When The Nights Get Long

Ultimatums

"Andrew, I-" they stopped midsentence, surprised to find the apartment flooded with bouquets of flowers and his editorial team. Both Marcy and Martin were taking phone calls while Andrew sat on the couch, his arms crossed, and a snarl prominent on his face.

The moment he looked up, glaring at the person who entered his flat, his eyes softened, and a smile began to break out. "Hey, Blue," he murmured.

Facing the door, Martin smirked. "Ah, color-girl is back. I thought the two of you broke it off."

"We didn't," Andrew snarled. Standing up from his seat, he approached Blue and grabbed their hands. "I'm glad you're here."

"I heard the good news," they beamed. "I told ya you would win. Your book was the best of the bunch. No one else stood a chance."

"You are absolutely right," Marcy chirped as she rang up the next flower delivery man. Squeezing Andrew's cheeks, she cooed, "Our little author did great."

Andrew flicked her hands off him and glared at her. Turning back to Blue, he said, "Honestly, I'm glad you're here. You might be able to make this more bearable," as he led them over to the couch.

"What? The praise?" they questioned, and he nodded. "You don't like it?"

"While it's nice to be acknowledged for my work, the doorbell is always going off, the phones are constantly ringing. It's overwhelming," he sighed.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Blue ran their fingers into his skin in soft circles. "I'm sorry," they whispered. "I don't know how I can help that."

"Oh, no, I wasn't expecting you to. It's just nice to have you here with me," he stated before leaning into his arm to cough. "Sorry."

"Andrew, are you sure you're not catching a cold?" Marcy questioned. She approached him, placing a hand over his forehead. "You're not warm, but you're definitely pale."

"I'm fine."

Blue had to agree that Andrew did look sick. His skin was paler than usual, and he did appear weak, skinnier than normal. They didn't realize it before, but he was definitely looking sicker. Now a cough. It could have been stress again, but they weren't entirely sure.

"Have you been eating?"

His eyes flicked away before settling on their gaze. "Yeah."

"Did you eat breakfast?"

"No."

"I'll make you something," they said as they hopped up from the couch and approached the kitchen.

"No, Blue, you don't have to. I'll be fine."

"Go look at yourself in the mirror, and tell me you are fine. I'm making you something to eat, and you are going to eat it," they commanded.

"Damn," Martin whistled as Andrew took a seat at the counter. "Look at her being all authoritive. She's got you whipped."

"They," Blue, Andrew, and Marcy all stated in synch.

Martin quirked an eyebrow, confused until he realized what everyone meant. "Yeah, okay."

"Ignore him," Andrew whispered to them.

"Wish I could," they grumbled.

"Hey," he cooed as he slipped over to them, wrapping his arms around their waist. "Don't let his words affect you. He's ignorant to what's around him. Don't let it get you down, alright? I'd hate for there to be a repeat of last time."

"I know, I know." Smiling up at him, they assured him they'd be fine. They felt his body slug onto theirs, his forehead resting on their shoulder. "Andrew, seriously, are you okay?"