any other day, he might have jumped at the opportunity—groupies were practically an unofficial part of the tour, and he regularly blew off steam in their company. But something about her offer felt strangely intimate, even vulnerable. The idea of being cared for, especially in his current state, made him hesitate.

The pounding ache behind his temples wasn’t helping either, each throb deafening and relentless. Yet, as if sensing his reservations, the girl doubled down.

She tilted her head, her choppy black and lime-green streaked hair falling across her good eye as she leaned closer. “Come on, Vaelyn,” she purred, her tone dripping with charm. “You deserve a little TLC after everything, don’t you?” Her fingers brushed lightly against his arm, her touch lingering.

Vaelyn’s tired eyes flicked to her hand, and he let out a weak, raspy chuckle. Before he could respond, she leaned in further, practically throwing herself at him with a flirtatious smile. “I can make you feel so much better,” she added, her voice low and sultry.

Despite himself, Vaelyn felt his lips twitch into a faint smirk. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever heard, even if the sharp ache in his skull made it hard to think straight. “You’re damn persistent,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and laden with congestion.

“I just know what I want,” she shot back confidently, batting her lashes at him.

For a long moment, Vaelyn considered her, his tall frame leaning heavily against the wall. His resolve to tough it out for the show was already wavering, and the promise of rest—no matter how unconventional—was too tempting to pass up. With a low sigh, he nodded. “Alright,” he murmured, his tone resigned but tinged with amusement.

Kriia and Rexar, both observing the exchange from a few feet away, froze in shock. Kriia’s mouth opened slightly in disbelief, while Rexar’s sharp grey-red eyes widened before narrowing in realization.

“Wow,” Rexar said, stepping closer and crossing his arms. “You must feel like absolute dog shit if you’re sitting out for a hot groupie.” His tone was teasing, but concern softened his words.

Vaelyn shot him a tired glare, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “Yeah, well... dot your busidess,” he croaked, scrubbing at his nose again.

Rexar nodded, his playful demeanor briefly slipping as he looked Vaelyn over. His sharp gaze scanned his best friend’s flushed face, bloodshot eyes, and slumped posture. “Be safe, alright? And feel better,” he said sincerely.

Then, with a grin, Rexar’s trademark mischief returned. He clapped Vaelyn on the shoulder, his voice loud and teasing as he glanced between Vee and the girl. “Have fun, you crazy kids!”

Vaelyn huffed a weak laugh but said nothing, watching as Rexar headed back toward the crowd to break the news of his absence.

For a moment, doubt crept into Vaelyn’s mind. Was he really making the right decision?

But before he could dwell on it, the tickle in his nose surged to life with startling intensity.

“Hhh—hhhold o—hh! fugk! Hhh—hh’ISSHHHhuhh! hh’EISHHHH! ISHHHhh!—ISHh! —ish! —shh! —sh! Hehh—!…………… hH’EISSHHhhuh!” The fit folded him in half, his long frame trembling as he scrambled to bury his face into his elbow. Each sneeze wracked his body, leaving him gasping and red-faced. When he finally straightened, his breath was labored, and a marshy, waterlogged sniffle escaped him.

The girl watched him crumple, her expression shifting into one of unabashed desire. “God, you’re so fucking hot...” she muttered, her voice barely audible over the pounding in Vaelyn’s head.

He raised an eyebrow at her, one corner of his mouth quirking up in incredulous amusement. “Seriously?” he croaked, his tone both baffled and dry.

She simply smiled, unashamed, as Vaelyn sighed heavily, resigning himself to whatever came next.

Vaelyn sniffed and rubbed at his nose, his tired blue eyes narrowing as he looked at the girl standing before him. “Okay, so what’s your name then, mystery healer?” he croaked, his dry humor barely masking his curiosity.

The girl grinned, clearly pleased to have his attention. “Kalypso,” she said, her voice lilting. “I’ve been following Toad Biscuit for a while now, and when I saw you were doing a meet and greet, I just had to come. You’re my idol, Vaelyn. I had to have you...”

“Your idol, huh?” he rasped, raising an eyebrow as a faint, incredulous smirk played at his lips. His fingers pressed lightly against the bridge of his nose, pinching away the incessant itch as he mulled over her words. “Well, Kalypso, it’s not every day I hear that, especially after a sneezing fit, but thanks for sticking around.”

Kalypso laughed softly, the sound warm and inviting. “Honestly, I think it makes you even more endearing. It shows you’re just like everyone else, y’know? Besides…” She leaned in slightly, her single green eye locking onto his with a playful glint. “You’re still here, sick and all, for your fans. That’s just one reason why you’re my idol.”

Vaelyn opened his mouth to reply, but the relentless tickle in his sinuses surged forward, cutting him off. His breath hitched sharply, and he turned quickly into his arm. “Goddasdeeeze—! Hhh-hh! Hh’IESHHHhh! ISCHHh! ISHHh! —ISHh! —shh! —Sh! ——-…….. hh’EISSHHHHhuhh!” His tall frame shuddered with each release.

“Bless you,” Kalypso said softly, her hand resting lightly on his forearm.

“Thags,” he sniffled, swiping at his nose with a tissue he’d retrieved from his pocket. His shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and for a moment, he considered calling it a night. But as he glanced back at Kalypso, her earnest smile and unwavering gaze sparked something in him—a faint reminder of why he pushed himself through the misery in the first place.

“All right, Kalypso,” he rasped, standing a little straighter despite his wavering balance. “Let’s get this over with.”

As they stepped into the bus, the world outside seemed to fade away, replaced by the intimate confines of the vehicle. Kalypso closed the door behind them, sealing them in a private realm where her desires would soon unfold. Vee slumped onto his previous position on the couch, his body aching and weak, as Kalypso hovered over him, her presence dominating the small space.

"Let me help you get comfortable," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Vee's eyes fluttered closed as she gently removed his jacket, her fingers brushing against his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She took off his torn shirt, exposing his pale chest, and leaned in, her lips brushing against his feverish skin. Vee let out a soft moan, his body responding to her touch despite his weakened state.

Kalypso's hands roamed over his body, her touch both soothing and arousing. She traced the lines of his muscles, her fingers lingering on his sensitive nipples, causing Vee to arch his back and let out a soft, feverish groan. As she explored his body, Vee's breathing became labored, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his nose surged to life. “Hhh... hh—gonna... sdeeze! hh’ESHHhh! hh’EISSHhh! Ish! —ish! —shh! hh—huhhh—HHHIESHHHHhhuhh!”

"My GOD, your sneezes, Vee…" Kalypso purred, her voice filled with delight. "I've always had a particular — err… fondness? for them." Her words sent a rush of heat through Vee's body, and he sneezed again, a violent explosion that seemed to thrill her.

“Hhhhhh—! Hh—hh’EISSHhh!”

“That's it, babe. Let it all out." Her voice was husky, filled with promise. Vee felt a rush of warmth as she gently took his face in her hands, her thumb brushing against his feverish cheek.

"You're burning up," she murmured, her breath hot against his skin. "Let me cool you down." With that, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Vee responded, his lips parting, inviting her in. Her mouth was sweet, tasting of cherry liquor, a flavor that danced on his tongue.

As the kiss deepened, Vee's hands found their way to Kalypso's waist, pulling her closer. He could feel her body heat, a contrast to his own feverish state. Her skin was soft, her curves enticing beneath the layers of her clothing. She broke the kiss, her breath coming in short gasps, and smiled wickedly.

Kalypso's hands roamed freely, exploring his chest, her touch both gentle and possessive.

Vee's hands mirrored her actions, sliding down her back, unzipping her dress. The fabric fell away, revealing a lacy black bra and her pale, flawless skin. Her body was a work of art, curves and shadows, a canvas of desire. Vee's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her.

Kalypso stepped back, her green eye blazing with passion. She reached behind her, unhooking her bra, letting it fall to reveal her breasts, full and inviting. Vee's eyes widened, his mouth dry as he drank in the sight. She took a step towards him, her nipples hardening in the cool air, and placed his hand on her breast.

"Feel me," she whispered, her voice heavy with desire. Vee's fingers closed around her soft flesh, his thumb brushing over her nipple, causing her to gasp. Her eye closed, and she leaned into his touch, her head tilting back, exposing the delicate line of her throat.

Vee's hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her closer, his lips finding her neck, kissing, licking, and sucking gently. She moaned softly, her body arching into his touch. He could feel her heartbeat quicken beneath his lips, her scent, a heady mix of perfume and desire, filling his senses.

Kalypso's hands moved to the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them with practiced ease. Vee stepped out of his clothes, his body now bare, revealing his lean, muscular form. She ran her hands over his chest, down his stomach, and lower, her touch electric.

"I want you," she breathed, her voice a raw, primal desire. Vee's erection strained against her touch, and she smiled, a wicked, triumphant smile. She pushed him gently onto the bed, her body following, her skin sliding against his.

As Vee lay beneath her, Kalypso straddled him, her hands exploring his body, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles. She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear, her breath hot and intoxicating. "I'm going to make you feel so good," she whispered, her voice a sensual promise.

Vee groaned as she took him in her hand, stroking him slowly, her touch firm and knowing. Her mouth found his, kissing him deeply, her tongue dancing with his.

Kalypso positioned herself above him, guiding him inside her warm, wet core. Vee gasped as she lowered herself, taking him in, her heat enveloping him. She began to move, a slow, sensual rhythm, her hips rolling, her body undulating above him.

The bus rocked gently with their movements, the fairy lights casting a magical glow over their entwined bodies. Vee's hands gripped her hips, guiding her as she rode him, her moans filling the air, a melody of pleasure. He could feel her muscles clenching around him, her body responding to his, their rhythm building to a frenzied pace.

As they moved together, Vee's feverish state seemed to melt away, replaced by a different kind of heat, a burning desire that consumed them both. Kalypso's green eye was wild, her body glistening with sweat, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Vee," she panted, her voice pleading. "I'm so close." Vee responded, his hands gripping her thighs, his body thrusting up to meet her, their movements becoming more urgent, more primal.

With a final, desperate cry, Kalypso climaxed, her body shuddering, her muscles clenching around him. Vee followed, his release intense, his body arching off the bed, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the pleasure.

They lay entangled, their hearts racing, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Kalypso's body was a warm, welcome weight on top of him, her green eye gazing down at him, filled with a mixture of satisfaction and something more—a hint of infatuation, perhaps.

Kriia sighed, shaking her head. "Okay, that’s it," she said firmly. "If you’re gonna be stubborn and play, at least let us help you. We’ll figure something out to make it easier."

"I'm fine," Vee grumbled again, but the pitiful rasp of his voice and the deep flush on his fevered cheeks said otherwise. Still, his determination was unshakable, and Kriia exchanged a resigned glance with Rexar.

Vee’s protests were half-hearted at best, and even he seemed to realize it. Every time he tried to straighten up and shake off the misery, another sneeze or a fit of coughing would drag him back down. His fingers trembled slightly as he fumbled to open his guitar case, the weight of the instrument feeling heavier than usual.

Kriia moved closer, watching him with quiet concern. “Vee,” she said gently, crouching next to him as he perched on the edge of the bus seat, “we’re serious. Let us help you. You don’t have to keep proving how tough you are. We already know.”

Rex, now sitting cross-legged on the floor tuning his guitar, chimed in with a teasing grin. “Yeah, dude, we get it. You’re the ultimate badass. Now how about letting your body catch up with that ego of yours before it spontaneously combusts?”

Vee gave them both a side-eye glare, his lips twitching into the faintest ghost of a smirk. But before he could reply, his breath hitched sharply, and he instinctively turned to the side, pressing his wrist against his face.

“ISSHhuh! — Hdt’ISHh! —ISCHhh! — Isch! ish! ………. Hhh—hhHIESSHHhuhh!”

The sneezes were so forceful they nearly knocked him forward, his long hair swinging into his face with each convulsive motion. His guitar case wobbled precariously on the bench next to him as he leaned forward, gasping for air.

“Bless you,” Kriia murmured, her brow furrowing.

Rex winced as if the sneezes had been his own, strumming a chord absently before adding, “Man, if you sneeze any harder, your nose’s gonna file for worker’s comp.”

Vee sniffled miserably, swiping at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Hilarious,” he rasped, though his usual venom was dulled by exhaustion. His voice cracked, and he winced, clutching at his throat.

Kriia reached out, resting a hand lightly on his knee. “You’re really not okay, are you?”

“I’ll live,” Vee muttered, though the congestion thickened his words into a near-whimper. “Just… let me get through tonight. I can’t—I won’t sit this one out.”

Kriia sighed deeply, her expression a mix of exasperation and affection. She stood, patting his shoulder lightly before glancing at Rexar, who was now silently watching his friend with a worried crease in his brow.

“Alright,” she said finally. “But we’re keeping an eye on you, Vee. The second you look like you’re about to pass out, I’m dragging your stubborn ass off that stage myself.”

“Good luck with that,” Vee muttered, though the corners of his lips curved upward in a faint, wry smile.

Rex chuckled, grabbing his own guitar case as he stood. “If she doesn’t, I will,” he said. “But hey, if you faceplant mid-song, I’m totally posting it on the band’s account.”

Vee scoffed weakly, though the sound melted into a wet sniffle. “Do it,” he challenged hoarsely. “Maybe it’ll go viral and sell some albums.”

“Always the optimist,” Rex said dryly, offering him a hand up.

Vee stared at it for a moment before reluctantly taking it, his movements sluggish as Rex hauled him to his feet. He swayed slightly, his tall frame trembling with the effort of staying upright, but he steadied himself against the wall of the bus. His chest heaved as he tried to take a deep breath, but the effort sent him into a harsh, barking cough that left him hunched over and gasping.

Kriia bit her lip, exchanging a look with Rexar. “Let’s just get through soundcheck,” she said softly.

Rex nodded, clapping Vee on the back as they made their way off the bus. “One step at a time, man. One step at a time.”

By the time they arrived at the venue, Vee was visibly worse. His usually confident stride was reduced to a sluggish shuffle, his shoulders hunched under the weight of his exhaustion. His guitar case dangled limply in his hand, and every few steps he would stop, gripping the edge of a nearby table or wall to steady himself.

"Maybe just... don’t die before we even get to the stage," Rex joked half-heartedly as they set up for soundcheck.

"Noted," Vee replied, his voice muffled as he turned away, his breath hitching once again.

"Hh—hhuhh! Hhh- I’mgonnasneezeagain—Hh'IESHHh! Hehh- IESHHh!! ISSHH! ISHhh! ……………… HhIESHHhuh! "

Each sneeze wracked his tall frame, bending him forward at the waist. He swayed slightly, blinking dazedly as he clutched his guitar for support.

"Bless you," Rex said again offhandedly, tuning his guitar without looking up. "You sure you’re not secretly auditioning for ‘World’s Loudest Sneezes?’ I think you’d win."

Vee managed a weak chuckle, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Ha... ha," he muttered, though there was no venom in his voice. If anything, he seemed too drained to muster up his usual sharp sarcasm.

The roar of the crowd vibrated through the walls of the venue, a pulsing wave of energy that usually gave Vaelyn a thrill. Tonight, though, it only added to the pounding in his head. He leaned against the side of the stage, his guitar slung over his back, the strap digging into his shoulder. His chest rose and fell with shallow, wheezy breaths as he tried to psych himself up.

"You got this," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the chaos. He sniffled wetly, his nose red and raw, the medical tape across its bridge looking almost neon against his flushed complexion. "Just a few songs. Then you can crash."

Rexar stepped up next to him, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You sure about this, man? You can still bow out. No shame in it."

Vee shook his head, his long, disheveled hair falling into his face. "I’m fine," he rasped, though his hoarse voice betrayed him. "Let’s just... let’s do this."

Rexar hesitated for a moment, studying his best friend’s pale, fevered face before giving him a small nod. "Alright. Just don’t push yourself too hard, okay? I’ll cover if you need me to."

With that, Rex stepped out onto the stage, greeted by deafening cheers from the audience. Vee followed a few steps behind, plastering on a faint, forced smile as he waved weakly to the crowd. The bright stage lights felt like daggers in his already pounding head, and he had to squint against their intensity.

The first song started, a fast-paced, heavy metal anthem that usually got the crowd hyped. Vee’s fingers moved over the strings of his guitar with practiced precision, but his movements were sluggish, his timing slightly off. His congested breathing echoed in his ears, drowning out the music.

He made it through the first song, but barely. His vision blurred at the edges, and he could feel the heat radiating off his own skin. He sniffled constantly, trying to keep the relentless drip from his nose under control, but it was a losing battle. By the second song, his sneezes returned with a vengeance.

"Eh-hh! eishh!-ishh!-ish!-’shh!... —ISSHHhew! HH—……HHEISSCHHuhhh!"

The fit bent him double, his guitar hanging limply at his side as he sneezed violently into his elbow. He barely managed to recover in time to join in on the next chorus.

The blaring lights and deafening roar of the crowd felt like a distant echo to Vaelyn, his fever-addled mind barely able to register the chaos around him. His knees buckled slightly as he fought to stay upright, his long fingers fumbling with the strings of his guitar. His grip faltered, and a discordant twang cut through the heavy bassline of the song. The crowd didn’t seem to notice, but the slip was enough to send a fresh wave of frustration washing over him.

By the fourth song, his vision blurred, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead and stinging his bloodshot eyes. His chest burned with every shallow breath, and his nose—raw, red, and swollen—itched relentlessly, taunting him with an impending sneeze he couldn’t hold back.

From across the stage, Rexar’s sharp grey-red eyes flicked toward him, narrowing in concern. Kriia, stationed at the merch table, bit her lip, her own purple eyes darting between Vee and Rexar as if silently urging him to do something. But before either of them could act, the fifth song began, and it was clear Vee had reached his limit.

The opening chords of the song had barely begun to resonate when Vee’s body betrayed him. His breath hitched violently, his nostrils flaring as his head tilted back in desperation. He gripped the strap of his guitar like a lifeline, his chest heaving with uncontrollable gasps.

“Hhh—HHhh—HHHIIISSSHHHHHHHhuhh!”

The first sneeze erupted with a ferocity that bent him forward at the waist, his messy, sweat-dampened hair obscuring his flushed face.

“Hhh-HHHHIIESSSCHHHHheww! HhhhIISSSCHHHhew!”

The second and third sneezes tore through him just as violently, leaving him staggering. His knees gave out briefly, and he barely caught himself on the edge of the drum riser. The strap of his guitar slipped from his shoulder, hanging limply at his side.

As the sneezes subsided, Vee’s body wasn’t done punishing him. A harsh, rattling cough clawed its way up his throat, his chest convulsing with the force of it. His breath came in short, wheezing gasps, and his eyes widened in panic as he clutched at his throat. The edges of his vision darkened, and the world tilted precariously around him.

Without a word, Vee turned and stumbled toward the back of the stage, his long legs nearly tangling in the amplifier cords. His guitar thudded against the stage floor, forgotten in his hasty retreat.

Kriia reacted instantly, abandoning her post at the table to follow him. Her boots clacked sharply against the stage as she darted after him, her red hair streaming behind her. Rexar glanced over his shoulder at the commotion, his freckled face creasing with worry, but he didn’t miss a beat. Grabbing his microphone, he launched into an impromptu solo, his raspy voice commanding the crowd’s attention while his fingers danced over the strings of his guitar.

Kriia found Vaelyn slumped against a wall backstage, his trembling hands clutching a wad of tissues to his raw, twitching nose. His face was a mess of feverish redness, and his drenched shirt clung to his heaving chest.

“Vee,” she called softly, kneeling beside him. “That was incredible! Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer at first, his head tilted back against the wall as he gasped for breath. Finally, his tired, watery blue eyes flicked toward her, and he managed a hoarse, congested laugh. “Y-you... dod’t h-have to... lie...” His voice cracked painfully, his words interrupted by another hitching gasp.

Kriia frowned, reaching out to brush his damp green hair away from his flushed face. “No one’s lying, Vee. You’re sick as hell, and no one expects you to kill yourself over a show. You should’ve stayed on the bus.”

He shook his head weakly, his fingers tightening around the tissues. “C-could’t... d-do it. T-two tours... I’b dot...”

“Not weak,” Kriia finished firmly. “You’re a shifter…. And I’m not LION…..,” she added with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Another coughing fit seized him, and she rubbed his back gently until it passed. “Come on,” she said finally, standing and offering him her hand. “Let’s get you back to the bus. Rex can handle the rest of the show.”

Vaelyn hesitated, his pride warring with his exhaustion. But as another coughing fit wracked his body, leaving him slumped against the wall and gasping, he finally nodded. “F-fide...” he croaked, accepting her hand.

Kriia slung his arm over her shoulders, supporting his taller frame as they made their way out of the venue.

As Kriia guided Vaelyn toward the venue doors, her arm bracing his trembling frame, a sudden spotlight snapped on, bathing them both in its harsh glow. The roar of the crowd dulled Vaelyn’s sluggish senses, his feverish mind unable to comprehend why they had been caught in the spotlight.

"Alright, folks," Rexar’s familiar voice boomed over the microphone, steady and commanding. Though his tone remained light, there was an unmistakable sincerity in his words. "Vee’s gotta check out early tonight. He’s not feeling great, but he powered through as much as he could for you guys. Let’s give it up for him, huh?"

The crowd erupted in cheers so loud it felt like the building itself shook. Claps, whistles, and shouts of encouragement filled the air, merging into an overwhelming cacophony of support.

"Feel better, Vee!" someone yelled from deep within the crowd.

Vaelyn froze mid-step, his fever-ridden body stiffening as his head turned toward the stage in disbelief. His bloodshot, watery eyes blinked rapidly, his flushed face lit with a mixture of shock and confusion. The weight of the noise pressed against his muddled thoughts, and for a moment, he could only stand there, trembling as he tried to process what he was hearing.

The crowd wasn’t angry. They weren’t disappointed. They were cheering for him.

Kriia paused beside him, her hand resting gently on his back, sensing the emotional storm brewing beneath his exhausted exterior.

Vaelyn’s gaze swept the mass of faces, each one lit with excitement and genuine care. He was used to applause. He was used to being seen on stage, larger than life. But this—this was different. The cheers weren’t for the music. They were for him.

Something caught in his throat, and it wasn’t congestion this time. His chest tightened, and for a fleeting second, he thought he might break down entirely. But instead, he straightened as much as his trembling legs would allow, his lips parting in a hoarse, breathy rasp.

"Love you guys," he managed to croak, the words scratchy and barely audible but filled with raw gratitude. He brought both hands up in a shaky peace sign, pausing to his fingertips before throwing the gesture toward the crowd.

The cheers grew louder, the sound swelling like a tidal wave, and for a brief moment, Vaelyn felt the oppressive weight of his illness lift.

As he turned back toward the exit, his steps were still heavy, but his spirit was lighter. The warmth of the crowd’s support lingered in his chest, a reminder that even in his weakest moments, he wasn’t truly alone.

Kriia glanced at him with a small, knowing smile, nudging him lightly with her elbow. "Told you they love you," she teased softly, her voice cutting through the lingering roar of applause.

Vaelyn chuckled weakly, his voice little more than a raspy whisper. "Yeah... guess so."

And with that, he pushed open the venue doors, stepping out into the cool night air. Behind him, the sound of the crowd’s adoration continued to echo in his ears, a balm to the rawness of the night.

The night air hit Vaelyn like a wall, cool and crisp against his feverish skin. His breath fogged in the chill, and for a moment, he paused at the bottom of the tour bus steps, steadying himself. His head still spun from the combination of the fever, the sneezing fits, and the overwhelming moment on stage. Kriia stood beside him, her shadowy presence calm and supportive, as always.

“Need help getting in?” she asked softly, her voice laced with concern.

Vee shook his head, swaying slightly as he gripped the railing. “I’b good,” he rasped, though his congested voice betrayed his bravado. Slowly, he climbed the steps, each one feeling like a mountain under his unsteady legs.

Once inside, the familiar warmth and dim lighting of the bus greeted him, though the space felt like it was spinning. Vee stumbled toward the small kitchenette, gripping the edge of the counter to steady himself.

Kriia followed closely, watching him carefully. “Sit down before you fall,” she said, her tone firm but kind.

Vee sighed heavily, dragging himself to the couch and collapsing onto it with a groan. His long legs stretched out awkwardly, his hair sticking to his damp forehead. He sniffled miserably, scrubbing at his red, irritated nose with the back of his hand.

Kriia disappeared for a moment and returned with a cold bottle of water and a small towel. She handed him the bottle and draped the towel over his shoulders. “You’re a mess, Vee.”

“Thadks for the vote of codfidence,” he muttered, cracking the bottle open and taking a small sip. His throat burned with the effort, and he winced, swallowing slowly.

For a while, Kriia sat next to Vee in silence, her presence steady and grounding. The gentle hum of the bus engine and the faint vibrations of the road beneath them created a sense of calm that seemed to ease some of the tension in the air. Vee sniffled quietly, tugging at the edge of his hoodie sleeve and staring blankly at the fabric bunched in his hands.

“You know,” Kriia began softly, breaking the silence, “it’s okay to let yourself be taken care of sometimes. Doesn’t make you any less of a badass.”

Vee huffed a weak laugh, though it quickly devolved into a wet, rattling cough. He doubled over slightly, his shoulders trembling as he struggled to catch his breath. Kriia instinctively rubbed small circles on his back, waiting patiently until the fit subsided.

When he finally straightened up, his face was flushed and glistening with fever sweat. He scrubbed at his nose with a crumpled tissue, his breath still uneven. “You beed readigg self-help books or sobethigg?” he muttered, his voice thick with congestion but laced with his usual dry humor.

Kriia smirked, leaning back against the seat. “Nah, just good at reading people,” she teased. “And right now, you’re screaming, ‘I need soup and a blanket.’”

Vee snorted weakly, though the sound caught in his throat, triggering another round of coughing. He waved her off with a shaky hand, gesturing toward the small kitchenette at the front of the bus. “I’ll… get it myself,” he rasped.

“You’ll sit your ass right here,” Kriia countered firmly, standing and heading toward the kitchenette. “Let me guess: chicken noodle or… chicken noodle?”

“Dealer’s choice,” Vee replied, his voice barely audible. He leaned back against the couch, his head tipping to the side as his eyes drifted shut.

By the time Kriia returned with a steaming mug of soup, Vee’s breathing had evened out slightly, though his chest still rose and fell with a faint wheeze. She nudged his shoulder gently, coaxing him to sit up.

“Drink,” she instructed, holding the mug out to him.

Vee blinked at her groggily before taking the mug with both hands. The warmth seeped into his chilled fingers, and he sighed softly as he took a tentative sip.

“Thadks,” he murmured after a few moments, his voice low and genuine.

“Don’t mention it,” Kriia said lightly, settling back into her seat. She watched him quietly for a moment before adding, “You’re lucky to have people who care about you, you know. Fans included.”

Vee’s gaze flicked toward her, his blue eyes glassy with fever. He looked like he wanted to argue, but the memory of the cheering fans replayed in his mind. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah… guess they’re alright,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

The hum of the bus engine became a soothing backdrop as the night wore on. Rexar returned after finishing the show, his presence filling the bus with warmth and easy energy. He dropped his guitar case by the door and headed straight for Vee, his sharp grey-and-red eyes scanning him critically.

“You look like hell,” Rexar said, sitting on the edge of the couch.

“Feel like it too,” Vee admitted, leaning his head back with a sigh.

Rexar reached over, ruffling Vee’s disheveled hair. “You did good, though. Pushed through, even if you shouldn’t have. You’re stubborn as hell, but I respect it.”

Vee let out a weak laugh, coughing slightly as he did. “Guess I cad’t let you have all the glory, huh?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Rexar replied with a grin. “Now, get some rest. We’ve got two more shows, and if you’re still like this tomorrow, I’m chaining you to your bunk.”

Kriia chuckled from her spot nearby. “You should listen to him, Vee. You should know Rex doesn’t joke about stuff like that.”

Vee rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He was too exhausted to put up much of a fight. “Yeah, yeah. Go play babysitter sobewhere else,” he muttered, though there was no real venom in his tone.

Hours later, the tour bus was steeped in silence, the only sounds the low hum of the engine and the occasional creak of its frame as it rolled along the highway. Most of the band had long since retreated to their bunks, leaving Vaelyn stretched out alone on the couch. The faint glow of the TV flickered across his flushed face, his hair falling messily over his damp forehead.

A battered box of tissues rested precariously on his chest, threatening to tumble with every shallow breath. Beside him, a half-empty bottle of water leaned against the floor, condensation pooling around its base.

Though his sneezes had slowed, the relentless tickle in his nose refused to grant him peace. He sniffled softly, his raw, swollen nostrils flaring as he tried to stave off the inevitable. For a fleeting moment, it seemed like he might finally drift off to sleep.

But then the telltale hitching breaths began again.

“Hhh… fugk.. hhh-HHhh—! ..godda.. sneeze!…. Eh-hh! EISHHh! —ISSHHh! ISHH!-ish!-’shh!... HH—……HH’EISSCHH’uhhh!”

The sneezes ripped through him, snapping his body forward like a coiled spring. The tissue box toppled to the floor with a dull thud as he pitched forward into the crook of his arm.

He groaned miserably, his head thumping back against the couch. His hand fumbled blindly for the fallen tissues, his movements sluggish from fever. When he finally grabbed a handful, he blew his nose with a loud, congested honk that echoed through the quiet bus.

“Bless you,” came Rexar’s low, groggy voice from the direction of the bunks.

Vaelyn jumped slightly, wincing as his sinuses protested the motion. He turned his head to see Rexar standing there, hair mussed from sleep, wearing a loose hoodie and flannel pajama pants.

“Thought you were asleep,” Vaelyn mumbled, his voice thick and gravelly.

Rexar chuckled softly, ambling over to the couch and sitting down on the opposite end. “Kinda hard to sleep when it sounds like you’re trying to sneeze the bus into a ditch.”

Vaelyn huffed a weak laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. “Sorry. My dose is such a draba queed and deeds to be … loud.” He punctuated the sentence with a sharp sniffle, dabbing at his nose with another tissue.

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Rexar said, his voice light. He leaned back, crossing one ankle over his knee. “You sound like hell, though.”

“Gee, Thadks,” Vaelyn muttered, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a smirk. “Y’dow, I feel like I’ve heard that a few tibes today.”

Rexar leaned forward, grabbing the water bottle and holding it out. “Drink. You’re gonna shrivel up if you don’t.”

Vaelyn eyed him for a moment before taking the bottle, his fingers brushing against Rexar’s. He took a sip, the cool water soothing his burning throat, before setting it back down.

“You dod’t have to babysit be, y’dow,” Vaelyn said, his voice quieter now, almost sheepish.

“Who said I’m babysitting?” Rexar shot back, his grin lopsided but warm. “I’m just making sure you don’t drown in your own snot. Plus, the couch looked comfier than my bunk tonight.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the only sound the soft murmur of the TV. Vaelyn’s breath hitched suddenly, and he scrambled to bury his face into his elbow just as another fit overtook him.

“Hhh—!! Fugk, i’b g-godda… Eh'ishh!-ishh!-ISHH!-shh!!……..Hh-HHEIISCHHhhew!”

Rexar handed him another tissue without a word, his expression amused but tinged with concern.

“Bless you,” Rexar finally said again, patting Vaelyn’s shoulder once the fit subsided.

“Thadks,” Vaelyn croaked, wiping at his nose. His head lolled back against the couch, exhaustion pulling at his features. “I’b such a bess.”

“Dude,” Rexar said, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. “You were practically dead on stage and still managed to give the crowd a hell of a show. That’s badass, not a mess.”

Vaelyn glanced at him, his fever-bright eyes softening slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rexar said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

For the first time all day, Vaelyn felt the tension in his chest ease. The memory of the crowd’s cheers and Rexar’s unwavering support lingered in his mind, soothing the ache in his body and spirit alike.

As his eyes fluttered closed, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thadks, Rex.”

“Anytime, man,” Rexar replied, his voice soft as he pulled a blanket over Vaelyn’s shoulders.

In the quiet glow of the TV, Vaelyn finally drifted off, his breathing evening out despite the sea of congestion threatening to flood his lungs.

Physical Appearance —

Age: looks 21

Eye Color: Emerald green but left eye is sewn shut

Hair Color: Black with Lime streaks

Weight: 90

Height: 5’2

Race: Kaiju - Baku

Distinguishing Marks or Characteristics:

Stretched septum black pincher, black angel fangs, regular double nostril piercings studs also black, with also high double nostril piercings above those (so 4 nostril piercings) that have a chain connecting the two for the high up ones. All her piercings are black. Stretched ears with pentagram plug jewelry. Black out neck tattoo, Vees name blasted in death metal writing across her collarbones/chest, left arm black out sleeve and right arm black cybersigilism , She has fangs as well, stiletto black nails, and always wears a choker with a lock that Vee has the key to.

Personality —

Greatest Strength: Cold Blooded, gets whatever she wants and isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty

Greatest Weakness: Her inability to control her emotions or mania having NPD And Bipolar

Soft Spot: Babies and sometimes Vee

Mannerisms/Traits: Incredibly two faced, always has a motive or agenda with anyone she meets. Most the time that Agenda being how can she use someone for her benefit to piss off Vee and get his attention. You know she’s scheming something when she starts messing with her piercings.

Miscellaneous Trivia —

Kalypso mastered her art of dream manipulation the fastest in all her family

When Kalypso was 5 years old, she was kidnapped by a disgruntled patient suffering with schizophrenia that was beyond the realm of help from the Vahlia clan.

After Kalypso’s childhood trauma of being abandoned, abused and kidnapped, she made it her life’s mission to be the biggest thorn in her family bloodline’s side as well as society. Having a childhood of being neglected, she vowed once she got old enough she would make the world pay, often using her dream manipulation as means to slowly drive people insane and to achieve whatever she wanted. Ironically becoming the very thing her kidnapper was accusing her family of doing.

When Kalypso discovered the band “Toad Biscuit” she made sure to follow the band to every show, resonating with and inspired by their music. She quickly became insanely infatuated with the band’s member, Vee, eventually manipulating her way into his life when having purchased a VIP Meet n Greet session and securing, what Vee thought, would be just a simple One Night stand.

Kalypso is diagnosed NPD, Bipolar and an Alcoholic.

Kalypso lost her eye due to her kidnapper losing himself in a psychosis episode he couldn’t break

Sneeze Content —

ALLERGIES/TRIGGERS

Strobe lighting, Stress, Most Animals with Fur

How severe are they?

Severe but also strained, she has a hard time getting a full sneeze out due to one of her nostrils always being plugged from a deformity in her nasal passage. Often coming out in multiples that get worse if she can’t find the strength to release them in full.

Do they get sick often?

Yes, she mostly survives off energy drinks, alcohol and skittles so her immune system is more or less garbage because she doesn’t taken care of herself

How bad is it usually?

She more or less tries to power through and ignore her illness, not wanting to come off as weak. When someone tries to take care of her she becomes slightly aggressive and agitated.

Do they stifle?

Not purposefully, with her nasal passage deformity it’s involuntary most times so she will try to stretch out her nostril in order to receive some sort of relief

How loud are their sneezes?

A normal decibel, strained, but with a slight pitch.

What do they sneeze into?

Normally down the center of her shirt or into her hands

How often do they sneeze?

Whenever she is sick or met with a trigger it takes a good 30-45 minutes for her fit to come down, longer if she can’t manage to stretch her nose out in an attempt to free them.

How many times do they sneeze in a fit?

Varies on the severity of the trigger. If she’s sick, it’s on and off through the whole day in multiples of 5-6. With an allergen it could be 3-4

Do they have build-ups or are they sudden?

Both and she can never pin point or predict which

Do they sneeze in public?

Yes, she’s unashamed about her sneezing but hates when anyone points out if she’s coming down with something

Some examples of their sneezes?

Hh’nxgt!

hiIh’nG-kT—-!

H’NgXt!

Heh’n’gtx!

Huhhh.. n’gtx!

Backstory —

Kalypso was born into a very prestigious family of Baku healers. The only family of this specific species within the Kaiju and Hiraeth history. It was their point of pride to be the Hiraeth communities best known healers in complex mental illness amongst community members. Those who suffered with things like PTSD, Schizophrenia, On going nightmares, Night terrors and other varying disorders would come to them in means of aid. They would create routines and relics that aided in manipulating the person’s unregulated mental stability as well, as consume the nightmares of those afflicted. Her family, though close and relatively bonded, were always busy helping out their community, leaving young Kaly to feel very isolated and alone. Around the time she was 5 years old, a patient that her mother had been working closely with who suffered with severe Schizophrenia, was convinced their magik and practices were the source of what was slowly driving him into a deeper and darker hole of insanity. This led the man into kidnapping young Kalypso in a means to try and convince the family to turn themselves in for malpractice and give him his sense of sanity and peace back. The family refused to take the fall for his insanity and more or less abandoned any resolve in getting young Kalypso back, their mother, the highest ranking member, making the final decision that Kalypso’s life was not more important than the work and influence they held amongst the masses. The young girl was then left to fend for herself amongst a raging psychopath who regularly abused her in many different ways, especially when he’d fall into psychosis fits. After suffering for many months, and realizing as well as accepting her family had completely abandoned her, Kalypso began to self train and manifest her powers all on her own in the desperate effort to escape. It took her two full years to reach her peak in performance. One night as her kidnapper fell into a terribly violent psychosis rage, he attacked her with a knife, convinced she was a demon slowly sucking away his life force. He gouged out her left eye instead of in the middle of her head like he planned, due to Kalypso’s quick movements and fighting her attacker back. Convinced she was dead upon the injury he left her alone to bleed out. However, the young girl managed to stay alive, tend her wound and sew the eye completely shut. This was her breaking point, the final straw that led her into manifesting her greatest potential. When her abuser fell asleep that night, Kalypso used the last bit of strength and power within her small body to trap the man in a forever nightmare sequence he would never be able to break, or wake from. She was able to escape his home and return back to her clan. However, though her family was relieved and even impressed by the young girl’s return, the bitterness she felt for being abandoned manifested and grew within her. Kalypso vowed for vengeance, she promised that she would single-handedly end their successful lineage and destroy their reputation by any means. As she became older, well into her late teens, her mother trusted her in taking a swing into the family business. It was then Kalypso began to make things increasingly worse, officially having her hands in the business meant she could successfully sabotage and tarnish the family reputation. Once her mother figured out the source of their failing reputation, Kalypso was exiled from the family plot, and sent to live on the streets. This caused the young woman to quickly learn how to use her well articulated skill in manipulation to use people to her advantage.

Eventually forced into a mental rehabilitation where she was diagnosed with Bipolar and NPD. Somehow, able to convince staff she was on track of management and self care, she was released. She picked up work in online SW as well as stripping in the local club scenes. Where she also developed an unhealthy dependence on Alcohol. It was during her time working as a dancer she discovered the band "Toad Biscuit" resonating and connecting to their unique sound and lyric she slowly became obsessed and spent most of her free time and money following the band as a groupie, where she would eventually start to grow an unhealthy, obsessive attachment to one of the members, Vee. Once she knew what she wanted, she secured a Meet n Greet pass and used her innate skills of charm, seduction and manipulation to convince the band member to sleep with her, but also, to ultimately enter an extremely toxic, damaging and abusive on and off again relationship with him.