Of Colds and Broken Hearts (Part II)
Details: 7k, M sneezes, implied M/M pairing but nothing established (yet..)
Summary: Navigating through a hangover, a cold, and a heartbreak hadn't been on Ren's agenda, especially not when he had to struggle through them alone. That was, until he didn't, when an unexpected caller pays him a visit.
Part 1 - Part 2
Thank you to everyone who has read and showed some love for the first part! I've fallen truly in love with these characters; writing them is such a joy for me and it means so much when other people enjoy them too! Hopefully this part lives up to the first!
Warnings: hangovers, nausea (no v-ing or even mentions of it, only brief mentions of nausea but thought it was worth mentioning), some mess (not graphically detailed but enough for me to put out a warning for it).
-
Apartments were generally a sanctimonious place for most people. It was home, a place where a person could fully relax, be themselves, and enjoy company - solitary or socially - without any interference from the outside world. They were typically warm, safe spaces that offered unconditional comfort and protection for those who resided within.
One particular apartment, a complex situated on the outskirts of a busy inner-city, was where Ren resided. It was a small, quaint, but cozy little place that had once been an abode for two, and boasted interior that was clearly suited for a couple. Now it had a solitary occupant, of which was splayed out unconscious in the lounge, fully clothed and blanket-less. Laying motionless, he was silent save for the laboured cadence of heavy mouth-breathing.
The wall-clock had already ticked over to early noon before eyes finally cracked open, the deep sleep gone while navigation was required to battle against the dregs of the previous night's questionable choices.
And boy-howdy, there sure had been some choices the previous night…
The first thing that was noticed before anything else registered was how utterly awful he felt. It hit him immediately like a brick to the head, before he was suitably prepared, and knocked him slightly off-kilter. Head pounding sickeningly, his temples and sinuses throbbed, forcing a wave of gentle nausea over him. Eyes felt heavy, sticky, difficult to open, and stung as they begged to close again from the moment they were open. His mouth was dry, too dry, his tongue left with that thick, fuzzy sensation that only aggravated the nausea. Drinking into a stupor had seemed like such a good idea at the time; now, he realised much too late, it had not been.
Memories were as hazy as his consciousness, and the longer he was awake, the more the BEER FEAR™ set in. Had he made a complete fool of himself? He didn’t remember much of getting home, barely anything about arriving at his door and absolutely nothing about flopping down and passing out on the sofa in which he had woken. He didn’t even remember how many beers he'd sunk. If he had to judge from the way he felt and the absence of memory, he figured it had to be a lot. Too many..
Lifting his head turned out to be a monumental task, one he hadn't anticipated. Dizziness ensued, his head spinning uncomfortably, and it was only when he pulled it away from the couch cushion that he noticed… ugh, he really hoped that was drool… Taking a breath inwards brought to Ren’s belated attention the state of his nose - clogged, damp and leaking - making him realise that it was definitely not drool. Ughhhh…
Forcing his way up to a sitting position, hands rubbed over his face, swiping at his nose, as though such an act would rid him of every plight done unto him. It didn’t work, much to his bemusement, leaving him sitting on the edge of the couch with only his hangover for company. Well, his hangover, along with his…
“..hh-..”
The soft hitch of breath as a tickle flared up inside his nose was a poignant reminder that Ren did, in fact, have a cold. He couldn't deny it any longer. It was ambiguous the previous night, his denial of symptoms arguably passed off as being caused by the weather, and even now the option was considered that it was just too many beers making him feel shitty. But too many beers didn't give him a stuffy nose; too many beers didn't cause a sting in his throat when swallowing; too many beers didn't make his nose tickle so badly that he couldn't help but-.. but…
“h-h!.. h'EESCSHH’!!.. snff.. ugh..”
-too many beers didn't have him sneezing like that.
Ren was generally a pretty sneezy person, whether it be allergies or sensitivities or just… sneezing. A handful a day was the norm for him, so he was no stranger to being overtaken by a rogue tickle by seemingly nothing. Although, he could safely say, without a shadow of a doubt, that sneezes from a cold just hit different. There was a slow, gradual build up to them that belied the immediate urgency when they crested. Unstoppable, insistent, desperate… messy.
And these were definitely cold sneezes.
Just that one sneeze had unleashed more than had been prepared for, and Ren scrambled around on the table before him for anything he could use as a tissue. Finding nothing of use, the scrambling became more frantic when his nose twitched a second time, another sneeze fast on the rise. He could tell already that this was going to be his life for the foreseeable future, this cold wreaking havoc inside his sinuses and wrenching sneeze after sneeze from him, desperate to rid his irritated, inflamed nasal passages from the germs that just wouldn’t be evicted.
Upon finding nothing within his immediate reach, managing to stagger to his feet and make it halfway to the bathroom was an impressive feat. But the tickle soon surged, impossible to resist, before he got too far. There was absolutely no other choice but to simply stop, hitch, and give in to its demands.
“H'IISSCSH-ITSZSHH!!”
Blindsided by the duo, Ren was given no chance to snatch even a breath between them. Now upright, a fresh wave of hell overcame him, and leaning heavily against the doorframe to the bathroom to steady himself was his only option. Being breathless from a short walk and a couple of sneezes was embarrassing, really, but it didn’t stop Ren from practically panting in the aftermath as he lifted a hand much too late to his face to minimise the damage caused by his sneezing.
Without anything around that hands could immediately grapple, a sleeve would have to suffice, lifted and ready to be slicked beneath his glistening nostrils in a feeble attempt at cleaning up. The shirt needed washing anyway, reeking of stale beer, smoke and regret from the bar. Plus, it wasn't like there was anyone around to tell him not to; he was alone, well and truly, for the first time in a long time, and could do whatever the hell he wanted.
Having been just about to swipe his nose on his sleeve, Ren stopped short when he realised what he was wearing. He wasn't met with the expected cotton material of his shirt. Eyes narrowed as he squinted down at the fabric of a sleeve that didn't belong to him: leather. He didn’t even own a leather jacket, never mind one which was several sizes too large, hanging too far past his hands… huh.
Racking his brain, Reuben’s face came to mind. Of course he remembered Reuben, how could he not? Stomach flipping, Ren smiled internally just at the thought of him. Ridiculous.. But he didn’t remember taking his jacket. Had he asked for it..? When trying to piece together how he had come to be wearing it now, Ren came up short. Fragments of memory splintered in his mind; walking out of the bar, getting into a car, shuffling up the path to his apartment and bidding someone goodnight before stumbling inside… The minor details were muddied and indistinct, smeared in his mind like wet paint, but enough of a picture of what happened was formed:
Left the bar, acquired the jacket, driven home, walked inside.
Damn, he hoped he hadn’t made a fool of himself. Beer had a tendency to do that. Jaz was usually around to keep him in check, but now… well, he wasn’t here any more. Just thinking about the man left a bitter aftertaste, even if the yearning hadn’t entirely disappeared quite yet.
Worrying about drunken shenanigans wasn’t usually at the forefront of Ren’s mind, especially if the likelihood of him ever seeing a person again was small, but there was now a task to complete; he had to return the jacket. He needed to get it back to Reuben somehow… So if he had made an idiot of himself, he would have to face that head-on, which was… undesirable. They’d just met, but Ren had liked Reuben. Hopefully he hadn’t scared the guy away from him forever with his drunken antics.
Phone pulled out of his pocket with one hand, the other wedged beneath his nose to mitigate leakage, both messages and contacts were checked. Nothing.. Seems he didn’t get the guy's number. Reuben told him where he worked, but the name of the particular club escaped memory, like so many other things. Damn, he really needed to cut back on the booze. Or stop talking to attractive strangers and proceeding to let them bring him home before stealing their belongings without even exchanging contact info.
Ughh, his head hurt too much for this. It was far too early to be planning any kind or return-mission. Those plans could be made later. As of that very moment, the only important things were cleaning up, getting changed and throwing the hippest, most happenin’ pity-party the world had ever seen.
Which is exactly what happened.
Foregoing a shower (he just didn’t have it in him), the previous day’s contact lenses were removed and replaced with glasses, Ren audibly groaning in relief as he did so. Unearthing the most comfortable clothes he owned, his others discarded in a heap next to the hamper while the jacket was folded neatly nearby, Ren changed before snatching a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom and retreating back to the couch with it tucked into his arm like a cherished possession of utmost importance.
Consciousness remained for maybe thirty minutes, at most, despite being on his feet for less than that. Already, Ren was exhausted enough that he knew sleep would come easy. Well, granted his nose provided him enough peace to actually fall asleep…
The number of sneezes since being conscious was unknown; Ren hadn’t bothered to keep count. He just knew it was a lot. A permanent tickle resided, dull and thick and relentless, fizzling gently inside his nose at all times. No provocation was needed for it to roar into life either; just sniffling the wrong way set him off. They came in twos, threes, even fours on a couple of occasions. Leaving him sniffling against an impossibly stuffed up nose, his sinuses ached from the pressure and irritation. Such irritation had his nostrils deepening in colour as he rubbed, swiped and blew what felt like endlessly. If he was granted a few blessed minutes of peace, he’d be forever grateful. A silent prayer was sent up that sleep would come to him and cure all; hangover and cold to boot.
Fate appeared to smile down upon him, as no sooner was he supine did Ren manage to drift into a peaceful, dreamless slumber. For how long was anyone’s guess, but the sun had already started to set when consciousness returned hours later, the apartment barely lit by the last lingering dregs of daylight, casting long, spiny shadows around the room.
There was no apparent cause for his awakening. There was a vague recollection of something banging, but that could have just been his head which was, in fact, banging. Whatever it was, it was being ignored, and eyes remained closed in a bid to continue the slumber further. It was only when a second, decidedly louder banging sounded throughout the apartment that there was no blaming the imagination any longer. Someone at the door, undoubtedly, but no visitors were expected - no packages were coming, no takeout ordered. Hunching further into himself, the option to just ignore whoever it was and continue to wallow in peaceful misery alone reigned champion. It was only when the thought that maybe it could be Jaz looking to reconcile, or to collect his stuff, or maybe even just to talk, forced Ren to launch himself up from his pit and hurry to the door, flinging it open with wide, hopeful eyes before he-...
Stopped dead.
Jaz wasn’t standing there. It was worse. Much worse…
Standing there in all his glory was none other than Reuben Fox. Wide, hopeful eyes widened further yet into something that resembled shocked horror. Because there was the man that Ren had only met one night prior, outfitted in what could only describe as god-like attire with suit pants, a white shirt and a waistcoat. Jeez, he had to be wearing a fucking waistcoat.. Knees felt weaker as Ren stared at the sheer beauty before him, thoughts racing and halting simultaneously. There were so many questions: why he was there, being the main one. Mouth open, Ren could only watch as Reuben smiled that golden sunbeam smile at him, dimples accentuated as he showcased his two rows of perfect teeth.
“Hey,” came Reuben’s warm, infectious voice that Ren remembered well from the night before, like honey over gravel. All the warmth, laughter and comfort from the previous night returned in an instant, hope of it being Jaz replaced by a sense of… relief, perhaps? The voice was just as wonderful as Ren recalled. “Remember me?”
How could he possibly forget? Wind whipped around Ren’s legs, bitterly cold, and his excitement at seeing this attractive stranger was rapidly replaced with a sinking realisation. Reuben was there, looking like something straight out of a magazine, and there was Ren: huge, oversized hoodie with hood pulled up, gym shorts, barefoot, glasses slightly askew from falling asleep with them still on, probably some dried drool at the corner of his mouth.. And that was without the added allure of his pallid complexion, chapped, red nose and hunched, huddled posture. There wasn't a time that Reuben could have chosen to call round where Ren didn't look worse than he did in that moment, honestly. The second prayer of the evening was sent up for the ground to swallow him whole.
When that didn't happen, he finally managed to blurt out, “Reuben?” in a thick, hoarse voice, ravaged by his cold, his hangover, and hours of disuse. Reflexively clearing his throat, Ren continued to gawp.
“In the flesh,” the other man said smoothly, a hand swiping over his shoulder to rid it of some collected snow that was coming down in thickets around them. If Reuben was repelled by Ren’s current appearance, he didn’t let it show on his face or in his demeanour. He just continued to smile at Ren from his place just outside the door.
“Uhh..” came Ren’s cool, collected reply. How much this man had him squirming without even trying was silly. Despite everything, there was a low-level patter of giddy butterflies fluttering in Ren’s stomach. Swallowing, Ren winced when it hurt, and stepped back a little, inviting.
“Do you, ah-.. You can.. come in?” More of a question than an invitation but Reuben didn’t hesitate. He stepped in behind Ren, taking his lead and venturing properly into the hallway as he kicked the snow from his boots.
“Thanks,” he said, glancing around and squinting a little. It took a moment before realisation finally set in and Ren made a swift, clumsy motion to flick on the lights. Squinting, feeling as though the brightness seared into his retinas, Ren led them both further inside as more lights were switched on along the way. It burned unpleasantly, the pain hammering into his skull even more.
With the initial shock and adrenaline of the visitor waning, Ren realised (much to his dismay) that napping had not made him feel better. In fact, it was even worse, somehow. Considerably worse. Inwardly groaning at the lousy timing of this stupid cold and lamentation of getting wasted the previous night, Ren sighed to himself. Here he was, hosting the sexy doorman he’d just met in his very own apartment, all the while sniffling and snotting everywhere with the hangover from hell. He was sure the smell of stagnant beer still clung to him. Appreciating that this opportunity may not present itself again, Ren resolved to not let it hinder the visit, however brief. There was no reason for him to believe that Reuben wasn’t just here for his jacket and would then leave. Then he could get back to wallowing by himself in peace. Regardless, playing good host was top priority.
“What, ah.. brings you here?” Ren asked while leading them both through to the lounge, thankful that it wasn’t a complete disaster in there. A little untidy here and there, but mostly fine. Covertly, the small piles of used, crumpled-up toilet paper were idly swept off the table into a nearby trashcan as discreetly as possible. When eyes looked his way, they were met with an innocent grin. Destroy all evidence and he would never know…
“I left my jacket,” Reuben finally answered, just in case Ren forgot. Foregoing a seat, Reuben instead began to wander around the room. Eyes roamed over the little details; pictures on the walls, decorations and ornaments, decor. Any comments were reserved, but Ren watched as he seemingly examined the place with curiosity before those bright eyes were turned back to him, their gazes held a moment.
“I also figured I’d check in on you, see how you were doing,” Reuben said candidly, taking Ren aback a little. He hadn't been expecting a total stranger to care enough about him to do a house-call. Whether it was because of his drunken state or his illness was ambiguous, but Ren didn't ask. Heart clenching pleasantly in his chest, his demeanour softened as Reuben continued.
“You seemed… a little worse for wear when I dropped you off last night.” There was a faint smile ghosting Reuben’s lips, almost teasing.
“I wasn’t that bad…” Ren sighed, although if he was being honest, he didn’t remember. “.. Was I?” Reuben chuckled, finally being seated on the couch, a smile evident in his voice.
“You asked if I wanted to come inside for a ‘beesechurger’ before trying to pay me for the taxi fare.” Ren watched the grin on Reuben’s face widen as all colour drained from his own. “Oh, and you fell into that bush out front.”
They were unable to see from inside, but there was indeed a suspiciously Ren-shaped imprint among the leaves of the bush lining the path. Physically shattering into a million pieces at hearing that would have been preferable, but flopping down dramatically at the other end of the sofa and burying his face in his hands would have to suffice. A groan escaped Ren’s lips, eliciting a round of coughing, the sound deep, wet and rattling in his chest. He ignored it, a thick sniffle sounding before a tiny voice squeaked up.
“I’m so sorry.” Ren sighed, suitably mortified. Reuben laughed again, that uproarious, hearty laugh that had endeared Ren so much last night. While horrified beyond measure at hearing his antics, there was a distinct comfort that Reuben provided that Ren hadn’t thought was possible. There was just something about Reuben and his presence which was calming, and a smile caught Ren unaware behind the steeple of his hands despite his mortification.
“I deal with drunk people every single day,” Reuben said as eyes stayed locked onto Ren, brows lifting. “Definitely wasn’t the worst I’ve seen, trust me.”
“I can believe it,” was Ren’s reply. If it was an attempt to make Ren feel better, it worked. It was still embarrassing, but there was no judgment projected towards him. Just a soft, kind fondness. It really had been a long time since Ren had met someone like Reuben. He brought solace despite Ren’s unease at his own behaviour. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach once more, which felt sort-of pleasant, until they began to work their way upwards…
It had only been a matter of time before the fluttering was reignited within Ren’s nose. It was deep, high up inside his left nostril where it simmered, impossible to reach, the sort of itch that only a sneeze could scratch. Ren wouldn’t be rid of the sensation until he sneezed, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t at least try to fight against it first. The left side of his nose crinkled up, a hand lifting to rub from the outside, a hope that an external scratch would soothe the internal itch. It didn’t, the sensation only continuing to expand until the sensation filled the entirety of his nose. Nostrils flaring, a hitch was drawn before Ren could control it, expression collapsing as it overcame him.
“h-.. H’EIISHH’h-!.. hH’IIYSSCSHH’iuh!.. shi’d..”
A curse was uttered in a thick, heavy voice after those two expulsions. A hand had just managed to smother the pair, though the weight and frequency of the sniffling that followed didn’t leave much to the imagination of what lurked behind the palm. Blinking against unshed tears of irritation, two sets of eyes began to roam across the table before them, searching.
“Bless you. That cold’s no better, huh?” Reuben asked, watching as Ren made a grabby-hands motion towards something with his free hand. Eyeline tracking the direction Ren was motioning, it appeared to be towards the roll of toilet paper that had been placed nearby for convenience earlier on in the day. Reuben’s expression cinched, unimpressed, but he took it and even went to the trouble of rolling some off, passing the wad to Ren who wasted no time in tenting his hands around his nose and blowing into it. As was expected, the sound was thick and wet, more productive than Ren had anticipated. Wordlessly, knowingly, Reuben rolled off more and held it out for Ren to take.
“Don’t you have tissues?” Reuben asked, beginning to scan the room again. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, eyes fell back to Ren as a hand held up the toilet paper, demonstrating. “This stuff will wreck your nose, y’know.”
“I'b fine,” Ren managed, ‘tissues’ lowering to reveal a heavily pink nose, almost red at the nostrils in its intensity.
“Yeah?” Reuben asked, scrupulous. “You sound awful.” Ren's expression must have given away his chagrin because Reuben's hands flew up in mock-surrender before he added, “No offence.”
Full offence taken, because Ren didn’t actually think he sounded that bad.. He was yet to see himself, having not done so in some time, but he thought he was doing a pretty good job of holding it all together, given the circumstances. Clearly not. Though it was hard to be upset with Reuben for longer than a snatch of seconds.
“I’ll be all right,” Ren finally professed, though it wasn’t terribly convincing. The flat of a palm was digging into one eye when there was suddenly a flightless presence beside him, and looking up, Ren was met with Reuben’s body mere inches away from his own. Their knees bumped together, was how close they were. “Ah-!” Ren startled, physically jumping back, but he didn’t get very far before a huge, warm hand slapped gently against his brow before he could resist.
Arguably a little too intimate for a duo that had literally just met, but Reuben didn’t appear to care. Eyes were concentrated as he studied Ren, his hand resting against Ren’s brow with a touch far too gentle for his brooding frame. Lifting Ren’s bangs, just enough pressure was applied to have Ren wilting slightly in pleasant relief. It felt… really good. The warmth, the pressure, everything. For that brief moment, the pain eased slightly, and eyes were closing before he could stop them.
“You’re burnin’ up a little,” came Reuben’s conclusion. His typically bright demeanour was replaced with something decidedly more thoughtful. Concerned, even. It gave Ren pause to consider; he hadn’t realised he was running a fever, honestly. It made sense, given everything else that was going on with him; he simply hadn’t realised. Now that it was brought to his attention, he could admit to a decidedly flushed sensation in his cheeks and brow, his skin fragile and glass-like while his clothes chafed him uncomfortably. All the signs of a low-grade fever, for sure. Still, he had resolved to be a good host, and sickness be damned, he would live up to that role. The urge for denial came in strong, and both hands braced his knees.
“Ca’d I get you a drink?” Ren asked, beginning to stand before a wave of wooziness came over him and forced him to drop back down into his seat. Cursing silently, he went to try again, but a hand was soon weighing down on his shoulder, keeping him in place.
“I’d love one.” Reuben’s voice was back to that liquid-gold growl, expression soft once more. Ren felt lost, captivated slightly, unable to do much more than just sit and watch him. “But let me get them. Why don’t you go take a shower?” Eyes fell and scanned over Ren’s entirety, a brow cocking playfully. “You look like you need one.”
Arm lifted, Ren buried his nose and sniffed a little. Which proved… ineffective. He was so stuffed up that even if he stank through the rafters, he wouldn’t be able to tell. Deflating, Reuben chucked and braced an arm to help Ren stand, keeping his place on the sofa.
“Go. I’ll be right here.” It sounded like a promise, and Ren had to admit that a shower did sound inviting. Nodding, he took Reuben’s arm and was soon hoisted up and inside the bathroom in a beat, door clicking shut behind him. Was leaving what amounted to a total stranger alone and unsupervised in his apartment a good idea? Arguably not, perhaps. But Ren’s gut told him otherwise, trusting Reuben implicitly. Typically, his sense of judgment was accurate, and there were yet to be any warning signs coming from the other man.
As expected, the shower was wonderful. Hot water lapped at his flushed skin pleasantly, steam swirling and actually helping to alleviate some of the pressure in Ren’s head. He could admit (to himself and himself only, a truth he would take to the grave) that he took a moment to blow his nose into his hands. Disgusting? Sure. Needed? Definitely. He had no regrets.
The cold had progressed to making Ren’s sinuses inflamed and swollen, which meant that no amount of blowing would ever fully ease the pressure and fullness entirely, giving his head a simultaneous heavy but buoyant feeling. It was only made worse each time a sneeze approached, even just the sensation of a tickle coupled with an incomplete sneeze being enough to aggravate the pressure further. Ren had just been ready to step out of the shower when he felt another fast on the rise, the sensation carrying a dull sharpness that stole his breath.
It was cruel in its ascent, torturing the inside of his nose with what felt like a thousand tiny feathers. The sensation fluttered, maddening, before it expanded thickly, threading cruelly across every sensitive nerve ending in his nasal passages. He hitched, hopeful, before sighing it out as a false start. A hand braced against the wall, palm flat to the tile, as he waited. And waited. And waited… Each breath fanned the tickle in increments, until finally, after what felt like an eternity, relief was granted.
“h’tTSZSCH’uh!.. IH’TSSCSHH’h!.. h-h-! HH’EHSSCSSHH’UH!!”
They tumbled from him, one after another, not a single one of them capable of dissuading the tickle. It stayed stuck, ravaging his already inflamed membranes, coaxing sneeze after torturous sneeze from him.
The fit lasted a good minute or so before it finally quietened, leaving Ren’s eyes puffy and streaming, his nose red and leaking, his breath shallow and laboured. It took another good minute or so for him to pant away his recovery, until he finally regained enough composure to flip off the shower, shiver his way onto the cold floor, and blow what he could out into ravel after ravel of toilet paper.
Head throbbing, nose and sinuses aching, shivers wracking him, Ren finally dried off and managed to dress himself before padding barefoot back to the lounge, kitted out in sweatpants and a fresh hoodie and hopefully smelling a little better. Though Ren was given reason to pause when he found the lounge empty. A quick, panicked glance around confirmed that nothing appeared to be out of place or stolen. Reuben apparently hadn’t hired a removal truck and taken all Ren’s shit while he had been showering which was… preferable. Sounds from the kitchen alerted Ren, and he passed through the lounge to the kitchen, only to be met with what was perhaps the most unexpected sight he could have imagined.
Bags were scattered across the countertops, a couple even laid out on the floor neatly. Reuben was steadily unpacking them, wearing his jacket that was dusted with snow, taking items out one by one and spreading them across the countertops. It looked like… groceries? He didn’t even think he'd been showering long enough for Reuben to leave, buy groceries and return. Lingering in the doorway and watching in awed disbelief, seemingly unnoticed by the other man, Ren hesitated a beat before finally speaking up.
“What-.. is all this?” Reuben halted at the sound of Ren’s voice, freezing as though he’d been caught red-handed doing something he shouldn’t be. But his apprehension only lasted a moment, soon returning to his task, unbothered.
“I couldn’t cope with the contents of your refridgerator,” Reuben stated bluntly. And… okay, so the fridge was in a slightly dire state. From Ren’s recollection, there was just a jug of water, several bottles of condiments, a solitary lemon and a couple of bottles of beer. He’d been meaning to get on that… But the past couple of days had gone by in a blur, other things taking priority. He was stuck in a state of disbelief, which he was allowed to linger in for a simple moment before he was being beckoned over to where Reuben was standing. “Here.” Hand outstretched, a takeout carton was thrust in Ren’s direction. He took it gingerly, glassy eyes narrowed as he considered Reuben sceptically.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked, not meaning to sound ungrateful but he couldn’t wrap his head around it.”You barely know me.” People in big cities didn’t typically behave this way. At least not without a hidden agenda. If he took offence to Ren’s question, Reuben didn’t show it, instead just smiling with a shrug as the last bag was lifted and placed on the counter.
“I dunno,” Reuben admitted frankly. “Figured you needed the help. Besides.” Eyes locked onto Ren, seemingly seeing right through him, forbearing and tender. He winked. “You’d do the same for me, right?”
It was a question which gave Ren pause for thought. And… yeah, okay, Reuben had him there. Had the tables been turned, Ren would have done exactly the same. He couldn’t explain it, didn’t even want to try, but he thought once again of just how Reuben made him feel. He hadn’t felt this way in.. well, a really long time, honestly. It was a strange, alien feeling, but it wasn’t unwelcome. His lack of an answer was apparently answer enough for Reuben, and soon Ren was being passed a pair of chopsticks and was ushered towards the door. “Go sit down. I’ll be right through.”
Doing as he was asked, Ren took his seat back on the couch, still stuck in a slight state of disbelief at what was happening. The carton was flipped open and a plume of steam from what appeared to be some sort of noodles and veggies dish wafted up into Ren’s face. He couldn’t smell it much, but it looked damn good. Chopsticks snapped, Ren was about to dig in when Reuben ventured back into the room, taking a seat beside him, own carton of takeout in hand.
Silence stretched between them for a while. The words to convey his appreciation escaped Ren’s tongue; thank you didn’t feel like enough. Reuben had really gone out of his way, spent his own money, given Ren the time and effort and compassion that even his own (ex) boyfriend had failed to show him. It was a mix of emotions; undeserving, mainly. But also grateful, humbled, seen and heard. The positives outweighed the negatives by a country mile, and with a bunch of noodles lifted to his mouth, Ren finally garnered the courage to speak.
“..Thank you,” he finally said, his voice quiet and a little subdued. “You didn’t have to, but.. it’s appreciated.”
“Hey, hey,” came Reuben’s jaunty tone beside him. “Don’t go gettin’ all mushy on me.” When Ren didn’t really react, Reuben added genuinely, “But you’re welcome.”
The first bite of dinner was finally taken and the warmth spread pleasantly in Ren’s mouth and across his chest as he swallowed. Though the gentle heat was shortlived, replaced quickly by a rising intensity, the spice gaining momentum until his eyes watered, causing him to sputter, plonking the carton down on the table as he coughed harshly. “Holy shit,” he croaked, breaths panted through his mouth as his tongue burned, eyes streaming. A hand fanned up and down in front of his face, Reuben watching with a smug sense of glee beside him, not even trying to hide his smirk.
“Don’t be such a wimp,” he teased, snatching a bottle of water and passing it over. Ren chugged half of it before he needed to stop and gasp repeatedly to catch his breath. “It’ll help clear you out,” Reuben shrugged.
“It’s melting my face,” Ren choked out. Only one bite in and he thought he was about to combust. That shit was spicy, and Ren was no stranger to spice, given his grandfather’s lineage. Though Reuben may have been onto something; one bite, and already Ren could feel his sinuses opening up. He could feel the slick, sleek trickle of something trace the inner line of his septum, threatning to drip, and he sniffed sharply. Reuben seemed to spot the predicament and was swiftly snatching up a tissue box he had clearly just bought, ripping it open and holding it out towards Ren.
“Then it’s a good job at least one of us is prepared, huh?” he asked, watching as Ren grabbed no less than three tissues from the box, pinning them to his nose and blowing emphatically. Not the most pleasant sight or sound while eating a meal, but Reuben didn’t seem to mind. He carried on snarfing down his own meal without a care in the world, only pausing to pass Ren a tissue or two until he gave up and just handed him the whole box.
It was a challenge, but somehow, the bottom of the carton soon came into view. Sweat dappled his brow and his nose was a constant stream, tissues practically a permanent fixture against his face between bites, but he made it, somehow.
Managing to make it down to maybe two more mouthfuls, the perpetual running and dripping became too much for Ren’s tortured nose to handle. It protested, spearing him with a potent tickle that made him shiver down to his bones. Head ducking down, Ren waited, knowing it was useless fighting against this. There was no waxing and waning about this one, just a continuous momentum that built and built, edging closer with every breath. Keeping his head down, eyes closed lazily, expectant, hopeful, as the hitching began. It didn’t take long before that final, snatched inhale was drawn.
“h’ETSCHSHH!.. IH’SZSSHH’iuh!..”
With Ren’s sinuses opened up slightly, the two of them had been… productive. An immediate sniffle followed, head staying ducked down to hide the state of his face.
“Bless you, here, quick.” Tissues appeared in his eyeline between his legs, passed over from Reuben, and no time was wasted in making a grab for them and rushing them to his face. A thick, struggled blow ensued, and Ren lamented all the days he took breathing freely for granted. After the cleanup, he didn’t feel quite done, the ghost of another sneeze shadowing inside his nose, threatening, but he was granted enough of a reprieve to finish his dinner. Just.
“Good job,” Reuben congratulated when they’d done, clapping a hand on Ren’s chest and patting it a few times. Reuben made quick work in snatching up the cartons, starting the cleanup immediately, though there was yet to be movement from the other side of the sofa.
“Hey, where do you keep-..?” The question was halted when Reuben apparently turned to Ren and noticed his posture, expression, everything. He sighed fondly, shoulders dropping. “You’re gonna sneeze again, aren’t you?”
It didn’t take a genius to spot that was the problem. Ren’s expression was light, airy, lifted in that expectant, hopeful way, waiting patiently for the inevitable. His head was tipped back a little, eyes narrowed and squinting at the ceiling; the tip of his nose twitched, alive with the tickle, as his nostrils flared repeatedly, irritated beyond measure; his mouth hung loosely open, jaw slack. They both waited, Reuben watching as Ren fought against it, either warding it off or encouraging it to come. A couple of tissues were thrust into Ren’s hands just in time to be lifted to his face as the final, shaky inhale was drawn, and he was suddenly thrust forwards.
“h-h!.. h’ESZSSHH’h! H’IYSSCSHH’UHH!.. hhhhhh-..”
A long, drawn-out sigh followed that double, and Ren visibly wilted where he sat. Dabbing at his nose proved ineffective, and he resolved to just shove a tissue against it and keep it there. Saved a lot of effort. Any magic the spices from dinner had worked were quickly fading, Ren able to physically feel his nose filling back up, sinuses throbbing with the building congestion collecting. He was fighting a losing battle, it seemed.
“Y’know.” Reuben’s voice called out from the kitchen. “I’m just gonna record myself saying ‘bless you’ and play it on a continual loop. Save me straining my voicebox.”
Ren laughed, but it was pitiful. It was late in the evening, around the time when he was hit hardest by his symptoms. The fever had spiked a little, he could tell already, shivering slightly as Reuben ventured back in wiping his hands on a towel. He frowned at Ren.
“You’re not feeling so hot, huh?” he asked. Promises of being Host of the Year were dashed, and Ren shook his head, not even trying to deny it any longer.
“N’dot really,” he admitted, bundling up into himself. Dipping out of the room, Reuben returned a mere moment later and spread out an array of items before them on the table. Ren blinked at them, surprised, before squinting at Reuben.
“I got you a whole arsenal,” he boasted, proud of his haul. There were tissues (so many tissues..), NyQuil, Tylenol, water, orange juice, even a thermometer. It made Ren’s heart pinch pleasantly, knowing that someone had gone to this effort just for him. He’d spent the last couple of days feeling so alone, so unworthy of love and affection. The breakup was hitting him harder than he had realised. Not to mention that the fever ran the risk of heightening his emotions, and he absolutely refused to start crying about a little OJ.
“Come on,” Reuben was saying, measuring out the goopy liquid and cracking open a bottle of juice. “The sooner this is over with, the sooner you can wither in peace.” An offering was made with each hand, one with medicine and one with juice. Necking the NyQuil like he was doing shots, Ren chased it with the OJ, pulling a sour face as his nose wrinkled up in distaste. For the first time, he was thankful for his dulled taste, managing to keep it down without issue. Taking the empties, Reuben settled himself beside Ren, snatching up the remote and flicking on the TV. It appeared he was in no rush to leave and Ren wasn't about to ask him to.
Channels were hopped between for a while until they finally settled on some documentary. From what Ren managed to watch, it was about rainforests, but that was as far as he got.
Ren wasn’t awake to see much of the show. He wasn’t awake to realise his head had fallen onto Reuben's shoulder, where it remained as he slept for a really long time. He wasn't awake to witness the cool hand press to his too-warm brow. He wasn’t awake to feel a blanket be thrown over him before being tucked tightly around him. He wasn’t awake to see or hear Reuben leave. And he definitely wasn’t awake to witness the gentle pressure of lips against the fever-damp hair at his temple.
tbc...?
I have some plans for Part 3 but nothing cemented yet, so it might take a little bit of time if a part 3 is coming.. Hopefully so!