flyingsolos | IC Inbox;

[ Isn't this the most romantic thing, two disheveled sick teenagers trying not to wheeze all over each other.

To someone whose everything aches, however, face included, Akira's gentle touch is a welcome one. Rion's breathing, still shallow and congested, evens out just a bit, even if one hand lifts-- and lowers, like she's apprehensive about touching him.]

I... I'm so glad you're okay.

[ It's raw and open and she can still hear his scream mixed with the others. But he's here.

Or she's still hallucinating, but his hands are clammy and solid. ]

[his hands are clammy and solid, and he thinks fuck it before he pitches forward to rest his forehead against hers, eyes slipping shut. she can feel the heat radiating from his cheeks, if her own aren't too hot to drown it all out]

Whatever you saw. . . [he trails off and swallows thickly]

Of course I'm okay. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.

[ It's really hard to tell in that moment if the blaze of feverish heat is coming from her or him, or both of them. She'd be willing to bet it's both, doing her utmost to not just wobble from the (extremely light) pressure and end up on her back again. She doesn't want that.

And slowly, Rion tells him, shaky-voiced and so desperate for even this connection that she's not bothering to complain that it's hot. ]

You were... everyone was-- destroyed. Thrown around, like rag dolls, and I didn't want to keep singing, but I couldn't stop, she said this was what I wished for--

[ And it's a thin crack in her already hoarse voice, a sob. ]

[his brows furrow, his mouth curling into an even deeper frown. he doesn't need details to understand what she saw, just from that description. she's told him enough to let him connect the dots already. his thumb brushes against her cheek, heading off any tears that may threaten to escape]

It wasn't real.

[he responds, voice firm]

It's not like that, and like hell it will ever be like that. [which is a sentiment he's already conveyed to her] . . . just focus on me until you can believe it.

[because he is real, and he'll be her anchor to reality, if that's what it takes]

[ It had felt real, enough of the dream patched together with Rion's memories (a room destroyed as she stood there, unresponsive, bodies lying splayed with their souls ripped from them, the angelic monster reaching for her).

But Akira was real. More real right now than anything else, she reminds herself, blinking away tears. When she reaches this time, it's less tentative, and it's just to brush his hair away from his burning hot forehead. ]

Getting sick hasn't made you any less confident, huh...

[his bangs are a little damp from the fever sweat, but otherwise. . . he doesn't at all pull away from her touch. despite her own illness, her hand is cool against his forehead, and his eyes slip shut as he lets out a deep breath]

Of course not.

[and that's said with a huffed laugh, raspy and rattling in Akira's lungs]

I don't see why it would.

Yeah... I'm not sure why I thought otherwise.

[ Slowly, tiredly, she leans into him, hand still resting against his forehead. ]

... Sorry, Akira. I guess I was more scared than I thought. I didn't mean to worry you.

[Akira twines his arms around her back in a loose hug, pulling her forward, guiding her by the back of her neck to rest her head on his shoulder]

It's okay to be scared.

[he mutters quietly]

That's what I'm here for.

[ Ordinarily, if she was being hugged by her boyfriend, Rion would have wanted to have her hair in some semblance of order and not just spilling haphazardly down her back in messy waves. And she wouldn't have been exhausted or congested or sweaty or any of those other lovely things that came with being sick-- not to mention the emotionally vulnerable aspect of it.

But there's still some form of comfort she draws from this, and as he pulls her in, Rion slips her hands down and moves her arms around him to trace light circles on his back. Her head, as guided, plunks down on his shoulder.

If he's seen her like this, and still wants to be here, then maybe that's a good thing in the end. ]

... I thought you came here to sneak another nap in with me.

[ A tiny bit of sass, more like the typical Rion, but the softness of her voice betrays her. ]

[. . . and he laughs again, although this one unfortunately turns into a cough, deep and gross and extremely unpleasant. being sick sucks, but crouched here, with Rion tugged into his arms and resting against his shoulder, her hand drawing patterns against his back in a soothing manner, he feels pretty damn okay]

Would you say no if I asked?

Maybe.

[ He's really had terrible luck with his cough, hasn't he? Rion's quiet for a few more seconds, still lightly rubbing his back. ]

At this point... we're probably not contagious to each other, but I'm not sure I want to sleep anytime soon.

[ As drained as she is, the nightmares are so much worse. ]

Mmm. . . that's fine. We'll think of something else to do.

[and he doesn't mean that in a flirty way, either]

. . . I can't tell how feverish you are right now but I bet you could use a cold washcloth.

I can't even tell how feverish I am right now, but that sounds nice.

[ She says. Into his shoulder.

(Yeah, she's stupidly feverish.) ]

There are cups on the stand, too. You should drink some water.

[he's about to refuse her offer, but. . . actually, now that she mentions water, he thinks a little bit of it might help his sore throat. and so Akira nudges against her lightly, reluctantly trying to incite her to lie down again]

All right. . . I'll do that.

[but then he's getting her a cold washcloth and if she scolds him for pushing himself he'll give her the stink eye!1]

[ His shoulder is actually way more preferable to the bed right now.

But then again, Rion doesn't really have the strength or the energy to whine about it, and as soon as she realizes he's trying to move her, she'll carefully shift herself back into a lying position.

Buuut also she's straining to watch him, just to make sure he isn't pushing himself too much. ]

[once she's lying down, he reaches out to smooth her bangs against her forehead, one last brief moment of contact (punctuated with a tired, yet endeared, smile) before he pulls away. she'll absolutely notice him wobbling on his feet on his feet as he stands, pressing his face into the crook of his elbow to cough again, deep and wet and unpleasant. he turns away from her to inhale sharply when he's done, shoulders hunched. and, with a shake of his head, he he heads to the nightstand to get a cup of water]

[which he takes with him as he slips into the bathroom next to prepare her a nice, cold washcloth]

[ The wobbling is concerning, and now she's wondering just what he'd gone through to make it here in the first place. She's pretty sure if she asked, Akira would just give some vague, reassuring response until she frowned at him enough, but it's more worrying when he leaves her sight.

It's no longer a fear that the nightmare will become a reality, really. But she's not entirely certain that Akira's not going to cough himself into a crumpled heap or collapse in there, and that's why Rion diligently and doggedly shifts herself up on her elbows to listen for any other alarming sounds.

Besides his coughing, of course. ]

[FORTUNATELY, all she hears are the dulcet noises of running and dripping water, accompanied by a few more coughs. . . and maybe a frustrated, grumpy noise here and there. but eventually, Akira emerges from the bathroom, with two (2) cold washcloths in tow!!]

[. . .]

What's with that worried look?

[and now he meanders over to the bed to drop a washcloth on her face]

[ Rion releases a soft, graceless noise that sounds a lot like "oof", reaching up and--

Ultimately just leaving the cloth where it landed, okay Rion. Her elbows give out finally, making her flop back entirely ]

I was worried. You weren't even moving straight.

My equilibrium is off.

[there's a WHUMP and then the mattress bounces as Akira flops onto the bed next to her. he lies on his back and drapes the second washcloth over his forehead, eyes slipping shut. his glasses find themselves folded and deposited neatly on the nearby nightstand]

You're a mess.

[ But she says it fondly (and still hoarsely), finally pushing the washcloth a little further up her face to settle over her forehead.

Ah, romance. ]

Not as much of a mess as you.

[he huffs in return, before he sobers up again and asks, voice soft]

And you're sure you're okay?

As... okay as I can be.

[ Which may not be saying much, but she's better than she was when he woke her up. That much is obvious. ]

You saw a pretty uncool side of me, though.

[he shifts to lie on his side, resting his cheek in his palm. he has to adjust the cool cloth on his forehead to keep it there, but it works]

. . . I didn't think it was uncool.

[ On her end, Rion doesn't move from her current position of flat on her back. One arm rests by her side, while her other hand curls over her chest, gripping at the fabric tightly. ]

You know... you don't have to try to make me feel better about it. It wasn't what you expected, right?

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