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9:02 am
It was a cloudy Sunday morning. As usual, Disco Kid woke up to a sweet ol' song pumping from his headphones. He rubbed his eyes, sat up, and hopped out of bed. Every other boxer was out for the day, so he had all the time in the world to kick back. Sure, he wasn't totally alone; Aran Ryan didn't have anywhere to be that day either. But it was easy to stay out of his way.
Disco Kid threw on some denim jeans, his fuzzy lounging slippers, and his favourite shirt; a reddish-orange button-up t-shirt with a yellow pineapple pattern. It always put him in a peppy mood. He was strolling through the hallway to go downstairs when he heard a low moan. He turned around. That sounded like Aran's voice.
Disco Kid eased open the door and peeked inside. Aran was laying in bed, turned towards the wall. His face was pale and his mane was tangled into a wild red mess. Disco Kid gently approached him. "Are you okay?"
Aran opened his eyes and gave Disco Kid a grumpy look. "What d'ye want? I'm sleepin' here."
Disco Kid put a hand on Aran's shoulder, his shiny blue eyes dulled with concern. "You look like you're in pain. What's wrong?"
Aran was quiet for a moment, but figured this wasn't the time to be stubborn. After all, he was in pain. "It's me belly. I woke up at four and ever since, I've been feelin' like I've taken a round too many from Sandman." Almost on cue, his stomach rumbled loudly. He clenched his jaw and made a weak "unngh" noise.
"Aw, hey, it's okay." A warm smile lit up Disco Kid's face. "I'm still here, surely I can cheer you up."
Aran snuffed and rolled his eyes. "Good luck with that."
"Come on, no need to be crabby." Disco Kid brushed Aran's cheek. "Where's that smile?"
"Shove it, 'fore I take those headphones and stuff 'em down yer throat." Aran may not have been feeling well, but nothing could quell his fiery temper.
Okay, so joking around wasn't helping. Time to move on to the next tactic. "Why don't we go sit on the couch? We can watch a show or something."
9:10 am
Now situated on the common area's pullout couch, Disco Kid flipped through Net-Tendo, looking for something to watch. "You like My Perfect Household?"
"I don' care what ye put on," mumbled Aran. He didn't really want to leave his room, but it was easier to just go than to be pestered about it.
Disco Kid shrugged. He wasn't super into interior decorating shows anyway. What's the fun in watching someone do it instead of just doing it himself? Instead, he found himself a nice little sketch comedy series. Interestingly, when watching these types of shows, he found himself laughing not at the scripted jokes, but at the characters doing the most innocuous things.
"Why're ye laughin' so hard?" Aran wasn't exactly sure why Disco Kid was losing it over a character just walking up the stairs.
"Look at his arms," chuckled Disco Kid, pointing at the character, who was practically flailing their arms around as they walked.
Aran watched it for a moment, and he had to admit it was pretty funny. Enough to make him smile; just a little bit.
"See, there's the happy face," cooed Disco Kid, tweaking Aran's cheeks.
Aran pushed his hand away. "Don't push yer luck, boyo."
"Your hands are freezing," said Disco Kid. "Are you cold?"
"Yeah," Aran shrugged. Why was he so concerned about this? "What about it?"
"Wait here," said Disco Kid, and he got up and left the common area. A moment later, he came back with a blanket and a thermometer. "Come on, let's take your temperature."
"Yer makin' an awful big fuss over a couple o' cold hand-" Aran didn't get to finish his sentence before Disco Kid stuck the thermometer in his mouth. That shut him up real fast. They both waited a moment before the thermometer beeped.
"You have a fever," said Disco Kid softly after reading the results; 38.4℃.
"Tell me something, if I'm too warm, why am I feelin' so blummin' cold?"
Disco Kid didn't quite know, so he did a quick search on his phone. "It says that your body tricks itself into thinking it's cold when you run a fever." Realizing he still had the blanket in his lap, he draped it over his redheaded friend. Aran didn't protest. Perhaps he was just too tired to do so. He cozied into the blanket and gave Disco Kid a small nod; a silent thank you.
12:38 pm
Hours later, Aran found himself waking up from a nap with this awful, terrible feeling, like a bubble in his throat. He sat up, alerting Disco Kid, who had been across the room trying to fix the sticky lock on the door.
"What's wrong?" Disco Kid abandoned the lock and went over to his side.
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Aran looked up at Disco Kid. Disco Kid could see panic in his eyes. Now he knew exactly what was wrong. There was no way they were going to make it to the bathroom in time, so instead he directed him to a trash bin across the room.
"Okay, just stay cool. Let it happen." Disco Kid held Aran's hair out of his face while he leaned over the bin. Aran retched, but nothing came up.
"Okay, you're dry heaving. Just keep breath-" Now it was Disco Kid's turn to be interrupted, as Aran then threw up a mouthful of bile and the little water he had had that day. Not a whole mouthful at once, but little bits in quick succession; it was like once he started, he couldn't stop. But thankfully, he did stop, and resumed breathing heavily.
"You poor thing," was all Disco Kid could say. He didn't often find himself in these situations. He led him back to his place on the pullout. Eyeing the bin, he took it with them, in case Aran needed to empty his stomach again at some point that day.
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"Hey." Disco Kid wrapped an arm around Aran's shoulder. "It's okay. Everyone gets sick sometimes."
Aran didn't respond. He just leaned forward and pressed his arms into his abdomen. Outside, a soft patter of rain began to fall, but neither of them paid it any mind.
"Do you need a hug?"
Aran looked at Disco Kid as if he had three heads, but eventually shook his head and pointed a finger at him. "Ye tell anyone about this, yer dead, got it?"
Disco Kid agreed to keep it their little secret, and once he had confirmed it twice and thrice and yet again, Aran leaned back into his arms.
"Yer awful insistent on bein' me friend today."
"Of course I am," said Disco Kid. "You're sick."
"An' I kept quiet about it fer that long cause I was hopin' the lot of ye would leave me alone."
"Look, I know that you can be kind of annoying sometimes, but I still care about you, and I want you to get better."
Aran was quiet. Normally, people never went beyond "annoying". Disco Kid rubbed his back and tousled his hair.
"I think you're cooling down," said Disco Kid softly. He turned to pick up the remote. "Here, I'll put on The Sassy Sisters of Shady Shores. You ever seen that show?"
Aran shook his head.
"It's about quadruplet sisters living in a nursing home together," said Disco Kid, searching for it on Net-Tendo. "It's the soft-and-sweet kind of show. I'm hoping it will take your mind off your stomach." He clicked "play" on the first episode.
3:03 pm
A few hours later, Aran was beside himself with laughter, while Disco Kid simply sat with a stunned expression. "Kid, this show is raunchy!"
Disco Kid didn't remember this show having that many dirty jokes. But he shrugged and chuckled along; it did get Aran laughing again. "I can tell this was a good show to put on."
At that moment, one of the Sisters said to another, "Oh, please, honey, I haven't had such a good trip since my visit to that nightclub", which sent Aran into another laughing fit. Disco Kid laughed right along with him, throwing his arm around him and ruffling his hair.
"That Barbara is some spitfire," said Disco Kid. Once their laughter had died down, his voice softened. "How's your stomach?"
"Still fussin'," mumbled Aran. He yawned. "Not as bad as this mornin'."
Disco Kid stood up. "Let's get some medicine into you." He went and got a packet of dramamine from the medicine cabinet. Initially, he expected to need to coerce Aran into taking it, but no; he took his medicine, no questions asked. His eyelids drooped, so Disco Kid laid him back and tucked him in for a nap.
7:29 pm
Tilt it. Almost there...and voila. The perfect selfie angle. Disco Kid snapped a great picture. How could he not; every side was his good side.
"Thomas?"
Disco Kid turned. Aran was just waking up, and was a bit disoriented.
"Hey, buddy," said Disco Kid, pulling him in for another hug. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," mumbled Aran. This time, he put an arm around Disco Kid as well. Disco Kid smiled and stroked his hair. For a brief moment, he thought to himself, I wonder why he isn't this soft all the time.
"Do you think you want to try eating something?"
Aran nodded. Once Disco Kid had set him down, he began drifting off again. When Disco Kid returned with a bowl of applesauce, he gently shook his shoulders to wake him back up. He decided to put Sassy Sisters back on to keep him from nodding off into a faceful of mush.
Around that time, the other boxers began returning home from what they had been doing that day. Most of them simply retired to their rooms, however Super Macho Man entered the common area. "You two bozos just sat around watching reruns all day?"
Disco Kid shrugged. "I guess."
"Sassy Sisters of Shady Shores? You guys actually like this girly crap?"
"Oi," grumbled Aran, "leave Stella outta this."
"Seriously, dude, knock it off," said Disco Kid.
Super Macho Man then got a good look at Aran; his messy hair, his pale face, his still being in his pyjamas despite it being late in the evening. "What's wrong with him?"
"He's not feeling good," said Disco Kid.
"Yeah, I can friggin' tell," mumbled Super Macho Man, turning to leave.
"Ye think I look bad, you should'a seen yerself after ye got spanked at that match las' Tuesday!" Disco Kid had to put a hand on Aran's shoulder to calm him down and keep him from physically confronting Super Macho Man.
"I can tell you're getting better," said Disco Kid. "You're yelling again."
10:29 pm
It was getting very late. Aran had already resigned himself to his fate of spending the night on the couch; he didn't have the energy to go back to bed. But why was Disco Kid still there? "Aren't ye goin' t' bed?"
"I'm gonna stay here on the couch tonight." Disco Kid stretched his legs out. "I don't want to leave you alone like this." He shut the TV off and laid back.
Aran didn't know what to say. He moved closer to Disco Kid, and pushed some of the blanket over him. Disco Kid smiled, and pulled him into a cozy embrace.
"G'night, Thomas."
"Good night, Aran."
6:53 am
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It was early the next morning when Disco Kid heard hurling and a moan. He blinked his eyes open and looked up, where he could see Aran leaning over the bin, hunched over.
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Disco Kid blinked the sleep out of his eyes, picked up his phone, and checked the time. 6:54 am. Not a ridiculous hour, but still pretty early. He turned back to Aran. "Hey," he said softly. "Are you okay?"
"I didn't mean to." What he really wanted to say was "I'm sorry", but stuff like that didn't come easy to him.
"What?" Disco Kid cocked his head. Didn't mean to what?
"I didn't mean it!" Aran cried. "I just woke up and me belly was burblin' and twistin' and I just felt 'orrible all over."
"Hey, I'm not mad at you," said Disco Kid, sitting up and scooting closer. He opened his arms, and this time, Aran didn't resist the embrace.
"Me belly hurts," he whimpered. "Real bad."
"It's okay," whispered Disco Kid. "These things happen."
"...'m sorry."
Now there was a big surprise. Disco Kid had never heard him say that before. "For what? It's completely normal. Everyone's been through this. I've been through this."
Aran hiccupped. "I dunno what's wrong with me. I thought I was gettin' better."
"You're sick," said Disco Kid, "and you don't need to be ashamed of it. It happens, and it sucks, but you can power through it." He tilted Aran's head up and brushed the tears away from his eyes. "It gets better. Cross my heart."
That seemed to ease his nerves. He leaned back, just as they had been sleeping like that night. It had been a surprisingly peaceful night. Disco Kid even swore he could hear Aran mumbling his name in his sleep; a far cry from his usual midnight invitations to fight.
"You want me to put the Sisters back on? You were pretty disappointed that you didn't get to find out if Rosemary won that contest or not."
Aran nodded. Disco Kid found the show, and was sure to lower the volume and turn closed captions on.
Eventually, it began troubling Disco Kid that Aran wasn't laughing. He just laid there, stone-faced, occasionally breaking to wince. Disco Kid tried to cheer him up by rubbing his bicep, and then did something he'd been too shy (or perhaps too afraid) to do before.
He kissed his cheek.
Aran went as pink as freshly-unwrapped bubble gum. Still, he smiled, and laid his head on Disco Kid's shoulder. And the next time Eleanor started up about her ex-husband, they both had a hearty belly laugh that garnered several sleepy groans and at least one holler of "Shut up!" from upstairs.