Fics listed under the cut, sorted by fandom and within each fandom, most recent works are listed first with the exception of multi-chapter fics.
Warning: Assume that all of my fics will have emeto/vomiting in them, so if that’s not your thing, this blog is not for you! Each fic has individual warnings listed at the top and in the tags.
Genshin Impact
Weathering the Storm (Sick Tighnari) AO3
Cyno returns to Gandharva Ville. Tighnari has had a rough week. They work things out, eventually.
Keeping Up with the Passage of Time (Sick Kaveh) AO3
Kaveh struggles with time, vulnerability, Alhaitham, and illness.
Sleepy Sickie (Sick Cyno) AO3
Cyno shows up very ill and unable to recall the events leading up to his return to Gandharva Ville.
Professionalism Failure (Sick Cyno) AO3
Features Alhaitham and Tighnari saving a sick Cyno from an awful corporate meeting.
Late Notice Ch1: Late Caretaker (Sick Cyno) AO3
Featuring anxious but competent Tighnari and completely pathetic Cyno. It's not his fault, he's just been sick and alone all day.
Late Notice Ch2: Can't Keep Anything Down (Sick Cyno) AO3
Tighnari gets more stressed because Cyno throws up everything he puts in his stomach.
Late Notice Ch3: Panic (Sick Cyno & Tighnari) AO3
Cyno continues to struggle with illness, and Tighnari struggles against underlying fears.
Totally Drained/Exhausted (Sick Cyno) AO3
Cyno is panicky and ill, and pushes himself far past his limits. Tighnari helps.
Post-Adrenaline Puking (Sick Tighnari) AO3
Tighnari gets sick after fearing for Cyno's life.
Can't Stop Puking (Sick Alhaitham) AO3
Alhaitham struggles with illness as well as his relationship with Kaveh. Kaveh takes a while to catch on, but he gets there eventually.
Sharing a Receptacle (Sick Cyno & Tighnari) AO3
Tighnari and Cyno being miserable at the same time while traveling.
Here for You Fanart (Sick Tighnari) Read the fic!
Tighnari, sick and vulnerable, based on one of my favorite fics I've ever read!
Blue Lock
Silent (Sick Bachira) AO3
Bachira has a sick day at Blue Lock. Iasgi takes care of him.
Link Click
Nothing right now :( One day I will have fics here. Send me an ask if there's something specific you'd like to see!
I try to keep this updated, but if you notice anything missing, please let me know!
After thinking about this extensively, for multiple reasons that I won't get into, I am going to try posting my writing exclusively to AO3 for the time being. I'm not planning on making announcement posts here when I do post fics and on AO3 my fics are currently visible only to registered users, so I wanted to give a little heads up in case anyone wants to make an account. I'm currently unsure how this will impact my participation in events like Sicktember/Novemetober/etc. If you've previously sent me an ask on here, you can request it to be sent to you privately if you don't wish to access the fic on AO3 when it's posted.
I will keep asks open here for chatting, hcs, requests, etc., but I will also likely be less active on tumblr generally than I have been in the past. I don't anticipate this being a problem for my active reader-base, but if anyone does have questions or concerns, feel free to ask.
Hi~ For the this or that!!
what about 11, 12 and 15 👀 (if I re asked one I’m so sorry lol)
The way I said I'd be around today and then got immensely distracted for like 3 hours 😂 Anyway! Thank you for sending this!! 😆
11. Food sitting uncomfortably in sickie’s stomach, but it won’t come up or having nothing in their stomach but still frequently bringing up bile?
I'm not a huge fan of either of these? I'm okay with both, but I guess slight preference for "having nothing in their stomach but still frequently bringing up bile" just because that's like... they must be feeling just really awful at that point
12. Throwing up from a having a bad migraine or throwing up from having a bad stomach ache?
This one's a bit easier! While migraines are good sickfic content for sure, I prefer a scenario where someone's throwing up from having a bad stomach ache, personally.
15. Describing nausea as ‘swirling’ or ‘churning’?
Slight preference for swirling, I think, but both are good!!
40. Sickie is extremely nauseous before a massive event, they throw up beforehand and do amazing or do okay during the event and throw up once it’s all over?
41. Feeling sick from physical pain or mental pain?
42. Vomiting on the first date or vomiting before proposing/ getting proposed to?
Oooh thank you for sending!!!
40 - Both are good and actually - I kind of love the idea of both happening in a single instance??? Like being sick before the event and assuming it's nerves, especially when they feel some relief immediately afterwards and do really well. But then once it's over they're all shaky and feel ill again and then realize that they may actually be sick sick. If I have to choose one though - throwing up after is my preference!
41 - Another one where I just absolutely adore both options!! I think it depends on the character to a certain degree! If I feel like the character is more physically strong, for example, I want them to be pushed past their physical limits. Give me someone who won't cry over physical pain and tries to act tough, but their body betrays them when it gets so bad, they can't repress the urge to retch. Same with the opposite - for someone who typically takes bad news in stride to be completely blindsided by how hard something hits them is just!!! So good. I think I have a very slight preference for feeling sick from physical pain, though - it's just a bit less stressful to read/write for me.
42 - On the first date!! Something about it being associated with a proposal makes me too sad 😂 😭
I'll be around today for a distraction while if anyone wants to chat!!! I've got a little post here that has different ways to interact or get the brain going on Thoughts and whatnot.
And Sorry if this has been done before, I’m just bored lol and feel free to do it as well :)
1. Stomach flu or food poisoning?
2. More focus on nausea or the actual vomiting?
3. Sickie telling caretaker from the get go that they feel nauseous or hiding it until the last possible minute?
4. Sickie throwing up on themselves or throwing up on the caretaker?
5. Shy flustered sickie or shy flustered caretaker?
6. Being described as turning extremely pale before being sick or being described as looking green?
7. Extremely long build up of nausea or sickie has a minute of nausea and make a big mess because they didn’t have enough time to find a bin?
8. Calm caretaker, frantic sickie or calm sickie, frantic caretaker?
9. Someone with a super sensitive tummy puking frequently or an iron strong stomach person getting sick for the first time in years?
10. Throwing up from over eating or throwing up from eating something that doesn’t agree with them?
11. Food sitting uncomfortably in sickie’s stomach, but it won’t come up or having nothing in their stomach but still frequently bringing up bile?
12. Throwing up from a having a bad migraine or throwing up from having a bad stomach ache?
13. Only being able to throw up a little every couple of hours or getting it all up at once?
14. Humiliated because they threw up in a crowded area or humiliated because they threw up in front of the last person they wanted to see?(ex: crush, enemy, boss)
15. Describing nausea as ‘swirling’ or ‘churning’?
16. Caretaker rubbing sickie’s stomach to help settle their tummy or pressing on the sickie’s stomach, so they can get it out and over with?
17. Sickie breaking down and admitting they have been feeling ill all day or caretaker can tell something is wrong and confronts them?
18. Word ‘tummy’ or ‘belly’?
19. Seasick or carsick?
20. 1 person sick, 2 caretakers or 2 people sick, 1 caretaker?
21. Chunky or liquid?
22. Can’t make it to the toilet: throw up in the bathtub or sink?
23. Holding hair their own hair back or someone else holding their hair?
24. Coughing up puke or burping it up?
25. Projectile vomiting that will need to be cleaned up or a more controlled stream that is easily flushed away?
26. Drinking Sprite or chewing on ginger to settle nausea?
27. Going extremely quite before throwing up or panicking?
28. ‘Upset tummy’ or ‘ sour stomach’?
29. Mistaking nausea as butterflies or mistaking butterflies as nausea?
30. Sickie gets caretaker sick: is fully recovered and can return the favour and look after caretaker, or is still under the weather and is having a difficult time helping?
31. Throwing up while showering or throwing up while in bed?
32. ‘Vomit’ or ‘puke’?
33. Sickfic with tons of fluff or angst?
34. Food sensitive stomach or nerve sensitive tummy?
35. Throwing up after coughing too hard or throwing up from being extremely dizzy?
36. A simple “I don’t feel so good” or “I’m going to throw up”?
37. Person that throws up a lot on a regular basis and is extremely fed up or person hasn’t thrown up in years and is desperate too? (ex: wants to remember what it feels like, wants to get out of something)
38. Throwing up during a test or presentation?
39. Tight clothing that makes the stomach feel worse or loose clothing, so the sickie gets a little relief?
40. Sickie is has been overworked and under a lot of stress recently, refusing to take a break until they are so overwhelmed it makes then physical ill or having a relaxing lazy day that is ruined from becoming sick halfway through ?
Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤ -Aery
This is tough!!!!!!!! But a good little exercise I think!! Thank you for sending <333 In no particular order, for this blog:
Sharing a Receptacle (Genshin // Sick Cyno/Tighnari) - Something about writing my first fic for a new fandom made this one just so stress-free and fun to write!!
Weathering the Storm (Genshin // Sick Tighnari) - It was somehow very cathartic and comforting to write and solve conflict in this fic. An alternate title for this fic was Rupture and Repair, which is a psychological concept that I find fascinating, and writing this felt a bit like roleplaying that process in a safe, removed sort of way.
Keeping Up with the Passage of Time (Genshin // Sick Kaveh) - I didn't like this one much at first, but, especially paired with the sick Alhaitham fic I wrote a while back, it really does have a similar rupture/repair vibe to it as Weathering the Storm - and I guess I'm finding a lot of comfort in those kinds of fics recently.
From my old blog:
Wouldn't You Like to Know (YOI // Sick Yuuri) - I'm so terribly fond of this fic. it's the way I remember not wanting to write this, but then entering some kind of daze and coming out the other side with one of the most colorful and full-of-character fics i've ever written 😂 Also, I know I submitted this at some awful morning hour because there is a random keysmash right in the middle of the fic and it tickles me every time I stumble across it
My One Single TAZ Fic (TAZ Balance // Sick Taako) - The dialogue in this fic feels almost jarringly in character, it truly speaks to the depths of my love for TAZ at that time
+1 Bonus, because I don't think the writing in this is particularly good but I still love it??
My Personal Comfort Fic (YOI // Sick Yuuri) - Can't put my finger on exactly why but this is the fic I go to when I need to feel safe, so it has a special little place in my heart <3
Cyno with a concussion. Cyno dazed confused with some badly placed jokes as he brushes it off. But because of the context Tighnari and him have to keep moving, make sure everyone else is okay, help out the rangers etc. Cyno with a concussion that is sneaky cuz adrenaline keeps him moving.
but it doesn’t last, and eventually he gets more clumsy, and his head hurts more. Hes trying to crack jokes to help him and Tighnari shake off the stress but…it’s hard to come up with good ones when his head is pounding…He’s learning tho so he asks nari for pain meds once back home. He feels extra tired, and his thoughts feel…slippery? Did Tighnari just ask him a question? Huh. He’s making food, but his stomach kinda…feels weird..
Im imagining it’s not until Cyno throws up said pain meds before they even have a chance to take effect that Tighnari initiates concision protocol. And what I also am imagining is how annoying it would be for Cyno who just is nauseous and wants to sleep but has to be woken up every hour to make sure his brains don’t turn into applesauce
This is brought to you by procrastination and my own experiences with concussions
:D
*pats you on the head and politely closes door*
HELLO i'm still obsessed with this it's so good i don't even know how to respond i just adore your brain!!!!!! and i need to write this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
i like the idea of this happening in Gandharva Ville and with the forest rangers around, like the forest watchers i'm sure have good training but they're not professionals to the same degree as the matra, so i could absolutely see it throwing him off to the point of making a mistake or getting hurt if one of them stepped out of line.
thank you for sending me this, i am definitely going to continue mulling it over until i can pull it into some kind of cohesive fic <333 (and thank you for the head pats 🥰 )
12. “You’re not fine, you’re throwing up/coughing up a lung” [OPEN]
(Preference towards throwing up but they can also go hand in hand)
It’s totally okay if not of course!! :3
HI YES!!! I love this, I can already picture Tighnari being a nerd and responding with something along the lines of "that's not biologically possible" lmao
Definitely adding this to my list, thank you for asking!!
I had some much needed time away from tumblr this week and am back now feeling considerably better! Expect me to continue writing at my usual slow pace ^^;;
Novemetober Rescheduled: I will be trying to complete any prompts that were requested, even though they'll be late for the event. So they'll be treated more like a standard fic request, though if I can fit them into future events (Sicktember, the next Novemetober, etc.) I probably will!
Sicktember: I'll try to do some of these, but I plan to be pretty relaxed about it! If you have something you'd really like to see from these prompts, I'd encourage you to send an ask as soon as possible! I'm thinking about discarding any requests that I don't complete for this event once September is over just to start fresh.
WIPs: With the exception of the ones that have been requested or discussed in other posts (Fake “Faking It”, Chaotic Body Temperature, Group Sickfic, Too Feverish to Think), some of these are at risk of being scrapped. If there are any specific ones you'd like to see, please let me know and I'll try to hang onto them until I can make them work!
Other than that, you may have noticed that I cleaned up some of my posts with the Read More function. I wasn't using this for fics previously because I had issues with it in the past - but I realized that's kind of silly since that was years ago, so surely (^^;;) tumblr has fixed it by now... right?? Having said that - if anyone has issues with the Read More, please let me know. I like how it functions on an aesthetic level but if it causes actual problems with accessing content, I'd rather prioritize that.
If there are specific prompts you'd like to see, please request! Adding some additional information about what you'd like the fic to look like is encouraged but not required.
[OPEN]: These are prompts that I like, or I feel would fit particularly well with characters I write for. Please feel free to request!
[SKIP]: These are prompts that don't particularly draw me to them, or may push me out of my comfort zone in some way. If there are any that you'd really like to see, feel free to request, but for these prompts some additional information about what you're looking for (the fic scenario) is required. I may be more likely to refuse asks for these prompts.
[IN PROGRESS]: I already have plans for these. Feel free to request, but I will be more likely to reject asks for these prompts unless I really like the idea. However, if I can reallocate overlap fics to other prompts, I will try to!
[SKIP]: I will not be writing for these prompts under any circumstance due to personal reasons. I (of course) have no issues with others writing for these prompts, they simply are not my cup of tea. Please do not request them from me!
Priority will be given to my favorite characters within my preferred fandoms. Check out my Rules page for more about that.
Daily Prompts
1. “I’m not hungover, I’m just sick” (Or vise versa) [OPEN]
2. Too Much of a Good Thing/Overindulgence [SKIP]
3. Campus/Con Crud [SKIP]
4. “Great. I Got a Cold for My Birthday.” [SKIP]
5. Rogue Organ (tonsils, spleen, appendix, gall bladder ect…) [SKIP]
6. Dizziness/Vertigo [IN PROGRESS | Sick Cyno]
7. Borrowed Hoodie [IN PROGRESS | Sick Lu Guang]
8. “The closest doctor is probably hours away from here!” [OPEN]
9. Overdramatic Patient/Caretaker [SKIP]
10. The Sniffles ™ [SKIP]
11. Medieval Treatment [SKIP]
12. “You’re not fine, you’re throwing up/coughing up a lung” [IN PROGRESS | Sick Tighnari]
13. Mononucleosis [SKIP]
14. Clean Sheets/Fresh Pajamas [OPEN]
15. "Who decided __ is ‘sick people food?’" [SKIP]
16. Toxin/Poison [IN PROGRESS | Sick Ito]
17. Brain Fog/Spaced Out [IN PROGRESS | Sick Cyno]
I am. Undone. I need 10-12 business days to recover from your fic 😭😭😭 (but like in the best way possible!!!)
angst like with partners fighting is Honeslty so scary to read sometimes!!! But!!! SOMEHOW you paint this beautiful picture of real and RAW upset and hurt and flaws AND ITS STILL OKAY IN THE END!!! there’s something so healing about that??? Like hello????? Because their bond is so much deeper than moments like this. I LOVED how vulnerable Tighnari was, his high standards for himself and his really VALID frustrations!!! Fuck that guy that sabotaged their letters that’s so (clever of you) but EVIL!! But also like, I loved his very human mistakes too! And his even more human break down 🥺🥺 he sounded so terrible and Just sooo defeated. I like to think Cyno stayed for days just silently but very specifically doting on him, making sure he had gentle foods to eat, extra protective, extra silly, and super reluctant to leave.
speaking of I know Tighnari is our caretaker king but I think cyno simply excels at creating safety and holding space for Tighnari. Cuz the anxiety he must have felt was so real!! I was feeling it as a reader lol 😂 but he trusts nari and chooses to breath and wait and meditate- like that’s so honestly goals and such a healthy response!!’ And then after that he’s just more than anything ready to hold Tighnari and meet him wherever he is and protect his heart and - GAAAAAH I can’t!!!!!! Like he may need a bit more instruction on how to heal people in the literal sense but I’m convinced he heals Tighnairs heart over and over again. 😭😭😭😭 this was so good- OH and the ENDING!!! so sweet and fluffy 🩷🩷🩷 I was so glad that nari was able to begin to relax a little, and make a joke WITH cyno aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!! My HEART!!! and just nari scooping Cyno back because he demands more cuddles. Beautiful. I’m so proud of them I love them. I want what they have 😭😭 I LOVE your cynari fics!!
!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU?!?!? give me some days to cover recover from this ask please i have melted into a teary-eyed puddle
Okay, attempting to be coherent - I'm really glad you enjoyed it despite the extra tension of arguments. I had points while writing this where it was very stressful because of that, but I honestly just wrote and re-wrote until I found the words to make it comfortable for me, without taking away from the bite and the conflict. It ended up being surprisingly healing. I like the idea that emotions, even when they aren't expressed in the best ways, exist to inform us about ourselves and the people around us in a way that words sometimes fail, so I wanted to make sure something good would come from the conflict, in the end. I'm not sure I'm expressing this well, but - they care about each other enough to see bad behavior and go "that was wrong, but I still care about the hurt that's behind it because I trust your goodness and love your whole" and I think they are stronger for it (both individually and as a unit).
And yes that evil guy is not gonna have a fun time when Cyno's back at work 😈
Tighnari 🥺 he had such a rough time, our little fox guy. He was under so much stress already and the migraine and the storm on top of it :( If I were a fluff writer I'd absolutely write a whole extra chapter of Cyno coddling him, because he deserves it. They'd also figure out an actual plan for getting both of their needs met - Tighnari needing support with Collei, Cyno balancing that with his job demands. They probably set up weekly check-ins, so that if the communication is ever disturbed again, they'll know right away.
Regarding Cyno - outside of the unresolved trauma (it's there, but not always making itself known), I guess I headcanon him as being quite emotionally healthy! He doubts himself a lot because the trauma bits feel uncontrollable, but he's a good listener, and he cares, and I like to think he had to learn a pretty extensive degree of emotional control to manage Hermanubis at a very young age. There are some complexities there, where his initial instinct for himself is to numb or push the emotions away, associating strong feelings with danger and damage, but he has to have some logical understanding that emotions become dangerous when they're ignored for too long. So he tries to keep things unpacked, even if he prefers to do that when he's alone. Of course, he misses things sometimes.
All this to say - I agree!!! I think he manages his own worries and concerns and even grief really well in this fic. He knows they're there, takes a step back to check himself, and either embraces the feels or sets them aside for later based on what's most needed and productive for the situation. It goes along with "endurance vs. patience" - endurance relating to withstand poor circumstances (which is how he (correctly) interprets/internalizes Nari's temper); patience relating to response to wrongdoings (why the evildoer will have a Very Bad Time with Cyno). (No one asked but I interpret Tighnari as someone with a great capacity for both of these, but who is selective with when to utilize them)
Ugh the ending - I was cringing at myself and them but I now have a Need to include a bad Cyno joke whenever I write him 🤣 I am glad it added a bit of fluff and healing as well though!!
Wow I apologize for such a long response and like, an entire unsolicited character analysis, I think I'm still processing my own feelings about this fic 😂 😭 If anyone reads this far... thank you for your time?? ^^;;
Warnings: vomiting, migraines, discussions about death in hypotheticals, discussions about life threatening illness (Eleazar), arguments, anxiety, grief, nausea, fear, one (1) awful pun
(it sounds scary but no one dies, I promise)
Takes place shortly before all the stuff with Azar and the archon quest!
Fill for @monthofsick Novemetober Rescheduled day 27 (Head pain/injury/ache). Cyno gets to be in the caretaking role for once for his birthday ! :D
It feels like the sky is bleeding.
Water splashes heavily onto the ground, softening it so that Cyno’s steps fall almost silently. His pace is quick, even as the muddy earth seems to cling to his bare feet. There’s no deadline; only his own desire to be home is urging him forward. His last mission had gone well, but it had been longer than Cyno preferred or had planned for. It’s not the first time he’s gone weeks without sending word to Tighnari. By now, the forest watcher has his own ways of gathering intel. Cyno knows that, regardless of direct communication, Tighnari will have reached out to his contacts. A necessity to calm his ever present and very valid fear for Cyno’s wellbeing. Still, something about Tighnari's lack of recent communication makes him vaguely uneasy. As he nears his destination, his steps pick up speed. The clouds continue to pour.
Gandharva Ville, when he finally reaches it, feels subdued. The rain drops onto the rooftops, a blanket over the town, drowning out every other sound. The hazy mood reminds Cyno of his own weary bones, at odds with the itching, restless energy that buzzes beneath his skin.
Through the darkness, he realizes that Tighnari is waiting for him. He’s momentarily impressed that his partner could hear, let alone recognize, his footsteps through the storm. Something inside him settles. Then, almost immediately, Cyno reverts to a state of high alert, picking up on subtle indicators that all is not well.
Tighnari’s ears are turned backwards and pressed against his skull, his posture rigid. Years of practice mean that Cyno can read Tighnari easily. He’s disgruntled, high strung, and upset; entirely in contrast with his typical laidback demeanor. As soon as Cyno is within reach, the forest watcher drags him inside with an expression that stings to look at, almost akin to a snarl.
Cyno nearly relaxes again when Tighnari begins to look him up and down, clinically, assessing for damage. His body is begging to unwind, and this is their normal routine. And yet, even as he yearns to turn off his mind, he can’t help but notice that while Tighnari is as gentle as always, he’s notably less steady. Rushed, and also… clumsy. When his hands start to shake, Cyno grabs them.
“Stop. Tighnari. I’m fine.”
His partner scowls. He pulls away, and then returns to his initial task without a word. He pushes and pokes and prods, grumbling unintelligibly under his breath, and although Cyno wants nothing more than to smooth the wrinkles between Tighnari’s brows, he doesn’t think it would be welcomed. He maintains as much stillness as he can, the way one might freeze in an attempt to avoid startling a skittish animal. Tighnari only seems to become more agitated. Cyno is still sopping wet, trying to rack his brain for what might have caused the other man such distress.
“Did I wake you up?” He asks. It’s only 8 pm.
Tighnari scoffs. “Of course not.” He manages to look even more annoyed at the question.
Cyno flounders. This was not at all how he’d imagined his return home. He mourns his hopes for a warm welcome and suppresses a very physical urge to shiver. When he speaks again, his throat is tight and his voice sounds small. “Nari?”
Frown deepening, Tighnari remains silent, frantic in his movements. His breathing kicks up its pace as he putters about. He’s finished assessing Cyno’s state and begins the process of cleaning small cuts and slathering salve on bruises that would be just fine to heal on their own. Cyno hadn’t even noticed them; compared to the last time he was here, the damage its negligible. Cyno has shown up on Tighnari’s doorstep poisoned and dying in the past, and the extent of his emotional response then had been an eye roll and an exasperated (albeit fond) sigh. To see Tighnari this frazzled now, without knowing why, is concerning.
The rain outside continues, relentless and loud on the rooftop. Cyno’s chest prickles. His brain strains for some kind of explanation for Tighnari’s strange mood, and he feels a cold fear shoot through his veins at the answer his brain supplies.
Cyno starts scanning Tighnari’s body wherever he can see exposed skin. He’s pacing now, and his movements do seem oddly stilted. Cyno catches his arm, breaking the rhythm of his strides.
“Are you injured?” He can’t see any bruises or blood, but that kind of thing could be easily covered by the casual cloak that blankets most of Tighnari’s body - not to mention the possibility of internal injury. The thought causes a sharp, stabbing sensation just below his collarbone. “Are you sick?”
“Don’t be silly,” Tighnari hisses. He turns away, seemingly looking for some other way to heal Cyno’s near non-existent wounds. The matra’s jaw tightens.
“Something’s wrong, Tighnari. Tell me.”
Tighnari’s shoulders hike up with a jolt, tension evident throughout his whole body, and he whirls around looking about ready to shake Cyno by the shoulders. He doesn’t, but his hands curl up into fists at his side, spine gone rigid.
“You! You’re what’s wrong, Cyno. You’re never around and— and why are you such a mess every single time you show up here, always injured or exhausted or ill, why– why can’t you take better care of yourself?” Of us, he doesn’t say, but Cyno hears it anyway, because this isn’t the first time it’s been a problem.
Tighnari is trembling.
Cyno thinks he should probably be more worried about the venom in his partner’s voice than he is. He’s only ever heard Tighnari speak with this tone during discussions about morally corrupt institutions and the people who reinforce them. Probably, Cyno should be much more worried about this and the fact that it is now directed towards him. And yet… His gaze zeroes in on Tighnari’s unsteady, balled up fists with the highest degree of intensity.
Tighnari is trembling.
“Let’s sit down,” Cyno suggests, biting back his fear and finally moving away from the entrance of the hut. He reaches for Tighnari’s arm out of habit only to see it snatched away. The forest watcher whirls around, tail snapping back and forth behind him.
“You’re dripping water everywhere,” Tighnari seethes as Cyno moves to settle in the chair near his desk. Cyno is quiet; he doesn’t bother to mention that he would’ve dried off had he been offered a towel. He’ll clean the mess later. He can feel his body flagging, having been traveling nearly the entire day, but he forces himself to focus so that he can study Tighnari carefully.
The other man sits on the far end of the bed, practically on the opposite side of the room to himself, arms crossed, ears flat. He’s still grumbling about Cyno’s belated visit and lack of self-preservation, and Cyno feels his frown deepen, more confused with each passing second.
“Tighnari—” He has to interrupt to get a word in. “I’m sorry. I know my work is… inconvenient.” Tighnari scoffs at the word choice, thunder crashes, but Cyno presses on. “But— I want to make sure you’re okay. You don’t look well.”
In fact, Tighnari looks remarkably worse for the wear. With the storm's most recent roar, the fight seems to have drained out of him, and he rubs a hand over his frighteningly pale face. “I’m tired, Cyno. Let’s just… go to sleep.”
It doesn’t sit right.
Cyno complies only because he has no better suggestions, and because a small, hopeful voice suggests that rest may be just what they both need in order to clear up this mess tomorrow. Tighnari says nothing when Cyno stands to clean up the water. The forest watcher readies himself for sleep without a word, and stays silent when he slips into bed. He turns so that his face is nearly pressed against the wall of the hut.
“Goodnight,” Cyno whispers, trying to ignore the hurt in his chest when he receives no response.
They’re not the kind of couple to fall asleep angry. They never have before - Kaveh and Alhaitham’s ability to do so repeatedly and maintain any kind of relationship stability is utterly baffling to Cyno. Indeed, he’s even had conversations with Tighnari about it.
But this isn’t that. Cyno doesn’t even feel mad. He probably should be, he thinks - he and Tighnari have both gotten upset at each other in the past, often for good reason. Tonight, though, he just feels tired, worried, and confused.
He gets into bed and doesn’t move. He doesn’t sleep, either, and hours of the night pass slowly. Cyno isn’t known for his patience, but he has a great capacity to endure. He’s restless but still, making use of meditation skills he’d learned as a child.
He smiles at the memory, recalling how Cyrus, who’d taught Cyno, had given up on his own attempts at meditating soon after. He'd been all the more proud that Cyno had taken so naturally to it. It’s a comforting thought, and he allows his mind to wander. It drifts easily this way and that until settling upon an adjacent recollection - Tighnari, many years later, managing to guide Cyrus through a successful meditation, seemingly as easy as breathing air, just weeks after they’d first met.
“Anyone can learn,” he said when Cyno thanked him for his help. “It’s a simple matter of clear communication and mutual trust.”
His chest tightened. Clear communication and mutual trust. It could just as well function as the motto for their relationship over the past five years. What could have possibly happened in the time he’s been gone?
Cyno catches himself gnawing on his lip, relaxes his body, and takes a deep breath.
Reset.
Breathe.
Relax.
Repeat.
With more difficulty than he’s had in many, many years, Cyno allows the thoughts and feelings and fears to wash over him as he slips back into a silent and deliberate meditation practice.
———
It’s similar to waking up, in some ways, when a gentle touch pulls Cyno out of his meditation. He opens his eyes. He reconnects his body to the material world around him and peels himself away from a more comfortable state of being.
Unlike waking up, there’s no moment of confusion over where he is or who’s lying next to him. There’s no fear from lingering nightmares, but there is an immediate anxiety over the sound of his partner sniffling. Cyno blinks into the darkness. His eyesight hasn’t yet adjusted and the moonlight isn’t quite enough to make out anything other than shadowy forms. Tighnari is whispering something, so quietly that it’s hard to comprehend, even with their proximity.
“Get up… Cyno… please…” Distress drips from each word.
“Nari?” Cyno sits up, taking his partner’s hand in his own. The next thing he hears sounds suspiciously akin to… a sob. He squints, to no avail. “What’s wrong?”
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Tighnari mumbles. He’s pushing away, now, although one hand lingers on Cyno’s chest, near his heart, as if he can’t bring himself to move it. When he finally does, Cyno has just enough vision to see him wipe his cheeks.
“You’re crying…” Cyno’s voice trails off. He can count the times he’s seen Tighnari cry on one hand. The forest watcher immediately moves to deny it, shaking his head, only to wince. “Tighnari, if you’re injured—”
His partner laughs, and it’s strangled, wet. “Not injured, just a headache.” He shifts a bit and looks away. “You weren’t sleeping.”
The night air hangs in the space between them, humid and heavy. Their conversation is framed by sounds of the storm, and Cyno can’t help but think how loud it must be, for Tighnari, who can tell based off of breathing alone whether he’s dreaming or meditating. Still resting above Cyno’s heart, Tighnari’s fingers curl slightly. He clears his throat, and just like that, the crying stops, the vulnerability in his expression hastily hidden away like windows shuttering closed.
“It’s my fault, right? For treating you so horribly.” Tighnari's voice is resigned, having regained its usual stable cadence, but when he pulls his hand away, it shakes as he holds it to his own chest. “I’m sorry, Cyno. It was wrong of me.”
“I forgive you.” The words come quick and honest. Tighnari sighs and trembling fingers pinch his nose.
“You really shouldn’t forgive people so easily.”
“You shouldn’t doubt forgiveness given freely.” Cyno switches a lamp on and sits up, arms crossed.
Tighnari is avoiding his gaze, a sure sign of lingering guilt. Observing him closely, Cyno notices dark bags under his eyes, which, when they flicker to him briefly, are uncharacteristically bleary. His breathing has grown ragged throughout their short conversation. A loud boom sounds - more thunder - and his skin takes on a greenish tint.
“You should sleep,” Tighnari rasps. His arms are crossed, hands gripping his elbows, in a tremulous and incomplete hug.
“… Will you?”
“What?”
“Will you sleep?” It’s a quiet question, as the words leave Cyno’s mouth, but it’s a straight shot to Tighnari’s final, sorest hurt.
He crumples. His head drops into his hands, which scrub angrily across his face. His body shakes with sobs.
“Oh,” Cyno breathes.
Carefully, he gathers the shuddering figure into his arms and holds him through the ache, letting it infiltrate his own heart in hopes of sharing the burden. He sinks with Tighnari’s every heaving wail, and splinters with each whimper. In an awful moment of clarity, Cyno realizes that crying has only exacerbated his partner’s physical pain, but he seems unable to stop himself. It’s the kind of breakdown that’s been pushed to the wayside again and again, until it simply demanded to be acknowledged.
“I’m sorry,” Tighnari wheezes. He’s still clinging to himself, refusing to reach out for help. Cyno tries to be grateful that he isn’t being pushed away.
“You shouldn’t be,” he says. Tighnari feels unusually small in his arms - his shoulders are sharp, almost jagged, jarring with their lack of padding. Alarm slices through him, a knife wedging itself in his gut, and Cyno grits his teeth against its urgency. It’s there, it's important, and it won’t be going away on its own, but it cannot be addressed immediately.
“No, I– I’m fine.” Tighnari can hardly speak, between the vicious trembling, tears, and agony. He clutches at his head. “I’m fine.”
“Look at me, Tighnari.” When Cyno pulls away, Tighnari moves, face tilting upward, eyes wet and fearful. “It is okay for you to hurt.”
The words feel lacking, to Cyno. He wishes he could say more, about how Tighnari is always so stubbornly steady, about how he’s owed a few favors from the General Mahamatra after all he’s done for him. He doesn’t know how to say it all and also convey that his support and love for Tighnari is unconditional. So he leaves it simple and specific, and is relieved when it seems to be enough, because Tighnari moves towards him.
They’re hardly a distance away but it feels as though an incomprehensibly long bridge has been traversed when Tighnari crawls into his arms. There are no more apologies, no more pleading-to-be-believed reassurances. Together they sit, waiting out the storms that rage inside and out.
The crying tapers off eventually. Tighnari stays where he is, head resting on Cyno’s shoulder. He’s quiet, and Cyno hopes that he’s asleep. He’s beginning to nod off himself when Tighnari shudders and shifts. Another minute passes, and then there’s a whimper.
“It hurts,” he admits.
“Your head?”
“Mhm. Could you massage my ears?” His tail is wrapped around the both of them - it’s his special way of mapping their closeness without opening his eyes. Cyno obliges the request without a word, and then takes a moment to assess his own concerns.
“How long have you had a migraine?” The question has been begging to be asked since he noticed the unhealthy amount of weight his partner had lost in the time they’d been apart. He feels Tighnari deflate against him.
“Four days,” he confesses. Cyno does not go rigid, but only because of years spent honing his body to wait before reacting. “It’s– it’s a stress response." Tighnari explains. "Inherited from my mom.”
“You aren’t easily stressed,” Cyno states. It’s an opening to explain further without any pressure to do so. He can tell Tighnari understands and appreciates the phrasing when he squeezes Cyno’s shoulder.
“Eleazar flare up last week - Collei’s fine. I,” he pauses. Cyno knows that he’s thinking, and simply continues massaging his ears until he’s ready to continue. “I actually reached out to you.”
This time, Cyno does tense up. His instinct, about the lack of contact, had been right after all.
He’d heard nothing about this matter, and his matra had explicit instructions to report to him immediately any time Tighnari or Collei attempted communication. In fact, it was a rule that surpassed even the strictest of confidentiality standards, meaning it should be implemented regardless of risk during missions, and was well known because of both its intensity and its rarity. The only reason it existed at all was because Cyno had stated it was a requirement to renew his position years ago, and his matra had backed him up unanimously, asserting that they would leave along with the general if Azar did not grant this single request. It had never failed him before, but now…
“Three times,” Tighnari adds, quiet. His earlier anger, his words, his worry, all start to make sense.
“I didn’t hear a word of it, Tighnari. I promise, or I would’ve–”
“I know,” he interrupts. “I knew the whole time, Cyno, I just used it as a convenient excuse to take my frustrations out on you.”
Cyno hopes this is true, though even if it is, the fault still falls onto his shoulders for his failure to monitor his men’s loyalty. This was deliberate, and it was also an inside job; there's no doubt in his mind.
“Don’t feel bad. I only thought you'd want to know.” Tighnari is right about that. When Cyno returns to work - which he plans to take a significant leave from - his first task will be to punish whoever was deliberately disrupting their communications. He won’t have to catch them, because they are clearly not clever. They were fortunate to have gotten away with it for as long as they did, though he already has a suspect. He’ll let his second in command know of the matter by the end of the day and she will surely have the culprit restrained and waiting for Cyno’s punishment in a matter of hours.
“I’ll fix it,” he says aloud. “Right away.”
“I know.”
“Is Collei…” Cyno trails off. Tighnari had mentioned that she’s alright, he reminds himself. Still, he craves details, for his own peace of mind. This, Tighnari seems to understand implicitly.
“It was a rough couple of days. She pulled through, tough as always. She’s been symptomless for a few days now, but you can go check on her if you'd like,” he suggests, beginning to peel himself away. Cyno shakes his head, pulling Tighnari closer again.
“I’ll see her in the morning,” he decides. “I trust you.”
The words bring the tears back to Tighnari’s eyes, his expression transforming into something akin to devastation. Cyno feels his own lips tilt downwards. Though the offer of open communication was meant to be used at will, Tighnari rarely took advantage of it.
“It must have been quite bad for you two,” Cyno says quietly.
“Yes,” Tighnari breathes, like something in him has been begging to be spat out and shared. “I— I spent so much time, days and nights, foraging for medicinal ingredients, researching cures, pain management, and temporary treatments... uprooting the withering, in case it would help.” Sweat beads on his temples, and Cyno fears that there are limits to what ear massages can do. "You didn't respond, and I worried about you, and Collei was already struggling but then she got worse."
“The whole time, I just kept thinking,” Tighnari goes on, the words raw and aching as they enter the world, “What if I can’t do enough for her? What if she— and what if you never— And what if you do come back and she’s gone? Because I—” His words are choked off, and Tighnari buries his head in his hands, and Cyno is silently glad for it. Somewhere along the way, his own voice got lost in fear, and grief for something that hasn’t even come to be. He flounders, struggling again with the burden of comfort, one he accepts willingly, but feels woefully unprepared to shoulder.
“That won’t happen,” he manages.
“You can’t guarantee it won't,” Tighnari snaps. He’s correct, again, but the proud righteousness is gone from his next words. They sound hollow and broken. “I can’t guarantee that.”
“No,” Cyno says, “You don’t have to.”
For all of the anger and supposed irrationality behind Tighnari’s earlier words, Cyno sees that there is truth in them, too. He doesn’t visit often enough. He should send more letters, and more supplies. As much as he is dedicated to his job, as important as it is, his family is important, too, and he can do better at balancing them. He needs to. He takes Tighnari’s hands into his own.
“It is not your responsibility to work miracles, Tighnari. I would never ask that of you.”
The forest watcher sniffles. “She’s in my care,” he says weakly. Cyno can see the exhaustion in his partner’s every movement, can hear it in every word. He will fix this.
“Because I knew you would give her a happy life. However long it is.” He’s surprised by the stability of his voice. Cyno avoids thinking about Collei’s illness, and even more stubbornly tries not to consider the reality of her lifespan. Of the two of them, Tighnari is stronger when it comes to facing such matters head-on. It’s something else that needs to change, something else that he’s let Tighnari manage alone for far too long.
“I knew you would do that for her and I was right, Tighnari.” He brushes his partner’s hair away from his face, cupping his cheeks gently. He hopes Tighnari can see how genuine is. “She’s so excited to live, now.”
He watches the words sink in, the way Tighnari’s expression goes soft and fond and full of love. “She is,” he agrees, in disbelieving wonder.
“I’ll be here more. I promise.”
“Okay,” Tighnari accepts. The conversation tapers off, then, and Tighnari drifts into a restless sleep soon after. Cyno wonders if he was simply too tired to argue or doubt, but that’s a conversation for later. Better yet, Cyno's actions will prove the truth of his words.
The forest watcher is still clearly unwell, tossing and turning, sometimes whimpering, particularly when the storm is at its loudest. Cyno can’t help but consider how long it must have been since Tighnari got a good night of rest. It’s likely been over a week, based on what he'd shared. Unsure if it’s helping but confident that it doesn’t hurt, Cyno continues his massage, steadfastly ignoring the weight of his own exhaustion in favor of supporting the love of his life.
Later, when he wakes up, Tighnari’s ears are pressed flat to his head and quivering. His jaw is clenched tight, his skin pale, almost translucent. The tinge of green has returned, too. His breaths come out shaky and uneven.
“Cyno?” Tighnari blinks, holds tight to Cyno’s arm, and stays as still as possible.
“I’m here,” the matra says, keeping his voice quiet.
"Can you help me to the bathroom?”
It isn’t far, but they take their time getting there. Cyno is careful not to jostle the other man, who keeps his eyes closed and moves as if his limbs weigh twice as much as they should. Upon reaching the bathroom, Tighnari is suddenly coughs over the sink, pained noises escaping alongside splashes of vomit.
Cyno stands beside him, wrapping an arm around him for support, wincing as he feels his partner heave repeatedly, against his own will. With each wave of sick come more tears, the sharp movements no doubt exacerbating the migraine. When he has no strength left, Tighnari leans heavily onto the counter, wracked with queasy tremors, belching up small mouthfuls of bile.
Cyno manages to keep his hair out of the way. He cleans both the bathroom and Tighnari’s face once he’s finished. He’s still shaking like a leaf and teary-eyed, entirely heartbreaking in his misery. After brushing the sick man’s teeth, Cyno musters up a smile.
“The storm has stopped,” he says, because it has. “Just for you, I’ll save my joke about why the sun went to school for another day.”
Tighnari releases a pent up breath, which Cyno interprets as some mixture of relief, gratitude, and fond amusement. He half-carries his partner back to the bed, and then sets him down gently. Rays of light have begun to stream in through the windows, so Cyno makes sure to close the blinds and bring back a glass of water before settling in next to Tighnari. Although he’s still pale, he looks far more relaxed since the rain stopped, and Cyno assumes he’s asleep until he hears a whisper so soft, he almost misses it.
“It had to get a little brighter,” Tighnari mumbles.
“What did you say?” Cyno definitely heard, but he can’t help bit of incredulilty. “Tighnari, you– mmph!” He’s silenced, a hand slapped over his mouth, and then arms wrap around his waist and pull him close. The voice in his ear is as menacing as it is loving.
“Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep already, you big lummox.”
–––
Send asks here! Also, if you enjoyed this fic, I would really love to know - thank you so much! 🥰
Fill for this ask and @monthofsick Novemetober Rescheduled days 4 (Messy), 19 (Sick in more ways than one), and 25 (Cranky sickie)!
Warnings: Vomiting, scat in the context of illness, mentions of other symptoms including headaches/brain fog/fever/muscle aches/lightheadedness
Scat parts are brief! If you want to skip, here are the contexts:
Vague, off-screen implication: "When he exited the bathroom" through the end of the same paragraph
Somewhat more descriptive + mess: "Kaveh’s grip tightened" through the end of the same paragraph, and then it's vaguely referred to in the conversation between Kaveh and Alhaitham right after that in the context of embarrassment
The hands of the clock were not friendly to Kaveh. They often ran at a pace that he just couldn’t keep up with. Consequently, taking on each new project was risky business. As he finalized blueprints for his latest commission, he acknowledged the vague nausea in his abdomen with resignation rather than surprise. It was to be expected, considering he had been running on coffee and determination for the majority of the weekend. Nothing the architect hadn’t dealt with before. Two hours past midnight, he stumbled out of his bedroom for the first time that day on legs made of jelly and forced himself to eat a substantial dinner.
It didn’t sit well - Kaveh wasn’t surprised. He figured he’d eaten too fast and forced himself to drink some water. At least Alhaitham was already asleep and therefore couldn’t lecture him about it. Like the very responsible adult that he was, Kaveh swallowed back the urge to cuss at his cramping stomach and aching head and made his way to his own bed. He collapsed onto the mattress, bitter at the realization that he’d regained no strength despite doing all the right things. Instead, he’d only managed to make himself dizzy. He breathed slowly, in through his nose, out through his mouth, as the chaos that was his bedroom spun around him. Ink blended into scattered papers before his eyes like magic swirling in a way that had his most recent meal inching upwards, burning his throat.
Archons, he felt ill.
Well, a little sleep deprivation wouldn’t kill him, no matter how much his body seemed hellbent on convincing him otherwise. Kaveh curled up around his stomach as the organ clenched and gurgled. Exhaustion grabbed him tight in its claws and dragged him into fitful, incoherent dreams.
———
Kaveh woke up, sweaty and chilled to the bone, after a light sleep. It didn’t seem to have done him any favors; in addition to dizziness and a growing sickly stomach feeling, his body had begun to ache, all the more painful as shivers ran through his body. He couldn’t lift his head without piercing pain seeming to drill a hole in it, so he stilled.
He lost track of time. In some moments, he was able to remind himself that he’s been through hell and back - surely he can endure a bit of overwork. He’d been sleep deprived before and he’d survived.
But the thoughts rolled around in his mind, pounding at it along with a persistent throb, and something didn’t seem quite right. He was exhausted, though, and he couldn’t put another name to what he was feeling. Instead, he fought against a vague sort of fear - of death, of pain, of suffering alone - until he drifted off once more.
———
A guttural belch tore Kaveh out of a deep sleep. He was still halfway in the land of dreams when he lurched forward, body moving and feeling for all the world like it was being controlled by puppet strings. Jolt upright. Burp until something gurgles up and gushes forth. No time to think about the hot, sticky mess. Just continue to add to it.
Kaveh couldn’t remember ever being sick like this.
He coughed and a garbled noise followed, half-choked around watery stomach contents. It took all of his willpower to reposition himself over the edge of the bed so that he was projectile vomiting onto the floor rather than himself and his blankets. When the nausea finally let up - just barely - Kaveh was left reeling, swaying slightly. He tried to catch his breath, but the stench was overpowering. As soon as he could manage, he forced himself to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom.
Kaveh knelt on the floor in front of the toilet. Chills ran up and down his spine and through aching muscles, intense enough that he ended up retching fruitlessly at least twice. The world spun nauseatingly before him, and it was all he could do to remain upright and panting over the toilet bowl.
Minutes passed in a swirl of confusion. Kaveh’s brain began to tick again, an inconsistent thing. Once the adrenaline faded, he could think more clearly without the panic driving his instinct. Ragged breaths echoed back at him, and Kaveh became aware of the way the cool air stung against his raw throat. He tried closing his mouth, but that made him feel like he was suffocating. It took him far longer than it should have to realize his nose was clogged by chunks of sick, but Kaveh’s defense, all of his willpower was being used to suppress sobs into pitiful whimpers.
At least he managed to be relatively quiet, he thought. He shakily blew his nose into a wad of toilet paper, retching dryly moments later at the effort. The clock that was always far too big sat on a shelf near the shower; Kaveh glared at it. He pondered blearily whether the thing was broken or needed to be reset, because it seemed impossible that it could already be 8 in the morning. If that was the case, he must have slept for the better part of six hours - and yet, he still felt like he’d been awake for a week straight.
The nausea had subsided for the time being, so Kaveh unsteadily pulled himself to his feet. He washed out his mouth and stripped his soiled shirt from his body, shuddering at the way it clung to his skin, before dropping it into the washroom trashcan. His muscles felt weak and his brain was foggy; he was forced to take a break and sit on the cold tiled floor for some time in order to regain some strength.
“You’re fine,” he whispered to himself. “Just… get up.”
Eventually, he did. Kaveh refused to even consider returning to his bedroom until he felt well enough to clean, and not add to, the mess there. He did, however, lock the bedroom door; the last thing he wanted was for Alhaitham to stumble upon that… embarrassment. His cheeks heated at the thought and he dropped bonelessly onto the couch, curling up in a miserable, humiliated ball, just as Alhaitham emerged.
Kaveh watched his housemate with a mixture of fascination, foreboding, and something too tender to name. Amidst the chaos that his illness had brought upon Kaveh, Alhaitham’s soft-around-the-edges bedhead carried a strange comfort. He seemed younger than usual this early in the morning, eyelids drooping and body relaxed. He was still in casual clothing, which was the closest he came to wearing pajamas. Time was playing tricks again; for a minute, they were back to being students, and Alhaitham was back to being his unquestionable best friend.
Kaveh loved him. He had for a very long time. He’d thought, for a while, that hatred lived alongside his love for Alhaitham, but he’d been more honest with himself recently. More honest with Alhaitham, too, though not fully. He hoped that their relationship was on the mend.
That didn’t mean he was prepared for Alhaitham to see him at his worst and most vulnerable, though. Kaveh closed his eyes as his housemate turned towards him, hearing the exasperated sigh that followed and knowing he wasn’t quite quick enough.
“Where’s your shirt, Kaveh?”
He really didn’t want to think about that. Fortunately, Alhaitham didn’t seem to expect an answer, moving silently around the room until a blanket settled over Kaveh’s shoulders. “You’ll catch a cold.”
The reprimand left Kaveh annoyed at his own fondness. Alhaitham, of course, didn’t know the irony of his statement - Kaveh had caught far more than a cold. But he also didn’t want Alhaitham knowing that much. And the blanket was nice. He’d been shivering without realizing it. With any luck, his junior hadn’t realized either, though that seemed unlikely.
Despite his internal conflict, Kaveh found some peace in listening to Alhaitham’s morning routine. Socked footsteps padding around, coffee machine clanks portending a comforting scent, pages of a book flipping as he read while eating his breakfast. He almost didn’t want him to leave, but he knew Alhaitham had to get to work and, that aside, they’d only argue if he stayed. Their relationship had improved, but it wasn’t easy. They’d both intentionally changed their behavior, which meant breaking old habits. Whenever one of them was tired or frustrated or simply woke up on the wrong side of the bed, the delicately established truce fell apart. They were in the process of remodeling, but sometimes time would rewind and then the old bones of their relationship would end up exposed.
Kaveh didn’t want to lash out today, but he knew he would. He didn’t have any energy for change.
His stomach began to cramp, sudden and intense. Distinct from the nausea that continued to linger, sharp pain forced him to coil in on himself.
“I found your shirt,” Alhaitham’s voice cut through the fog of hurt, disgust and irritation evident in his tone. “Are you hungover again?”
“L– Leave me alone,” Kaveh grit out. The cramping had progressed from intermittent to constant, and sweat cascaded down his temples. Alhaitham was suspiciously quiet.
“Don’t you have work or something?” Kaveh snapped. As he struggled to sit upright, a supportive arm wrapped around him.
“Not yet,” Alhaitham sat beside him, as if it were normal for them to sit side-by-side. It wasn’t, and it put Kaveh on edge that Alhaitham was acting out of character. He scowled.
“Well, leave me alone until you go. A man needs his personal space. And your ugly clock is broken.” Kaveh’s palms were moist, and a trip to the bathroom was imminent. Pushing Alhaitham away, he made a run for it, hoping against reason that the younger man would get the hint and just leave.
Alhaitham sighed. Kaveh’s skillset, while impressive, was lacking in the realm of subtlety. If he’d been hungover, he wouldn’t have bothered responding to Alhaitham. He would’ve actually been asleep on the couch rather than faking it. And he definitely wouldn’t have asked for “personal space,” though on principal Alhaitham respected the request.
So no, he didn’t follow after Kaveh, but he didn’t go to work, either. He contacted Nahida to inform her that he would be out today, and then relaxed back into the couch with a book from the coffee table. It was one he’d read before, which was a good thing considering how preoccupied he was.
The one thing that didn’t quite make sense - part of the reason he’d suspected a hangover in the first place - was why Kaveh was in the living room rather than in his bed. After drinking, he often laid himself on the couch, both as a means of self-punishment, and because he liked the attention, clingy whenever alcohol lowered his filter. But even when he had a cold, Kaveh preferred to hole up in his bedroom. He always claimed it was to avoid spreading germs, which Tighnari always warned them against when it came to contagious ailments, but Alhaitham suspected it had more to do with concealing his vulnerability. For all of Kaveh’s whining, he hated to have any real weakness exposed.
When he exited the bathroom, Kaveh was on the verge of collapse. His stomach felt hollow, as if everything in it had drained out of him in liquid form, but there was still a threat of lingering nausea. At the very least, the cramping had let up, but he clung to a plastic trash bag with one hand while using the other to clutch at the doorway for support. He looked ragged and, as if to prove Alhaitham’s theory, his downtrodden expression hardened into a a scowl the moment eyes landed on his housemate.
“Why are you still here? You’ll be late.”
“No work today,” Alhaitham shrugged. “Nahida told me I don’t have to come in.”
This was, technically, true. The archon had told him that he could take off any days he wished, as long as his work was completed in a timely manner. Alhaitham felt more relaxed when he not only caught up but ahead on his tasks, so he rarely took advantage of this offer, though he could do so without consequence at any time.
Kaveh narrowed his eyes. “If you’re going to tell me I should know better than to drink so much, I don’t want to hear it. Save it for tomorrow, if you must.”
Shaking his head, Alhaitham walked over and offered Kaveh his arm for support, ignoring the way his glare intensified at the gesture. “I was going to ask if you need anything.”
“I’m sure you have more important things to do on your day off than nurse your alcoholic roommate’s hangover.”
The words, despite their bite, only made Alhaitham sad. If Kaveh thought he was undeserving of financial compensation for all of the work he put into constructing architectural masterpieces — which he often did — it was no surprise that he also felt unworthy of care in his illness. Alhaitham helped him settle back on the couch and swiftly brought the back of his hand to Kaveh’s forehead. The architect looked at him wide-eyed, as if caught in the act of committing a crime, and attempted to push him away with the frighteningly little strength he had left. Alhaitham allowed it, sitting a bit further away on the couch. He hadn’t needed any longer to check for the fever anyway - the heat was undeniable.
“How long have you been sick, Kaveh?”
It was like a pushpin in a balloon, the way Kaveh deflated, hunching forward with his arms wrapped around his middle. He was shivering again. “Since last night… maybe.” Alhaitham watched him closely, trying to determine the severity of his ailment. He didn’t think he was one to express his emotions through facial expression alone, but Kaveh seemed to disagree. “Don’t look so concerned! With your immune system, you’ll be just fine. And I’ll clean up after myself.”
Alhaitham hummed. Kaveh’s concern with clean up wasn’t something he’d considered — his housemate was typically unabashed about the disorganized state of his affairs. But disorganization and lacking the ability to maintain his standard of living were entirely different. One was for the sake of creating something he was proud of, while the other indicated only weakness.
“I will clean the house, until you recover,” Alhaitham decided. He suspected this was connected to why Kaveh was not comfortably resting in bed, so it would be best to resolve it sooner rather than later. The sick man did not look pleased.
“In exchange for what? Are you going to task me with with additional chores, once you deem me to be “recovered?”’
No, he was not. Such an nonsensical question; Alhaitham was tempted not to deem it with an answer. “I’m tasking you with resting while you're ill so that your body can recover.”
Kaveh’s skin had taken on a greenish tinge. The shivering had stopped, but was replaced by inconsistent tremors and sweating. For a moment, he looked uncertain, caught off guard by Alhaitham’s bluntness. For just a second, his face was open and pleading, a speck of hope shining in his eyes. Then he shook his head stubbornly and it was gone.
“I don’t understand why you would do that.” Kaveh covered his mouth with his fist, making a noise halfway between a gag and a cough. “Didn’t care for my body. It’s my– my own fault,” he spat out between coughs. They were becoming more frantic, and tears appeared in Kaveh’s eyes. “You should be happy… proven right, as always.”
Alhaitham breathed out slowly. Kaveh could be frustrating, at times like this. “I’ve told you already, I don’t take pleasure in your misery.”
The architect struggled with the opening of the plastic bag he’d brought from the bathroom, cursing under his breath. He snatched it away when Alhaitham moved to help. “Go away.”
Alhaitham didn’t leave. He didn’t even consider it. He took the plastic bag from Kaveh, who no longer resisted, and opened it before handing it back. He gathered up Kaveh’s bangs and used a hair clip to pin them to the top of his head, away from his face. The sick man choked out a strained giggle.
“That’s–” he muffled a hiccup into his fist. “That’s not what those are for.”
“Utility over aesthetics,” Alhaitham echoed Kaveh’s own steadfast sentiment. He put a hand on Kaveh’s back, rubbing circles when he didn’t immediately pull away. “You’ll be fine, Kaveh, just relax.”
A few seconds later, Kaveh vomited, violently, into the plastic bag. His stomach contents gushed out in a rancid liquid slurry of bile and partially digested food, and he coughed until his airways cleared enough for him to breathe.
“There you go,” Alhaitham said. Kaveh could barely hear him over the ringing in his ears. “Do you think you’re done?”
Kaveh’s grip tightened on the bag in response, just before he was heaving again. His throat throbbed, and horrifically, as he was puking, his stomach cramped and released something warm and burning from his other end. He gasped.
“Alhaitham — go away,” he managed, desperate. “Please.”
“It’s okay,” Alhaitham said.
“No, I–” he couldn’t continue, overcome by nausea once more. His body was hellbent on wringing him out completely, forcing up thin strands of bile with each back-breaking heave. A disgusted shudder ran through him and Kaveh could feel tears wetting his cheeks.
“I know, Kaveh,” Alhaitham said. His voice was unimaginably calm. Inexplicably, something inside of Kaveh settled. “We’ll clean up when you’re done.”
Several more minutes passed as Kaveh continued to empty his stomach uncontrollably. He felt more humiliated than he had in years, and sicker than he could ever remember, but something about Alhaitham’s steadfast refusal to leave him alone brought a strange comfort. It was a feeling nostalgic of his very early childhood, when Kaveh still had loved ones who cared for him without expecting anything in return. He’d never thought of Alhaitham in that way - he’d practically forgotten those times all together.
He didn’t bring it up, even when he could breathe again. As soon as he could, Kaveh made his way to the bathroom to clean himself up. He managed alright, though he still felt sweaty even after a bath. It was the best he could do. Standing made him feel nauseous again, and he feared he would injure himself if he didn’t rest soon. He had no idea how long he’d been awake, only that the simple act of keeping his eyes open was enough to make him lightheaded.
By the time he returned to the couch, the living area was cleaned. Blankets and even some shirts that were distinctly Alhaitham’s head appeared nearby, along with a glass of water and multiple types of medication. Without thinking too much, Kaveh slipped one of the shirts over his head. It was ugly, for sure, but warm and soft. Utility over aesthetics.
“If you can sleep, you should,” Alhaitham said, returning from the kitchen. Kaveh nodded. Truthfully, he didn’t think he could do much else.
“Alhaitham…” Kaveh cleared his throat. “Can you… stay? I mean–”
“I’ll be here,” Alhaitham stated. “Just rest.”
———
When Kaveh woke up the next morning, he was clean. He was in his own clean bed, in his own clean room. He had an awful headache, a sore throat, and aching muscles. Alhaitham was reading a book beside him.
Upon seeing Kaveh awake, Alhaitham brought him soup, and Kaveh ate it without a word. He didn’t protest when the younger man took his dishes and cleaned them, nor when Alhaitham joined him again in his bed. He was drowsy again.
“We both need more rest,” Alhaitham said. “Wake me if you need anything.”
Kaveh thought that this should feel wrong. He should be pushing Alhaitham out the door. He was sick and useless and irritable, surely no fun to be around. But he’d been all of those things for the better part of 24 hours, according to the ugly clock that had migrated to his room and appeared to be functional again. Alhaitham had been nothing but kind. And Kaveh, for all of his fears, loved Alhaitham. Against his better judgement, he was beginning to hope that he might actually be loved back.
So instead of pushing Alhaitham away, Kaveh curled up close and noticed how he smiled at their closeness. And it was like they were students again, except it wasn’t, not really. Because they were everything they’d been then, and everything they were now, all at the same time.
The thought made Kaveh feel warm, despite the persistent chills dancing through his body. Alhaitham pulled him closer, and Kaveh dreamed of research and mirrors, and a very real place that two people called home.
–––
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