@theirnindo said: “stay in bed and let me look after you.” (from Ino or Hina, your pick)
The voice sent a jolt through Neji, eyes shooting wide open to look up above him. “Mother?” His voice was hoarse and quiet, the water glass on his bedside table long empty. No, that wasn’t right. He lifted an arm, palm rubbing against his eyes that were as pale as his sickly skin and his fingers brushing against the sweat drenched bandages still tightly wrapped around his forehead. He let out a strained groan. “Ino….” She shouldn’t be there. He was sure he was at home in his own bed. He’d definitely fallen asleep there… however long ago it was. What time even was it?
There was barely any light in the room. Must be night. So why was she there? How did she even get into the Hyuuga compound or know where to go? Ino had never been in his home before, much less in his bedroom. Someone had to have shown her. Not Hinata. She wasn’t in Konoha at the moment or she’d be tending to Neji herself. Not one of his teammates. They wouldn’t have left Ino alone there, nor were they aware of his current state. Hanabi perhaps. Without Hinata around, she was the only one in the compound who wouldn’t leave him to care for himself.
“You shouldn’t be here. It’s inappropriate,” he protested weakly even as she attempted to examine him. Sure, they’d slept in the same bed together before, but it was different when they were in his bedroom. It was intimate, somewhere he never brought anyone who wasn’t a relative, especially not a woman. Besides, it was a mess. In the heat of his fever he’d discarded his clothing, still damp with rain after days on the floor, an unsightly mistake in an otherwise spotless room.
He let out a pained wheeze. “I can care for myself. You should leave.” He didn’t mean it, not really. Neji had been left there to fend for himself for days, pale and wheezing, pneumonia having dug its claws into every corner of his body. As much as his friends liked to joke about his fancy family with all their privileges, he was still alone. No one had come; not when his uncle was currently angry with him. No one came, except Ino.
Turning onto his side to face her, he propped himself up on his elbow, his blanket slipping down and exposing his scarred excuse for a torso. “Shit.” He’d forgotten that he removed his clothes and currently only wore his underwear beneath the blanket. Yet another way Ino’s presence was inappropriate. He yanked the blanket back up, causing himself to fall back against the bed. “Don’t… touch me.” He gasped, breath not filling his lungs. “It’s not proper. This isn’t the hospital.” She’d seen his scars years ago when they were still healing but this was different. They weren’t in the hospital and she wasn’t just changing his bandages as she did her job.
He was so pitiable, looking like a ghost with his mess of dark hair contrasting his cadaverous skin. It wasn’t the image he wanted to project. No one was supposed to see him so weak, and yet he knew his illness had gone too far. He felt like death, an strong sentiment for someone who had previous experienced its icy clutches. “Ino,” he repeated. “I missed you.”
