Ken packed up his things, gave some more doctorly advice, then left us alone. Mason was slumped on the couch, eyes glazed over with exhaustion. I turned on the TV for him and handed him the remote.
“Here. At least you’ll have something to watch while you’re sitting here,” I said.
“Are you going somewhere?” he asked, his eyes widening slightly.
“No. Why?”
He looked relieved. “Good.” His eyes flitted back towards the TV but his hand rested beside him on the couch. “Could you… sit with me for a bit? I don’t want to be alone.”
My chest felt warm. “Sure.”
I sat next to Mason. His body radiated sickly heat - probably from his fever. I felt so bad for him. I just wanted this sickness to pass. I hated seeing him like this.
“Thanks for bringing me home,” Mason murmured. It was so quiet that I almost missed what he said.
I smiled. “It’s no problem at all. I wasn’t just going to leave you there.”
He frowned and looked shyly at the floor. “I’m sorry about… everything.”
“What? What do you have to be sorry for?” I asked.
He fiddled with the edge of his shirt. “I dunno. Everything. Causing trouble for you. Especially with this stupid double heat thing.”
“You’renotcausing trouble for me, you got that?” I said firmly. “Iliketaking care of you. And we’ll get through this double heat bullshit together, alright? You’re not alone.”
Mason blinked slowly. “Thanks, Jericho.”
“Don’t gotta thank me,” I said. “I’m always here for you.”
We fell into a comfortable silence as we watched some mindless TV. When I noticed his body getting really hot, I got him a cool damp towel to put on his forehead. He sighed with relief. I was ready to get up at any moment if he needed something, but right now he seemed content just to sit on the couch with me.
A few hours later, Mason’s temperature decreased. He seemed more comfortable now. Something else I noticed was that he had inched closer to me so that there was barely any space separating us.
Just as I was thinking about that, he came close and rested his head on my shoulder.
I didn’t move. I barely breathed.
Did he really just do that?
I couldn’t concentrate on whatever show was on TV anymore. All I could think about was Mason’s warmth as he rested against me.
Soon, judging by the smooth rhythm of his breathing, he fell asleep. I carefully picked him up, trying not to rouse him, and carried him upstairs. I filled the bedside table with things he might need - painkillers, water, a fresh hot water bottle - and gently tiptoed to the door.
But then I heard his voice croak, “Wait.”
I paused and glanced back at him. His watery eyes glinted in the darkness. I saw his fingers beckon me ever so slightly. He looked exhausted, with barely enough energy to move or speak.
“Stay here,” he murmured.
I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly, but he kept staring at me with those soulful eyes. I returned to the bed and sat.
“Stay here tonight,” he repeated, his voice hoarse. “Please.”
I paused, then made my way over to him. “Okay,” I said softly. “I’ll sleep on the floor, so that - “
“No,” he interrupted, his tired eyes blazing. “Stay in bed with me. Don’t go anywhere.”
This time I had definitely heard him clearly. With his passionate eyes staring up at me in expectation, how could I say no? Not that I wanted to - I was just surprised to hear Mason give such a request.
