Sollux fills Aradia's hospital room with flowers.
Ever since the first day they had to put her here, he has filled Aradia's room with flowers.
"They make my nose itch," Aradia tells him, watching from her position in bed as Sollux arranges a new vase in the corner of the room, clearing away old bouquets that are losing their luster. "You don't need to bring so many." She reaches out a long, white hand and waits. "Being here is enough."
Sollux smiles to himself and turns. White skin against white sheets—Aradia looks like a ghost, wraith-like and too thin beneath blankets from their home. Strange that her eyes should still be so bright and her hair so dark when the rest of her is so visibly translucent and bruised. Sollux takes his seat beside her and takes Aradia's hand into his own, gently curling his fingers in and kissing the exposed ridges of her knuckles. "For every flower, a meaning," he says, quiet and not quite willing to move his lips away from the coolness of Aradia's fingers. "I enjoy bringing them."
Aradia motions for Sollux to help her sit up. "What have you brought today?"
"Geranium." He pulls the vase closer to allow Aradia to touch the thin, red flowers. "It was hard to get my hands on, but only the best." He kisses Aradia's hand again. "They are an appreciation flower. Friendship, specifically."
A soft huff of laughter from Aradia "Friendship?"
"Of the purest kind." He places the vase back on the bedside table. "For my dearest friend."
------
Aradia watches birds from the window in her room. She hurts today, deep in her bones, and Sollux eases her upright to smooth comforting circles into her back and shoulders, out of time to the crooning of the two bickering blue jays outside, pausing now and then to place snow-flake gentle kisses to the back of her neck. The birds hop along the branches, sometimes clear over to the windowsill, and Aradia misses her room on the lower floors of the hospital, with the windows that opened all the way.
When sitting up becomes too much, Sollux lies her back down and runs his thumbs up and down Aradia's legs, paying special attention to her knees, and recites for her the latest news from their house; the cats are restless without him there and her garden needs some tending to, a chore that he suggests Aradia take care of as soon as she comes home, which she absolutely will. Just a few more weeks of treatment and she can get back on top of those blasted vegetables she loves so much. The thought helps her heart unclench, just a little.
Sollux brought her sprigs from a pear tree today.
Comfort.
------
Aradia can no longer bathe herself. She hates the sterile hands of her nurses and goes red with anger the first time they (gently) request she allow them to assist. She feels sweaty and greasy and she wants to be clean, but not with their help.
A day later, she hasn't the strength to feed herself either, and she leans into Sollux's chest, begging him to stay—to save the notion that she still has her dignity.
Sollux brings her soups and breads from home and helps her eat without sympathetic commentary, and in the evenings, he fills the bath with warm water and surrounds the tub with statice sinuata, easing Aradia back and holding her up with one arm, carefully tending to the rest of her with the other.
"Never be afraid to ask for help," he whispers into Aradia's ear, eyes closed and exhaling into strands of wet hair. "I will always be here. No matter what you ask, I will be here."
Aradia grips a handful of the flowers and leans back, kissing Sollux with as much energy as her fading body will allow.
Loyalty.
------
Sollux is at work when he gets a call from the hospital. Aradia has an infection.
Sollux isn't sure he's ever driven his car so fast and is not even sorry that he's double parked as he takes the stairs, two at a time, to Aradia's floor, finding her pale and sweaty and buried in covers. She shakes, chilled, but so warm, and through cloudy eyes, reaches for Sollux as soon as he's through the door.
"Aradia…" he whispers and toes off his shoes. He vows to post a note of leave at the office first thing in the morning—he never should have left in the first place. Hospital bills don't pay themselves, but this is too much. He slides into bed beside her, ignoring the damp sheets and the sharp angle Aradia's bones have taken, and wraps himself around Aradia's waist. He draws her against his chest, solid, and holds him, whispering as her teeth chatter, kissing her temples and apologizing over the rattling breaths that Aradia keeps taking.
"Sollux,” Aradia pants and her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. "I'm not-"
"Don't," Sollux hisses. "Just don't. Not yet."
Silence swallows the room and Aradia nods after a moment. Sollux doesn't move until morning, even then only leaving the room long enough to call in a favor. A bow of fragrant cedar is delivered by noon and he places it near Aradia’s pillow.
Strength.
------
The fever never goes away.
Aradia is confined to her bed except for the now very rare occasions when Sollux is allowed to carry her to the bathroom for a full bath.
Aradia doesn't say much—she is placed on oxygen and pain killers that make her drowsy and boneless—but when she does speak, it is often of how hot she feels. She requests tiny sips of water and for the blankets to be pulled back, just a bit, and lies on her back with her head tilted sideways as Sollux feeds her ice chips and gently strokes her scalp.
She sleeps more than she is awake, but it seems that the dark hours between three and five AM are when she is at her strongest. In these hours, she requests that Sollux read to her and listens, drifting, blinking slowly and occasionally tightening her grip on Sollux's hand to let him know that she is still awake.
When she is able to sleep on her side, she asks that Sollux sleep with her. She lies with her head on his chest, allowing himself to be lulled by the slow up and down motions of his breath, thankful for the silence and comfort, even if the heat is sometimes too much to bear.
One night, while Sollux sleeps, Aradia calls a nurse and requests and telephone. It takes several calls to different florists until she finds what he is looking for.
In the morning, Sollux finds a vase filled with several kinds of milkvetch by his wallet and keys. Alongside it, a yellow post-it note with Aradia's shaky penmanship:
Your presence eases my pains.
Sollux vows never to leave the room again.
-----
Aradia is given three more days at best and Sollux fills her room with primroses.
"Please," she whispers, Aradia's hand clasped in his own. "Please, dove, I can't do this without you."
------
Aradia dies on a Thursday.
She's barely lucid, so far into the beyond already, but she clings to the last fibers of a body failed, taking in breaths that break into pieces while Sollux holds her and strokes her hair and murmurs that it's okay, she doesn't have to stay, she can go when she needs to. Sollux kisses her eyelids and her lips and her hands and every part of her that he can still feel, and places morning glory, mudwort, oak leaves, and olive branches around her bed, gestures encouraging peace and tranquility when it is needed most.
She wishes so deeply to express her gratitude, fondness, and attachment to Sollux. She wishes she still had the breath to form the words of devotion. She wishes she could still give thanks for his mere being, his love, and a thousand other things, but all she manages is to turn her head, pull away her oxygen mask, and smile while Sollux scrubs a hand through his own hair and tries, failing, to smile back.
A nurse pulls the sheet back less than a minute later and Sollux is left, alone, to pay his final respects.
There is nothing left to say.
-----
When Sollux returns home, he leaves his knowledge of flowers at the hospital.
He has vegetables to tend to, now.
