pullmeoutalive | Model Idol Combi: so you had a sick day

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Model Idol Combi: so you had a sick day

[ so the thing was, Makoto didn't get sick. It took a series of unfortunate events, a moment of stress-induced weakness, and doing the idiotically chivalrous thing of trying to make her way home in the pouring rain and likely spending too much time in soaked clothing, despite Kise's best efforts.

But the point was, Makoto didn't usually get sick, and when she did get sick, it had to be sick enough to buckle her knees and keep her under her covers with a fever that could warm cold palms in an instant. She'd tried to go to work, but hadn't made it further than her own doorway before she'd gotten too dizzy to stand without the aid of the frame and had been promptly ushered back to bed.

And of course, she hadn't wanted to worry Kise, but that had backfired and for some inexplicable reason, she felt worse than ever. She'd have to change the compress again, she thinks distantly, as she tries to push herself up on her elbows to give him a properly chastising look. At the very least, her parents were now out for one of her dad's races, but... ]

You... really didn't have to come.

[ what if she's contagious? It's bad enough that she feels awful and she's sweaty and her hair's a mess and her face is all red and this isn't very romantic at all-- ]

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I-- [He winces, because this time it hurt to talk. He tries again but the result's the same and he'd be frustrated if he wasn't feeling awful in general.]

It's okay! I think I'm pretty good at picking up looks and body signals!!

[ Makoto, this isn't pantomiming time. ]

[Oh but it is pantomiming time.

Which is what he's trying. With vague hand gestures. That ultimately aren't very useful as even he's not sure what he's trying to go for and really, he's so tired that whatever he does just look like helpless flailing.

Okay so maybe it isn't pantomiming time.]

... I thought I was pretty good, but...

[ no, that was just kind of impossible to fathom. ]

[What happened to using the power of love.

He can't even sigh at how useless this is without coughing in the middle of it booo...]

What's most important is that you don't push yourself right now, anyway! I'll call your parents and let them know what's going on, and then I'll set up camp!

[ spoken like a true soldier. ]

[Set up camp... in his room? As in staying over and sleeping here?

Ugh, if he could think clearly he'd lament over how the first time she sleeps over is when he's too sick to enjoy it.

Instead he does his best to point at the floor, as in you're not sleeping there. This is going to be his final attempt at playing charades.]

... I can't exactly take your bed... maybe the sofa, but that's not all that close...

[ at least she understands that. But the floor's acceptable! ]

[He gives her a look before rolling over, as if to say that she can sleep on the bed if she wants, but then he only succeeds in getting his leg over.

Of course he's not thinking too hard about how that's probably not a good idea either.]

[ oh geez-- and she goes to roll him back. ]

What did I just say?? It's not going to help you any if I do that!

I just--

[UGH COUGH STOP RUINING HIS COOL MOMENTS that actually aren't very cool but shhh...

Anyway, he goes to try swinging his arm over but man, she's strong. She could punch through walls, he'd believe it. So even though his throat is hurting worse than before, he can at least let her know]

--There's extra in the closet.

[Extra what though.]

-- Huh? [ and here she just looks confused, but thankfully, she won't have to strong-arm him back into bed. ]

What's in the closet? [ though even as she asks it, she's moving over to it to investigate for herself. ]

Blankets and-- [He takes a harsh breath since at this point his throat burns.] things.

[And when he moves this time, it's to make himself more comfortable. He's going to sleep, he doesn't care what his cough says. Rolling over and pantomiming, not to mention hallucinating, depleted his already low energy levels.]

[ she goes rummaging then, pulling out blankets and a larger pad and dragging them over to arrange beside the bed. He looks like he's readying himself to pass out again, so she won't engage him in conversation. ]

[He's more than ready to pass out.

The problem is that he can't pass out for too long. Whenever he drifts off, he's right back to where he started by coughing himself awake or being too hot.

It's not the best sleep he's ever had. He's going to get bags at this rate, and his manager is going to lecture him once he's back nooo...]

[ Makoto can at least try to smooth the process along, keeping water on hand or readjusting his blankets when he starts sweating too much. She's far from exhausted, so it's not that hard to remain attentive while he drowses, though she'll likely doze off a little later. ]

[Miserable, so miserable. Not as miserable as when he was bent over on the cold floor, staring at what he just barfed up, but pretty miserable all things considered.

Makoto definitely helps though. There's that lingering at the back of his mind, and it's like a hope spot that's as bright as her eyes telling him that he'll get better. He'll be able to play basketball in no time at all, and she'll be there to cheer him on with that excited, adorable expression he could gaze at forever because it has everything that ever made him happy is in there--

No, the fever's not helping his inner monologue at all.]

[ if he keeps that much to himself, there's very little risk of her growing frazzled (or worried, for that matter). The key emotion here is determination, that she'll do everything in her power to get him back on the road to recovery and he'll be able to go back to school and work and he'll tease and talk and she won't ever get tired of it because that's impossible.

She won't let him struggle through this alone, much the way that he didn't leave her to curl in a ball of misery when she'd had her fever. His parents have been notified, so that's settled, so she's all set to brave the night and keep him cared for. ]

[Well hopefully she's ready to brave the night running on little sleep, because he's doing about the same thing at the moment. Coughing, running through sappy prose in his head, feeling half-delusional every time he wakes up. And sometimes wanting to reach out, to hold her close like a teddy bear.

A typical romantic evening with your girlfriend, clearly.]

[ she lasts, somehow. Thank goodness for stamina, though come the dawn (or something close to it), she finally falls asleep. It's a very light sleep, and to keep herself within reach just in case he needs her, she props herself up with her back to his bedside, rather than sleeping on the mat. One blanket suffices as decent cover, even if this isn't the best for her back or her neck.

Ah, well. ]

[In the end, he couldn't sleep after all. He tried, oh man he tried, but he can't quite defeat the heat or coughing yet. At least his coughs have mostly subsided.

Nevertheless, left staring at the ceiling, he turns his head to look at Makoto.

He's lost his voice completely, and it's all he can do to reach his hand out so that he can curl his finger around a longer strand of hair settling on the bed. But he manages, trying to whisper her name. The low whistling sound coming out of his throat is what her name sounds like when he can't talk. Frowning, he wonders why it still hurts when it's only air passing through.

It's good that he didn't really want to talk though. He just wanted to make sure she was still there beside him.]

[ like she would have left. Like she would have even budged. She hadn't wanted to fall asleep at all, highly concerned that something could happen to him if she wasn't awake to help, but the whole thing had taken its toll on her eventually.

That being said, she nonetheless stirs when something faint reaches her ears, though it takes a minute or two for her to wake up properly and turn her head so her cheek's resting on the bed now. She's tired, but he looks like he didn't manage anything restful at all. ]

Is something wrong? I can get you something...

[This sucks so much. He doesn't want anything; he just can't say it. Still, he opens his mouth again, more of that hoarse wheezing coming out.

He doesn't want anything, but with the way he strains to touch her cheek, it's easy to mistake it for want of something.]

[ she shifts herself onto her knees, moving a little closer as her eyes go dark with worry. He sounds awful, and she's at a loss as to what to do. Except to murmur his name, throat tight as she reaches up to test his forehead. ]

[When her hand touches his forehead, he thinks it's the best thing he's ever felt. There isn't a proper word for it except that it's incredibly pleasant, and he wishes he could soak some of that coolness up right now; not a bad wish considering he's still burning up. He's not shivering anymore though, so there's that.]

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