Dear Uncle Vic [boyxboy]

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen (Vic's POV)

I don't think it was possible to hate myself anymore than I did now.

Was I so desperate for affection? Enough so that I had just slept with my best friend's husband? I felt awful, used, cheap, cruel, and sick. My body ached in so many ways and I just wanted to sleep, but I couldn't. Every time I did, I saw Ace above me, his hands on me, his lips on mine, his eyes locked with mine.

And I couldn't bear the thought of it. It hurt so much.

I shook the thoughts away as I came into Rick's room with a tray of his medication and a light meal of oatmeal and toast with a glass of orange juice on the side. However, he was fast asleep in bed, snuggled deep in his covers. He still looked pale and weak. It sent another pang of pain through me as I sat on the edge of his bed, reaching out and brushing his hair from his face.

I shouldn't be focusing on my problems. I shouldn't have bothered with Ace. It was just going to make matters worse. I took a deep breath as I stroked Rick's hair, watching him sleep.

Rick was my top priority right now. He was still in pain, still exhausted from fighting off the illness.

He had woken up earlier, just shortly after Blake had come home and visited him, but according to Blake, he was far too weak to stay awake and just passed out again in mid-sentence. I was sick with worry just thinking about it. The doctor said he'd be all right if he kept taking his medication, but I couldn't help, but fret.

"Mmm... You're petting me..." Rick murmured drowsily and it looked like it took a lot of effort just to open his eyes that were still glazed over and heavy with sleep. I withdrew my hand to pick up the bottle of pills.

"Time to take your medication." I said softly. Rick grunted in response and struggled to sit up as I gave him his orange juice to take the pills. He choked for a second, but managed to keep the pills down before reaching for a piece of toast.

"Ungh... Where's Dev?" He asked sleepily, his eyes closed as he ate his toast. As if the effort of keeping his eyes open was too much. It tugged at my chest, but I said nothing about it and shrugged.

"At home. He'll stop by later today."

"Today? What's today?"

"December twenty-third."

"Christ... We still goin' to their Christmas thing?"

"You can't. I'll stay home with you."

"Bull," Rick snorted, forcing his eyes open to look at me, dazed, but the irritation was still there, "Just cuz I'm sick, doesn't mean... Doesn't mean...." His eyes slid closed and he fell back on his pillow, dropping his toast on the floor. A short moment of panic struck me before I remembered what the doctor had told me when I went to pick him up.

He's going to be very weak for a few days. His body is working twice as hard to fight off the infection and it doesn't help with this weather being so cold. His body is also working to keep him warm, so try to make sure he stays comfortable and relaxed. His medication should help that, but he'll a tad drowsy the first couple days. Be sure that he stays in bed and doesn't get up for anything, but to use the restroom. Even then, have someone go with him in case he faints.

I sighed and picked up the toast, throwing it in the trash can and helping Rick get comfortable again before I stood up, pulling the blankets over him. I paused and couldn't resist the urge to kiss his forehead. It was so hard to forget the way he was when he was younger.

"I don't trust you." Rick had told me one night. He was about eleven-years-old, staring at me through the icy cold eyes of a hardened child. His hair was unkept and he had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. He did look better compared to when I had first adopted him. The bruises and cuts were gone and he'd gotten some meat on his bones. He was still uncomfortable, wearing a new clean t-shirt that was by far too large for him and read BUZZKILL in sloppy lettering. He had decided the shirt to be his new pajamas, seeing as he refused to wear the flannel ones.