Well, he can't say that yet because it's still only a bit past 3 pm, but he feels sick for reasons he doesn't understand why. He's not actually sick– he can't be, and he knows he isn't because if he was then he wouldn't be practicing with the rest of his band right now or even be out of bed in the first place. They sound distant in his ears for some reason, but it's not at the forefront of his mind right now. What's at the front of his brain are the questions of why he feels so off– why the morning and then forth had felt so wrong even when surrounded by his closest friends ever. He feels more antsy, picking at everything and constantly checking his phone just to immediately turn it off when he’s met with nothing and rejoin the conversation when he's prompted to. He eyes his phone now, even with his guitar in his hands and the mic in front of him, his mind is entirely elsewhere.
He's waiting for something– someone in particular, and it feels wrong now to not have gotten a text from them when he should’ve gotten several texts and maybe a call too by now.
Feinberg hasn't texted him since he's woken up, and it's been bothering him all day. It's all he can focus on, how he's missing that crucial time in that day where they're exchanging texts and on the line with each other, enjoying each other's company like they've been doing everyday now.
Did he do something wrong? Had Feinberg found out the message behind the vinyl that he had 'won' and found out the truth about Couriway? They had enjoyed yesterday a lot– maybe not to the fullest because Couri had to go spend the rest of his Christmas with family which he usually enjoys doing, but that night had felt so.. empty. It was like he wanted to be somewhere else or talking to someone else during those conversations he held with his family, eyes scanning the room as if he was looking for something specific and feeling disappointed when he never found what he was so desperately searching for.
(He knows he had been searching for Feinberg even though it would've been impossible for the other man to physically be present at Couriway's home and be there with him, but he had still searched anyway and ended up disappointed like it was even ever a possibility in the first place.)
Maybe something was wrong with him. Maybe the problem was internal rather than external. It hasn't even been that long since he last spoke to Fein, only about 15 hours and 32 minutes and about 10 seconds (he's joking about the seconds, by the way. Keeping track of the seconds is hard) and he shouldn't even ever be missing someone this badly.
Fein's cute squeaky breathless laugh echoes in his head a bit, and he's thinking about yesterday for maybe the 5th time since he's woken up (not in call with Fein for once, and he's not relieved by that at all– rather, he had been quite perturbed, groggy and wondering if his phone had died and he had left Fein all alone only to see that he hadn't ever been in a call at all, and for the first time in a small while, he doesn’t get to hear Fein's soft shifting and taps of his phone as he wakes up while Couri pauses eating his lunch for the day so that he could urge the other man to get breakfast before they eat together in comfy silence, Couri waiting until Fein fully wakes up and is actually ready for the day which consisted of a lot of Minecraft, which Couri doesn't mind one little bit) and it makes him want to explode because Feinberg is ridiculously cute and Couriway doesn't get why and how it's even allowed for someone to get these types of reactions and thoughts from him but it doesn't matter anyway because the main issue here is obvious.
Couriway misses Feinberg, a lot.
He gets snapped out of his internal turmoil that consisted of a lot of Feinberg and what if's by a hand waving aggressively in front of his eyes, Poundy's voice finally breaching his ears and forming coherent words.
"Hellooo– Helllo? Earth to Couriway??" Okay this hand in his face is getting annoying– he grabs Poundy's wrist to stop him with a huff.
"Okay– you have my attention, what is it?"
“Dude, you missed your cue and just stood there, are you good?" Fulham places a hand on his shoulder, and he blinks once at the words.
"Oh," he mumbles, looking down at his guitar and the mic in front of him, finally remembering that right, he was practicing with his friends. "Sorry," he offers lamely, shrugging his instrument off of him. "I've just been distracted this entire morning.. uh, we can try again another time– I'm really sorry."
"Is this about your not so little crush on Feinberg~?" Poundy's tease is far, far too accurate, and it shows because he freezes for a moment and a flush grows on his cheeks before he shoves the drummer away with a flustered scowl.
In his hurry to leave, mumbling incomprehensible words and stumbling over the random shit scattered in the garage, he misses the way Parker's eyes don't leave him until he disappears through the doorway.
Is his crush on Fein really that obvious? like, sure he's.. he's not gonna say obsessed, but he can't find another word for it but listen to him when he says he isn't obsessed, okay? At the moment, he's just extremely worried because it's well past the time Fein usually wakes up and he hasn't gotten a single notification from the other man at all, and it's not helping with how his brain is making the most insane scenarios ever and only stressing him out more.
"Couri! Wait!" He's unlocking his car when Parker's voice rings out in the driveway, making him stop and look at the other man jogging over, his breathing still even when he's face to face with Couri. Thank you for flexing your immensely impressive stamina Parker, very cool.
"Parker," he greets, unsure why with the urgency and why it wasn't something that could've been sent as a message.
"Sorry, I just wanted to talk." Parker sheepishly smiles, "are you okay?"
What a question. He can't just tell Feinberg's older brother that no, he's not okay because he misses Feinberg's voice and messages and his company and just overall his entire existence and that he's going insane trying to find a reason for the sudden radio silence. He's not going to tell Feinberg's brother any of that.
"I'm just.. worried," he answers simply, Fein’s name missing at the end of his sentence but it still feels like it’s there, filling the clipped silence, and Parker's expression falls into one that's a mix between sympathy and some sort of awareness that makes Couri feel like he's very exposed right now.
"Is it about Fein? Because we're in the same boat if so." At the tip of his tongue, the question of "how did you know?" wants to be said, but he swallows the words, knowing that if he did ask, Parker would just refer to it as a lucky guess, and he doesn’t say anything to confirm Parker's guess, but his reaction seems to be a good enough answer as is.
"He's probably sleeping in after staying up too late, you know how he is," it's a wink and a nudge that refers to Fein's fucked sleep schedule, but Couri feels like it's also a quip towards their sleep calls implying that of course Couri would know Fein's sleeping habits well by now. "If he doesn't message in the next few hours," Parker pulls out his phone and shakes it a bit, "then I'll try to spam call him or get someone to check on him, but I'm sure he's fine."
Parker's reassurance works surprisingly well, and Couric feels his shoulders sag with relief before he glances at his phone again, not seeing the name that he's been looking for since he's woken up and feeling a bit crushed, feeling Parker pat his shoulder gently. Couri lets go of the breath he had been holding in for some unknown reason, thankful for his friend.
"Thank you, Parker."
"Anytime Couri!’
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Feinberg wakes up, and it feels like his head is trying to spit itself in half when he turns to try to find his phone, squinting through the throbbing ache and seeing that it's nearly dead, clumsily patting around for his charger.
Everything hurts, he concludes after three seconds of being awake.
He feels nauseous every time he shifts even the smallest bit, and his skull feels like it's going to crack, unable to make a single noise as he presses his palms to his eyes, attempting to block everything out.
It's quiet, and he's not used to that. It wouldn't have helped with his current state, but he doesn’t like it still. He risks his phone again, fingers sliding across the dim screen and hopefully hitting the right keys because everything looks like blurry blobs even when he squints. There's not much for him.
He realizes that there's no call duration when he pulls his phone closer to his face, and it makes him want to tear up for some reason (he does tear up, and a few tears break free, but his pillowcase soaks them away immediately) because there's no Couriway on the other side to keep him company. There's no one here for his sick ass, and wow, that hurts to think about.
Doesn't matter, thinking hurts anyway.
Coughing his lungs out and feeling like he was about to vomit, he shoves his face into his pillow, rolling over, dropping his phone to be forgotten in the tangle of blankets and hiding his weakened state from the world, ears pinned and tail coiled around his own leg, brokenly purring to himself with his fucked throat, feeling like there were holes in the flesh. He hates it.
Feinberg goes back to sleep feeling worse than he had when he had woken up.
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He opens his eyes, then immediately closes them again.
Everything hurts. He's dizzy, and when he rolls over, he winces at the way it feels like he's soaked head to toe in his own sweat. Shivers wrack his body, and he feels unbelievably weak. He squints, cursing quietly when he tries to get up, but he finds that he has zero strength to do so. He mumbles words that even he can't understand, curling up tighter under his blankets, involuntarily jerking with the trembles that shake him, feeling far too cold. Did the heater turn off? He doesn't have it on a timed thing, it turns off when he decides to, and he thinks about going to find the remote for the heater but when he tugs the blanket the smallest bit off of himself, he finds the cold nipping at him unbearable, and he isn't sure that he even has the ability to walk short distances.
So he goes back to sleep.
Or tries.
He can't sleep.
He's restless, twisting and turning, suddenly too hot but then suddenly too cold and he can't form a coherent thought to try to fix what's happening to him and he feels like just laying here until he can, but it's boring, and it hurts a lot to just exist at the moment.
He's also hungry, but he can't do anything about that if he can't get up in the first place. Everything is a haze, and he's seeking something as he lays there, staring off into nothing.
He's so cold, and he's pretty sure the underlying feeling that trudges through him is loneliness.
What a horrible feeling with no cure.
His eyes fall closed again, unable to keep them open, and when he can get them open again, his blurry vision makes out a faint figure standing by his bedside. A noise of surprise forces its way out of his throat, but there's no fear or urgency in his mind, just mild surprise when Couriway's voice fills his ears, calming him as he blinks at the blurry figure, unable to see, but the voice is enough for them.
"Can you get up?" He must've made a noise that resembled the word no close enough to answer because he hears a huff, and it doesn't seem like Couri is taking no as much of an answer. Fein pulls the blanket off of himself slowly, allowing his feet to touch the floor and grunting with effort to actually stand, and his world spins before he stabilizes himself, trembling as he looks for Couri again, and he stands a bit further from where he had been before, making him frown and move towards him, bracing himself on the walls and tables as he stumbles closer, because Couri is here, somehow. He doesn't care nor mind, the company is extremely appreciated.
Couri leads him to the kitchen, and he keeps the light off when he enters, standing for a bit before bracing himself and turning it on.
"I don't.. have food... sorry." He mumbles, the words quiet and barely audible, but Couri hears anyway, he thinks.
"It's not what you're here for." Couri replies, and Fein blinks at him. "You're burning up horribly. You need to do something."
"I have something for that?"
"Parker made sure you did, you know this."
There's cold patches waiting for him when he checks his fridge, a soft "oh" leaving him at the sight. "How'd you know?" Fein questions, words slurring as he slaps it on himself and shivers at the feeling, feeling the ache in his head become more clear, somehow.
Couri shrugs in reply, and Fein accepts it as an answer, too groggy and out of it to push further. If he was more conscious then he would've asked why and how he's even here with Fein, but he doesn't care about those why's and how's, only the fact that yeah, he's here with Feinberg and taking care of him– making Fein take care of himself, rather, and it's been something that Couri's been doing lately, and he appreciates it a lot.
"Food?" Couri prompts, and he doesn't process it for a moment before he gets up from the kitchen floor (he doesn't remember sitting down, maybe he had fallen asleep again, or passed out, he doesn't know) to find his phone. He swears he sees Couri turn away disappointed when he orders food, but the other man stays silent, disapproving of it but knowing that not much else could be done when Fein is weak like this.
The burger he ordered arrives fast for the weather, and he really doesn't want to leave his bed, dozing off again while Couri keeps him silent company, but he also doesn't want his food to get cold– well, Couri said that in attempts to get him to get up, and it works, because saying no to Couri is surprisingly hard. He stumbles his way down to the lobby, and the way up makes him nauseous to the point that what little appetite that had formed is entirely gone now, dropping the bag and sitting down, clutching his skull in pain.
He might throw up. Might not. He doesn't know yet.
A hand on his back calms him through the dizzying waves, and it's a good while before he even thinks of eating anything. But eventually he manages to stomach a few bites and sips of water (by Couri's demand) before he refuses to eat anymore in fear of throwing up and makes a mental note to eat more later, or try to at least.
Fein crawls back under the covers, attempting to keep an eye on Couri who sits nearby, silent and watching over Fein which offers him some feeling of comfort.
"Th'nk you," he slurs, eyes falling closed and barely able to fight against it for long enough to mumble out a quiet "Lov' you..", unable to keep his thoughts inside his head, especially when he's sick like this.
He feels a kiss get pressed against his head when his eyes slip closed, and he purrs roughly at the feeling.
"I love you too."
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Feinberg looks like he belongs here in Couriway's bedroom.
He looks like he's been here his entire life, like he's carved a spot for him in Couriway's bedroom, making himself at home as he sits cross-legged on his bedsheets, wearing creeper faced pj pants and a graphic tee with a cat printed on it.
They're side by side, and since Fein was there early, they started out with him watching Couri play a bit of Pokémon due to the recent release of a new game, and he isn't sure if Fein had been watching the screen at all since he swears that he feels the other man's eyes burn into him. They leave Pokémon behind for other things when friends come over, but they still stick close through Mario Kart and Party, even when there's the underlying urge to rip each other apart over the most bullshit plays ever somehow working when they've been plotting making that move since the start of the game.
He knows that Fein isn't genuinely upset about losing after having such a strong lead since he's only acting because there's no actual signs of agitation showing, but he still wants to kiss the silly pout off of his face– it's a thought that crosses his mind but immediately gets filed away, refusing to let that thought simmer when Fein's older brother is sitting right there with them.
He still wants it, though.
He's trying to keep all of his wants silent and in check, but it's grown so much harder to do so, especially with Fein being right here next to him. It would be so easy to kiss him like this with their proximity, but there's an audience and he does not want to kiss Feinberg in front of his closest friends because he knows that he'll be teased unrelentlessly for it.
It's a blessing when they leave, seeing them off at his door. Fein seems to make himself more comfy in his bed when he comes back, his ears noticing Couri's reappearance before his eyes do, flicking as he turns and grins happily at him. He settles back down beside him, returning the grin when he feels the tickle of fur against his leg, tail coiling loosely around his ankle.
"This could be a date." He thinks, stupidly. It's just him and Fein and no one else to disturb them, and this is something of his dreams, to get an opportunity like this. He settles closer to Fein, leaning into the warmth away from the cold, and neither of them mind, rather, he feels a purr build in Fein's chest at the comfort. He boots up some older Pokémon game, feeling Fein shift around to get a better view as the menu music plays.
"Do I get to name your starter?" Fein peeks, and Couri huffs.
"Depends on the name."
"What about Chungus?"
"You're not naming my starter that." He scowls, making Fein roll his eyes and huff quietly before settling down in silence again, head leaning on Couri's shoulder as he watches the screen.
Or just stares at Couriway.
"I can feel you staring," he puts the game down to face Fein directly, and the guy has the gall to turn away and face the wall with his cheeks a cute flushed pink, caught in the act and embarrassed by it.
He wants to kiss this guy really bad.
He thinks about it for a second to try to stop himself, but he finds himself realizing what were the con's of kissing Feinberg?
There were none.
Apart from maybe the awkwardness that would come after, but that's after for a reason.
And so he does just that.
Fein doesn't lean away when Couri comes closer, but his ears pin back slowly, nervous, yet also wanting. The gap between them closes seamlessly, sighing against Fein's lips with his eyes closing, pushing closer as a warm feeling blooms in his chest, feeling Fein's tail coiling tighter around his leg, pulling him close and wanting him closer, smothering all the space and air between them as Couri pushes Fein down into his bed and–
And wakes up.
Couriway blinks at his ceiling.
What?
He blinks again before sitting up and screaming into his pillow.
