When I opened the door, I found Kai hadn't stayed where I had left him. In fact, I almost smacked him in the face with said door.
But since I'm not that lucky, he just stumbled back and pawed to the wall to keep his balance.
"Kai Hiwatari!" It took all my self control not to throw the mug at him. "Why do you have to be so stubborn? Just lay down, for Pete's—EEP!"
His sweaty face fell onto my shoulder. It might have been sweet if it wasn't for the fact he had chosen to use me as a crutch as well.
A drop of his sweat crawled down my shirt.
I fought to stay upright, throwing my free hand out to the wall and fighting to keep his mug up high.
"Ty—Tyson!" I croaked. I could feel my knees giving out.
A hot hand slid up my hip and side, then circle about to weakly hook around my lower back.
"Hill..." came Kai's sickly croak. "You're...you're cold."
Oh crud, now Kai's knees were going out. "Tyson!" Where was that boy?
"I'm coming! I'm coming! Hold your—" Tyson's heavy foot falls stopped behind me. "Uh—"
"He's crushing me—I'm going to spill-!"
"Yeah! Right!" Tyson came round and, after a split second of indecision, took hold of the Kai arm that wasn't wrapped about my waist. He tried to get his shoulder under the taller boy, but Kai seemed intent on taking me with him. Boiling hot broth splashed onto my hand.
Kai tried to shrug Tyson off. As he turned to give the other boy a half-lidded glare, whatever had been keeping him from collapsing—besides me—gave out and Tyson caught him under his armpits. I managed to slip out of Kai's now failing grip.
"Go away," said Kai.
"I'll be glad to if you start molesting me too," Tyson grunted, dragging Kai towards the bed.
I hurriedly put the mug down to help him, but Kai's irritation reached breaking level and he shoved Tyson as hard as his feverish arms would let him. Tyson stumbled back into the night stand, knocking the mug of broth free and onto the floor.
And, of course, Kai still couldn't stand, so he just wilted besides the bed like a rag doll. Somehow he was still coherent enough to lean over towards me, where he proceeded to wrap an arm about my leg and rest his sweaty face against my thigh. There he gave a relieved, happy little sigh.
Tyson looked from the spilled broth to Kai's half-Kola position on my leg, gapping.
"I need a camera," he shoved off from the bed and towards his desk. "No one's going to believe this. Oh gall, this is great. The things I'll make him do!"
I, on the other hand, was not so gleeful. A full on body blush had taken me whole.
"So much for my carefully constructed soup," I muttered.
Kai scooted a little closer with another sigh, smearing sweat along the bit of my thigh not covered by my shorts. The top of his borrowed shirt had already become soaked with sweat, and his touch burned with the strength of his fever.
Cautiously, still blushing, I reached down to brush my fingers across his brow and into his hairline.
"He feels really hot..." I said, stomach clenching.
"Don't move!" Tyson bunny hopped back in front of us, a thin digital camera in hand.
"Tyson—" The camera's flash cut me off, momentarily blinding me. "Hey! Don't you think it's just a little unfair to be taking a picture of your friend while he's down like this?"
"Not when he wastes your first edible meal while I'm still hungry."
Ugh, I so didn't have the patience for this. "If you're going to be a jerk, just leave."
"Aw, come on—"
"Shoo!"
"But I said I would help! At least let me get him into bed—"
"If you want to help, find some stomach medicine and Gatorade or something."
Tyson's eyebrows rose. "And leave you with Captain Fever-Perv?"
"Oh my gosh, all he's done is lean on my leg and put his forehead on my shoulder, that hardly counts as sexual harassment, so will you go already?"
Tyson rolled his eyes. Then, so quickly the sickly Kai didn't even have time to protest, he hefted the Russian's lower half onto the bed, leaving me heaving up his upper half. It did leave the problem that now Kai's feet were resting on his pillow, but Kai didn't seem to care in the slightest. His sweaty hand had slipped from my leg, but had felt its way back to my side, where his fingers curled themselves up into my shirt.
Tyson glared at the hand.
"Look, I'll get the medicine, but I don't see why you have to stay here. I mean, what are you going to—"
As though on cue, Kai threw up. At least he didn't have much left in his stomach and managed to aim it away from my leg.
As Kai groaned in utmost, delirious misery, I gave Tyson my best dead pan stare.
"That answer your question?" I asked.
Tyson, his nose wrinkled up and his expression looking rather sick now too, jerked a shoulder in defeat and headed out, but not without taking another picture, which got him a kick in the backside. Honestly.
And left me with a moaning Kai clutching my shirt in a small pool of sick.
I sighed. So much for any chance for the famous romantic sick episode.
Kai had actually shoved off the soiled comforter when I came back with a rag, so I just gave it to him to clean off his face and went to put the blanket in the wash. But once I'd done that, Kai had dozed off again, bits of ick on the corner of his mouth and cheek still and rag hanging from his hand. So, as carefully as I could, I took the rag, cleaned his face, and dug out another quilt to throw over him.
I had thought him completely out, but his roaming hand somehow found my shirt again while I was making sure all of him was covered.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. His blotched, sweaty face had scrunched up in pain. If I didn't know better, I would say he looked like he was about to cry. "I'm sorry."
"You're just sick. Were you trying to make it to the bathroom to throw up? Was that why you were up?"
He said nothing, but pulled on my shirt. I humored him and leaned closer, ignoring how my heart sped up. It didn't mean anything. He was just sicker than I had ever seen anyone in my life—who weren't in the hospital, that is.
I reached up for his forehead again, this time comparing it to my own. I bit my lip at the difference. "Maybe we should call the hospital."
His eyes shot open and he curled around his fistful of my shirt. "No! No doctors."
"Kai, you're really sick."
"I'll be okay. I'm fine, I'm fine, I just need—I just need to sleep."
"And I'll be glad to let you if you let go."
His hand loosened, and for the first time a semblance of clarity seemed to come on his face.
"I didn't...what?"
I sighed. "Would you like a cold rag for your head?"
"I didn't mean to...grab your shirt—that was your shirt?"
I almost smiled. I had never heard Kai sound so vulnerable and bemused before. Taking it as a yes, I squeezed a rag from the bowl of cold water I had brought in before and, after hesitating for a bit, gently wiped the sweat from his face before folding it across his forehead. He let out a shaky breath at the touch and his eyes closed.
"That's right," I found myself murmuring. "Just relax. You don't need to go anywhere. I'll bring in a bowl in case you need to throw up again, yeah?"
"Okay..." his voice had gotten so small, almost childlike.
Despite what I had said, I lingered, caught in the crossfire of rather overwhelming emotions. I was aching, burning, and oddly content all in one, which didn't make any sense with all my concern and pity.
I had always known I had liked him; liked him more than I should or even wanted to. But touching his face, hearing him so weak and open, I couldn't help but tremble. I wanted to somehow engulf him in my arms and take all his aches and pains away. I even thought that I'd be happier suffering in his place if it would save him from it.
By the time I realized I was doing it, I had already leaned down. Eyes burning, I slowly, gingerly, placed a feather light kiss on his hot brow.
"Everything will be okay," I said softly. "I won't let anything happen to you. Just be as sick as you need to be."