fragments

Of sickness and coughs

HELLO!! HI!

I'm so sorry this has been so late, I've been slacking lately and I also just caught a terrible cold which makes things even worse! (Hense why Mitch is sick in this).

Anyways, this is a bit different that my usual style but i hope you liked it, inspiration hit me a bit hard while i coughed and ached so.. ta-da!

Love,
xx

Cool/Troye Sivan

You silently watch as he walks through the apartment, picking things up from the big brown boxes that you're both drowning in and placing them on the furniture that you both agreed needs tweaking.

He's simply wearing sweatpants and whenever he leans down you can see the black band of his underwear peak out, or at least that's what you say to yourself when you wonder why you've been staring at his ass for so long today.

He comes back in the "living room" and looks in another box, his blonde locks falling all over his face, messy and tangled because of the sweat and how many times he ran his hands through them.

You simply sit back and watch, a mug filled with tea resting in your hands in a pitiful attempt to heal your sore throat. You wanted to help, you really did and you fought about it with him with whatever excuse of a voice you had but eventually,he won and you ended up bundled in his black beyonce hoodie that reached about mid thigh.

Not that you were complaining though. Manual labor was never quite your thing and always quite his.

So you watched as his arms flexed, the muscles evident under his pretty tattoos and you admired the way his lean torso doubled over.

Sometimes, you'd scold him with a small whisper yell whenever he did something that could affect his scoliosis and he'd scold you back about talking and then you would both smile at each other and exchange a small hug in the middle of the room.

You take a quick snapchat of him as he smiles at the content of the box and when he calls your name you try not to look too smug about it.

He lets out a small laugh as he lifts two grammys from the box, holding one on each hand and you try to laugh but sadly, it turns into a coughing fit.

He sets them down and quickly comes over to you, rubbing small circles into your back while you think you might cough your lungs out and kisses your forehead to check if you're "heating up" when you're done.

He declares that you're okay and leaves you wondering how someone can measure temperature that way,while he places the grammys on top of the fireplace.

They're four and gold and shining and although two of them belong to you, you find them intimidating and scary.

He comes close to you again and wraps you up in his arms because he knows what you're thinking, he always did and you place your hoodie-covered palm on top of his lips before kissing it. You would never risk getting him sick.

He chuckles and you watch the way his eyes crinkle at he sides and the way his hand covers his mouth shyly before he's gone to unpack again.

How would you live without him?

In a sense, you think, you never had to. The thought of a day without him stresses you and scares you, let alone a month or even worse, a year.

And not the easy kind of stress either.

It's not the "i left a bunch of clothes in the old apartment and i can't find them" or the "my phone won't open" stress. It's a different kind, scary, that makes your legs shake a bit and you soon realize that you need to sit down and breathe because the mere thought of you without him makes you panic.

It's a panicky stress laced with a deep underlying sadness that brings up your insecurities. Those that run deep down, like the roots of a tree in a sense, and while they can tear you apart, they also keep you together, pushing you to beat them and become more and more.

Much like him, and the familiar way your heart aches whenever you see him cause he's beautiful and sweet and kind and also all yours but at the same time pushing you to become better.

You rest your weight on the counter, your head in your hands as you take deep breaths to calm yourself down cause truly, you remind yourself, you have nothing to worry about.

He's here and he loves you and you love him and everything in your life is fine and dandy.

Well, except from this nasty cold that makes it's presence known again cause your mouth suddenly starts feeling dry and your throat is scratchy.

He looks at you when he walks back in the room and tosses himself on the new couch, exhausted and sweaty.

He purses his lips in sympathy when you gesture at your throat and you know that if you had a voice you would complain right now and you're sure he knows as well.

He doesn't bother speaking much as he knows you can't answer and instead he gestures you towards him by making grabby hands like a toddler.

You smile a bit and comply, throwing yourself over him as softly as possible so that it doesn't hurt and his arms wrap around you, holding you there, secure and grounding and exactly what you need.

When you start coughing all over his sweatshirt, he doesn't mind and shakes his head fondly at you after you scold him for laughing at your pain.

When he falls sick next week, you don't mind either.