Nov(emeto)ber Day 5: Too Feverish To Think
My sickfic writing debut!! A little rushed but done in time for today’s prompt! @monthofsick
Fandom: my OCs (members of the band Space Cola)
Warnings: fever, vomiting, written from the POV of an anxious character
Annette peered over the top of her book at Kyle, who was curled under the covers and shivering violently. No change from the other 5 glances she’d spared in the past 10 minutes. That was when Ulysses had called her.
“Hey Ann, I was wondering if you could go hang out with Kyle for a while. He’s super sick, like, I’m pretty sure he’s got a high fever. I’m running to CVS for a thermometer and some Tylenol.”
At the time Annette had said “sure, no big deal”. Before that phone call, she’d thought that Kyle’s malaise was limited to what he felt after their concert last night. He had complained of a sore throat and had just seemed really out of it. “I’ll feel better in the morning,” he’d told his friends. “I can practice tomorrow. Don’t worry about me.” Sam and Brent—the members of their partner band The Nutcrackers—had bid Space Cola goodnight and left the worrying to Annette and Ulysses.
But Annette had seen Kyle at the hotel’s continental breakfast. He’d seemed ill, but not “super sick”: his “g’mornin’” was quieter and raspier than usual, and he’d only finished his bagel when Ulysses insisted. Then he’d gone back up to his hotel room to take a nap.
“I was looking over the lyrics to The Nutcrackers’ songs, y’know, as a backup singer.” Ulysses’ voice on the phone had sounded tense. “Then I looked over and Kyle was asleep, but he was making these little noises like he was having a bad dream or something. I woke him up and it’s like he’s somewhere else. He’s under all the blankets but he says he’s freezing. Which doesn’t make sense, because he’s soaked in sweat. You think room service will give us dry blankets if we ask?”
As Annette looked at Kyle now, worry clouded her brain. Her friend had an energetic spirit. Nothing kept him down for long. Seeing Kyle reduced to twitching beneath a hotel comforter…. Well, it was disconcerting.
Kyle stirred, startling Annette out of her thoughts. Slowly he sat up. The comforter fell from his shoulders and he shuddered in the cooler air. He coughed a few times, raising a fist to weakly cover his mouth.
“Gotta take a piss,” he mumbled hoarsely. He hauled himself out of bed, almost falling, then found his balance and staggered to the bathroom. Modestly, Annette returned to her book, but only until Kyle returned. Then she watched him like a hawk as he slithered back into bed. He stayed sitting up and cast his bleary gaze around the room, not focusing on anything in particular. When Annette called his name he jolted like he’d just woken up.
“Ann? What’re you doing here?”
Annette closed her book. “I’m here to keep an eye on you,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light. “Ulysses went to the pharmacy.”
“How are you feeling?” Annette asked tentatively.
“Shitty. Tired. Wanna sleep.” He laid his head back on the pillows, closing his eyes.
Annette picked up her book again. It was weird being in the room with an awake sick person. She could hear Kyle’s breathing, metered and shallow, from where she sat. Hopefully he’d fall back asleep and stop breathing like that. It was making her uneasy.
The book became interesting, Annette tuned out of the world, and Kyle’s odd breathing faded into the background. Twenty minutes came and went. Annette returned to the present when Ulysses called her.
“Ann, there was an accident that happened right in front of me. I’m fine, but I had to pull over and wait for the cops to show up. That was 15 minutes ago. How’s Kyle?”
Annette shot a glance at her friend. Kyle was restlessly twisting under the covers. “Uh, not great. He still seems really feverish.”
“Try and cool him down,” Ulysses suggested. “A cold washcloth on the back of his neck could work.”
“I’ll try that,” Annette promised. “Good luck with the, uh, cops.”
“I’ll try not to get arrested,” Ulysses joked. “I’ll let you know when I’m on my way back. See ya later.”
Annette put her book aside and headed to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth. She passed by Kyle’s bed and paused to take a good look at him.
His face was as pale as the sheets tangled around him, but his cheeks were flushed red like he’d been slapped. His mouth was ajar, and he was panting like he’d run a marathon. Annette’s heart stung with pity. Kyle really wasn’t well at all. On a whim, she reached down and touched his forehead. She exclaimed at the heat there; he jolted at the sudden cool of her hand.
“Hey,” she said softly, soothingly. “How are you feeling?”
“I—” Kyle swallowed convulsively. “I’m g—” He clamped his mouth shut. His eyes were glazed over and darted back and forth across Annette’s face, refusing to focus.
“That’s quite a fever you’ve got,” Annette continued, awkwardly trying to calm him by running her hand along his jawline. It was sticky with dried sweat. “I’m going to get a wet washcloth for you. That’ll help you feel a little bit better. OK?”
In response, Kyle’s whole body jerked with a massive hiccup. A trickle of something brown dribbled out of his mouth. Annette yanked her hand away in time for the floodgates to open. Before Kyle even knew what was happening, a wave of vomit was surging up his throat and splashing down his front.
“Shit!” Annette yelped. “OK, OK, uh….”
Kyle choked, shuffled upright in his bed, and let out a gargling belch. He couldn’t stay vertical for long: his upper body lilted toward his lap. He retched toward the bedspread, letting his jaw hang open loosely. Saliva pooled in his mouth and dripped toward the bed. He was going to be sick again.
Annette had retrieved the room’s wastebasket and presently shoved it into Kyle’s hands. Just in time—Kyle immediately heaved up a thick stream of vomit that spattered on the bottom of the container. He didn’t have time to breathe before his body ejected another massive mouthful. That left him coughing, a harsh cough that piqued Annette’s anxiety.
“Oooohhh,” Kyle groaned. He hiccupped and spat into the can, then rested his head on the brim, panting.
“Kyle?” Annette ventured. “You all right?”
“I dunno,” Kyle mumbled. His voice was faint and wobbly, which made Annette even more uneasy. She stood and walked over to his bedside, crouching to see his face better. He was even paler than before, his eyelids fluttered, and despite the exertion he wasn’t sweating anymore. Just being near him she could feel the heat coming off of his battered body in waves. Fear stirred in Annette’s gut. How do you care for a sick person? Did she have to take Kyle to the hospital? When would Ulysses be back? Hell, would Kyle be well in time for Space Cola’s next performance? That wasn’t for several days, but still….
Annette’s phone rang once again, startling her. She answered it with a shaky “Hello?”
Ulysses skipped the introductions and spoke rapid-fire. “The cops let me go, I’m on my way back from the pharmacy. Not much I can do when two rednecks are arguing about who rear-ended who, you know how it is. Uh, I’ll be back in a jiffy. I got the stuff. Everything ok, Annie?”
“Um.” Annette swallowed back her anxiety. “Kyle threw up.”
Ulysses clicked their tongue in displeasure. “Great, delightful. I can stop at Walmart for some Gatorade or something—”
Annette interrupted them as Kyle’s heaves began anew. “Actually, can you just come back? It’s a little—I don’t know if I can by myself—”
“Gotcha, gotcha. That’s no problem. …Hey, Ann.”
Annette pulled her attention back to her friend. “Huh?”
“You’re doing a good job. Don’t worry too much about Kyle, he’s a tough cookie. I’ll be back soon, and we can take care of him together. Got it?”
“Got it.” Although Ulysses couldn’t see her, she smiled bravely. “I’ll do my best. See you soon.”
