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Neil woke that morning with lead in his head and shivers down his body. So he did what most people would do. He got up anyway and went for his early morning run.
Sure he felt a little dizzy, and sure he was lightheaded, and sure he was insanely nauseous, but it really wasn’t that bad. He could still make it to practice today.
So he ran, and ran, and r-...Why were there black spots in his vision? The world was swaying a little dangerously, maybe he should head back-...
Darkness.
He woke up to his face in the pavement and a stinging throughout his body.
“Fuck…” He muttered, slowly pushing himself up. He assessed the damage. His hands were bleeding, along with his knees and elbows. They were skinned, but not badly. Not as bad as it could’ve been. He touched his face gingerly and winced as his fingers brushed his lip. His hand came away with more blood on it, so he assumed his lip was split. He felt his forehead and found there was a small gash there too.
“Fuck,” Neil repeated. Then he stood up quickly and went and threw up in the bushes.
By the time he made it back to his dorm, he was absolutely miserable. His head was throbbing, he ached all over, he was still nauseous, his stomach was cramping, and he was dizzy. He stumbled through the door and pretty much collapsed on the couch.
“Fuuuuuck…” He said for a third time, groaning in pain.
Footsteps entered the room, but Neil was too tired to open his eyes to see who it was. But then they stopped and stood there for a few seconds. Neil blinked his eyes open and looked up to find Andrew standing there with a dangerous look in his eye.
“Who.”
Neil sighed. “Me.”
Andrew’s eyebrows furrowed.
Neil clarified, “I passed out on my run.”
“Why.”
“I think I’m sick,” Neil was actually sure he was sick, but he hated speaking in absolutes.
“So, why did you go on a fucking run,” Andrew sounded almost exasperated.
Neil opened his mouth to respond, but Andrew cut him off. “Nevermind. Don’t answer that. Stay here.”
Andrew left the room in the direction of the bathroom, and Neil obediently stayed where he was, mostly because he felt if he stood up right now, he would pass out again.
Andrew returned with the first aid kit, a kit that Neil was very familiar with since he had moved into Andrew’s dorm. He sat still as Andrew treated his wounds and only interrupted him once with a mad dash for the bathroom to vomit once again, mostly dry heaving when he had nothing left in his stomach. He washed out his mouth with baking soda water and came back to the couch, and he just knew misery was written all over his face.
“I fucking hate throwing up,” He almost whined.
“I know,” Andrew said calmly, starting to work on the cut on Neil’s forehead.
“It’s the worst.”
“It is.”
“I hate it.”
“You’ve mentioned.”
Neil groaned. “This sucks.”
“It does.”
Neil sat in silence for the rest of the time it took Andrew to patch him up. When he was finished, he asked, “Do you think we could still make it for the second half of practice?”
Andrew looked at him like he was the dumbest person alive. “You’re not going to practice.”
“Why not? I’m not longer bleeding everywhere or throwing up and I don’t think I have a fever-”
“You haven’t thrown up in about ten minutes. You passed out on your run. And you would just get everyone else sick if you went. You’re staying here.” Andrew’s tone left no room for argument.
Neil argued anyway. “I’m probably not contagious.”
“And you know this with what medical degree?”
“What about you? Where’s your degree?” Neil shot back childishly.
Andrew only rolled his eyes. “Better safe than sorry.”
Neil huffed and crossed his arms. “Fine.”
– –
Andrew stayed back from practice with him the next few days, making sure he drank plenty of fluids and actually stayed on the couch and rested. Despite his frustration, Neil was grateful.
He was grateful when Andrew left him alone in the bathroom to vomit in peace, not trying to be there to rub his back or do anything else that would just make him wildly uncomfortable. He was grateful when he hadn’t thrown up for eight hours and Andrew made him a warm meal. He was starving. He was grateful when Andrew gave him pain meds for his pounding head and wounds. He was grateful when the others stayed out of the dorm room all day to give Neil space to heal without everyone checking up on him all the time.
He was grateful.
And when Neil finally stopped shivering and sweating and quite frankly being miserable, Andrew was there to sleep beside him in bed and protect his back. To make him stay back from practice just one more day. To help him heal fully.
And as horrible as it was being sick, Neil didn’t want to think about how awful it would’ve been to not have someone to take care of him.
He was infinitely thankful.