You Don't Come Close.

9

I wake to the sound of heavy coughing and a leg that has been wrapped around mine moves away. I groan and try to ignore the slight headache, opening my eyes while turning to the side. Axl is laying beside me, curled up, his face a whiter shade of pale, eyes reddened and swollen.

"Hey...", I say hoarsely but he does not speak, just turns his eyes to me. A long, dark look; his eyes meeting mine and with that his face seems to close up. I see his hands clenching at his sides, his nostrils widen, mouth just a thin line, but I can still hear the rattle of his chattering teeth with every breath.

He's looking at me as if seeing a vision and when I reach out to touch his sweaty forehead he jerks back with a small whimper. He licks his dry, split open lips before coughing violently again and his teeth are clenching with pain.

"You're really not looking good...", I whisper, worried and he presses his face to the pillow, still not talking to me. I turn up his sweat and tears and snot- smeared face to check his temperature with the back of my hand.

"Think ya' having a heavy fever. Are you feeling weak?"

He's looking annoyed but his lips are finally parting to answer me.

"I'm cold..."

Just that, his voice sounding powerless, raspy, faint and shaky. I rob nearer to press him against me, hands at his back, wanting to warm him up again, but he pushes me off with both hands flat against my chest, somehow gently but firm, softly shaking his head with his jaw clenching.

"Don't...", weakly, somehow warmly spoken, but it sends a rush of disappointment down my stomach, hurting in a strange way. He asked me to sleep with him yesterday...

"You should see a doctor, man."

"No."

No surprise.

"Ya' sure?"

"Yes."

He's shivering, sweating heavily and his gloomy eyes tell me it could get risky if we do nothing to reduce his temperature any time soon, but before I can tell him he suddenly jumps to his feet, stumbling to the bathroom and I can hear him gagging. I slowly stand up as well, walking over in my shorts to stand in the doorway watching him as he's halfway laying on top of the opened toilet, arms limp, gasping for air, looking all panicked.

First I think he's going to puke again, but yet he's just panting hard, eyes wide and I quickly kneel beside him to get him calming down with a hand on his back. "Axl, relax..."

"I...I'm...go-going to...choke!", he presses out between hard, short breaths, and deep, persistent coughs from deep within his lungs, his knuckles going white as he's wildly holding onto the toilet seat.

"No, no don't panic ok? Calm, steady breaths...c'mon inhale with me."

I breath deeply, making him look into my eyes while I gently rub his back. More coughs, tiny, strangled, desperate puffs of air and I'm starting to panic as well as his hand grabs for mine with a sound of pure fear, but I am still breathing calmly, holding his hand and finally the coughing stops for a moment, giving him a chance to inhale properly.

"Yeah like that. Good. You're not going to choke, ok? Breath through your mouth..."

He does, too hard and fast at the at first, but slowly calming down until his breath sounds regulated again and he slumps with a sigh of exhaustion and relief while my arms come up to hold him in a sitting position, continuing with the slow circles on his back, letting him regain his composure.

A low whine, "Shit...".

"It's ok...we just need to unblock your nose and lower your fever, ok?"