[It hadn't taken long for Daryan to fall asleep, after all, he was pretty exhausted.
That restaurant last night had seemed good on the surface, even the food had seemed okay, but once he'd hit home, Daryan had felt queasy. He hadn't mentioned it to Klavier, but it had bothered him all through the night until he woke up and threw up in the bathroom.
Shit.
He was sick and he knew it, it was obvious. But after actually being sick, he felt better. Maybe he would be okay for the morning, after all he had a job to do, a job that could become dangerous at any moment and he had been lucky to have been assigned this case, it meant he was skilled, trusted. Getting sick on this case was unthinkable! How could he mess up this badly!?
He quickly rinsed his mouth and flushed away the evidence that he was ill before he climbed back into bed, looking at Klavier who was sleeping calmly as he'd left him and turned his back to him. He didn't want to risk getting Klavier sick too.
He slept well, but then as morning came, he noticed his sheets were sticking to him due to the cold sweat that had taken over his body. He quickly reached for his phone before he retreated back into the bathroom to call in sick, catching a glimpse of his paled face in the mirror. Once that was done, he went back to bed, grateful Klavier wasn't awake yet, since he'd been sick again after he'd ended the call to the Chief.
He didn't want Klavier to worry, so he turned back around in the now dampened sheets, turning his pale face towards the window, not wanting to be seen.
He hated being ill, he hated every fucking minute of it, he'd hated it when he was young and he sure as hell hated it now.
If Klavier knew and tried to feed him fucking soup, Daryan would refuse to eat the damned stuff even if it was supposed to make him better. He'd go hungry, he hated the tomato soup of his childhood and he hated everything about it.
So he pulled the covers up over his head and grimiced, trying to fall back to sleep.]
