#geeziefic

[aller-geez]

I’ll Be Home For Christmas

What’s this? Geezie actually has a CHRISTMAS FIC written ON CHRISTMAS? This is unheard of 🤓

A little more than 4k words, Ofc it’s more Remi torture, based on this prompt~

***side note, the place mentioned that Remi is going back home to, (Anseyn), is part of the universe that I’ve been building for the past few months called Hiraeth, and I’ll eventually get around to posting more about it, but for now, that’s all you get 😬 pls enjoy, and happy Honda days 🖤🖤🖤

The call came on a dreary evening, the sky outside dim and gray as snowflakes drifted lazily to the ground. Remi was propped up in a too-small hotel bed, his long legs stretched awkwardly over the edge, and his head tilted against the lumpy pillow. His radioactively green eyes, normally sharp and bright, were dulled by exhaustion and fever. The tissues scattered around him, damp and crumpled, told the full story of his misery.

Levi’s concerned voice came through the phone. “Remi, I’m serious. You sound awful. Just stay there and rest, okay? I don’t want you making yourself worse trying to get back for Christmas.”

Remi sniffled thickly, his nose so clogged it made breathing a chore. His voice, hoarse and painfully congested, broke as he tried to argue. “I’b fide,” he croaked, though he clearly wasn’t. “I cad bake id. Id’s Christbas, Levi. I bissed you.”

“You don’t sound fine, Remi,” Levi said gently. “It’s a nine-hour flight. Then a layover. Then another four-hour flight. Then three hours of driving. Please, just—”

“I’m cobig,” Remi interrupted stubbornly, coughing harshly into the crook of his arm. It was a wet, rattling sound that made even him wince. “Dod’t try to talk be out of id. I’ll be hobe by Christmas.”

Levi sighed on the other end of the line. “Alright,” he relented, though his tone was laden with worry. “But promise me you’ll be careful. I’ll have everything ready for you when you get here.”

That night was restless.

Remi tossed and turned in the unfamiliar bed, trying desperately to find a position where his head didn’t throb and his sinuses didn’t feel like they were filled with cement. Every time he managed to drift off, his stuffy nose betrayed him, forcing out a loud snort or whistle that woke him with a start. His fever left him both shivering under the blankets and drenched in sweat, unable to get comfortable for more than a few minutes.

By the time his alarm blared at 4:30 a.m., signaling the start of his long journey home, Remi was already wide awake—if "awake" could describe his feverish, half-lucid state.

The airport was a blur of noise and fluorescent lights. Remi’s black shaggy hair was damp with sweat as he lugged his carry-on through security, his broad shoulders hunched as he fought the chills wracking his frame. His nose was an unrelenting source of misery, dripping constantly despite the tissues he clutched in one hand. He’d blown through half the box already and hadn’t even boarded his flight yet.

“Boarding for Flight 4287 to Anseyn,” the loudspeaker announced.

Remi shuffled toward the gate, ignoring the curious looks from other passengers as he sniffled and coughed his way onto the plane.

---

The first flight was unbearable.

Wedged into an economy-class seat with barely enough legroom for his tall frame, Remi could feel the pressure building in his sinuses almost as soon as the plane took off. His ears popped painfully, making his already aching head feel like it might explode.

He tried to sleep, leaning his head against the cold plastic of the window, but the cabin air was so dry that every inhale burned his throat. Whenever he did manage to doze off, he’d wake himself with stuffy snorts and gurgles, his congestion making his breathing impossibly loud.

“Hhh… Hdt’ISHHhh! hh—IhhTSSCHhh’iew! Hhh’TSSSHhhhuuuh!”

The sneezes came out of nowhere, loud and uncontrollable, and he barely managed to muffle them into his sleeve. He caught the wary glances of the passengers around him but was too miserable to care.

By the time they landed, nine hours later, Remi felt like he’d been hit by a truck. His chest had grown tight, a wet, rattling cough settling in, and the chills were worse than ever. He stumbled into the airport, his legs weak beneath him, and made his way to his connecting flight during a bleary, hour-long layover.

---

The second flight wasn’t much better.

Remi’s lap was overflowing with used tissues, his nose so stuffed and runny that it felt like a lost cause to try keeping up. The takeoff and landing made his sinuses throb, the pressure sending shooting pains through his head and ears.

“Hhh… hhh’IISHHhh! hh'IETSH’UE! HI’DTSCHIEW! Hh—IITSCHHH’iew!”

His sneezes were so wet and obvious that the passengers nearest him did their best to lean away, but Remi was too miserable to care about the judgment. He sniffled thickly, his glowing green eyes half-lidded and glassy as he tried, unsuccessfully, to fall asleep.

When the plane finally landed, Remi staggered into the terminal, his entire body aching. The dark winter sky outside mirrored how he felt inside: exhausted, freezing, and utterly drained.

---

The drive home was a nightmare.

The wind howled across the frozen parking lot, biting into Remi’s fevered skin as he shuffled toward his car. Each step felt heavy, his limbs aching as if he were wading through snowdrifts instead of walking across slick asphalt. His breath puffed visibly in the freezing air, mingling with the occasional wet, rattling cough that erupted from his chest. Each cough sent a sharp pain lancing through his ribs, making him wince and hunch forward.

By the time he reached the car, his nose was dripping uncontrollably, and his hands were trembling from the cold and his fever. He fumbled with his keys, nearly dropping them twice before managing to unlock the door and collapse into the driver’s seat. The cold leather sent a shiver racing up his spine, and he groaned as he adjusted his long legs awkwardly to fit into the cramped space.

Then, the tickle in his nose surged. His nostrils flared, his glowing green eyes fluttering shut as his breath hitched uncontrollably.

“Hhh… hh—IISSHhh! Hhh—IhhTSSCHhh’uhhh!”

The sneezes burst out of him with no time to reach for a tissue, spraying the steering wheel. He groaned hoarsely, grabbing a crumpled tissue from his coat pocket to mop up the mess. “This was a bad idea,” he muttered, his voice thick and congested, barely audible. His glowing eyes were dim and glassy, his entire body screaming at him to rest. But Christmas was waiting, and so was Levi.

---

The snowstorm made the roads a treacherous, winding labyrinth of ice and slush. The wind whipped against the car, rattling the windows and obscuring the already poor visibility. Remi gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white against the leather as he squinted through the flurry of snowflakes.

Every few minutes, his breath would hitch again, and he’d fumble for a tissue to catch another forceful sneeze.

“Hhh—IISSHhh’iew! Hhh’TSSCHhhhuuh!”

Each one made his head throb and his chest ache, leaving him gasping for air and sniffling miserably.

His body was so worn down that it took all his focus to stay awake. The heater blew weakly, barely cutting through the chill that seemed to seep into his very bones, and every cough rattled in his chest like loose gravel. His muscles ached, his hands shook, and the dull pounding behind his eyes made it hard to concentrate on the road ahead.

Remi’s exhaustion grew heavier with every mile. By the time he reached the halfway point, he knew he couldn’t keep going without stopping for a break. He spotted a small roadside diner up ahead and pulled into the empty parking lot, the tires skidding slightly on the icy pavement.

The moment he stepped out of the car, the bitter cold hit him like a slap to the face. His chest tightened immediately, and he doubled over with a harsh coughing fit, his breath coming in wheezing gasps.

“Hhh...hh—Hh'IISHH! -hd’ISCHhh!! -h’dtTISHh! snffhh! Hhh—IISSCHhh’uhhh!” Another sneeze fit ripped through him as he stumbled toward the diner, barely catching it in the crook of his arm. His nose was running nonstop, and his entire body shivered violently, the fever and cold conspiring to sap what little strength he had left.

Inside, the diner was dim and nearly empty, save for a single bored-looking waitress wiping down the counter. Remi ordered a large coffee, his voice so hoarse that the waitress leaned closer to hear him.

“Rough night, huh?�� she said sympathetically as she handed him his cup.

“Somethidg like thad,” Remi muttered, his glowing green eyes narrowing as he tried to ignore the tickle building in his nose again. He shuffled to a corner booth, blowing his nose loudly into a fresh tissue before collapsing into the seat.

The coffee was hot and bitter, and while it didn’t do much for his sinuses or the throbbing in his head, it gave him enough energy to keep moving. After a few minutes, he dragged himself back to the car, his shivers worsening as the freezing air clung to his damp clothes.

---

The second half of the drive was even worse.

The snow had picked up, falling in heavy sheets that made it almost impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. The car heater was working overtime, blasting lukewarm air that left Remi feeling alternately sweaty and chilled to the bone.

“Hhh… hh—Hihh’ISSHh! ihH’ktdSHhh!!! hhEhh-! HhEHh’IITShh’IIEW! hiiih’ISHHHh—uhH!! HAHH’IKKTsh—uhh!”

Remi’s sneezes grew wetter and harsher, his tissues quickly piling up in the passenger seat. He could barely keep his glowing green eyes open, the exhaustion dragging at him like a physical weight. The coffee he’d had earlier was wearing off, and his head lolled forward a few times before he snapped upright, shaking his head in an attempt to clear the fog.

“I cad do this,” he muttered to himself, his voice little more than a hoarse rasp. “Jusd a little… snnnRRFKKK!... a little farther.”

But as the miles dragged on, the storm grew worse, and so did Remi’s symptoms. His chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, each breath rattling ominously. The chills that wracked his body made it hard to keep his hands steady on the wheel, and the constant sneezing fits forced him to pull over twice more, each stop adding precious minutes to the already grueling trip.

---

By the time he finally pulled into Levi’s driveway, five hours after leaving the airport, Remi was a wreck. His head throbbed with every heartbeat, his nose was so red and raw that even the tissues felt like sandpaper, and his entire body ached as if he’d been dragged through the snowstorm himself.

He slumped against the steering wheel for a moment, too drained to move. But then the front door flew open, and Levi came rushing out into the snow, his freckled face alight with concern.

“Remi!”

The sight of Levi gave him just enough strength to sit up, though his voice was little more than a croak. “Dodd ged doo glose,” he warned weakly, fumbling for another tissue. “Budd… berry grisdbas. I bissed you so budge.”

And as Levi wrapped his arms around him, ignoring his protests, Remi let out a shaky breath of relief. He was home.

“You idiot,” he murmured, his ice-blue eyes scanning his mate’s flushed, miserable face. “Come inside. You look like you’re about to collapse.”

---

Inside, Levi wasted no time.

The moment Remi shuffled through the door, his towering frame hunched and shivering, Levi was already moving. ��Bathroom. Shower. Now,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Remi groaned softly, the sound thick with exhaustion and congestion. “I’b fide—”

“You’re not fine,” Levi interrupted, slipping an arm around Remi’s waist to steady him as he swayed on his feet. “Shower. You’re freezing, and you need to get that fever down.”

With Levi’s help, Remi made it to the bathroom, his glowing green eyes glassy and distant. The warm air in the small room was a stark contrast to the bitter chill outside, and the moment Levi turned on the shower, steam began to rise, filling the space with a comforting heat.

“Clothes off,” Levi said gently, stepping out to give Remi a moment of privacy.

Remi moved slowly, his fingers trembling as he fumbled with his jacket and shirt. Each movement felt like a monumental effort, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. By the time he managed to strip off his damp clothes, his feverish skin was already slick with sweat. He stepped into the shower, the steaming water cascading over his broad shoulders, and let out a low, guttural sigh of relief.

The heat eased his shivers almost instantly, and for the first time in hours, his chest didn’t feel like it was constricted in a block of ice. The steam worked its way into his clogged sinuses, loosening the congestion just enough to allow for a few deep, shuddering breaths.

But he was so tired.

His head lolled forward, his forehead pressing lightly against the tiled shower wall as the water poured over him. His glowing green eyes fluttered shut, the flickering light dim and weak. He felt himself drifting, the haze of fever and exhaustion pulling him under, but a sudden, wet sneeze jolted him back to reality.

“Hhh… hh’IISHHhhuhh! Hh—IISSCHhh’iew!”

The sneezes bent him forward, his hands bracing against the wall for balance as the force wracked through his already-aching body. He groaned softly, his hoarse voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

Levi’s voice came from the other side of the door, gentle but insistent. “Remi? You okay in there?”

“Y-yeah,” Remi rasped, though his voice cracked under the strain.

Levi pushed the door open a crack, his freckled face peeking in. “Don’t fall asleep in the shower, okay? You’re scaring me...”

“Not sleepig,” Remi muttered, though his drooping eyelids said otherwise. He reached for the shampoo with shaky hands, managing to lather his hair before the motion left him winded.

Levi sighed softly, stepping fully into the room now and grabbing a towel. “Alright, big guy. That’s enough. Time to get you into bed.”

---

By the time Remi stumbled out of the bathroom, his black hair damp and dripping, Levi had transformed the bedroom into a cozy haven. The humidifier was running on high, filling the room with a soothing mist of eucalyptus-scented steam. On the nightstand sat a glass of water, a dose of cold medicine, and a fresh box of tissues.

“Here,” Levi said softly, guiding Remi to sit on the edge of the bed. He handed him the medicine, his freckled brow furrowing as he watched the wolf struggle to open the blister pack. “Let me.”

Remi surrendered the package without a fight, sniffling thickly as Levi popped out two pills and handed them over. He swallowed them with a sip of water, his broad shoulders slumping as he crawled under the blankets.

“By dose bages gross doises whedd I sleeb righd dow,” he warned weakly, his voice thick with congestion. His glowing green eyes were dim, barely visible beneath his heavy eyelids.

Levi smiled softly, brushing a hand through Remi’s damp hair. “I don’t care what you sound like,” he murmured. “I just want you to rest.”

Remi let out a faint hum of acknowledgment, already sinking into the pillows Levi had propped up to help him breathe.

The medicine and humidifier worked wonders.

Within minutes, Remi’s body relaxed, his breathing slowing into a rhythm of congested snores. His broad chest rose and fell unevenly, each inhale punctuated by soft whistles and gurgling sounds from his overworked nose. Occasionally, a wet, rattling cough would break through, his body shuddering with the effort before settling back into sleep.

Levi sat beside him, his hand moving gently through his mate’s hair in slow, soothing strokes. He didn’t mind the noises—if anything, the sound of Remi’s breathing was a comfort. He was finally resting, his body beginning to catch up on the sleep it had been so desperately craving.

“You’re home now,” Levi murmured softly, pressing a kiss to Remi’s temple. “Just rest, Acushla.”

He stayed by his side until his own icey-blue eyes grew heavy, his fingers still tangled in Remi’s hair as the room filled with the gentle hum of the humidifier and the soft, labored sounds of Remi’s breathing.

---

At 6 a.m., however, the peace was broken.

Levi stirred awake when he felt the heat radiating off Remi even through the layers of blankets. He shifted, blinking against the early morning light filtering through the curtains, and frowned turned toward their mate. Remi was pale, his shaggy black hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his glowing green eyes barely cracked open at the sound of Levi’s voice.

“Hey,” Levi murmured softly, shaking him gently by the shoulder. “Remi, wake up.” His freckled brow furrowed in concern as he pressed a hand to his forehead. The heat there was almost alarming.

Remi groaned weakly, his voice rough and nearly incomprehensible. “Wha’…?”

“You’re burning up,” Levi said, his voice tight with worry as he reached for the thermometer on the nightstand. He slipped it under Remi’s tongue, brushing a damp strand of hair away from his flushed face as he waited for the result.

When the thermometer beeped, Levi glanced down at the reading and frowned deeply. “106,” he muttered, shaking their head. “You’re not going anywhere today. No arguments.”

Remi shifted weakly against the pillows, his brow furrowing in faint protest. “B-buhh… I dod’t—”

“No,” Levi interrupted firmly, cutting him off with a soft kiss to his fever-warm temple. “You’re spending Christmas in bed, big guy. Biziil, Connie, and Meeko will understand. I know you wanted to be there, but right now, the only thing that matters is you getting better.”

Remi let out a soft, defeated sigh, his glowing green eyes fluttering shut. “I’b sorry,” he mumbled hoarsely.

“Don’t be,” Levi murmured, smoothing a hand through his damp hair. “I’m just glad you’re here, Rem. Get some rest, Acushla. I’ll be back soon.”

---

When Levi returned later that morning, the house was quiet except for the gentle hum of the humidifier and the soft, labored sounds of Remi’s breathing.

Levi set down the bags of groceries they’d picked up after their brief visit to family and crept into the bedroom, their heart sinking at the sight of their mate. Remi was sprawled awkwardly against the pillows, his massive frame practically melting into the bed. His breathing was loud and uneven, each inhale a wet, congested whistle followed by a rattling exhale. A crumpled tissue was pressed to his face, and more were scattered across the blanket, evidence of his ongoing struggle with his cold.

Levi sighed softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Oh, Rem,” they murmured, brushing a hand through his messy hair. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Remi didn’t stir, too deeply entrenched in his feverish sleep to notice. His brow was furrowed slightly, as if even in rest he couldn’t escape his discomfort. Levi gently adjusted the blankets around him, tucking him in more securely before slipping into bed beside him.

The warmth radiating off Remi was immediate and startling, his fever like a furnace beneath the covers. It sent a pang of guilt through Levi’s chest, knowing his mate had pushed himself so hard just to get home. But despite that, they couldn’t stop themselves from wrapping their arms around him, pulling his sweaty, shivering frame close.

Remi stirred faintly at the touch, letting out a soft snort as his glowing green eyes cracked open just a sliver. “Nnnnn… l-Levi?” he mumbled, his voice barely more than a croak.

“Yeah, I’m here, Rem,” Levi said softly, stroking his hair. “I got you.”

The tension in Remi’s body eased at their words, his head lolling weakly onto Levi’s shoulder. His breath came in loud, wheezy gasps, each exhale rattling painfully in his chest. “I’b sorry… he croaked, his voice breaking as he sighed in defeat. “That this is how you have to spedd adother grissbas…”

Levi shook his head, his freckled nose scrunching slightly as he placed a gentle kiss to Remi’s damp temple. “Hey, shut up,” He murmured affectionately. “I’ll spend every Christmas like this if it means spending it with you, Acushla. Just get better, okay? We can worry about the other stuff later.”

Remi nodded weakly, his eyelids fluttering closed again as he relaxed into Levi’s embrace.

“Merry Christmas, Acushla,” Levi whispered after a second, his voice heavy with love and worry.

“Hhh… b-behhh- hehhh- Hd’IZTSsHHhhh’ih!”

Remi barely had time to bury his face in the blanket before another harsh sneeze tore through him, his whole body shuddering with the force. He sniffled wetly, wiping at his nose with the corner of the blanket before collapsing back against the pillows with a heavy sigh.

“Berry Gristbas, kitted,” he mumbled weakly, his voice nasally and clipped with congestion.

Levi smiled softly, his hand still stroking through his hair as he whispered, “Bless you, Rem. Rest now. I’ve got you.”

And as the humidifier hummed quietly in the background, Levi stayed by his side, determined to nurse him through this miserable Christmas—and every one after.

[aller-geez]

A Hehh— Head-On Approach

A minific (>2k words)

Written & Illustrated by: allergeez

Another Remi snz fic (oooh, big surprise, right? 🤡) Only >2k words, but trying to get past my writers block with something easy~ Loooooooots of snz, some description of mess but nothing super explicit. Based off of @hhhyacinthgreen ‘s suuuuper old snzario prompt that can be found hereee~ Pls enjoy 😇😇

“Hh—! ….. SNxxxgff!”

A low, familiar growl of frustration filled the otherwise still, crisp autumn air before a gruff hand slammed the heavy wooden front door of their cabin open with a jarring bang. Remi’s large body shoved through the doorway less than gracefully and he was wrapped in a thick coat, a fleece scarf wrapped around his neck and hanging loosely from his broad shoulders. His piercing green eyes had dulled just slightly, and his sharp nose had already begun to take on an angry, pink hue. Behind the characteristic scowl, the exhaustion was readable clear as day across his features as he stormed into the otherwise quiet house. As soon as it came into view, the wolf carelessly tossed his worn black backpack on the couch and more or less stumbled back towards the back bedroom which he shared with his mate.

Levi, who had taken a trip with Draeko, was due back in another hour or so, and until then, the house was eerily quiet, at least momentarily.

As the large canine clumsily made his way through the bedroom doorway, he stretched his nostrils back and forth, attempting to will away the maddeningly persistent tickle that had lodged itself within his sinus cavity all damn day.

Remi stumbled into the bedroom with a huff, his boots thudding heavily against the wooden floor. He made a beeline for the bed, plopping down on the edge and leaning back onto his hands with a groan. The constant pressure behind his nose and forehead had been driving him insane all day, and he was ready to just lie down and try to sleep it off.

“SNnxxxgtff!” Remington attempted another unproductive, waterlogged sniffle that did nothing but ignite the tickle from the tip of his nose, snaking down into his raw sinuses. Frantically, the wolf scrubbed at the sensitive appendage with his palm as his breath hitched desperately, despite his attempts to stave off the inevitable.

“Shit—” he muttered under his breath, knowing it was too late. The sneeze barreled through him with unexpected force and volume, echoing loudly off the walls of their small bedroom. “HI’DTSCHIEW!” His broad shoulders shook as he fought to contain the onslaught of sneezes that followed in quick succession. “Hh'IISHH! —hd’ISCHhh!! —h’dtTISHh! —hhh’ISCHih!….ghuhhh..”

“Mby fukgigg god…” he grumbled finally, wiping at his leaking nose with a frustrated growl. He could feel a headache building behind his sinuses and he rubbed at them with increasing agitation.

However, for the first moment all day, he could breathe. And he couldn’t deny how good it felt to just sneeze freely after holding them back all day.

Remi’s green eyes narrowed slightly at the tissue box on Levi’s side of the bed as an idea rang off in his head.

—what if he tried to sneeze out the cold that was most definitely slowly setting into his body? Just to get it over with, y’know? He was alone for now, and what was the worst that could happen?

With a soft, soupy sniffle, the wolf snatched a tissue from the box that sat next to the bed on the nightstand and rolled the corner into a point between his fingers.

With a shaky inhale, he raised it to his reddened nostrils that already seemed to quiver in fear away from the tool, and inserted it slowly into the entrance of the right one.

As soon as the tip of the tissue grazed the raw, sensitive walls of his nasal passages, his breath hitched desperately, his tongue sliding to rest just behind his bottom row of teeth as his jaw fell slack. It didn’t take much wriggling of the tissue before the tickle bloomed into an overwhelming sensation and another loud, unrestrained sneeze came tumbling out.

“Hd’IZTSsHHhhh’ih!” The sneeze bent him in half from the force, and a long string of mucus connected the tissue to his nostril that still trembled from the overwhelming buzz. But— pressure behind his eyes had decreased significantly, and he could at least move air through his right nostril.

Remi gritted his teeth and felt the cool air rush into his head, washing over the intricate maze of his nasal passages, making him shiver. But it also felt so good to finally breathe without the oppressive weight of the congestion bearing down on him.

Sniffling again with determination, Remi drug the back of his hand across his leaking nose before crumpling the old tissue that was beyond soaked after just one, tossing it to the side. The wolf grabbed a fresh tissue from the box, twisted it to a point between his fingers again and this time inserted the tip into his left nostril.

The intense sensation took him off guard, causing him to cough a few times, but instantly his eyelashes began to flutter over his cheeks as his eyebrows knit together on his forehead.

With a sharp intake of breath, Remi snapped forward again.

“Hh-Huh-haaahh...Hdt’ISCHHh’ih!," he grunted, trying to work up the courage for another sneeze while keeping the tissue in place. His nostrils flared open wider and wider, sucking in more air as he held it there.

He couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of mess he looked like now - all scrunched up on his side, sweat beading on his brow as he tried to will away this insufferable cold.

Without much warning, another round of sneezes rumbled through him like thunder in the distance, shaking the bed beneath him. "Hh'ISCHHHh! —hhEhh-! HhEHh’IITShh’IIEW!! —ihH’ktdSHhh!!!”

Remi breathed heavily as he recovered from the latest round of sneezes, his whole body shuddering.

He wasted no time in snatching up a new tissue once he had soaked his previous one and rolling it to a sharp point like the others, finally starting to feel some relief behind his building congestion. Reinserting it into the quivering raw passageway, he could feel it starting to tickle and burn, like someone had lit a match within the tip of his nose.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to plunge the tissue deeper into his pinkened nostril, feeling it scrape against the sensitive lining and causing his breath to catch within his throat instantly. With trembling fingers, he held it there—his whole body trembling now as he waited for the inevitable release. Just a few more seconds...

“Hhh—! … hHeHH—! ighEHhh—! hh—hEhTXSSHhh’ih! hh'IETSH’UE! Hh—! HI’DTSCHIEW! heh’iTTSHH’iEW! ihh- Hihh—! ih’TTSSHH’UE!”

His eyes squeezed shut under his wrinkled forehead as his head reeled, and he could feel the wetness of his cheeks against his closed lids. He took a deep breath to steady himself, snatching another few tissues from the box and tenting them over his nose before he filled them with a thick gurgle.

As he lowered the soggy mass from his face, he gave a testing sniffle, that much to his surprise, was completely clear of congestion.

His nose was definitely still buzzing, but that same soupy, wet cement feeling that was once packed into his head had disappeared, leaving the wolf with a triumphant smirk on his face.

Remi - 1, Cold - 0.

Just as he began to collect the soggy tissues that decorated the bed, he heard the front door gently click open, followed by the weary sigh of his mate as the feline began to set down his bags.

The raven haired man quickly disposed of the evidence into the bedside trash can before rising to his feet.

“Kitten?” He called out, the lack of congestion in his voice rounding out his consonants only furthering the confidence in the smirk drawn across his lips.

The wolf went about his night as usual, talking with Levi about his trip and and finishing the night with a lighthearted movie before they both crawled into bed and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The next morning, Remi woke up feeling even worse. His nose was clogged, his head pounded, and his body ached as if he'd been hit by a truck. He felt like he could barely move. The sheets were tangled around him, and his mouth was dry as the desert. As he lay in bed, the sun streamed through his window, warming his skin but not quite enough to dispel the chill that seemed to seep into his bones. He knew he should get up, but the thought of moving just made him want to curl up tighter under the covers and disappear. So instead, he stayed put, trying to will away the cold that seemed to be taking over his body.

“Hh— Hehh—! hhEhh-! HhEHh’IITShh’iiEW! Hihh’ISSHh! ihH’ktdSHhh!!! HEHH—! IH’tSSH!” He sneezed loudly, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. It felt like a bomb going off inside his head, followed by an explosion of thick goop dripping down his philtrum.

Ugh, this cold was already no joke.

With a groan, he pulled himself up to sit against the headboard and took a sip of water from the glass on his nightstand. It tasted cool and refreshing against his parched tongue but did little to quench the thirst that seemed to linger deep within him. He reached for another tissue from its box on the table and blew his nose, wincing as it scraped against the raw lining of his nostrils.

Okay…

— Maybe his calculations yesterday were a little off…

Maybe it wasn’t Remi - 1 , Cold - 0 after all…

[aller-geez]

Sneeze The Day!

Vaelyn’s pilot fic 🖤

A platonic snz/sickfic ❤️

For the anon who is already excited for Vee content 🖤 here’s nearly 5k words, set before the venue fire that Vaelyn accidentally caused while he’s part of Rexar’s band, Toad Biscuit, which caused him to go into hiding, and this is before rexar and Remi got close. For more context, please view Vee’s backstory here, or just enjoy the fic without context 🖤

The tour bus jolted lightly over a pothole, causing the stack of crumpled tissues on the edge of Vaelyn's bunk to slide off onto the floor. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, feeling the steady throb of congestion hammering behind his eyes. The small, enclosed space was suffocating, not from the size but from the pounding ache in his skull and the relentless itch that refused to leave his nose alone.

"Vee, you okay over there?" Rexar's voice cut through the low hum of the bus engine, his usual teasing tone laced with genuine concern.

"I'm fine," Vee replied hoarsely, his voice cracking in betrayal. A fiery scratch clawed at his throat with every syllable. He sniffled wetly, swiping at his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Just—" His words hitched mid-sentence, and his breath caught. "Hihh-hhh!—"

Rexar barely had time to look up from tuning his guitar before Vee snapped forward, sneezes erupting from him in rapid succession.

"Eh'ishh!-ishh!-ISHH!-…….. hhHIEESHHuh!"

The force of the fit bent him nearly in half, the final sneeze roaring out of him with a volume that made even Kriia, who was organizing the merch table in the back, poke her head around the corner with a raised eyebrow.

"Bless you," Rex said automatically, pausing to glance at Vee. His freckled face was creased with worry. "Damn, Vee. You sound like hell."

"Thanks for the observation," Vee muttered, grabbing a tissue from the crumpled pile next to him and blowing his nose. The sound was gurgling and wet, doing little to relieve the overwhelming congestion. He slumped back against the wall of his bunk, his blue eyes bloodshot and watering, framed by a puffiness that only made his misery more evident.

"Seriously, dude," Kriia chimed in, moving closer with her arms crossed. "You should sit tonight out. You’re barely upright, let alone stage-ready."

Vee bristled at her suggestion, his pride flaring despite his sorry state. "I'm not sitting out," he snapped, though his voice cracked again, undermining his attempt at defiance. "This is the last stretch of the tour. I'm not letting another damn cold bench me."

Rexar raised his eyebrows, leaning back in his chair. "No one’s gonna think less of you, man. Well, maybe you will, but the rest of us have seen you push through enough. You’ve got nothing to prove."

Vee didn’t reply immediately, instead grabbing another tissue and burying his nose in it for a moment, massaging furiously at his inflamed nostrils. Despite his efforts, his breath hitched again, his body tensing.

"Hh’EISHh!-ISCHh! !—ISCHh-isch! …….. Hh’iSSSHHHuhh!" His sneezes tore through the bus with such force that Rex instinctively held up a hand to shield his guitar.

Kriia sighed, shaking her head. "Okay, that’s it," she said firmly. "If you’re gonna be stubborn and play, at least let us help you. We’ll figure something out to make it easier."

"I'm fine," Vee grumbled again, but the pitiful rasp of his voice and the deep flush on his fevered cheeks said otherwise. Still, his determination was unshakable, and Kriia exchanged a resigned glance with Rexar.

Vee’s protests were half-hearted at best, and even he seemed to realize it. Every time he tried to straighten up and shake off the misery, another sneeze or a fit of coughing would drag him back down. His fingers trembled slightly as he fumbled to open his guitar case, the weight of the instrument feeling heavier than usual.

Kriia moved closer, watching him with quiet concern. “Vee,” she said gently, crouching next to him as he perched on the edge of the bus seat, “we’re serious. Let us help you. You don’t have to keep proving how tough you are. We already know.”

Rex, now sitting cross-legged on the floor tuning his guitar, chimed in with a teasing grin. “Yeah, dude, we get it. You’re the ultimate badass. Now how about letting your body catch up with that ego of yours before it spontaneously combusts?”

Vee gave them both a side-eye glare, his lips twitching into the faintest ghost of a smirk. But before he could reply, his breath hitched sharply, and he instinctively turned to the side, pressing his wrist against his face.

“ISSHhuh! — Hdt’ISHh! —ISCHhh! — Isch! ish! ………. Hhh—hhHIESSHHhuhh!”

The sneezes were so forceful they nearly knocked him forward, his long hair swinging into his face with each convulsive motion. His guitar case wobbled precariously on the bench next to him as he leaned forward, gasping for air.

“Bless you,” Kriia murmured, her brow furrowing.

Rex winced as if the sneezes had been his own, strumming a chord absently before adding, “Man, if you sneeze any harder, your nose’s gonna file for worker’s comp.”

Vee sniffled miserably, swiping at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Hilarious,” he rasped, though his usual venom was dulled by exhaustion. His voice cracked, and he winced, clutching at his throat.

Kriia reached out, resting a hand lightly on his knee. “You’re really not okay, are you?”

“I’ll live,” Vee muttered, though the congestion thickened his words into a near-whimper. “Just… let me get through tonight. I can’t—I won’t sit this one out.”

Kriia sighed deeply, her expression a mix of exasperation and affection. She stood, patting his shoulder lightly before glancing at Rexar, who was now silently watching his friend with a worried crease in his brow.

“Alright,” she said finally. “But we’re keeping an eye on you, Vee. The second you look like you’re about to pass out, I’m dragging your stubborn ass off that stage myself.”

“Good luck with that,” Vee muttered, though the corners of his lips curved upward in a faint, wry smile.

Rex chuckled, grabbing his own guitar case as he stood. “If she doesn’t, I will,” he said. “But hey, if you faceplant mid-song, I’m totally posting it on the band’s account.”

Vee scoffed weakly, though the sound melted into a wet sniffle. “Do it,” he challenged hoarsely. “Maybe it’ll go viral and sell some albums.”

“Always the optimist,” Rex said dryly, offering him a hand up.

Vee stared at it for a moment before reluctantly taking it, his movements sluggish as Rex hauled him to his feet. He swayed slightly, his tall frame trembling with the effort of staying upright, but he steadied himself against the wall of the bus. His chest heaved as he tried to take a deep breath, but the effort sent him into a harsh, barking cough that left him hunched over and gasping.

Kriia bit her lip, exchanging a look with Rexar. “Let’s just get through soundcheck,” she said softly.

Rex nodded, clapping Vee on the back as they made their way off the bus. “One step at a time, man. One step at a time.”

By the time they arrived at the venue, Vee was visibly worse. His usually confident stride was reduced to a sluggish shuffle, his shoulders hunched under the weight of his exhaustion. His guitar case dangled limply in his hand, and every few steps he would stop, gripping the edge of a nearby table or wall to steady himself.

"Maybe just... don’t die before we even get to the stage," Rex joked half-heartedly as they set up for soundcheck.

"Noted," Vee replied, his voice muffled as he turned away, his breath hitching once again.

"Hh—hhuhh! Hhh- I’mgonnasneezeagain—Hh'IESHHh! Hehh- IESHHh!! ISSHH! ISHhh! ……………… HhIESHHhuh! "

Each sneeze wracked his tall frame, bending him forward at the waist. He swayed slightly, blinking dazedly as he clutched his guitar for support.

"Bless you," Rex said again offhandedly, tuning his guitar without looking up. "You sure you’re not secretly auditioning for ‘World’s Loudest Sneezes?’ I think you’d win."

Vee managed a weak chuckle, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Ha... ha," he muttered, though there was no venom in his voice. If anything, he seemed too drained to muster up his usual sharp sarcasm.

The roar of the crowd vibrated through the walls of the venue, a pulsing wave of energy that usually gave Vaelyn a thrill. Tonight, though, it only added to the pounding in his head. He leaned against the side of the stage, his guitar slung over his back, the strap digging into his shoulder. His chest rose and fell with shallow, wheezy breaths as he tried to psych himself up.

"You got this," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the chaos. He sniffled wetly, his nose red and raw, the medical tape across its bridge looking almost neon against his flushed complexion. "Just a few songs. Then you can crash."

Rexar stepped up next to him, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You sure about this, man? You can still bow out. No shame in it."

Vee shook his head, his long, disheveled hair falling into his face. "I’m fine," he rasped, though his hoarse voice betrayed him. "Let’s just... let’s do this."

Rexar hesitated for a moment, studying his best friend’s pale, fevered face before giving him a small nod. "Alright. Just don’t push yourself too hard, okay? I’ll cover if you need me to."

With that, Rex stepped out onto the stage, greeted by deafening cheers from the audience. Vee followed a few steps behind, plastering on a faint, forced smile as he waved weakly to the crowd. The bright stage lights felt like daggers in his already pounding head, and he had to squint against their intensity.

The first song started, a fast-paced, heavy metal anthem that usually got the crowd hyped. Vee’s fingers moved over the strings of his guitar with practiced precision, but his movements were sluggish, his timing slightly off. His congested breathing echoed in his ears, drowning out the music.

He made it through the first song, but barely. His vision blurred at the edges, and he could feel the heat radiating off his own skin. He sniffled constantly, trying to keep the relentless drip from his nose under control, but it was a losing battle. By the second song, his sneezes returned with a vengeance.

"Eh-hh! eishh!-ishh!-ish!-’shh!... —ISSHHhew! HH—……HHEISSCHHuhhh!"

The fit bent him double, his guitar hanging limply at his side as he sneezed violently into his elbow. He barely managed to recover in time to join in on the next chorus.

The blaring lights and deafening roar of the crowd felt like a distant echo to Vaelyn, his fever-addled mind barely able to register the chaos around him. His knees buckled slightly as he fought to stay upright, his long fingers fumbling with the strings of his guitar. His grip faltered, and a discordant twang cut through the heavy bassline of the song. The crowd didn’t seem to notice, but the slip was enough to send a fresh wave of frustration washing over him.

By the fourth song, his vision blurred, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead and stinging his bloodshot eyes. His chest burned with every shallow breath, and his nose—raw, red, and swollen—itched relentlessly, taunting him with an impending sneeze he couldn’t hold back.

From across the stage, Rexar’s sharp grey-red eyes flicked toward him, narrowing in concern. Kriia, stationed at the merch table, bit her lip, her own purple eyes darting between Vee and Rexar as if silently urging him to do something. But before either of them could act, the fifth song began, and it was clear Vee had reached his limit.

The opening chords of the song had barely begun to resonate when Vee’s body betrayed him. His breath hitched violently, his nostrils flaring as his head tilted back in desperation. He gripped the strap of his guitar like a lifeline, his chest heaving with uncontrollable gasps.

“Hhh—HHhh—HHHIIISSSHHHHHHHhuhh!”

The first sneeze erupted with a ferocity that bent him forward at the waist, his messy, sweat-dampened hair obscuring his flushed face.

“Hhh-HHHHIIESSSCHHHHheww! HhhhIISSSCHHHhew!”

The second and third sneezes tore through him just as violently, leaving him staggering. His knees gave out briefly, and he barely caught himself on the edge of the drum riser. The strap of his guitar slipped from his shoulder, hanging limply at his side.

As the sneezes subsided, Vee’s body wasn’t done punishing him. A harsh, rattling cough clawed its way up his throat, his chest convulsing with the force of it. His breath came in short, wheezing gasps, and his eyes widened in panic as he clutched at his throat. The edges of his vision darkened, and the world tilted precariously around him.

Without a word, Vee turned and stumbled toward the back of the stage, his long legs nearly tangling in the amplifier cords. His guitar thudded against the stage floor, forgotten in his hasty retreat.

Kriia reacted instantly, abandoning her post at the table to follow him. Her boots clacked sharply against the stage as she darted after him, her red hair streaming behind her. Rexar glanced over his shoulder at the commotion, his freckled face creasing with worry, but he didn’t miss a beat. Grabbing his microphone, he launched into an impromptu solo, his raspy voice commanding the crowd’s attention while his fingers danced over the strings of his guitar.

Kriia found Vaelyn slumped against a wall backstage, his trembling hands clutching a wad of tissues to his raw, twitching nose. His face was a mess of feverish redness, and his drenched shirt clung to his heaving chest.

“Vee,” she called softly, kneeling beside him. “That was incredible! Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer at first, his head tilted back against the wall as he gasped for breath. Finally, his tired, watery blue eyes flicked toward her, and he managed a hoarse, congested laugh. “Y-you... dod’t h-have to... lie...” His voice cracked painfully, his words interrupted by another hitching gasp.

Kriia frowned, reaching out to brush his damp green hair away from his flushed face. “No one’s lying, Vee. You’re sick as hell, and no one expects you to kill yourself over a show. You should’ve stayed on the bus.”

He shook his head weakly, his fingers tightening around the tissues. “C-could’t... d-do it. T-two tours... I’b dot...”

“Not weak,” Kriia finished firmly. “You’re a shifter…. And I’m not LION…..,” she added with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Another coughing fit seized him, and she rubbed his back gently until it passed. “Come on,” she said finally, standing and offering him her hand. “Let’s get you back to the bus. Rex can handle the rest of the show.”

Vaelyn hesitated, his pride warring with his exhaustion. But as another coughing fit wracked his body, leaving him slumped against the wall and gasping, he finally nodded. “F-fide...” he croaked, accepting her hand.

Kriia slung his arm over her shoulders, supporting his taller frame as they made their way out of the venue.

As Kriia guided Vaelyn toward the venue doors, her arm bracing his trembling frame, a sudden spotlight snapped on, bathing them both in its harsh glow. The roar of the crowd dulled Vaelyn’s sluggish senses, his feverish mind unable to comprehend why they had been caught in the spotlight.

"Alright, folks," Rexar’s familiar voice boomed over the microphone, steady and commanding. Though his tone remained light, there was an unmistakable sincerity in his words. "Vee’s gotta check out early tonight. He’s not feeling great, but he powered through as much as he could for you guys. Let’s give it up for him, huh?"

The crowd erupted in cheers so loud it felt like the building itself shook. Claps, whistles, and shouts of encouragement filled the air, merging into an overwhelming cacophony of support.

"Feel better, Vee!" someone yelled from deep within the crowd.

Vaelyn froze mid-step, his fever-ridden body stiffening as his head turned toward the stage in disbelief. His bloodshot, watery eyes blinked rapidly, his flushed face lit with a mixture of shock and confusion. The weight of the noise pressed against his muddled thoughts, and for a moment, he could only stand there, trembling as he tried to process what he was hearing.

The crowd wasn’t angry. They weren’t disappointed. They were cheering for him.

Kriia paused beside him, her hand resting gently on his back, sensing the emotional storm brewing beneath his exhausted exterior.

Vaelyn’s gaze swept the mass of faces, each one lit with excitement and genuine care. He was used to applause. He was used to being seen on stage, larger than life. But this—this was different. The cheers weren’t for the music. They were for him.

Something caught in his throat, and it wasn’t congestion this time. His chest tightened, and for a fleeting second, he thought he might break down entirely. But instead, he straightened as much as his trembling legs would allow, his lips parting in a hoarse, breathy rasp.

"Love you guys," he managed to croak, the words scratchy and barely audible but filled with raw gratitude. He brought both hands up in a shaky peace sign, pausing to his fingertips before throwing the gesture toward the crowd.

The cheers grew louder, the sound swelling like a tidal wave, and for a brief moment, Vaelyn felt the oppressive weight of his illness lift.

As he turned back toward the exit, his steps were still heavy, but his spirit was lighter. The warmth of the crowd’s support lingered in his chest, a reminder that even in his weakest moments, he wasn’t truly alone.

Kriia glanced at him with a small, knowing smile, nudging him lightly with her elbow. "Told you they love you," she teased softly, her voice cutting through the lingering roar of applause.

Vaelyn chuckled weakly, his voice little more than a raspy whisper. "Yeah... guess so."

And with that, he pushed open the venue doors, stepping out into the cool night air. Behind him, the sound of the crowd’s adoration continued to echo in his ears, a balm to the rawness of the night.

The night air hit Vaelyn like a wall, cool and crisp against his feverish skin. His breath fogged in the chill, and for a moment, he paused at the bottom of the tour bus steps, steadying himself. His head still spun from the combination of the fever, the sneezing fits, and the overwhelming moment on stage. Kriia stood beside him, her shadowy presence calm and supportive, as always.

“Need help getting in?” she asked softly, her voice laced with concern.

Vee shook his head, swaying slightly as he gripped the railing. “I’b good,” he rasped, though his congested voice betrayed his bravado. Slowly, he climbed the steps, each one feeling like a mountain under his unsteady legs.

Once inside, the familiar warmth and dim lighting of the bus greeted him, though the space felt like it was spinning. Vee stumbled toward the small kitchenette, gripping the edge of the counter to steady himself.

Kriia followed closely, watching him carefully. “Sit down before you fall,” she said, her tone firm but kind.

Vee sighed heavily, dragging himself to the couch and collapsing onto it with a groan. His long legs stretched out awkwardly, his hair sticking to his damp forehead. He sniffled miserably, scrubbing at his red, irritated nose with the back of his hand.

Kriia disappeared for a moment and returned with a cold bottle of water and a small towel. She handed him the bottle and draped the towel over his shoulders. “You’re a mess, Vee.”

“Thadks for the vote of codfidence,” he muttered, cracking the bottle open and taking a small sip. His throat burned with the effort, and he winced, swallowing slowly.

For a while, Kriia sat next to Vee in silence, her presence steady and grounding. The gentle hum of the bus engine and the faint vibrations of the road beneath them created a sense of calm that seemed to ease some of the tension in the air. Vee sniffled quietly, tugging at the edge of his hoodie sleeve and staring blankly at the fabric bunched in his hands.

“You know,” Kriia began softly, breaking the silence, “it’s okay to let yourself be taken care of sometimes. Doesn’t make you any less of a badass.”

Vee huffed a weak laugh, though it quickly devolved into a wet, rattling cough. He doubled over slightly, his shoulders trembling as he struggled to catch his breath. Kriia instinctively rubbed small circles on his back, waiting patiently until the fit subsided.

When he finally straightened up, his face was flushed and glistening with fever sweat. He scrubbed at his nose with a crumpled tissue, his breath still uneven. “You beed readigg self-help books or sobethigg?” he muttered, his voice thick with congestion but laced with his usual dry humor.

Kriia smirked, leaning back against the seat. “Nah, just good at reading people,” she teased. “And right now, you’re screaming, ‘I need soup and a blanket.’”

Vee snorted weakly, though the sound caught in his throat, triggering another round of coughing. He waved her off with a shaky hand, gesturing toward the small kitchenette at the front of the bus. “I’ll… get it myself,” he rasped.

“You’ll sit your ass right here,” Kriia countered firmly, standing and heading toward the kitchenette. “Let me guess: chicken noodle or… chicken noodle?”

“Dealer’s choice,” Vee replied, his voice barely audible. He leaned back against the couch, his head tipping to the side as his eyes drifted shut.

By the time Kriia returned with a steaming mug of soup, Vee’s breathing had evened out slightly, though his chest still rose and fell with a faint wheeze. She nudged his shoulder gently, coaxing him to sit up.

“Drink,” she instructed, holding the mug out to him.

Vee blinked at her groggily before taking the mug with both hands. The warmth seeped into his chilled fingers, and he sighed softly as he took a tentative sip.

“Thadks,” he murmured after a few moments, his voice low and genuine.

“Don’t mention it,” Kriia said lightly, settling back into her seat. She watched him quietly for a moment before adding, “You’re lucky to have people who care about you, you know. Fans included.”

Vee’s gaze flicked toward her, his blue eyes glassy with fever. He looked like he wanted to argue, but the memory of the cheering fans replayed in his mind. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah… guess they’re alright,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

The hum of the bus engine became a soothing backdrop as the night wore on. Rexar returned after finishing the show, his presence filling the bus with warmth and easy energy. He dropped his guitar case by the door and headed straight for Vee, his sharp grey-and-red eyes scanning him critically.

“You look like hell,” Rexar said, sitting on the edge of the couch.

“Feel like it too,” Vee admitted, leaning his head back with a sigh.

Rexar reached over, ruffling Vee’s disheveled hair. “You did good, though. Pushed through, even if you shouldn’t have. You’re stubborn as hell, but I respect it.”

Vee let out a weak laugh, coughing slightly as he did. “Guess I cad’t let you have all the glory, huh?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Rexar replied with a grin. “Now, get some rest. We’ve got two more shows, and if you’re still like this tomorrow, I’m chaining you to your bunk.”

Kriia chuckled from her spot nearby. “You should listen to him, Vee. You should know Rex doesn’t joke about stuff like that.”

Vee rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He was too exhausted to put up much of a fight. “Yeah, yeah. Go play babysitter sobewhere else,” he muttered, though there was no real venom in his tone.

Hours later, the tour bus was steeped in silence, the only sounds the low hum of the engine and the occasional creak of its frame as it rolled along the highway. Most of the band had long since retreated to their bunks, leaving Vaelyn stretched out alone on the couch. The faint glow of the TV flickered across his flushed face, his hair falling messily over his damp forehead.

A battered box of tissues rested precariously on his chest, threatening to tumble with every shallow breath. Beside him, a half-empty bottle of water leaned against the floor, condensation pooling around its base.

Though his sneezes had slowed, the relentless tickle in his nose refused to grant him peace. He sniffled softly, his raw, swollen nostrils flaring as he tried to stave off the inevitable. For a fleeting moment, it seemed like he might finally drift off to sleep.

But then the telltale hitching breaths began again.

“Hhh… fugk.. hhh-HHhh—! ..godda.. sneeze!…. Eh-hh! EISHHh! —ISSHHh! ISHH!-ish!-’shh!... HH—……HH’EISSCHH’uhhh!”

The sneezes ripped through him, snapping his body forward like a coiled spring. The tissue box toppled to the floor with a dull thud as he pitched forward into the crook of his arm.

He groaned miserably, his head thumping back against the couch. His hand fumbled blindly for the fallen tissues, his movements sluggish from fever. When he finally grabbed a handful, he blew his nose with a loud, congested honk that echoed through the quiet bus.

“Bless you,” came Rexar’s low, groggy voice from the direction of the bunks.

Vaelyn jumped slightly, wincing as his sinuses protested the motion. He turned his head to see Rexar standing there, hair mussed from sleep, wearing a loose hoodie and flannel pajama pants.

“Thought you were asleep,” Vaelyn mumbled, his voice thick and gravelly.

Rexar chuckled softly, ambling over to the couch and sitting down on the opposite end. “Kinda hard to sleep when it sounds like you’re trying to sneeze the bus into a ditch.”

Vaelyn huffed a weak laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. “Sorry. My dose is such a draba queed and deeds to be … loud.” He punctuated the sentence with a sharp sniffle, dabbing at his nose with another tissue.

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Rexar said, his voice light. He leaned back, crossing one ankle over his knee. “You sound like hell, though.”

“Gee, Thadks,” Vaelyn muttered, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a smirk. “Y’dow, I feel like I’ve heard that a few tibes today.”

Rexar leaned forward, grabbing the water bottle and holding it out. “Drink. You’re gonna shrivel up if you don’t.”

Vaelyn eyed him for a moment before taking the bottle, his fingers brushing against Rexar’s. He took a sip, the cool water soothing his burning throat, before setting it back down.

“You dod’t have to babysit be, y’dow,” Vaelyn said, his voice quieter now, almost sheepish.

“Who said I’m babysitting?” Rexar shot back, his grin lopsided but warm. “I’m just making sure you don’t drown in your own snot. Plus, the couch looked comfier than my bunk tonight.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the only sound the soft murmur of the TV. Vaelyn’s breath hitched suddenly, and he scrambled to bury his face into his elbow just as another fit overtook him.

“Hhh—!! Fugk, i’b g-godda… Eh'ishh!-ishh!-ISHH!-shh!!……..Hh-HHEIISCHHhhew!”

Rexar handed him another tissue without a word, his expression amused but tinged with concern.

“Bless you,” Rexar finally said again, patting Vaelyn’s shoulder once the fit subsided.

“Thadks,” Vaelyn croaked, wiping at his nose. His head lolled back against the couch, exhaustion pulling at his features. “I’b such a bess.”

“Dude,” Rexar said, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. “You were practically dead on stage and still managed to give the crowd a hell of a show. That’s badass, not a mess.”

Vaelyn glanced at him, his fever-bright eyes softening slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rexar said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

For the first time all day, Vaelyn felt the tension in his chest ease. The memory of the crowd’s cheers and Rexar’s unwavering support lingered in his mind, soothing the ache in his body and spirit alike.

As his eyes fluttered closed, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thadks, Rex.”

“Anytime, man,” Rexar replied, his voice soft as he pulled a blanket over Vaelyn’s shoulders.

In the quiet glow of the TV, Vaelyn finally drifted off, his breathing evening out despite the sea of congestion threatening to flood his lungs.

[aller-geez]

Allergenic Nightmare

Written & illustrated by: allergeez~

A Vaelyn snzario written for @bendithiachi 🖤

A short (3.7k words~) snzario based off this post 🖤 set before the venue fire, Vee and Rexar make a heavy metal band called Toad Biscuit, and they’re playing at a venue that is notorious for setting off Vaelyn’s allergies… 😈

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, golden shadows over the charming town where Toad Biscuit was set to perform. The streets were alive with activity—couples meandered between colorful storefronts, and laughter spilled out from cozy cafes. A faint chill in the air hinted at the coming night, blending with the crisp scent of pine and woodsmoke that drifted from chimneys above the rustic buildings. It was the kind of picturesque setting that should have inspired excitement, but for Vaelyn, it did nothing to soothe his growing unease.

The Burning Bush loomed ahead, its weathered wooden sign creaking faintly in the breeze. The venue was beloved by the locals and known for its wild energy, but for Vaelyn, it was more of a personal hell. Memories of his last performance here flashed in his mind—hours spent battling relentless sneezing fits under the oppressive haze of dust and mold that seemed baked into the building itself. Even before stepping inside, his sinuses buzzed with phantom irritation, as if his body was already preparing for the onslaught.

The moment Vaelyn’s boots crossed the threshold, reality hit harder than his memories. The air was thick, oppressive, and stale, every breath carrying the unmistakable sting of allergens that clung to every surface. His sinuses reacted instantly, a sharp, stinging itch flaring up behind his nose and crawling up into his eyes. He gave a sharp sniff, the sound wet and irritated, before scrubbing at his twitching nose with the heel of his hand. It didn’t help. The burn in his throat deepened, and his breath hitched slightly as he suppressed the first signs of a sneeze.

He groaned softly, casting a side glance at Rexar as they made their way down the dimly lit hallways that led backstage. The corridor’s faded paint and scuffed floors seemed to mock him with their lack of care, much like the air itself. Every step stirred up invisible clouds of torment that Vaelyn could practically feel swirling around him.

“Already starting, huh?” Rexar smirked, his sharp grey-red eyes gleaming with amusement as he glanced at Vaelyn. His best friend was rubbing furiously at his nose, his shoulders tense as though bracing himself for the inevitable.

“Hate to say I told you so, but you did let this place back on the schedule,” Rexar added, the grin on his face unmistakably smug.

Vaelyn shot him a sharp glare, his blue eyes rimmed with red and watery from the irritation. “Yeah, thanks for the reminder, Captain Obvious,” he rasped, his voice already thick with congestion. “It’s not like I’ve been regretting it since the second I walked in.”

Rexar chuckled, the sound rumbling low in his chest. “Oh, this is gonna be fun to watch.”

Vaelyn huffed in annoyance, giving another forceful sniffle as the itch burrowed deeper into his sinuses. He was already regretting every decision that had led to this moment. The night was only just beginning, and he knew The Burning Bush wouldn’t let him off easy.

The backstage corridors twisted and turned in an almost endless labyrinth of scuffed walls and faded posters from concerts long past. The manager, a wiry man with a clipboard permanently attached to his hand, hurried ahead, ushering them toward the stage. His clipped instructions barely registered in Vaelyn’s ears, drowned out by the relentless battle raging in his sinuses.

Every breath Vaelyn took seemed to stir up a fresh assault of dust, each particle igniting the already fiery tickle deep in his nose. His nostrils flared wildly, the sensitive skin around them twitching as his breath began to hitch uncontrollably. His throat ached from the persistent, dry burn that had settled there since walking into the venue.

“Hh… hhh-HHhh—hahhh—” Vaelyn twisted away from Rexar just as the fit exploded. “Hhh—Eishh!-ishh!-ish!-’shh! …hehhHH! -EEISSHHuh!!”

The sneezes ripped through him in rapid, breathless bursts, his tall frame buckling under the sheer force. His guitar case dangled precariously from his grasp, while his free arm acted as a desperate shield against the onslaught. With each sneeze, the itch seemed to burrow deeper, like an unstoppable fire coursing through his sinuses.

Rexar, a few paces ahead, stopped to glance over his shoulder, his sharp grey-red eyes gleaming with amusement. “Bless you,” he said casually, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his lack of sympathy. “You know, maybe we should start billing this place for your allergy meds. Seems fair.”

“Funny,” Vaelyn croaked, his voice hoarse and strained as he fumbled for a tissue from his pocket. He swiped at his streaming nose, already raw and pink from the constant irritation. “Why don’t you go breathe in the walls and see how it feels?”

Rexar chuckled, shaking his head as they resumed their walk. Vaelyn trailed behind, sniffling wetly as his nose refused to cooperate. Each step seemed to stir up more of the venue’s allergens, keeping the maddening tickle alive and thriving.

As they approached the stage doors, Vaelyn felt the itch creeping back, teasing and relentless. His blue eyes were glassy and rimmed with red, and he blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the allergic tears pooling in the corners. His breath hitched again, the telltale prelude to another fit that he desperately tried to fight back.

“Man, you’re struggling already, and we haven’t even started soundcheck,” Rexar remarked, tossing a glance over his shoulder.

Vaelyn glared weakly, his face crumpling with irritation as the sneeze hovered on the edge, just out of reach. “This plahhh… place is a damn death trap,” he rasped, his voice breaking as the sneeze finally overwhelmed him. “Hh’EISSHHhh! ISSHHH! ISCHh! Ish! —Shh! —hhHh— …hehh’EESHHhhhuh!”

By the time they reached the backstage area, Vaelyn’s body felt drained, his sinuses raging like a storm. The low hum of the stage’s sound system filled the air as they passed through the last hallway, stepping into the controlled chaos of the pre-show setup. Kriia waved from the merch table, her usual calm energy an anchor amidst the bustle.

“Ready to get this over with?” Rexar asked, his smirk widening as he slung his guitar strap over his shoulder.

Vaelyn sniffled miserably, his hoodie sleeve pressed to his nose as he tried to compose himself. “Define ready,” he muttered, his voice muffled and dripping with sarcasm. The venue may have been alive with excitement, but Vaelyn could already feel the night spiraling into an allergenic nightmare.

The stage was alive with activity as crew members hustled to and fro, setting up lights and adjusting sound levels. Kriia stood to the side with her arms crossed, a satisfied grin tugging at her lips as she admired her neatly arranged merch table. Rows of Toad Biscuit shirts, vinyl records, and posters were perfectly aligned, ready to lure in fans the moment the doors opened.

Vaelyn, however, wasn’t basking in the pre-show buzz. His focus was locked on his guitar, but the burning itch deep in his sinuses made it nearly impossible to concentrate. He slung the strap over his shoulder, his long, deft fingers moving across the strings as he tested the tuning. The notes rang out cleanly, but his nose had other plans.

Hh-hhHhh—h-hang on,” he stammered, his voice breaking as his breath hitched violently. “G-godda sneeze—hh’EISHHhh!—ISSHhh!—ISCHHHh! ISHH! —ish! shh! sh! ……….. hhH’EISHHHhuhh!”

The sneezes burst from him like fireworks, wrenching his body forward and forcing him to catch himself on the mic stand as his guitar swung slightly against his chest. His blue eyes, already glassy from the relentless irritation, streamed with allergic tears as he wiped his face hastily with his sleeve. His nose, bright red and dripping, showed no signs of calming down. He barely had time to catch his breath before another itch flared to life, teasing him mercilessly.

“Bless you,” Rexar drawled, already holding his guitar in place and watching Vaelyn with an amused smirk. “If this is how you’re starting, we’re never getting through soundcheck… At this rate, we might as well cancel the show.”

Vaelyn shot him a glare, his voice gravelly as he retorted, “Why dod’t you play while I—hh-hhh-Hhh—ISSHHHhh!—deal with this?”

The congestion in his voice made Rexar smirk, but Vaelyn didn’t have the energy to fire off more sarcasm. Instead, he fished another tissue from his hoodie pocket, blowing his nose with a wet honk. It barely helped; his nose twitched incessantly, the stubborn itch burrowing deeper like it was mocking his attempts to clear it.

Soundcheck felt like an uphill battle. Every time Vaelyn tried to start a song, his breath would hitch halfway through, his focus completely obliterated by the maddening tickle crawling through his sinuses. He managed to play a few chords cleanly, only for the relentless sneezing to overtake him again.

“Hhh-hhh—Hh’ISSHHHhh!—hh-ISCHHh! ISCH! Ishh —ish!… sh! huhhh… hh-Hhh’ISSHHHhhhuhh!”

The force of the sneezes left him swaying slightly, and he pressed the back of his wrist against his nose, trying in vain to steady himself. His nose was bright red and raw from constant rubbing, and his hoodie sleeve was damp from wiping at his face between tissues.

“Think the mic stand’s about to give out from all your leaning,” Rexar teased, plucking a few random chords while Vaelyn glowered at him. “Maybe just get a bucket or something and let the sneezes play for you.”

Vaelyn groaned, his voice strained as he muttered, “Yeah, real fuddy, Rex. You’re—hh—so—hhHhh—ISSHHHuhh!—helpful.” He sniffled loudly, rubbing his knuckles against the underside of his nose in frustration.

Despite his misery, Vaelyn somehow managed to drag himself through the final minutes of soundcheck. It was a struggle every step of the way. His fingers, usually so deft and precise on the guitar strings, felt clumsy and heavy. The constant sneezing fits and the unrelenting tickle deep in his sinuses shattered his focus, leaving him distracted and increasingly frustrated. His nose was a raw, throbbing mess, the constant sniffling and wiping only making it worse. The itch behind his eyes never fully subsided, and his vision blurred with allergic tears that he kept swiping at with the edge of his sleeve.

Every time he fumbled a chord or missed a cue, Rexar didn’t miss the chance to pipe up with another quip. “You know, Vee, maybe we should market this as experimental sound design,” Rexar mused, plucking his strings with mock seriousness. “The art of sneeze-core. Bet the critics would eat it up.”

Vaelyn shot him a withering glare, though his puffy, red-rimmed eyes and streaming nose took all the bite out of it. “Why dod’t you go write that dowd, Rex?” he croaked hoarsely. “I’d hate for you to forget your dext brilliadt idea—hh-hhh!” His breath hitched violently, and his retort dissolved into yet another sneezing fit.

“Hhh’EISSHHhh! EISSHHH! hh-ISSHhh!—shhh! …hhHh’EISSHHhhuhh!”

The sneezes bent him double, his guitar strap tugging awkwardly at his shoulder as he braced himself against the mic stand for support. By the time the fit ended, he was left hunched over and panting, his chest rising and falling heavily. His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for another tissue, blowing his nose with a wet, miserable honk.

Rexar chuckled, shaking his head as he adjusted one of the dials on his amp. “Man, you sound like you’re auditioning for a jazz brass section with that nose. You sure you’re not dying?”

Vaelyn waved him off weakly, the tissue clutched in his hand as he straightened up. “I’b fide,” he muttered, though his strained voice and defeated posture said otherwise. He sniffled hard, the sound congested and wet, and turned his attention back to his guitar.

But even as he tried to finish the soundcheck, the constant interruptions from his body’s rebellion kept derailing him. His fingers would falter mid-chord as the ever-present itch teased him relentlessly, leaving him hovering on the edge of another fit. His playing grew sloppier, the irritation boiling under his skin, and it took everything he had not to fling his guitar aside in frustration.

By the time the last note of soundcheck rang out, Vaelyn felt completely wrung out. His head throbbed in rhythm with his pulse, and his nose showed no signs of calming down. All he wanted was a moment to breathe—both figuratively and literally—but the evening was just getting started. He leaned against the amp, scrubbing at his nose with the back of his hand as Rexar grinned at him from across the stage.

“Well, that was… something,” Rexar quipped, slinging his guitar over his shoulder. “Can’t wait to see what you bring to the main event, Sneezy.”

Vaelyn groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering under his breath. Tonight was going to be a long, long night.

The buzzing of the crowd outside reverberated through the walls of the venue as the hours before showtime ticked away. Vaelyn stood backstage, leaning against the cool concrete wall with his guitar resting beside him, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones. His sinuses were in full revolt—his nose a raw, irritated mess that refused to let up. Each breath felt shallow, as though the air had thickened in response to his allergies. He snuffled wetly, wishing he could just take a break from the constant irritation that gnawed at him from within.

His thoughts were cut off by Rexar, who strolled past with his usual swagger. “You gonna be able to make it through this show, or should I start writing up your obituary now?” he teased, flashing a smirk.

Vaelyn, already on edge and feeling like he was teetering on the brink of complete meltdown, gave him a look that could have melted steel. "Shut up, Rex," he rasped, though the congestion in his voice made it sound less like a statement and more like a plea. He scrubbed at his nose with the edge of his hoodie sleeve, only for the fabric to irritate his already-sensitive skin. The itch surged, his breath hitching as his body prepared for another round.

“Hh-hhHHh… Hh-! Hh’ISCHHh! EISHhh! H’ISHHhh! —ish! shh! —sh! ………………hh’EISHHhhhuhh!”

The sneezes hit like a freight train, each one bending him forward violently. His long hair fell into his face, and by the time the fit subsided, he was left blinking through watery eyes and panting for air. His guitar strap nearly slid off his shoulder, and Rexar had to steady him before he fell off the stool.

“Bless you,” Rexar said, his tone light but his expression edged with concern. “Seriously, Vee, you sure you can do this? You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

Vaelyn sniffled wetly and waved a hand dismissively. “I’b fide,” he muttered, though his red-rimmed eyes and the constant stream of tissues he kept stuffing into his pocket said otherwise. “Just… deed to ged through it.”

Kriia appeared at the edge of the stage, her purple eyes sweeping over Vaelyn with concern.

She had seen Vaelyn push himself past his limits countless times, but tonight, she could tell that he was barely hanging on. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder, offering silent support.

"Don’t go out there if you can’t do this, Vee."

But he was already shaking his head, his expression stubborn. "I’ll be fide,” he said, though his voice cracked with strain. He could feel the weight of his fatigue settling deeper with each passing minute. The soundcheck had already drained him, and he hadn’t even started performing yet. His nose twitched again, and he stifled a frustrated groan as the pressure built.

“Alright, then,” Kriia said softly, giving him a quick squeeze on the shoulder before heading off to get things ready. “But I’m keeping an eye on you.”

Left alone back stage, Vaelyn took a deep breath, ignoring the pounding headache that made every movement feel like a chore. He could hear the crowd outside now, their energy palpable even from backstage. The thrum of anticipation made his heart race, but his body screamed at him to rest. He didn’t have the luxury of doing that, though.

With one last, frustrated sniff, he straightened up and grabbed his guitar. It was time to face the crowd, allergies be damned.

The stage lights were blinding as Vaelyn stepped out, the roar of the crowd crashing over him like a wave. The energy in the room was electric, and despite his exhaustion, a small spark of adrenaline flickered to life in his chest. His guitar hung heavy across his shoulders, the strap digging into his sore muscles as he trudged toward his mic stand.

Rexar was already in full showman mode, greeting the audience with his signature swagger. "Let’s hear it for The Burning Bush, huh?" he shouted, his deep voice reverberating through the packed venue. The crowd responded with a deafening cheer, their enthusiasm infectious.

Vaelyn adjusted the mic stand with shaking hands, trying to appear nonchalant. His sinuses, however, had other plans. The burning itch that had been plaguing him all evening surged with a vengeance, and he barely had time to turn away from the mic before the sneezes erupted.

"Hhh—Hhhhh-! Hihhh—! Hh’ISCHHh! EISHhh! H’ISHHhh! —ish! shh! —sh! ………………hh’EISHHhhhuhh!!" The fit bent him at the waist, his long frame jerking forward with each sneeze. He clutched the neck of his guitar for balance, his other arm hastily shielding his face.

The sound, amplified slightly by his mic, drew a few surprised murmurs from the crowd. Rexar turned, raising an eyebrow as Vaelyn straightened up with a watery sniffle. “Bless you,” Rexar quipped into his mic, eliciting a ripple of laughter from the audience.

Vaelyn shot him a withering glare before stepping up to his mic. His voice, thick with congestion, cracked as he addressed the crowd. "Yeah, yeah. Real fuddy, Rex. Let’s just play."

The first chords of their opening song thundered through the venue, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Vaelyn forced himself to focus, his fingers flying over the strings with practiced precision. The familiar rhythm was a welcome distraction, even as his nose continued to twitch and run.

Midway through the second song, the relentless tickle returned, gnawing at the back of his sinuses like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch. His breath hitched audibly, and he stumbled over a chord, turning his head just in time to avoid sneezing directly into the mic.

"Hhh… ...hh’ESHHHhh! Hhh’ISSHHhh! ISHHhh! ...ish! ...SHh!—sh! ………��—hh’EISSHHHhew!"

The sneezes rattled through him, and he wiped at his nose with his wrist, glaring down at the floor as if it were to blame. The crowd, ever enthusiastic, didn’t seem to mind, cheering louder as Rexar took over the melody seamlessly.

Between songs, Kriia slipped onto the stage, pretending to adjust some cables near Vaelyn’s mic. She leaned in close, her voice low and urgent. "You don’t have to do this, Vee. You’re struggling."

"I said I’b fide," he croaked, his voice barely audible over the ringing in his ears.

Kriia hesitated, her gaze softening. "Just… let me know if it’s too much, okay?"

Vaelyn nodded curtly, his throat too raw to argue further. As Kriia disappeared back into the wings, he turned back to the crowd, forcing a smirk that he didn’t feel.

“This dext ode’s called ‘Obliviod’s Edge,’” he rasped into the mic, his voice cracking slightly. “Hope you’re ready for it!”

The audience roared in approval, and Vaelyn launched into the next song, determined to push through. Every note felt heavier than the last, but he clung to the music like a lifeline, even as his body screamed for relief.

As the set wore on, Vaelyn poured every ounce of energy he had left into his performance. His nose remained a constant, infuriating distraction, twitching and tingling as if the dust in the venue had a personal vendetta against him. His sniffling was almost as rhythmic as his guitar riffs, and every so often, he’d have to turn away from the mic to let out a rapid, desperate sneezing fit.

“Hh’iISSHHhh!! ISCHHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! —ish! …ish! ...sh! ……..…hh’ISSHHHuhhh!”

Each fit left him blinking back tears, his breath hitching as he fought to keep the maddening tickle at bay. The crowd, however, didn’t seem to notice—or if they did, they didn’t care. Their cheers were thunderous, and the sheer energy of their enthusiasm helped Vaelyn keep going, even as his body protested with every chord.

Rexar, ever the consummate showman, covered seamlessly whenever Vaelyn faltered. He threw in extra solos, bantered with the audience, and even made a few quips about Vaelyn’s predicament between songs, earning loud laughter from the crowd. Vaelyn responded with wry smiles and exaggerated eye rolls, wiping his nose on the cuff of his hoodie as if it were part of the act.

By the time they reached the final song, Vaelyn was running on pure adrenaline. His fingers moved instinctively over the strings, though his mind felt foggy and sluggish. When the last note rang out, the crowd erupted into deafening applause, their cheers shaking the very walls of the dusty venue.

Rexar stepped up to the mic, his grey-red eyes gleaming with mischief. “Alright, everyone, let’s give it up for Vee’s allergies, huh? Real MVP tonight!”

The room exploded with laughter and cheers, and Vaelyn threw his head back with a tired laugh, his cheeks flushed—partly from the exertion, partly from the relentless sneezing. “Thadks a lot, dickhead,” he rasped, his voice hoarse but warm as he turned to the crowd. “I love you guys. I swear, I’b better whed there isd’t so buch dust everywhere!”

The audience roared with approval, some fans shouting their love back at him, while others waved homemade signs in the air. Vee wiped his nose with a tissue for what felt like the millionth time, flashing the crowd a crooked grin. Despite his exhaustion and the torment his sinuses had endured, there was a lightness in his chest—a reminder of why he did this in the first place.

As the band bowed and left the stage, Vaelyn gave the crowd one last wave. His body was spent, his nose still running, and his head felt like it was packed with cotton, but their cheers followed him backstage, carrying him forward like a second wind. Even through the haze of misery, he couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. This was his life, chaotic and exhausting as it was, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Thank you for reading, and I hope this was what you were looking for, @bendithiachi ! 🖤

[aller-geez]

You ever draw a picture and it inspires a completely random 2k word ficlet that breaks your brain to imagine? Cause, same.

Exposure Therapy

(A 2k word Vee allergy ficlet~ it was supposed to be a Drabble 😭😭)

A preface:

Valentine’s Day is coming up, and it’ll be the second Valentine’s Day Vee and Kalypso have had while together. The first one wasn’t even 2 months after they started dating, so Vee had zero expectations. He thought he could get Kalypso some… idk, flowers? Some chocolates? A teddy bear? And things would be easy peasy..

Now, what he didn’t account for, was how much bouquets of flowers just sitting inside on the table irritated his allergies, or how much it would piss Kal off that they couldn’t even finish watching the movie she picked (aka heavily making out) because he kept having to duck into his elbow or shirt hem every few minutes with another one of his signature sneezing fits. After a particularly harsh sneeze caused the two to knock their foreheads together with a force that nearly knocked Kalypso out, the two got into a very heated argument and later on eventually they broke up for the first time. (They got back together 2 days later at a house show Toad Biscuit played at) She was a little sad that she had to throw away the bouquet of flowers, but did so to spare herself the headache (haha get it?)

So, if at all possible, Vee would rather NOT repeat the events of their first Valentine’s Day, so this year, he’s decided that he’s still going to get her flowers for Valentine’s Day, but he read an article somewhere online about “Allergy Desensitization” by exposing yourself to the allergen repetitively for an extended period of time would gradually lessen your allergic reaction, and he figured not only would it allow him to have a concussion-less Valentine’s Day this year, AND possibly lessen his inevitable spring time allergies that always drove him crazy every year, why not? And he already knew just where to go to attempt his allergy experiment. There was a shopping center a few blocks away that have these huge, fluffy pink trees that would WRECK his allergies. Even just thhh—inking.. about those feathhh- ehh—ery branches that almost look like smoke when the wind blows them too hard from the amount of pollen cast into the air made Vaelyn’s nostrils quiver in anticipation. If that plaza didn’t give him the exposure he needed, no where would.

It’s the 2nd week of January, so Vee figured that was plenty of time… He wasn’t going to see Kalypso today, so his plan was to head to the shopping center, with no allergy medicine, and survive for as long as possible until he has to tap out, and retreat back to the house to finish the day under a blanket in a dark room with tissues stuffed in his nose.

And to make matters worse, he got distracted on the way out talking to Rexar, telling him of his plan for the day and to leave him alone when he gets back cause he’ll be… occupied and completely forgot to even bring a single tissue… difficulty definitely increased.

Vaelyn Hawthorne had made a lot of questionable decisions in his life—joining a band called Toad Biscuit, attempting a backflip off a stage while holding his guitar, dating Kalypso again after their first of MANY spectacular breakup—but this? This might actually take the cake.

The plan was simple: expose himself to his biggest enemy (pollen) for an extended period of time, slowly build up his resistance, and emerge victorious, able to withstand an entire Valentine’s Day bouquet without turning into a sneezy, miserable disaster. A flawless plan, really. Genius, even.

Except now, standing in the middle of the shopping center, staring down the aggressively pink, feathery trees lining the plaza, Vaelyn was starting to regret every life choice that led him here.

The sheer amount of pollen drifting through the air made his breath hitch before he even stepped closer. His nostrils twitched in warning, his sinuses already staging a revolt, but he held his ground. He was here for a reason. He wasn’t about to let a couple of overgrown cotton candy-looking trees ruin his shot at a romantic, concussion-free Valentine’s Day.

Except—damn. It was already hitting him.

Vaelyn scrubbed a knuckle under his nose, sniffling sharply. “Okay,” he muttered to himself. “Mind over matter. You got this.”

He took a deep breath.

Big mistake.

The second the pollen-laced air flooded his nose, a violent shudder ran through his body. His breath hitched, and he barely had time to pivot away from the nearest café entrance before the sneezes overtook him.

“Hh-! Hh’ISCHHh! EISHhh! H’ISHHhh! —ish! shh! —sh! ………………hh’EISHHhhhuhh!”

Each one pitched him forward with increasing force, his whole body jerking like he was being electrocuted. He stumbled back against a lamppost, already lightheaded.

Great. Not even one minute in, and he was already dying.

Still sniffling, he patted his pockets out of habit, only to come up completely empty. Right. No tissues. He had specifically planned for this and still managed to forget the most important thing. All because he’d gotten distracted telling Rexar about his plan before leaving the house.

“Dude, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Rexar had been unimpressed.

“You’re gonna go stand in a pollen cloud for what? To impress Kal? Bro, she already likes you. Just don’t get her flowers...”

“It’s about the principle, man,” Vaelyn had argued, shoving on his boots. “Besides, think about how much easier my life will be if this actually works. No spring allergies, no sneezing my way through shows, and no more fights over me ruining our Valentine’s Day date.”

“More like no more oxygen. You’re literally gonna suffocate.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

And now, standing there with his nose running and his eyes burning, Vaelyn had to admit—Rexar might’ve had a point.

He sniffled miserably, already feeling his resolve starting to crumble. But no. He had two whole months until Valentine’s Day. He just had to make it through a little longer.

He straightened up, ignored the strange looks from the café patrons who had just witnessed his public sneezing meltdown, and stepped determinedly further into the plaza, directly under one of the biggest trees.

This was fine.

He could totally handle this.

Probably.

Vaelyn took another deep breath through his mouth, refusing to admit defeat just yet. Sure, he already felt like his skull was packed with cement, and sure, his nose was twitching like a live wire, but this was fine. He was fine.

The trees swayed gently in the breeze, and with them came another thick wave of pollen. His whole body tensed as the invisible storm settled over him, clinging to his clothes, his hair, his very soul. He could feel the microscopic allergens crawling into his sinuses, setting off a chain reaction he had no hope of stopping.

“hhehh… Hhhiihhh... Hh’ISCHHh! EISHhh! H’ISHHhh! —eishh!-ishh!-ish!-’shh!... ish! shh! —sh! ………..—hehh’HH-EESSSHHHhhuh!”

The sneezes exploded out of him one after the other, each one leaving him more breathless than the last. His body curled inward with the force, his hands fumbling uselessly at his face in a desperate attempt to stop the onslaught.

Oh, yeah. This was going great.

His legs wobbled, and he stumbled toward the nearest bench, plopping down unceremoniously. He blinked through watery eyes at the blurry figures passing by, some giving him concerned looks, others pointedly ignoring the disaster unfolding in real time.

“Hh’ISCHHh! —ish! shh! —sh! ……………… hh—huhhh—hh’EEIISSHHhh’uhh!”

The force of it nearly knocked him forward off the bench, and he barely caught himself on his knees, swaying slightly. His breath stuttered again, his oversensitive nose completely overwhelmed.

Shit. He was getting dizzy.

Still gasping, he fished his phone from his pocket, rubbing at his streaming eyes as he tried to focus. He hadn’t planned for this. He figured he’d last at least ten minutes before crumbling, but it had barely been four.

Squinting through the fog of misery, he hesitated before pulling up Rexar’s number.

He was not about to go home defeated, but if he passed out here, he was going to end up on someone’s livestream, and he refused to go viral like that.

With a deep, congested sniffle, he tapped the call button and braced himself for the inevitable I-told-you-so.

It only rang twice before Rexar picked up.

“Yo.”

Vaelyn tried to respond, but all that came out was a strangled, hitching breath.

“…Dude?” Rexar’s voice was laced with amusement. “You good?”

“EISHhh! H’ISHHhh!!” Vaelyn practically sneezed into the receiver, barely managing to pull the phone away in time.

There was a long pause. Then, a slow, incredulous chuckle.

“Oh, my god, you actually did it, didn’t you?”

Vaelyn groaned, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead. “D-dod’t,” he sniffled, voice a wreck. “Dod’t say shit.”

“Oh, I wasn’t gonna.” Rexar said, clearly grinning. “I was just gonna laugh.”

And then he did.

Loudly.

Vaelyn scowled, coughing into his sleeve before dragging himself upright. “Listed, asshole.” he rasped, dragging his sleeve under his nose with a miserable sniff. “I just… deed you to pick be up. That’s it. No cobbedtary.”

“You say that like I’m capable of not commenting,” Rexar snorted. “Where even are you?”

Vaelyn sniffled, tilting his head back against the bench. “Shuhhh—shoppi’g district. Dear that ode café. You dow, the ode that—hh’ihh… Hh’ISCHHh! EISHhh! H’ISHHhh! —has the good coffee.”

“Oh, you mean literally the worst place you could’ve gone?”

Vaelyn gritted his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Rex. Just cobe get be before I die.”

Another pause. Then, a dramatic sigh.

“Alright, fine. Try not to drown in your own snot before I get there.”

Vaelyn hung up before he could hear any more smugness in Rexar’s voice.

He let out a long, congested groan, scrubbing at his nose. So far, his brilliant plan was off to a phenomenal start.

At least Kalypso didn’t have to know about this part…

Vaelyn sat there, head tilted back against the bench, blinking blearily up at the hazy sky. The shopping center was still bustling around him, people milling about with their coffees and shopping bags, completely oblivious to the absolute hell he was currently experiencing. His nose twitched, breath shuddering as another sneeze built—again.

“HH’EISHHhh! ISCHHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! ...ish! ...sh!!”

His whole body jerked with the force, and fuck, he was so over this already.

With a groan, he sniffled thickly and dragged a hand down his face. His sinuses felt like they were packed with molten concrete, his eyes burned, and there was a distinct, itchy pressure blooming between his eyebrows that made his whole skull throb. Oh, yeah. This was a great idea.

He heard his name before he saw Rexar, the pyromancer’s voice laced with way too much amusement.

“Dude.”

Vaelyn cracked an eye open and groaned at the sight of him, arms crossed over his broad chest, a smug grin plastered across his face. Great. He was never going to live this down.

Rexar took one look at him—the pink-rimmed, watery eyes, the way he was curled in on himself like he was physically trying to retreat from the pollen-filled air—and just wheezed out a laugh.

“Holy shit, man,” Rexar shook his head, rubbing a hand down his face. “You look so bad.”

Vaelyn squinted up at him, already exhausted. “Fugk off,” he rasped, voice shredded from congestion and sneezing.

“Oh, I plan to,” Rexar snorted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Right after I take a picture.”

Vaelyn groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you love me,” Rexar grinned, but he was already digging his keys out of his pocket. “C’mon, sneezy, let’s get you outta here before you explode.”

Vaelyn didn’t even argue, just pushed himself off the bench with a sniffly sigh.

Then immediately stumbled.

Rexar caught him before he could completely faceplant, grip firm as he steadied him. “Whoa, easy there, champ.”

“’M fide,” Vaelyn muttered, waving him off and immediately regretting it when the movement sent his head spinning.

Rexar just raised an eyebrow. “Oh, totally,” he said dryly. “That’s why you’re walking like a newborn deer.”

Vaelyn flipped him off, but his hand was still a little shaky, which only made Rexar laugh harder.

By the time they made it to the car, Vaelyn was done. His nose was so red, his face felt swollen, and his breath was hitching helplessly before he could even buckle himself in.

“Hhh… hh-Hhh! HH’EISHHhh! ISCHhh! ISHHh! hh—ISHHh! ISCHHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! ...ish! ...sh! ……………. Hhh—EEISSHHhuhh!!”

“Jesus fuck,” Rexar muttered as he started the car. “Did you seriously think this would work?”

Vaelyn groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It had to be worth a shot.”

Rexar just shook his head, glancing over at him with a smirk. “Bro, you just turned yourself into a sneezy jackass in public for nothing.”

Vaelyn sighed, congested and utterly defeated. He was going to need, like, six allergy pills and maybe a mild coma to recover from this.

And the worst part?

Kalypso was definitely going to find out.

[aller-geez]

Fever Pitch (Sneeze The Day part 2)

Wow, when I started writing this, I didn’t anticipate to write 8.4k words… oops 😅 this fic is a follow up to Sneeze The Day, which you can read here if you missed it. Vaelyn gets a killer head cold while on tour with his death metal band, Toad Biscuit, featuring Rexar and Kriia since it takes place before Vee sets fire to a venue and goes into hiding. I also had to give Vee tattoos since how do you have a metalhead character without tattoos? lol ALSO THERES EXPLICIT SMUT AT THE END ✨ pls enjoy~

The soft rumble of the bus engine was the first thing Vaelyn noticed as he slowly surfaced from the fog of sleep. The couch beneath him felt oddly comfortable, though the lump of an errant cushion pressed awkwardly into his lower back. Perhaps he was simply too drained to care. A groan escaped his lips as he shifted, his entire body heavy with exhaustion, the kind that seeped into his bones and refused to let go.

His sinuses were a disaster zone. Every breath he managed was an ordeal, dragging air through congestion so thick it felt like trying to breathe through soaked fabric. His throat, raw from hours of coughing, burned with every swallow, a sharp, irritating sting that no amount of effort could soothe. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, a relentless drumbeat against his temples that made even opening his eyes seem like an insurmountable challenge.

When he finally cracked one bleary blue eye open, the dim, muted daylight filtering through the bus curtains hit him like a spotlight. He winced, squeezing his eyes shut again as if the mere act of seeing was too much. A mess of tissues littered the floor beside the couch, the crumpled paper remnants scattered like fallen leaves in a storm. His tissue box had fallen as well, lying on its side like a casualty of the night before.

"Good morning, Sunshine." Rexar’s deep, teasing voice cut through the thick haze of Vaelyn’s misery.

Vaelyn groaned again, his voice a low, guttural rasp as he slowly turned his head to squint up at his friend. Rexar was perched on the edge of the couch, one elbow resting casually on his knee, a steaming mug in his other hand. His sharp grey-and-red eyes studied Vaelyn critically, his expression hovering somewhere between amusement and concern.

“You look like someone ran you over with the bus, backed up, and did it again,” Rex said with a smirk, his teeth glinting faintly in the daylight.

“Feel like it too,” Vaelyn rasped, his voice so gravelly it sounded like it had been dragged through sandpaper. He winced at the effort, swallowing thickly as his throat protested the strain.

Rex held out the mug in his hands, tilting it slightly toward Vaelyn. “It’s tea,” he explained. “Kriia made it before she left to pick up some stuff for you. Drink it. Might make you less insufferable.”

Vaelyn huffed weakly, a sound that might have been a laugh if he had the energy for it. With trembling hands, he reached for the mug, his fingers brushing against Rexar’s briefly as he took it. He sniffled wetly, his red and swollen nose twitching faintly, but the motion only seemed to irritate his sinuses further. His breath hitched once—twice—before he clamped a tissue to his face just in time.

"Hhh... HHhh! hh—Hh'IESHHhh! HH’EISHHhh! ISCHHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! —ish! …ish! ...sh! hh-!………………..—hhIISSHHhhuhh!"

The sneezes erupted from him in rapid succession, bending him forward until his head nearly rested on his knees. The force left him gasping, the sound of his ragged breath filling the quiet space as he slumped back against the couch, tissues pressed firmly to his nose.

“Bless you,” Rexar said dryly, though the faint edge of concern in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.

“Thadks,” Vaelyn muttered, his voice barely audible as he gave his nose a weak blow. He eyed the mug in his lap as if it held the cure to all his ailments, then raised it to his lips. The first cautious sip was scalding, but the warmth spread through him like a balm, soothing the raw ache in his throat.

A quiet, involuntary hum of approval escaped him, and he sagged deeper into the couch. “Tell Kriia… she’s a saint,” he mumbled.

Rexar snorted, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. “Sure, I’ll let her know. Just don’t keel over before she gets back, yeah? I’d rather not have to explain that to the fans— and I wouldn’t even know how to make a new best friend this late in the game...”

Vaelyn offered a half-hearted glare, but the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying a flicker of gratitude beneath his misery.

The lion slouched further into the couch, dragging a tissue to his nose with a groggy motion as his sinuses waged another war against him. His flushed cheeks only made the irritated red of his nose more pronounced, and the glare he shot Rexar was half-hearted at best.

Rexar, perched casually on the armrest, smirked down at him with a glint of mischief in his sharp grey-and-red eyes. "You know, for someone so dramatic, you’re surprisingly consistent. I think you’ve sneezed more in the last hour than most people do in a week.”

Vaelyn shot him a watery glare, his hoarse voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thagks for the statisdics, Dr. Rexar. Always woddered who kept track of by hist…hh…” He trailed off, his breath hitching violently. He clamped the tissue tightly over his nose, the corner of his mouth curling downward as his blue eyes brimmed with tears.

“...hh’ESHHHhh! Hhh’ISSHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! ...ish! ...SHh!—sh! ………——hh’EISSHHHhew!” Each sneeze tore through him, leaving him gasping and dazed as he slumped back into the couch.

Rexar chuckled, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Man, you sound like someone’s trying to exorcise a demon out of you.”

“At least I dod’t becobe a fugkigg flabethrower whed I sdeeze,” Vaelyn shot back, his words muffled and thick with congestion. His free hand gestured weakly toward Rexar, punctuating his point. “You burdt by favorite jacket, rebebber that shit?”

Rexar barked a laugh, his teeth flashing in the dim bus lighting. “Oh, come on, that was, what? Two years ago? You’re still holding onto that?”

“Id was buhh— blasted leather,” Vaelyn croaked, pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan. His breath caught mid-sentence, his long fingers trembling as he fought to stave off the inevitable. His expression twisted, his watery blue eyes squeezing shut until the sneezes finally erupted.

“hh—ISHHHhew! ISCHHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! —ish! …ish! ...sh! ……..…hh’ISSHHHuhhh!” The final sneeze was so forceful it left him clutching at his tissues like they were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

Rexar shook his head, his grin widening. “You done, or you got more for the highlight reel?”

Vaelyn groaned, wiping his nose miserably. “You’re the wor…hh…worst.”

“Yeah, but I’m your worst,” Rexar quipped, patting Vaelyn’s shoulder lightly. “And don’t worry—I won’t set this jacket on fire. Yet.”

As the day dragged on, despite the show getting closer and closer, Vaelyn’s symptoms were only getting worse. His congestion had reached critical levels, rendering his nose completely useless. Each attempted breath was a noisy, wet struggle, forcing him to breathe through his mouth, which dried out his already sore throat. His fever clung to him like a heavy blanket, leaving his skin clammy and his cheeks flushed a blotchy red.

Every few minutes, his nose would rebel, sending him into relentless fits of sneezes that left his body trembling and his head spinning.

“...Hh’iISSHHhh!! ISCHHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! —ish!-shh! —shh! Hhh... hihhh—huh’IISHHHHHhew!”

“Bless you,” Rexar called out from across the bus, not even looking up from his guitar. “You sound like a dying foghorn, by the way.”

Vaelyn groaned, his head dropping back against the couch. “Thadks for the idsight,” he muttered, his voice thick with congestion.

Rexar strummed a few idle chords, smirking. “Hey, I’m just saying, if this whole music thing doesn’t pan out, you could have a promising career as a lighthouse.”

Vaelyn gave him a withering glare, though it lost some of its edge thanks to the tissue pressed firmly against his nose.

Despite his miserable state, Vaelyn couldn’t let himself wallow all day. The tour wasn’t over yet, and the thought of missing another show—especially after last night’s fiasco—made his chest tighten with guilt. He swung his legs off the couch and sat up, his head pounding in protest.

As Rexar rummaged through the small kitchenette, the sound of clinking dishes mixing with the hum of the bus engine, Vaelyn forced himself upright. His legs felt like they were made of lead, and a wave of dizziness made him grip the armrest for support.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rexar said, not bothering to turn around as he poured milk into a bowl of cereal. “You’re staying here today. Doctor’s orders.”

Vaelyn scowled, his already flushed face deepening in color. “You’re not a doctor.”

“No, but I’m your best friend,” Rexar retorted, setting the bowl down with a clatter, “which means I outrank your stubborn ass. Besides, do you really think you’re in any shape to get on stage tonight?”

Vaelyn opened his mouth to argue, but the hitching in his breath betrayed him. His nostrils flared, his breath stuttering as his head tilted back involuntarily.

“Ugh... I’b—hh—gonnuhhh... sdeeze—hh!” he stammered, his voice hitching higher with each breath. “HH’EISHHhh! ISCHHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! ...ish! ...sh!—sh!” The sneezes came rapid-fire, bending him forward and leaving him clutching the edge of the couch to keep from toppling over. His tea sloshed dangerously in the mug he still held, but he managed to set it down just before it spilled entirely. Vaelyn barely had time to suck in a shallow gasp before the fit resumed.

“...hehhHH!—EEIISSHHuhh!”

Rexar arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Point proven,” he said flatly, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

Vaelyn sniffled miserably, scrubbing at his nose with his hoodie sleeve. “I’ll be fide by todight,” he insisted, though his voice was little more than a congested rasp.

“Sure, and I’m the queen of Hiraeth,” Rexar shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Before Vaelyn could retort, Kriia stepped onto the bus, her arms full of bags from her trip to the store. She paused in the doorway, surveying the scene with a raised brow. “Alright” she started, setting the bags on the counter. “we’ve got a situation tonight.”

Vee groaned softly, scrubbing at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Please tell be it’s dot bad,” he rasped, his congestion thickening his voice even more.

Kriia smirked faintly, crossing her arms. “Depends on your definition of bad… We’ve got a meet and greet before the show tonight.”

Rexar leaned back in his seat, his sharp grey-red eyes narrowing. “Seriously? That’s tonight?”

Kriia nodded. “Yup. And before you even start, Rex, remember: people paid a lot of money for this. Skipping it isn’t an option unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Vee perked up slightly, despite the exhaustion weighing him down. “I could do it,” he said quickly, his voice cracking. “The fads deserve it. I could haddle the beet and greet… as a test, baybe?” He sniffled, wiping at his nose as his determination burned through his obvious misery. “See how I hold up before the show?”

Rexar raised an eyebrow, exchanging a skeptical look with Kriia. “You?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward Vee’s disheveled appearance. “You want to do the meet and greet?”

“I’ll be fide!” Vee protested, sitting up straighter as if that might make him look healthier. But the motion was ill-timed. His breath hitched sharply, his nostrils flaring as he quickly ducked his head into the neckline of his hoodie.

"Hhh… hh-Hhh! HH’EISHHhh! ISCHhh! ISHHh! hh—ISHHh! ISCHHHhh! Hh-ISHHhh! ...ish! ...sh! ……………. Hhh—EEISSHHhuhh!!”

The rapid-fire sneezes shook him, his chest heaving with each forceful expulsion as he tried to stifle the fit against his chest. By the time he surfaced, his face was red, his hoodie dampened from the force of his sneezes.

Rexar leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, you’re real convincing right now, Vee,” he said with a smirk. “You’re gonna sneeze on the fans, aren’t you? That’s one way to make them remember tonight.”

Kriia shot Rex a warning look, though her lips twitched with amusement. “Alright, enough,” she said, holding up a hand. “How about this: we let Vee attend the meet and greet. If he can last the whole two hours without having to come back to the bus, then he can play the show.”

Vee’s fevered eyes brightened with determination, and he nodded quickly. “Deal,” he said, his voice rough but resolute. He reached out to Rexar for their signature secret handshake, a series of intricate hand slaps and finger snaps they’d perfected over years of friendship.

Rexar hesitated for a moment, then sighed, giving in and completing the handshake. “Fine,” he said, pointing a finger at Vee. “But if you so much as sneeze on a fan, I’m pulling you offstage myself.”

Vee grinned, though the effect was undercut when he had to abruptly pull away, his face twisting with another sneeze. "Hhh—hh’IISSHHhh!” He sniffled, muttering a congested, “Bless be,” under his breath.

Kriia shook her head, chuckling softly as she leaned in for her turn at the handshake. “Just don’t push yourself too hard, okay?” she said, her voice softer now.

“Dot a probleb,” Vee replied confidently, though he had to quickly pinch his nose as another sneeze threatened to escape. Kriia exchanged a knowing glance with Rexar as the guitarist readjusted his hoodie, his expression determined despite the obvious battle raging within his sinuses.

“Alright,” Rexar said, standing up and grabbing his guitar case. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We’ve got a meet and greet to survive, and I’m not doing all the talking tonight.”

Vaelyn’s day was a fevered blur of cold medicine and unrelenting misery. Somewhere between his second and third dose of the morning—far exceeding the recommended daily limit—his head started to feel light, almost floaty. The congestion in his sinuses remained stubbornly in place, however, and his body continued to rebel against his every move.

Sitting on the edge of his bunk, Vee fumbled with the red tape he wore across his nose, the adhesive sticking awkwardly to his clammy fingers. His breath hitched for the thousandth time that day as his nose twitched relentlessly.

“Hhh—hh’ISSHHHHuhh! HHh’IIESHHhh! Ishh! —shh!………………… Hhh—EEISSHHhuhh!!” The sneezes rocked him forward, his long hair spilling into his face. He groaned, swiping at his nose with a crumpled tissue. The sound of it was wet and useless, doing little to combat the itch that burned deep in his sinuses.

By the time he managed to get dressed—his hoodie pulled haphazardly over his head, his ripped jeans barely zipped—he was visibly worse for wear. His nose was a bright, irritated red, the same shade as the tape now crookedly plastered across its bridge. His face was puffy, his eyes rimmed with pink, and his expression made it look as though he was stuck on the verge of sneezing at all times— which, chances were, he was.

The tour bus rumbled to a stop, and the cheers from the waiting crowd hit Vaelyn like a tidal wave, vibrating through the metal frame of the vehicle. He leaned against the window, his fevered breath fogging up the glass as he stared out at the sea of fans. Their excitement was palpable, their shouts of “We love you, Vee!” and “Toad Biscuit forever!” ringing in his ears. Despite the pressure weighing him down, a faint smile tugged at his cracked lips, softening the perpetual exhaustion etched into his pale face.

Rexar, naturally, was already in full showman mode. The second his boots hit the pavement, he raised his hand, igniting a dazzling burst of flames that roared to life in his palm. The crowd’s cheers redoubled, their energy feeding off his theatrics.

“That’s right! Toad Biscuit’s here, baby!” Rexar bellowed, his voice carrying over the noise like a war cry. He flexed his free arm for added dramatic effect, his sharp grey-and-red eyes gleaming with mischief. He was practically glowing with his usual confidence, the firelight catching on his white hair and making him look every bit the rockstar he was.

Vaelyn shuffled behind him, the stark contrast between their demeanors almost comical. His long hair clung to his flushed, sweat-slicked skin, and his movements were lethargic, each step dragging as though his limbs were weighted down. His hoodie looked oversized and rumpled, almost swallowing his wiry frame, but the fans screamed his name all the same, their devotion undeterred by his disheveled appearance.

He raised a hand in a half-hearted wave, his tired blue eyes scanning the crowd. For a brief moment, he felt a flicker of warmth despite the misery brewing in his chest. But then the persistent itch in his nose surged forward, sharp and relentless, demanding his full attention. His breath hitched violently, his shoulders tensing as he struggled to keep himself together.

“Godda—hh! hh’ESHHHhh! Hhh’EISSHHHH! hh—ISCHh! ish! shh! —sh! ———————Hhh’ISSHHHhhuhh! ” The sneezes tore through him with brutal force, bending him at the waist as he clutched his guitar case for balance. The first two were loud and forceful, but by the third, his body couldn���t keep up, leaving him gasping for air in between.

The fans murmured with concern, their cheers briefly faltering as they noticed his struggle. Still, Vaelyn waved them off weakly, attempting to straighten as he sniffled harshly, his nose red and twitching uncontrollably.

Distracted by the roaring crowd, Rexar spun around, ready to hype them up further—only to walk straight into Vaelyn’s hunched frame. The collision jolted both of them, Rexar stumbling back slightly while Vaelyn barely managed to catch himself on the doorway.

“Dude!” Rexar exclaimed, his voice tinged with irritation before softening into concern. “You okay?”

Vaelyn couldn’t immediately answer, his breath hitching again as another rapid-fire fit overtook him. “Hhh... hh—godda... sdeeze! hh’ESHHhh! hh’EISSHhh! Ish! —ish! —shh!…………….. Hhh’ISSHHHhhuhh!!” He finally straightened with a groan, his flushed face and glassy eyes making him look utterly wrecked.

“Bless you,” Kriia said, materializing at Vaelyn’s side like a shadow. Her sharp purple eyes were full of worry as she placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “Think you can make it through the meet and greet?”

Vaelyn sniffled again, wet and miserable, as he blinked at her through his watery, irritated eyes. Despite every nerve in his body screaming for rest, his resolve remained unshaken. “Y-Yeah,” he rasped, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. “I’b dot... hh! …hh’ISSHHH!—godda disappoint the fads.”

Rexar rolled his eyes, though a small smirk tugged at his lips. “Alright,” he said with mock seriousness. “But if you sneeze on someone, it’s your apology they’re getting, not mine.”

Vaelyn managed a weak laugh, wiping his nose on his sleeve as Kriia shot Rexar a withering look. The three of them pushed through the venue doors, the roaring crowd’s energy still ringing in their ears.

The cheers of the crowd outside still roared faintly as the venue door closed behind them, muting the sound to a dull hum. Vaelyn and Rexar were ushered quickly backstage, Kriia trailing behind with a purposeful stride. Rex threw an arm casually around Vee’s shoulders, his natural charisma masking the tension in his sharp grey-red eyes as he glanced at his bandmate.

“Looking good, champ,” Rex said lightly, though there was a hint of forced cheer in his voice.

Vee didn’t reply, too focused on staying upright as the group wove through the narrow backstage corridors. His breaths were shallow, his congested nose barely allowing any air through, and his skin was clammy under the venue's harsh fluorescent lighting.

They were met by a member of the hair and makeup team, a petite woman with sharp features and an arsenal of brushes and palettes in her hands. “Vaelyn,” she said briskly, motioning for him to sit on a nearby stool, “let’s touch you up before you head out there. We don’t want anyone worrying, right?”

Vee blinked at her, his glassy blue eyes narrowing slightly, but he reluctantly sat down. “Right,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and uneven.

The makeup artist moved quickly, dabbing at his fever-flushed cheeks with a thin layer of foundation. The powder tickled his already inflamed nose, and his nostrils flared wildly as the itch took hold.

“Hhh... fugk, hh—godda... sdeeze! hh’ESHHhh! hh’EISSHhh! Ish! —ish! —shh! hh—huhhh—HHHIESHHHHhhuhh!”

The force of the sneezes bent him forward, nearly knocking the compact out of the makeup artist’s hands. She froze mid-movement, her expression hovering between surprise and exasperation.

“Sorry,” Vee rasped, though his tone was clipped, his frustration barely contained.

She hesitated, then resumed her work, this time with a larger, softer brush. Unfortunately, the thick bristles only made things worse.

“Hhh—hhhehh! Hh—I cad’t—hH’EISSHHhhuh! ISCHh! —Ish! —ish! — shh! —sh! ……. hh’IESHHHhh!”

Vee snapped upright, his watery eyes blazing with irritation as he swiped the makeup off his face with his sleeve. “That’s edough!” he barked, his voice cracking as he stood abruptly, wobbling slightly on his feet.

The makeup artist opened her mouth to protest, but Vaelyn was already moving, storming back toward Rex and Kriia with a huff.

Kriia tilted her head, her sharp purple eyes narrowing as she took in his disheveled appearance. Rex, leaning casually against a rack of stage props, arched an eyebrow and straightened up. “You good?” he asked, his voice lacking its usual teasing edge.

The genuine concern in Rexar’s tone made Vaelyn falter for a moment. He hesitated, his shoulders sagging slightly as he glanced down at his scuffed boots. His throat burned, his nose throbbed, and his legs felt like they could give out at any second, but he couldn’t let himself spiral.

“Fide,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. He sniffled harshly and tried to stand a little straighter, though the effort made him sway slightly.

Rex didn’t press further, but the sharp look he exchanged with Kriia said enough.

Desperate to redirect their attention, Vaelyn shuffled closer to the edge of the curtain and peeked out toward the crowd. The venue was already filling up, with fans pouring through the doors and forming a snaking line for the meet and greet. The low hum of anticipation buzzed in the air, sending a jolt of adrenaline through Vaelyn’s tired body.

“Packed house,” he muttered, his raspy voice laced with faint pride. He turned to glance at Rexar, the corners of his mouth twitching into a weak smile. “Guess we better give ’em a show, huh?”

Rex shook his head, his lips curving into a smirk. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, but there was a note of admiration in his voice.

Kriia stepped closer, placing a hand lightly on Vaelyn’s arm. “If you start feeling worse out there, just say something, okay?”

Vaelyn nodded, though he avoided her gaze. Deep down, he knew he was barely holding it together, but the sight of their fans—his fans—gave him enough resolve to push forward. He took a shaky breath and squared his shoulders, ready to face whatever came next.

The backstage handler motioned for Rexar and Vaelyn to proceed toward the meet and greet area, and the two musicians fell into step, Rexar striding confidently while Vaelyn followed a few paces behind, his movements slower and more deliberate. The muffled cheers from the crowd outside the curtain grew louder as they approached, the air electric with anticipation.

As soon as the fans caught sight of them, the line erupted into frenzied screams. Vaelyn’s tired blue eyes scanned the sea of excited faces, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of his symptoms lifted. He couldn’t help but smile faintly, though the effort felt heavier than it should.

Rexar, ever the showman, smirked and conjured a small flame in his palm, lifting it high as he called out, “What’s up, guys? Toad Biscuit’s in the house!”

The crowd roared in response, their energy feeding Rexar’s charisma. He glanced over at Vaelyn, who was clearly struggling to muster the same enthusiasm. Vee’s movements were mechanical, his pale face flushed with fever and his nose an angry red, twitching constantly.

Still, Vee forced a smile, pushing through the haze of congestion and exhaustion. “What’s going on, guys?!” he called out, his voice cracking slightly but still managing to sound cheerful.

The crowd erupted again, and over the chaos, a girl’s voice rang out, clear and high-pitched. “I love you, Vaelyn!”

Caught off guard, Vee blinked, but a slow smirk spread across his face, his usual swagger flickering to life for just a moment. “I love you too!” he replied, his voice rasping but playful. “Why don’t you tell me all about our love when you come up here?” He flashed a sultry smile that sent the crowd into another frenzy.

Rexar shook his head with a laugh, muttering, “like I said. Unbelievable,” as they reached the head of the line.

The roar of the crowd outside the venue was deafening, and the energy was palpable as Toad Biscuit made their way to the gated off section of the dim room. Security guided them to a small area just behind the meet-and-greet setup where the fans would soon be ushered in. Rexar led the way with his usual swagger, his sharp grey-red eyes scanning the growing line of eager fans just beyond the curtain. The pyromancer couldn’t resist tossing a small burst of flame into the air, eliciting another wave of cheers and screams from the crowd.

“Show-off,” Vaelyn muttered, leaning heavily against the wall as he trailed behind, one hand gripping the strap of his guitar case for balance. His tall frame seemed to sag under the weight of his fever, his broad shoulders hunched as if he were trying to conserve every ounce of energy.

Kriia, walking just behind him, gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before nudging him toward their setup. “Just breathe, Vee,” she said softly. “You’ve got this.”

Vaelyn nodded faintly, pulling his hoodie tighter around his face to shield his flushed cheeks. He could feel the tickle building in his nose again, an unrelenting itch that refused to let him have a moment’s peace.

Rexar turned to glance over his shoulder, catching the look of pure misery etched on Vaelyn’s face. “Man, you’re really putting the ‘death’ in deathcore today,” he teased, though there was a note of concern hidden in his tone.

“Thags for the encourahh—hahh…hh’EISSHHhh!” Vaelyn’s breath hitched violently as the sneezes tore through him, bending him double. “H-Hehh! hh’ISHHhh! ISHh! —ish! —Shh! —shh! …..…hh—hhEISHHHhhuhh!” He barely managed to straighten up, his watery blue eyes darting toward Rexar. “...edcouragembt,” he finished hoarsely, dabbing at his raw, red nose with a crumpled tissue.

Rexar shook his head, his smirk widening. “You’re a fucking mess, Vaelyn,” he muttered.

As they reached the staging area, security gestured for them to wait while the final checks were made before letting the fans in. Rexar stood casually, hands on his hips, his gaze flicking toward Vaelyn as he leaned against the wall, clearly struggling just to stay upright.

“You good?” Rexar asked, his voice softer now, though his smirk remained.

Vaelyn sniffled, the sound thick and miserable, before rasping, “Yeah. Just gotta… catch by breath.” His words were clipped as if it physically hurt to force them out.

The muffled roar of the crowd grew louder as the curtain rustled slightly, and Vaelyn turned his attention to the fans pouring into the venue. For just a moment, their enthusiasm seemed to cut through the haze of his fever.

Rexar patted Vaelyn on the back, his hand lingering briefly in a gesture of unspoken support, before turning his attention to the fans beginning to line up at the front of the meet-and-greet area.

Vaelyn barely noticed, his focus narrowing to the task ahead as he fought to keep his head clear. But with every second that ticked by, the weight of his exhaustion pressed heavier on his frame, his pulse thrumming loudly in his ears. The first fan stepped forward, her excitement shining brightly enough to momentarily cut through the fog of his misery.

“Hi!” she squeaked, clutching a notebook with trembling hands.

Vaelyn glanced up from beneath the hood of his sweatshirt, his glassy blue eyes rimmed with red and underscored by dark shadows. He forced a small, tired smile, the warmth in his features muted but genuine though it barely reached his fevered expression. “Hi,” he croaked, his voice rough and barely audible over the din of the crowd.

Reaching for the notebook, his fingers shook as he signed his name in messy, looping script. The simple act of holding the pen made his hand feel leaden, his muscles aching from the effort. The fan shifted nervously, moving to stand beside him for a photo, but before the handler could snap the shot, Vaelyn’s body seized.

“Hhh—hh’IESHHhh! hh’EISSHH! hh—ISHHHh! hh—ISHHHHhh! —shh! hh—hh… HHHIESHHHHuhhh!”

The sneezes tore through him with unrelenting force, folding him at the waist as he turned sharply into the crook of his arm. His guitar strap slipped off his shoulder, and his knees buckled slightly from the effort. The fan startled, her notebook slipping from her grip onto the floor as Vaelyn scrambled for tissues.

The handler paused patiently, camera poised, while Vaelyn pulled a crumpled tissue from his pocket. He dabbed at his red, swollen nose, sniffling miserably as he looked up at the fan. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, his voice thick and congested.

“It’s okay!” the fan chirped, her brow furrowing with concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

Vaelyn forced a weak laugh, the sound dissolving into a painful cough that wracked his chest. He cleared his throat, though it did little to help his hoarse tone. “Just a cold,” he rasped, though the deep flush of his cheeks and the wet, sniffling sound of his breathing suggested otherwise.

The handler snapped the photo, but before Vaelyn could relax, his nose twitched violently. The persistent itch that had been tormenting him all day surged to the forefront, and his breath hitched uncontrollably.

“Hhh—hh! Hhh—hh’IESHHhh! hh’EISSHH! ISHHHh! hh—ISHHHhh! —shh! —sh! …hahhh… HHHIIESHHHHuhhh!”

The photo had to be retaken twice more, each attempt interrupted by another desperate fit of sneezes. By the time they moved on to the next fan, Vaelyn’s shoulders sagged under the weight of his exhaustion.

The line stretched on, and with each passing interaction, Vaelyn felt his energy drain further. His nose was an unrelenting mess, the redness spreading across his cheeks like a rash, his nostrils flaring with every strained sniffle.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Vee?” someone asked, their voice gentle with concern.

Vaelyn nodded weakly, though the constant pre-sneeze squint on his face made it clear he was barely holding himself together.

One fan, a soft-spoken girl with kind eyes, reached out to touch his forehead, her palm cool against his fevered skin. Vaelyn froze, his breath hitching as he leaned subtly into the comforting gesture.

“Poor thing,” she murmured, pulling back with a sympathetic frown. “You should be in bed.”

Vaelyn chuckled weakly, his congested laugh dissolving into a coughing fit. “Cad’t disappoint the fads,” he said hoarsely, though the toll on his body was undeniable.

Finally, the girl who had shouted her love for him earlier stepped forward, her eyes shining with adoration. “You know, your sneezes are kinda cute,” she teased, offering him a fresh tissue from her purse.

Vaelyn’s tired blue eyes crinkled with amusement as he accepted the tissue. “Thadks,” he said, his voice a broken whisper. He blew his nose with a loud, gurgling sound, sighing heavily as he crumpled the tissue in his fist.

The girl turned her attention to Rexar, her tone shifting to one of mock scolding. “Why are you making him play in this condition?”

Rexar opened his mouth to reply, but Vaelyn cut him off with another rapid-fire fit of sneezes.

“Hhh… hhh’IESHHHhh! hh’EISHHHH! ISCHHH! ISH!…ISH! —SH! hh—IESSHHHHhuhh!”

Vaelyn doubled over, clutching his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. His flushed face and glassy eyes betrayed his overwhelming fatigue, but he straightened up with a faint, defiant smile.

“Dot his fault,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “I… I wadted to be here.”

The girl’s expression softened, and she reached out to pat his arm gently. “Well, take care of yourself, okay? We love you.”

Vaelyn’s lips twitched into a weak but genuine smile. “Love you too,” he murmured, the words carrying a sincerity that shone through his exhaustion.

As the meet and greet continued, Vee’s body began to betray him further. The wave of fans that filed through the line, all excited and eager to meet their idols, felt like an unrelenting flood. Vee smiled through it all, but each photo op was becoming more of a challenge. His chest was tight, his breathing shallow, and he had long since lost count of how many retakes had been necessary because of his persistent sneezing. His head throbbed, every sneeze sending a jarring burst of pain through his skull, and his vision was starting to blur at the edges.

His nose twitched again, the all-too-familiar pressure building behind his sinuses, threatening to overtake him at any moment. “Hh...hH’ISHHhh! Hhh—hh’ISSHH! —ischhh! Ish!—Shh!— sh! hh—! ………..hh—IISHHHHhhuhhh!!” His body bent forward involuntarily with the force of the sneeze, a muffled gasp escaping his lips before he quickly grabbed another tissue, blowing his nose as discreetly as he could manage.

“Okay... th-thadk you,” he muttered to the fan, handing them their signed poster before giving them a weak smile. But as they moved to the next person, he found his hands shaking slightly, his body swaying a little more with each passing moment. His chest felt like it was made of lead. The tightness in his ribcage hadn’t gone away, and the constant tickle in his throat made it feel like he was swallowing shards of glass.

This wasn’t sustainable. He could barely even keep his eyes open as the next fan approached. His head was pounding, his body aching from the exertion. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed, but it felt like hours. He had no idea how long he could keep this up, but he couldn't afford to let his bandmates down again. His pride and stubbornness wouldn’t allow it.

But then his vision blurred more dramatically, and the world around him tilted. The sensation of the room spinning was so overwhelming that he had to grip the wall to steady himself. His breath was coming in ragged, shallow bursts as his hands slid down the wall. He had to take a second to close his eyes, just to regain some semblance of balance.

From her spot nearby, Kriia noticed immediately. Her bright purple eyes narrowed in concern as she tugged on Rexar’s sleeve, nodding toward Vaelyn. “He’s struggling,” she said softly.

Rexar’s gaze snapped to Vee, and he frowned. “Yeah, I see it.” With a quick glance at the crowd, Rexar stepped over to Vee and gently grabbed his shoulder. “Hey, man. Let’s take a minute,” Rex said, his voice low and steady.

Vaelyn shook his head stubbornly, his tired blue eyes meeting Rexar’s sharp grey-red ones. “I’b fide,” he rasped, though his cracked voice and the tremble in his legs said otherwise.

Rexar sighed, crossing his arms. “Vee, you don’t have to do this. Seriously, we’d rather you go back to the bus and rest than kill yourself over one show. You look like you’re about to collapse on me, Vaelyn. Just... go back to the bus. It’s one night. We’ve got this. We’d rather you get healthy.”

Vaelyn opened his mouth to argue, but a deep, rattling cough overtook him, cutting him off mid-thought. He doubled over, clutching his chest as the coughs shook his already worn-out frame.

Without realizing it, the next fan in line had already been let through by security. A short, thin goth girl approached them with a confident stride, her single emerald green eye locking onto Vaelyn with obvious admiration. The left side of her face bore a sewn-shut eyelid, giving her a striking appearance, but her energy was all charm.

Vee forced a smile, trying to push past the mounting dizziness. “Sorry for the hold-up,” he said, straightening his posture despite his body’s protests.

“Oh my god, Vaelyn,” she gushed, her voice dramatic and dripping with affection. “Don’t apologize! You look like you’re not feeling well, poor thing.”

Vee straightened up as much as he could, his 6’2 frame towering over her petite stature. Despite his pounding headache and burning throat, he forced a weak, hoarse chuckle. “Is it that obvious?” he asked, sniffling as he rubbed at his raw, twitching nose.

“Absolutely,” she replied, blinking her good eye at him in an exaggeratedly seductive manner. “But that’s okay—I can always just take care of you back at the bus while they play the show...”

Rexar smirked silently, raising an eyebrow as he looked between the girl and Vee, his amusement barely concealed.

Vaelyn managed a dry laugh, shaking his head slightly before his breath hitched violently. “Hhhfugk—hhhold o—hh! Hh’EISHHhh! IESHHhh! ISHHHhh!—ISH! —SHHh! —shh! —sh! ………………….hh—IISHHHHuhh!” He barely had time to breathe before the rapid-fire sneezes took over, bending him at the waist as he desperately buried his face in the crook of his arm.

The girl pouted, her gaze filled with something close to desire. “Bless you, babe,” she cooed, placing a hand on his arm as he straightened, sniffling harshly.

Rexar snorted softly, unable to hold back his amusement any longer. “So… you gonna take her up on that, Vee?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Vaelyn shot him a tired, unimpressed glare before turning back to the girl with a weak smile. “As dice as that souds,” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper, “I thidk I’d just edd ub sdeezing all over you.”

She laughed, her confidence undeterred. “I wouldn’t mind,” she teased, winking as Rexar barked out a laugh beside her.

Vaelyn raised an eyebrow at the girl’s bold response, his glassy blue eyes narrowing slightly as he scrubbed at his raw, irritated nose with the heel of his hand. He sniffled wetly, mulling her words over in his fever-addled mind. On any other day, he might have jumped at the opportunity—groupies were practically an unofficial part of the tour, and he regularly blew off steam in their company. But something about her offer felt strangely intimate, even vulnerable. The idea of being cared for, especially in his current state, made him hesitate.

The pounding ache behind his temples wasn’t helping either, each throb deafening and relentless. Yet, as if sensing his reservations, the girl doubled down.

She tilted her head, her choppy black and lime-green streaked hair falling across her good eye as she leaned closer. “Come on, Vaelyn,” she purred, her tone dripping with charm. “You deserve a little TLC after everything, don’t you?” Her fingers brushed lightly against his arm, her touch lingering.

Vaelyn’s tired eyes flicked to her hand, and he let out a weak, raspy chuckle. Before he could respond, she leaned in further, practically throwing herself at him with a flirtatious smile. “I can make you feel so much better,” she added, her voice low and sultry.

Despite himself, Vaelyn felt his lips twitch into a faint smirk. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever heard, even if the sharp ache in his skull made it hard to think straight. “You’re damn persistent,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and laden with congestion.

“I just know what I want,” she shot back confidently, batting her lashes at him.

For a long moment, Vaelyn considered her, his tall frame leaning heavily against the wall. His resolve to tough it out for the show was already wavering, and the promise of rest—no matter how unconventional—was too tempting to pass up. With a low sigh, he nodded. “Alright,” he murmured, his tone resigned but tinged with amusement.

Kriia and Rexar, both observing the exchange from a few feet away, froze in shock. Kriia’s mouth opened slightly in disbelief, while Rexar’s sharp grey-red eyes widened before narrowing in realization.

“Wow,” Rexar said, stepping closer and crossing his arms. “You must feel like absolute dog shit if you’re sitting out for a hot groupie.” His tone was teasing, but concern softened his words.

Vaelyn shot him a tired glare, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “Yeah, well... dot your busidess,” he croaked, scrubbing at his nose again.

Rexar nodded, his playful demeanor briefly slipping as he looked Vaelyn over. His sharp gaze scanned his best friend’s flushed face, bloodshot eyes, and slumped posture. “Be safe, alright? And feel better,” he said sincerely.

Then, with a grin, Rexar’s trademark mischief returned. He clapped Vaelyn on the shoulder, his voice loud and teasing as he glanced between Vee and the girl. “Have fun, you crazy kids!”

Vaelyn huffed a weak laugh but said nothing, watching as Rexar headed back toward the crowd to break the news of his absence.

For a moment, doubt crept into Vaelyn’s mind. Was he really making the right decision?

But before he could dwell on it, the tickle in his nose surged to life with startling intensity.

“Hhh—hhhold o—hh! fugk! Hhh—hh’ISSHHHhuhh! hh’EISHHHH! ISHHHhh!—ISHh! —ish! —shh! —sh! Hehh—!…………… hH’EISSHHhhuh!” The fit folded him in half, his long frame trembling as he scrambled to bury his face into his elbow. Each sneeze wracked his body, leaving him gasping and red-faced. When he finally straightened, his breath was labored, and a marshy, waterlogged sniffle escaped him.

The girl watched him crumple, her expression shifting into one of unabashed desire. “God, you’re so fucking hot...” she muttered, her voice barely audible over the pounding in Vaelyn’s head.

He raised an eyebrow at her, one corner of his mouth quirking up in incredulous amusement. “Seriously?” he croaked, his tone both baffled and dry.

She simply smiled, unashamed, as Vaelyn sighed heavily, resigning himself to whatever came next.

Vaelyn sniffed and rubbed at his nose, his tired blue eyes narrowing as he looked at the girl standing before him. “Okay, so what’s your name then, mystery healer?” he croaked, his dry humor barely masking his curiosity.

The girl grinned, clearly pleased to have his attention. “Kalypso,” she said, her voice lilting. “I’ve been following Toad Biscuit for a while now, and when I saw you were doing a meet and greet, I just had to come. You’re my idol, Vaelyn. I had to have you...”

“Your idol, huh?” he rasped, raising an eyebrow as a faint, incredulous smirk played at his lips. His fingers pressed lightly against the bridge of his nose, pinching away the incessant itch as he mulled over her words. “Well, Kalypso, it’s not every day I hear that, especially after a sneezing fit, but thanks for sticking around.”

Kalypso laughed softly, the sound warm and inviting. “Honestly, I think it makes you even more endearing. It shows you’re just like everyone else, y’know? Besides…” She leaned in slightly, her single green eye locking onto his with a playful glint. “You’re still here, sick and all, for your fans. That’s just one reason why you’re my idol.”

Vaelyn opened his mouth to reply, but the relentless tickle in his sinuses surged forward, cutting him off. His breath hitched sharply, and he turned quickly into his arm. “Goddasdeeeze—! Hhh-hh! Hh’IESHHHhh! ISCHHh! ISHHh! —ISHh! —shh! —Sh! ——-…….. hh’EISSHHHHhuhh!” His tall frame shuddered with each release.

“Bless you,” Kalypso said softly, her hand resting lightly on his forearm.

“Thags,” he sniffled, swiping at his nose with a tissue he’d retrieved from his pocket. His shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and for a moment, he considered calling it a night. But as he glanced back at Kalypso, her earnest smile and unwavering gaze sparked something in him—a faint reminder of why he pushed himself through the misery in the first place.

“All right, Kalypso,” he rasped, standing a little straighter despite his wavering balance. “Let’s get this over with.”

As they stepped into the bus, the world outside seemed to fade away, replaced by the intimate confines of the vehicle. Kalypso closed the door behind them, sealing them in a private realm where her desires would soon unfold. Vee slumped onto his previous position on the couch, his body aching and weak, as Kalypso hovered over him, her presence dominating the small space.

"Let me help you get comfortable," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Vee's eyes fluttered closed as she gently removed his jacket, her fingers brushing against his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She took off his torn shirt, exposing his pale chest, and leaned in, her lips brushing against his feverish skin. Vee let out a soft moan, his body responding to her touch despite his weakened state.

Kalypso's hands roamed over his body, her touch both soothing and arousing. She traced the lines of his muscles, her fingers lingering on his sensitive nipples, causing Vee to arch his back and let out a soft, feverish groan. As she explored his body, Vee's breathing became labored, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his nose surged to life. “Hhh... hh—gonna... sdeeze! hh’ESHHhh! hh’EISSHhh! Ish! —ish! —shh! hh—huhhh—HHHIESHHHHhhuhh!”

"My GOD, your sneezes, Vee…" Kalypso purred, her voice filled with delight. "I've always had a particular — err… fondness? for them." Her words sent a rush of heat through Vee's body, and he sneezed again, a violent explosion that seemed to thrill her.

“Hhhhhh—! Hh—hh’EISSHhh!”

“That's it, babe. Let it all out." Her voice was husky, filled with promise. Vee felt a rush of warmth as she gently took his face in her hands, her thumb brushing against his feverish cheek.

"You're burning up," she murmured, her breath hot against his skin. "Let me cool you down." With that, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Vee responded, his lips parting, inviting her in. Her mouth was sweet, tasting of cherry liquor, a flavor that danced on his tongue.

As the kiss deepened, Vee's hands found their way to Kalypso's waist, pulling her closer. He could feel her body heat, a contrast to his own feverish state. Her skin was soft, her curves enticing beneath the layers of her clothing. She broke the kiss, her breath coming in short gasps, and smiled wickedly.

Kalypso's hands roamed freely, exploring his chest, her touch both gentle and possessive.

Vee's hands mirrored her actions, sliding down her back, unzipping her dress. The fabric fell away, revealing a lacy black bra and her pale, flawless skin. Her body was a work of art, curves and shadows, a canvas of desire. Vee's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her.

Kalypso stepped back, her green eye blazing with passion. She reached behind her, unhooking her bra, letting it fall to reveal her breasts, full and inviting. Vee's eyes widened, his mouth dry as he drank in the sight. She took a step towards him, her nipples hardening in the cool air, and placed his hand on her breast.

"Feel me," she whispered, her voice heavy with desire. Vee's fingers closed around her soft flesh, his thumb brushing over her nipple, causing her to gasp. Her eye closed, and she leaned into his touch, her head tilting back, exposing the delicate line of her throat.

Vee's hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her closer, his lips finding her neck, kissing, licking, and sucking gently. She moaned softly, her body arching into his touch. He could feel her heartbeat quicken beneath his lips, her scent, a heady mix of perfume and desire, filling his senses.

Kalypso's hands moved to the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them with practiced ease. Vee stepped out of his clothes, his body now bare, revealing his lean, muscular form. She ran her hands over his chest, down his stomach, and lower, her touch electric.

"I want you," she breathed, her voice a raw, primal desire. Vee's erection strained against her touch, and she smiled, a wicked, triumphant smile. She pushed him gently onto the bed, her body following, her skin sliding against his.

As Vee lay beneath her, Kalypso straddled him, her hands exploring his body, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles. She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear, her breath hot and intoxicating. "I'm going to make you feel so good," she whispered, her voice a sensual promise.

Vee groaned as she took him in her hand, stroking him slowly, her touch firm and knowing. Her mouth found his, kissing him deeply, her tongue dancing with his.

Kalypso positioned herself above him, guiding him inside her warm, wet core. Vee gasped as she lowered herself, taking him in, her heat enveloping him. She began to move, a slow, sensual rhythm, her hips rolling, her body undulating above him.

The bus rocked gently with their movements, the fairy lights casting a magical glow over their entwined bodies. Vee's hands gripped her hips, guiding her as she rode him, her moans filling the air, a melody of pleasure. He could feel her muscles clenching around him, her body responding to his, their rhythm building to a frenzied pace.

As they moved together, Vee's feverish state seemed to melt away, replaced by a different kind of heat, a burning desire that consumed them both. Kalypso's green eye was wild, her body glistening with sweat, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Vee," she panted, her voice pleading. "I'm so close." Vee responded, his hands gripping her thighs, his body thrusting up to meet her, their movements becoming more urgent, more primal.

With a final, desperate cry, Kalypso climaxed, her body shuddering, her muscles clenching around him. Vee followed, his release intense, his body arching off the bed, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the pleasure.

They lay entangled, their hearts racing, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Kalypso's body was a warm, welcome weight on top of him, her green eye gazing down at him, filled with a mixture of satisfaction and something more—a hint of infatuation, perhaps.

Vee smiled, his hand stroking her hair, his body still buzzing with the aftermath of their passionate encounter. He had found solace in Kalypso's arms, a brief respite from his illness, but something more had awakened within him—a desire that went beyond the physical.

[aller-geez]

Snow Daze (part 2)

Written and illustrated by: allergeez

If you missed it, part 1 can be read here~

Even though no one read part 1, I’m extremely invested in this fic and couldn’t help but post part 2 today anyway 😅 this part is a lil angsty but Vaelyn and Rexar snz, Kriia and Kalypso will join in on the next part~ contagion, Kalypso being rude to Vee, cold denial, another 6k words~ hopefully people enjoy this part more than part 1 😅 @thekinkyleopard owns Kalypso 🖤

The soft glow of the television flickered over the cabin’s dimly lit walls, casting elongated shadows that stretched and swayed with the lazy movement of the flames in the fireplace. The hum of the antique appraisal show filled the silence, low and droning, its narrators murmuring about craftsmanship and historical significance, but neither Vaelyn nor Kalypso were paying attention anymore.

At first, Kalypso had turned the show on just to drown him out—to smother the sound of his incessant sniffling, the breathy, hitching build-ups that never failed to end in another violent sneeze against the sleeve of his hoodie. But at some point, without even realizing it, she’d started getting sucked into the absurdity of it all. The way the appraisers tried to sell the ugliest vases as priceless artifacts. The way Vaelyn, between sneezes, would mumble his own guesses at the values with increasing exasperation.

Now, the sharp edges between them had dulled, smoothed over by exhaustion and the strange, reluctant camaraderie that came with being stuck in the same miserable situation. Kalypso should have been annoyed—wanted to be annoyed—but Vaelyn, flushed with fever and progressively melting into her side, made it difficult to summon the usual bite. His body radiated unnatural heat against her own, the weight of him solid and heavy, pressing into her like he was past the point of caring about personal space. She could feel the shivery, uneven rhythm of his breathing, stuffed-up and damp, rattling faintly with congestion.

Every few moments, he sniffled thickly and scrubbed at his nose with his sleeve, but the relief was fleeting at best. His expression would slacken, mouth parting just slightly, his breath hitching in a way that sent a small, anticipatory shiver down his spine. His lashes fluttered against flushed cheekbones, brows pinching together, and then—without fail—he’d dissolve into another desperate, breathless fit.

“Hh’ISCHHh! EISHhh! H’ISHHhh! —ish! shh! —sh! ……………… hh—huhhh—hh’EEIISSHHhh’uhh!”

Each sneeze jolted him, but he barely had the energy to fight them anymore. Kalypso sighed, not even flinching as he collapsed back against her with a soft, exhausted groan. She muttered something about him being a mess, but it lacked her usual bite.

The room had grown warmer, the tension that always bristled between them melting away like the snow outside. It was easy to forget, in the dim glow of the television, that they weren’t the only two in this stupid ski lodge. That in mere minutes, they’d have to get up, clean themselves up, and drag themselves downstairs for dinner.

The thought made Kalypso grimace.

Vaelyn, seemingly reading her mind, sniffled and cracked open one bleary, bloodshot eye. “Dinnerrr…” he groaned, drawing the word out miserably. “Fuggkigg hell.”

Kalypso huffed, shoving his head off her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, drama queen.”

As she stood and stretched, the cold air that rushed in from the window sent a fresh shiver down her spine. The cozy, fever-warmed bubble of the couch was gone, and reality was creeping back in.

Vaelyn groaned again, rubbing his eyes before slowly peeling himself off the cushions. “Gibbie a sec…” He sniffled thickly and let his head tip back against the couch, breath hitching once—twice—before he pitched forward with a final, helpless, “Hh’ISCHHh!!”

Kalypso just shook her head, watching as he wiped at his nose and let out a defeated sigh.

Vaelyn barely made it to his feet before the congestion hit him like a freight train. The shift in position sent a fresh wave of pressure crashing through his skull, the throbbing behind his sinuses intensifying until it felt like his face was being squeezed in a vice. His breath shuddered, the heavy, sticky weight of congestion clinging to every inhale. He tried to sniffle, but it was useless—his nose was hopelessly blocked, the thick pressure refusing to budge no matter how hard he tried.

Kalypso had already turned her attention back to the television, half-listening to some antique appraiser drone on about an 18th-century chair, when Vaelyn’s chest expanded with a sharp, erratic hitch. His nostrils flared slightly, the irritated skin around them twitching as the relentless tickle coiled deep in his sinuses, teasing him with its persistence. His breath caught again—“Hh’ihhh… ehh’ihh… hhh!”—before he pitched violently forward.

“hh’ISCHh’ih! hh’TSSCHhh’uh! hh’ISHHh!—ishh!—shh!—shh!—” His sneezes tumbled out in breathless succession, his lanky frame convulsing with each one as though they were physically shaking the air from his lungs. His head snapped forward helplessly with every rapid-fire expulsion, his exhausted body barely keeping up with the onslaught. By the time his lungs emptied completely, forcing a deep, gasping inhale, he could already feel the final sneeze barreling toward him with cruel inevitability—

“hhH’EEIISSHHhh’uhh!!”

The last one ripped through him with enough force to nearly knock him back down onto the couch. He barely caught himself on the armrest, blinking dazedly as his vision swam, the world around him flickering in and out of focus. His sinuses pulsed with oversensitivity, leaving him sniffling uselessly against the back of his wrist, his breath still shuddering with the aftermath.

Kalypso groaned loudly, turning up the volume on the television. “Oh my God, Vaelyn. Just go to bed.”

He sniffled, thick and wet, scrubbing at his nose with his sleeve as he slumped further against the couch. “Didd’t you just—hhuhh—tell me to—hhH’ESSHHh’ihh!—get ub for didder?”

Kalypso gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah, well, now I’ve changed my mind. I’m not about to sit next to that all night.”

Vaelyn, ever the stubborn bastard, flopped bonelessly onto the couch with an exaggerated groan, tucking himself deeper into the warmth of his hoodie. “Too bad,” he muttered, voice thick and wrecked with congestion. “You’re stuck with me.”

Kalypso rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she grabbed the remote and flicked through the channels until she landed on something mind-numbing. “Fine. But if you sneeze on me, I’m smothering you in your sleep.”

Vaelyn’s lips twitched, his red-rimmed eyes fluttering half-shut as another tickle ghosted through his sinuses, leaving him sniffling weakly against the fabric of his sleeve. “Y’better hope I don’t, then.”

And, just to be an ass, he turned toward her the second another fit overtook him.

“Hh—hh’ISSHHhh’ihh! hh’TSSHHhh’uehh! hh’ISCHh’ih!—ishh!—shh!—shh!—hhH’EEIISSHHhh’uhh!!”

Kalypso shrieked in disgust. “VAELYN!”

The moment of peace was over. It was time to rejoin the world outside their little cocoon of misery.

As night fell, the ski lodge transformed into a winter wonderland, its twinkling lights and cozy atmosphere making it the perfect setting for their fancy dinner reservations. Unfortunately for Vaelyn, paradise felt more like purgatory.

By the time they reached the lodge’s upscale restaurant, he was running on fumes. His sinuses waged a relentless war, every breath thick and labored as he dabbed at his raw, chapped nose with a crumpled tissue. His normally vibrant blue eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with exhaustion, and his disheveled hair hung limply around his pale face.

The restaurant itself was a picture of opulence: rich mahogany tables, crystal chandeliers casting a warm golden glow, and an orchestra softly playing classical music in the corner. Vaelyn, however, could barely focus on anything beyond the relentless itch in his nose.

“Hhh-hhh—ESHHhh! Hhh’IESHHH! Hhh’uhhh… hh’EEISSHHHhhuh!” Vaelyn snapped forward violently, sneezing into the crook of his arm as they waited to be seated. His shoulders trembled with the force, and he sniffled miserably, his nose twitching with the promise of more.

Rexar, ever the opportunist, leaned over with a grin. “Man, Vee, you’re like a ticking time bomb. Can’t decide if it’s allergies or a biological weapon.”

Kriia elbowed him sharply in the ribs. “Rexar, leave him alone,” she hissed, though her lips twitched with barely suppressed amusement.

Vaelyn groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the next inevitable fit. “Cad you dot?” he rasped, his voice hoarse from strain.

As they were led to their table, Kalypso trailed behind, muttering under her breath. “I’m gonna get sick just sitting near him. Great, such a romantic trip.”

The comment wasn’t lost on Vaelyn, but he bit his tongue, his fists clenching as he tried to focus on anything but the growing tension.

The food was exquisite—or so Kriia and Rexar claimed. Vaelyn could barely taste anything, his sense of smell obliterated by the congestion clogging his sinuses. He poked at his meal, his appetite nonexistent, while Rexar launched into another round of teasing.

“So, Vee,” Rexar began, swirling his glass of red wine. “What’s the over-under on you sneezing during the couples massage tonight? Gotta warn the poor masseuse to wear a poncho?”

Kriia smacked his arm, but even she couldn’t hide her smirk. “Rex, stop,” she chided, though her tone was lighter this time. “He’s miserable enough without you making it worse.”

Vaelyn’s jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his fork, the metal trembling faintly under the strain. The relentless pressure behind his eyes throbbed in rhythm with the constant buzz of irritation crawling up his nerves. His bloodshot eyes narrowed, and he exhaled sharply through flared nostrils as another insidious tickle flared to life deep in his sinuses.

He turned his head away, his shoulders stiff as though bracing for the inevitable. His mouth hung open slightly, his lips quivering with each shallow, ragged breath as the sensation teased him mercilessly. His eyebrows knit together in irritation, the faint slivers of his blue eyes visible beneath heavy lids darting upward as if seeking an escape.

The tickle toyed with him, dragging him to the very edge of release before retreating again, leaving him suspended in torturous limbo. A faint, airy hitch escaped his lips—“hhihh… hehhh…”—a sound so faint it was nearly lost beneath the clatter of silverware and muffled conversation around the table. But no sneeze came.

His chest expanded as his breath hitched again, more desperate this time, yet still the irritation refused to resolve. “Hhhh…hhihhh…ehhh…!” The false starts mocked him, each one building his anticipation only to drop it with a cruel abruptness. He slumped back into his chair with a muted groan of frustration, his thin frame folding slightly as he rubbed furiously at his nose with the heel of his palm, his movements rough and frantic.

“Ugh, fuck this,” he muttered, his voice thick with congestion and simmering frustration as he abandoned his fork to grip the edge of the table. His other hand hovered uncertainly near his nose, ready to react to the next wave of irritation should it strike.

“Bless you in advance,” Rexar quipped dryly from across the table, his own sharp gaze flicking between Vaelyn’s twitching nose and his flushed cheeks. He sniffled discreetly into the back of his wrist, masking the faint crackle in his voice with a light cough.

Vaelyn’s glare was ice cold, though the glistening redness of his nose softened the effect. “Dot helpig, Rex,” he rasped, voice strained and hoarse as he snatched a napkin from the table and scrubbed at his face, his movements growing more agitated.

Kriia’s gaze softened as she watched Vaelyn battle with himself, her brows knitting in concern. “Vee, maybe take a minute?” she suggested gently, though her words barely registered over his persistent sniffling.

Vaelyn waved her off with a dismissive gesture, his hand fluttering weakly before dropping back to his lap. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes narrowing as though sheer willpower could banish the relentless itch. For a moment, the table fell silent, the weight of his mounting irritation pressing against the room like a storm about to break.

The warm lighting of the restaurant seemed to intensify the itch crawling through his nostrils, and every soft murmur of conversation around them felt like nails scraping against his already frayed nerves.

Across the table, Rexar was unusually fidgety, clearing his throat every few minutes and subtly swiping at his nose with the back of his hand. His grey-and-red eyes occasionally darted toward Vaelyn, narrowing as he sniffled quietly and then reached for his water glass.

“You good there, Rex?” Kriia asked, raising an eyebrow as she leaned toward him.

“Fine,” he muttered gruffly, dabbing at his nose with his napkin before adding under his breath, “Just dry air or something.”

Vaelyn wasn’t buying it, and from the faint smirk playing on Kriia’s lips, neither was she. Still, Rexar’s persistent throat-clearing grated on Vaelyn’s nerves, the sound cutting through his pounding headache like a serrated blade.

“Ugh, hadg od —godda sdeeze,” Vaelyn rasped suddenly, his voice tight with urgency as he raised a trembling hand to his face. His breath hitched wildly, his chest rising and falling in sharp bursts.

“Eishh!-ishh!-ish!-shh! …hehHH! -EEISSHHuh!”

The rapid-fire sneezes wracked Vaelyn’s frame, each one hitting with relentless force, until the final, desperate explosion left him gasping for air. His lanky form sagged forward as he pressed a crumpled tissue to his raw, swollen nose. The faintest sniffle escaped him, a wet, miserable sound as he tried—and failed—to compose himself.

“Bless you,” Kriia murmured, her voice low and steady. There was warmth in her tone, though it was laced with a shadow of quiet amusement. Her deep purple eyes flicked over him, assessing his fragile state.

Across the table, Rexar leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he eyed Vaelyn with an amused but exasperated smirk. His red-and-grey eyes, usually sharp with mischief, looked a little more tired than usual. “Man, you sound rough,” he commented, his voice raspier than normal as he sniffled and swiped at his nose. “And great—bet you got me sick too, thanks for that.”

Vaelyn shot him a half-hearted glare, his reddened nose twitching as he struggled against yet another sneeze. The dark circles under his eyes only made him look more miserable. “I’b dot sick,” he argued hoarsely, though the congestion made it anything but convincing. “It’s allergies. I told you.”

Kalypso let out a sharp, frustrated sigh and set her fork down with a clatter. “Oh, come on, Vaelyn,” she groaned, fixing him with an unimpressed stare. “You’ve been sneezing non-stop since we got here. Just admit it already. You’re sick, and it’s disgusting.”

The words hit like a slap, the disdain dripping from her tone carving deep grooves in the fragile balance of the room. Vaelyn froze, his breath hitching faintly as another sneeze loomed, but the glare he leveled at her was sharp enough to cut through steel. For a moment, the air between them seemed to vibrate with unsaid words, the restaurant’s cozy ambiance growing colder with every passing second.

Across the table, Kalypso rolled her eye dramatically. “So are you seriously going to keep doing that all night?” she snapped, her tone sharp enough to cut through the restaurant’s soft murmur.

“I cad’t exactly—hh—hehh… stop it,” Vaelyn rasped, his words faltering as his breath hitched once, twice—but instead of surrendering to it, he pinched the bridge of his nose roughly, swallowing the urge with a miserable shudder. His ribs protested the motion, his entire body trembling with the effort of resisting what he knew was inevitable. He just wanted to get through one meal without being the punchline to every joke.

“God, Vee, you’re so annoying,” she snapped. “You’re sneezing all over the place like a damn plague rat when we’re supposed to be RELAXING. Can’t you just go to the room and quarantine yourself or something?”

Rexar chuckled under his breath, unable to resist adding fuel to the fire. “Kal’s got a point, man. You’ve been sneezing nonstop since we got here. Maybe it’s time to wave the white flag.”

“Rex,” Kriia said sharply, nudging him with her elbow. “Don’t start.”

But it was too late. Vaelyn’s patience—already worn dangerously thin by the constant pressure in his head and the raw ache in his throat—snapped like a frayed string. He slammed his napkin down onto the table, his bloodshot eyes blazing with fury as he turned to Kalypso.

“You wanna talk about disgusting, Kal?” he growled, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and exhaustion. “How about the fact that you cad’t go five goddamn secodds without beig a complete bitch to everyone aroudd you? Or that you’d rather be a petty, self-centered ass thad show a shred of empathy?”

The entire restaurant went silent. Diners turned in their seats, their wide eyes darting between Vaelyn and Kalypso as if they were witnessing a car crash in slow motion.

Kalypso’s jaw dropped, her single emerald eye blazing with fury. “Excuse me?” she hissed, rising halfway out of her seat. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, you—”

Vaelyn didn’t let her finish. He stood abruptly, his lanky frame swaying slightly as he leaned against the table for balance. His breath hitched again, and he barely managed to lift his wrist to his face before another fit overtook him.

“Eishh! Ishh! Ishhh!-shh!-shhh! …hehhHH! -EEISSHHuhh!”

The sneezes left him trembling, and his pale cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger as he stumbled away from the table. He didn’t look back, his damp, congested sniffles trailing behind him as he stormed toward the exit.

The soft murmur of shocked whispers followed him out the door, and Kriia sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. “Rex, Kal… you two really need to learn when to back off,” she said, her voice sharp but tinged with disappointment.

Rexar raised his hands defensively, though his smirk had finally faded. “Hey, don’t lump me in with her. I wasn’t the one calling him a plague rat.”

Kalypso scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, please. He’s just being dramatic. He’ll get over it.”

Kriia’s glare could have melted steel. “If he doesn’t come back, you’re the one kissing his ass tomorrow when he’s in his feelings.”

Kalypso didn’t reply, her expression unreadable as she sank back into her seat.

The cold night air cut through Vaelyn like a blade, sharp and unforgiving against his fevered skin. The heat from his body clashed violently with the icy wind, leaving him shivering even beneath his thick hoodie. Every breath was heavy, uneven—his lungs felt tight, and his raw throat burned with each inhale. His sinuses throbbed relentlessly, swollen and clogged beyond reason, and the thick congestion in his chest made every step feel heavier than the last.

His breath hitched suddenly, his body lurching forward as another brutal fit seized him.

“Hhh-hhh—EISHHhh! Ishhh! Ishh! …hhehh—hh’EEISSHHHuhhh!”

His entire frame trembled with the force of it, knees nearly buckling as he barely managed to brace himself against the hallway wall. A damp sniffle followed, weak and miserable, as he pressed his sleeve to his face, trying to regain control over the relentless tickle tormenting his sinuses. But the pressure in his head only worsened, his body drained beyond measure.

By the time he reached the suite, every ounce of his energy had been wrung out of him like a rag. He fumbled with the door handle before finally shoving it open, stepping inside with all the grace of a man on his last legs. The warmth of the room was suffocating after the bitter cold outside, making his skin prickle with heat as his fever battled against the drastic temperature shift.

His head pounded with a deep, relentless ache, pain pressing in from every angle—the bridge of his nose, his temples, his sinuses, all of it a dull, throbbing reminder of how absolutely wrecked he felt. His body moved on instinct, gravitating toward the bed as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality. The moment his knees hit the mattress, he collapsed face-first into the pillows, letting out a muffled groan that was half frustration, half exhausted defeat.

“Stupid… god damn trip,” he muttered hoarsely, his voice so thick with congestion that he barely recognized it. He turned his face slightly, wincing as the movement sent sharp pangs through his sinuses. “Stupid… fucking… Kal.”

His jaw clenched at her name.

That was what was really eating at him.

Not the fever. Not the sneezing. Not even the sheer misery of feeling like a walking contagion.

No, it was her. The way she’d flipped on him like a switch—gone from being playful, teasing, dare he say almost nice to treating him like he was nothing more than an irritating burden. It had been so jarring, so sudden.

He’d felt something shift between them earlier. For once, she hadn’t been criticizing him or rolling her eyes at his existence. There was something different in the way she leaned into him, the way her voice softened, the way she had let herself be there with him instead of against him.

And then dinner happened.

And just like that, she was back to being Kalypso.

Cold. Dismissive. Like she hadn’t just spent an entire evening laughing with him. Like she hadn’t just been smirking at his dumbass commentary over Antique Roadshow, bumping her knee against his like it meant nothing.

Vaelyn exhaled sharply through his nose, instantly regretting it when the congestion made an awful, gurgling noise in the back of his throat. He groaned in frustration, scrubbing a hand down his face before rolling onto his back, staring at the ceiling with tired, bloodshot eyes.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew better than to fall asleep before her. If he passed out first, she’d have free rein to fuck with him in his dreams, and he refused to give her that satisfaction.

Instead, he reached for his notebook, dragging it toward him as he sat up against the headboard. His limbs felt heavy, his entire body aching in protest, but he needed something to distract him from the gnawing feeling in his gut.

Maybe he could at least try to write something. Channel this irritation, this disappointment, into something productive.

He grabbed a pen and stared at the blank page, tapping the pen against the paper as he tried to form something coherent out of the mess in his head.

Nothing came.

He sighed, pressing the pen to the page anyway.

"Allergic to you, allergic to love—"

Vaelyn immediately scowled, crossing it out aggressively. Jesus fucking Christ, that was awful.

He tapped the pen against the notebook again, staring at the ceiling as he tried another angle.

"You’re a bitch, but I can’t help but—"

Nope. Terrible. He scratched that out, too.

Another attempt.

"Heart’s a fever, burning up in my chest—"

Okay, not the worst thing he’d ever written, but still painfully on the nose. He let his head drop back against the headboard, groaning. He felt gross. Not just physically, but emotionally, which was infinitely worse.

God, this was pathetic. He was sitting here, fevered and miserable, trying to write a fucking song about Kalypso, of all people.

Vaelyn pinched the bridge of his nose, his breath hitching sharply as the congestion shifted in the worst way possible. He barely had time to get his arm up before another harsh, rapid-fire fit seized him.

“Hhhihh’ISHHh! Eishh! Ishhh!—ishh’ihh!—shh! …hehhHH! -EEIISSHHuhh!”

The final sneeze left him absolutely wrecked, his chest caving with the force of it as he slumped forward, breathless and dazed. His sinuses pulsed angrily, his body trembling slightly from the sheer effort of existing.

Yeah. Fuck this.

He tossed the notebook onto the nightstand with a defeated sigh and sank deeper into the pillows, rubbing at his burning eyes.

Maybe he should just let himself be pissed off. Maybe he deserved to be pissed off. Maybe Kalypso did get under his skin more than he’d ever let himself admit.

But even as he let himself stew in frustration, he knew that if she walked in right now, teasing smirk on her lips, some part of him would still be stupid enough to lean into it.

A heavy silence settled over the table in the wake of Vaelyn’s dramatic exit, the weight of his words still lingering like an uninvited guest. Kriia let out a slow breath, spearing the last bite of her meal with noticeably less enthusiasm than before. Across from her, Rexar poked at his half-eaten steak, his usual smirk dulled into something unreadable.

Kalypso, on the other hand, merely rolled her eye and returned to her plate, though her usual biting remarks had dried up. Even she seemed to recognize that anything she said now would only add fuel to the already raging fire that was Vaelyn’s temper. Instead, she focused on finishing her food, stabbing her fork into a roasted potato with perhaps more aggression than necessary.

The rest of the restaurant hadn’t resumed its usual hum of conversation. Whispers drifted from nearby tables, eyes still flicking toward them like they were the live entertainment for the night. Kriia could hear snippets—words like plague rat, melodramatic, honeymoon disaster—all murmured behind hands and wine glasses.

With a sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose before finally breaking the tense silence between them. “Well. That was fun.”

Rexar huffed a quiet chuckle, though it lacked his usual amusement. “Yeah. Nothing like publicly humiliating one of your best friends to really set the mood, huh?” His tone was light, but the way he avoided meeting Kriia’s gaze told her he wasn’t entirely joking.

Kalypso, still feigning indifference, scoffed. “Please. He’ll get over it. He always does.” She chewed the inside of her cheek, eye flicking toward the door Vaelyn had disappeared through.

Kriia’s gaze sharpened. “That’s not the point, Kal.”

Kalypso exhaled sharply through her nose, pushing her plate away with a slight grimace. “Whatever,” she muttered, shifting uncomfortably under Kriia’s stare.

No one had much to say after that. The rest of the meal was eaten in awkward silence, interrupted only by the occasional clink of silverware against ceramic and the hushed murmurs of the still-curious restaurant patrons.

When they finally finished, the three stood from the table in unspoken agreement, each suddenly eager to escape the heavy atmosphere.

“Well,” Kalypso started, smoothing down her jacket, “I, for one, am so done with this night. I’m gonna go get ready for my massage—something that, unlike this meal, I might actually enjoy.”

Rexar huffed, reaching up to rub his nose, his usually sharp red-and-grey eyes squinting slightly. “Yeah, let’s—hh'ieXSHHH!!”

The first sneeze tore out of him before he had a chance to react, bending him slightly at the waist. He barely managed to clamp a hand over his nose before—

“HeT’CHXOO!!" FWOOSH!

A small, but distinct burst of flame shot from between his fingers, licking at the air before extinguishing harmlessly. Rexar lurched forward with the last of the inevitable trio, his body tensing.

“Et’tCHOO!!" hffhh!

Only embers this time—tiny glowing cinders skipping against the wooden floor before sizzling out.

Kalypso yelped and took a quick step back, eyeing the scorch marks on the floor before snapping her gaze back to him. “What the fuck, Rex?! You trying to burn this place down?!”

Rexar sniffled thickly, straightening as he gave his nose a firm rub against his wrist. A faint stream of smoke curled from his nostrils, carrying the scent of burning maple, which instantly softened the tension in the air. Even Kalypso, mid-glare, blinked sluggishly for a moment, her shoulders unconsciously loosening from their tense state.

“Bless me,” Rexar muttered casually, as if he hadn’t just nearly set fire to the lodge.

Kriia, arms crossed, let out a long-suffering sigh, her deep purple eyes flicking between the embers and her boyfriend. “Babe, really?”

Rexar cleared his throat, rubbing at his nose again. “Look, I tried to stifle, but I—hh’ieXXSHHH!—hh'TSCHHoo!!—ehhh'NGXX!!"

The last one sounded more congested, his head bobbing slightly with the force. His eyes were already beginning to water, a thin wisp of smoke curling from his mouth instead of his nose now that congestion had taken hold.

Kalypso pointed at him, eyeing the tiny flames crackling against the floor. "No. Absolutely not. You better not be getting sick. One walking biohazard is more than enough."

Rexar gave an exaggerated sniff, rolling his shoulders. “Nah, nah, I’m fine,” he said with a lazy smirk, nudging Kriia’s side. “Kriia would definitely know if I was getting sick.” He winked in Kriia’s direction.

Kriia merely raised a brow, unimpressed. “You are so lucky that I’m into you.”

Kalypso, groaning, pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know what? Nope. Not dealing with this.” She spun on her heel, heading straight for the elevator. “I’m gonna go enjoy my night away from all of this.”

Kriia and Rexar exchanged glances as they watched her stomp off. Rexar, still wiping at his nose, gave a small shrug.

“Wanna place bets on how long it takes her to start a fight with Vaelyn?”

Kriia smirked, looping her arm around his as they headed for their room. “Oh, babe. I’d bet money she already has.”

Kalypso trudged back to the suite later that evening, her shoulders weighed down with the kind of irritation that only Vaelyn could inspire. Her emerald green eye narrowed as she jiggled the door handle, only to find it locked.

"Of course," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eye as she banged sharply on the door. "Vaelyn! Open up! You better not be sulking in there like a dramatic little gremlin!"

Silence greeted her, save for the occasional, muffled sneeze from behind the door. Her lips curled into a scowl, and she slammed her fist against the wood again. "VAELYN! I know you’re in there! I can hear you sneezing, you melodramatic asshole!"

Kalypso sighed dramatically as a security guard rounded the corner, his expression both cautious and alarmed. "Ma’am, is everything alright?"

She threw her hands in the air, exasperated. "No, everything is not alright. My idiot roommate locked me out, and he’s refusing to let me in. Probably because I hurt his delicate little man-feelings."

The guard blinked, clearly unsure how to handle this level of intensity. "I… can escort you to the front desk to get a new key?"

"Fine," Kalypso snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through the air as she stomped toward the elevator. Her heavy boots echoed against the polished wood floors, each step vibrating with pure irritation. "But if I miss my massage because of this, someone is paying for it. And it’s not going to be me."

The security guard, who had clearly decided this was beyond his pay grade, quickly escorted her to the lobby, where an entirely new battle awaited her.

What should have been a simple request turned into a bureaucratic nightmare. The front desk staff, with their overly polite smiles and infuriatingly calm tones, insisted that they couldn’t just give her another key without proper verification.

"I'm on the goddamn reservation," Kalypso seethed, planting both hands on the counter as she glared at the receptionist. "Vaelyn fucking Hawthorne is my roommate. We checked in together. Do you think I just randomly picked a door to start screaming at?"

The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with an expression that said she had dealt with far worse, only offered a practiced, apologetic smile. "I’m very sorry, ma’am, but we need confirmation from Mr. Hawthorne before we can issue another key."

Kalypso let out a slow, dangerous exhale. "Oh, that’s great," she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Because the reason I need a key is because Mr. Hawthorne won’t open the fucking door. You see the problem, yeah?"

The woman only nodded, unfazed. "Policy is policy."

Kalypso nearly saw red. It took an hour of back-and-forth, of escalating from one employee to another, of flashing her ID and pointing out multiple times that her bags were in the damn room, before they finally—finally—handed her a key. By then, her massage appointment was long gone, wasted on a receptionist who probably moonlighted as a brick wall.

Fuming, she stormed back upstairs, every step fueled by the absolute rage boiling inside her. The moment she reached the door, she swiped the key card with unnecessary force and threw the door open, ready to unleash hell.

And there was Vaelyn, sprawled lazily on the bed like a smug, green-haired cat, one arm draped dramatically over his stomach while the other plucked absently at the strings of his guitar. His notebook lay open beside him, a pen twirling lazily between his fingers. His blue eyes, still glassy with fever, flicked up to meet hers, and a slow, lopsided smirk curled at his lips.

"Miss me?" he rasped, his voice thick with congestion but still carrying that insufferable Vaelyn charm.

Kalypso stood frozen in the doorway for a solid three seconds, her eye twitching, her breath coming out in slow, measured inhales through her nose.

Then, without a word, she stepped inside, slammed the door behind her, and prepared to commit murder.

"Vaelyn. Do you know how much time I just wasted because of you?"

"Define ‘wasted,’" he replied innocently, plucking another lazy chord. "I wrote, like, three lines of a song while you were gone. Pretty sure that’s progress."

Kal stared at him, her fury bubbling to the surface like lava about to erupt. "We missed the massages. Do you understand that? I’ve been looking forward to that hot stone massage THE WHOLE TIME."

Vaelyn winced, setting the guitar down with a sniffle. "Okay, but counterpoint: do you know how much this pillow loves me? Look at it. We’re bonded now. This is healing for me."

Kalypso stomped over to the bed and grabbed his notebook, flipping it open. The page contained nothing but three scribbled words: I hate Kal.

She held it up, her eye narrowing into a sharp glare. "This is what you accomplished?"

Vaelyn shrugged, smirking faintly. "Creative outlet."

Kal tossed the notebook back onto the bed and crossed her arms. "You are insufferable."

Vaelyn’s grin faltered for the briefest second, a flicker of something unreadable passing behind his bloodshot blue eyes. He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow, and sniffled hard before rubbing at his sore nose with his sleeve. "Yeah, well," he muttered, voice thick and hoarse, "you’re not exactly a ray of fucking sunshine yourself, Kal."

Kalypso raised a brow at the uncharacteristic edge in his tone. "Oh, what, you’re actually mad?" she scoffed, arms still crossed as she loomed over him. "Because I called you out for sneezing all over the goddamn place like some walking biohazard?"

Vaelyn let out a dry, humorless chuckle and flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Nah, I’m mad because you were fine with it before dinner," he muttered, voice quieter now but no less biting. "When it was just us in here, you weren’t acting like I was the fucking plague. Then the second we sit down at that table, suddenly it’s all, ‘Ugh, Vee, you’re so annoying, you’re gonna get me sick, blah blah blah.’" He turned his head toward her, his tired, congested voice gaining a sharpness that was rare for him. "Was the little truce just for funsies? Or do you just talk shit for sport?"

Kalypso’s posture stiffened. She hadn’t expected him to actually care. Vaelyn was always the first to throw himself into the fire of a joke, always the one to roll with the punches, no matter how sharp they were. But now, lying there in a feverish slump, red-nosed and miserable, his usual indifference had cracked.

For a second, she considered doubling down—because of course he was annoying, of course he was exhausting—but something about the way he was looking at her made her hesitate. It wasn’t just irritation in his expression; there was something else. Something bruised.

"I—" she started, but Vaelyn waved a lazy hand, cutting her off as he pushed himself upright, shoving his damp, tangled hair out of his face.

"Forget it," he muttered. "You wanna be pissed about the massages? Fine. I get it. But don’t act like you weren’t actually enjoying yourself before you realized there were other people around to judge you for it."

Kalypso opened her mouth to fire something back, but Vaelyn wasn’t looking at her anymore. Instead, his expression suddenly slackened, his nostrils twitching in warning. His breath hitched, and he barely had time to turn away before another violent sneezing fit overtook him.

“Hhh-hhh—Eishh! Ishh! Ish! ’shh! …hehhHH! -EEIISSHHuhh!”

The final sneeze wrenched his entire body forward, his damp hair spilling over his face as he braced himself against the mattress. His breath shuddered out of him, and he groaned softly, snatching a tissue from the pile beside him to rub at his crimson-dusted nose.

Kalypso exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her own hair. "...You really are pathetic right now," she muttered, but the venom was gone from her voice.

Vaelyn snorted weakly. "Yeah. Thanks for noticing."

Kal let out a long breath before wordlessly grabbing the tissue box and shoving it closer to him. He shot her a skeptical look but took one anyway, mumbling something under his breath as he turned his attention back to his guitar.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The air between them was still tense, but it wasn’t hostile. Just… unfinished. And for now, that would have to be enough.

To be continued…

[aller-geez]

Snow Daze (part 1)

Written & illustrated by allergeez

Spent 3 days struggling to draw a cover for this series and I can’t say that I love it, but I couldn’t handle trying again right now so it may change for Part 2, but we’ll see~ Part 1 of a new series, (first Vaelyn series 🖤) 6k words, cold denial at a ski resort, starts out with only Vee sneezing, but eventually turns into a group sick fic 🖤 (I’m not as funny as @thekinkyleopard tho so don’t expect miracles.😂 this’ll be my first group fic so I hopefully you enjoy it 🖤) Part 2 is almost finished already, so it’ll be posted a bit later~

As always, Kezzi owns Kalypso 🖤

The studio had become a warzone over the past six months, its once-vibrant energy now stifled by tension and exhaustion. Empty cans of energy drinks littered every available surface, and the sharp tang of stale coffee permeated the air. Rexar’s guitar lay abandoned in one corner, a testament to the countless nights where inspiration had stubbornly refused to strike. The whiteboard that usually bore bold, scribbled lyrics and ambitious song structures now held a few frustrated lines scratched out so violently the marker had almost bled through.

Vaelyn sat hunched over his guitar, fingers absently plucking at the strings. His blue eyes, usually sharp and vibrant, were dull and shadowed from sleepless nights. Across the room, Rexar paced like a caged animal, his grey-and-red eyes flashing with irritation every time Vaelyn muttered a half-hearted suggestion.

“You call that a riff?” Rexar snapped one night, his voice dripping with frustration.

Vaelyn’s jaw tightened. “You got something better, front man?”

Their arguments had grown sharper, less playful over time. It wasn’t just creative differences anymore; the stress of delivering a career-defining album had sunk its claws into them both. Even their last-ditch effort—a chaotic acid trip that ended with Rexar setting the studio curtains on fire—had produced nothing but more frayed nerves.

Kriia had watched the downward spiral from the sidelines, her patience dwindling with each passing week. She was the glue that kept them from tearing each other apart, but even she had limits. After another screaming match between the two left her shaking her head in exasperation, she knew something had to change.

Late one night, armed with her laptop and a glass of wine, Kriia scrolled through endless vacation deals in a desperate attempt to find something—anything—that might salvage their sanity. That’s when she found it: a honeymoon package at an upscale ski resort tucked away in the snowy mountains. The photos were stunning—cozy cabins with roaring fireplaces, gourmet dining, private hot tubs, and panoramic views of snow-drenched peaks.

It was perfect.

“This is it,” she muttered to herself, clicking through the details. “Luxury, relaxation, and no studio in sight. They can’t argue in paradise, right?”

There was, however, one glaring problem: the honeymoon deal was strictly for couples. Kriia had no issue dragging Rexar along as her partner—it wasn’t the first time she’d posed as his wife to get what they needed—but Vaelyn was only sort of taken…

He was going to have to bring Kalypso.

The thought made her stomach churn. Kalypso, with her dramatic flair and endless scheming, was the last thing this fragile group needed, but there was no way around it. If the band was going to survive—and finish their album—Kriia had to make peace with inviting the chaos agent herself.

The tension in the studio was thick enough to cut with a knife. Rexar had his arms crossed, leaning against the wall with his sharp grey-and-red eyes narrowed in defiance, while Vaelyn sat slouched in his chair, absently tapping his guitar pick against his knee. The two were seconds away from another eruption when Kriia stormed in, laptop in hand and her green eyes blazing.

“Alright, enough!” she snapped, cutting through their brewing argument like a whip. “I can’t listen to another second of you two bickering over chord progressions or whatever the hell this fight’s about. You’re both impossible, and frankly, this album is driving all of us insane.”

Both men fell silent, Rexar quirking an eyebrow while Vaelyn rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I found something that’s going to fix this,” Kriia continued, planting the laptop on the table. “We’re going away this weekend. All of us. No studio, no album, just snow, mountains, and some much-needed space to not hate each other for a few days.”

She clicked open the details of the ski resort, the screen filled with images of plush cabins, roaring fireplaces, and luxurious buffets. Rexar’s mouth tugged into a smirk as he leaned over to get a better look.

“Snowboarding? Hot tubs? Hell yeah, I’m in,” Rexar said, already imagining carving down the slopes with the wind whipping past his face.

Vaelyn perked up slightly, though he remained guarded. “I mean… sure. Could be nice,” he muttered, trying to mask his curiosity.

Kriia folded her arms. “Good. Because you’re both going, no arguments. You need this, we need this, and we’re doing it together.”

The two exchanged a glance, their shared enthusiasm for snowboarding softening their usual edge. For a moment, the tension in the room began to dissolve—until Kriia dropped the other shoe.

“There’s just one thing,” she said, a little too nonchalantly. “It’s a… honeymoon… package.”

Rexar’s smirk turned into a full-blown grin. “Oh, this just gets better. Kriia and I get to spend a weekend soaking up the perks of being fake married, and Vee—oh man, Vee gets to bring Kalypso.”

Vaelyn’s head snapped up, his face contorting with immediate horror. “No. Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m bringing her. Do you have any idea how exhausting that’s going to be? I’m supposed to relax, not babysit.”

Rexar burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the studio. “You’re the one who’s dating her, dude. Sounds like a you problem.”

Kriia’s patience had worn razor-thin. “Listen, Vaelyn,” she said sharply, her tone brooking no argument. “You’re the one who decided to date Kalypso, so you can deal with her for a few days. I don’t care how annoying she is. We’re doing this, and you’re not backing out.”

Vaelyn groaned loudly, running a hand through his already messy hair that fell around his shoulders freely. “Fine. Whatever,” he grumbled, yanking out his phone and shooting Kalypso a quick text.

Vee:

Yo. Want to go to a ski resort this weekend? 😒😒

He didn’t elaborate, didn’t mention the “honeymoon” detail. She would find out sooner or later, but that was a problem for future Vaelyn to deal with. For now, he just needed to survive the fallout from this forced vacation.

Rexar leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, a rare look of contentment softening his sharp features. “Man, I can’t wait for this. Just think about it—snow, slopes, hot chocolate, and actual quiet time. No riffing, no deadlines, just Kriia and me in full honeymoon mode.”

Kriia raised an eyebrow at him, though her lips quirked into a smile. “Honeymoon mode? Don’t get too comfortable, babe. You’re still going to have to deal with Vee and Kalypso.”

“Yeah, but watching those two argue is like its own form of entertainment,” Rexar said with a laugh. “Plus, Vee’s gonna have to shred the slopes with me. You know, when he’s not busy trying to keep Kalypso from going full drama queen.”

Kriia shook her head fondly, while Vaelyn let out an annoyed huff from the other side of the room, his attention flicking to his phone as it chimed with a notification.

The screen lit up with Kalypso’s response:

Kalypso:

Duh, what kind of a question is that? 😒 But what’s the catch?

Vaelyn groaned loudly, running a hand down his face. “Of course,” he muttered, his thumbs flying over the screen.

Vee:

“There’s no fkn catch, Kal. Just don’t be TOO annoying. We’ll pick you up at 9 am. And don’t make us wait hella long on your ass AND DON’T expect me to carry 1200 pounds of YOUR luggage. Pack appropriately.*

He hit send and tossed the phone onto the table, sinking back into his chair with a sigh that practically oozed frustration. “Why do I do this to myself?” he muttered under his breath.

Rexar, ever the opportunist, couldn’t resist. “Because you secretly like the chaos. Don’t worry, Vee. I’m sure this will be the romantic getaway you’ve always dreamed of.”

Vaelyn shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel, but Rexar only grinned wider.

“Rex,” Kriia chided gently, placing a hand on his arm to pull him back. “Be nice.”

Rexar shrugged, his smirk softening slightly under Kriia’s amused gaze. “Alright, alright. I’ll save the teasing for the car ride. Plenty of time for it then.”

Vaelyn rolled his eyes but didn’t bother responding, already resigned to the chaos this trip was about to bring.

The morning greeted Vaelyn like a sledgehammer to the skull. He groaned as consciousness crept in, his body aching as though he’d been dragged through gravel. His head throbbed with a dull, relentless pressure, and his sinuses felt like they’d been stuffed with cement. A damp sniffle escaped him, wet and miserable, and he wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie, only to feel the fabric grow uncomfortably damp.

His throat burned with each swallow, raw and scratchy, and his limbs felt leaden as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The old springs creaked under his weight, the sound echoing in the stillness of his room. He pressed his fingertips into his temples, trying and failing to ease the congestion pressing against his skull.

“Vee, you up?!” Kriia’s voice rang down the hall, too chipper for how early it was.

Dragging himself to his feet, Vaelyn stumbled toward his closet, his balance wobbly from the lingering dizziness. He grabbed random clothes and stuffed them haphazardly into his suitcase, pausing every few seconds as his nose twitched violently. He barely had time to lift his elbow before the sneezes overtook him.

“Hhh—Eishh!-ishh!-ish!-’shh! …hehhHH! -EEISSHHuh!!” Each fit bent him forward, his lanky frame trembling with the effort. The sound was harsh, echoing off the bare walls of his room, and left him gasping for air.

A sharp knock on the doorframe made him glance up, his bloodshot blue eyes meeting Kriia’s concerned gaze. Her dark purple eyes narrowed as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with worry. “You sound awful.”

“Fine,” he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat, wincing as the action sent a fiery scrape through his raw vocal cords. “Suitcase is just dusty,” he added, waving her off with a dismissive hand.

“Uh-huh,” Kriia replied skeptically, her gaze lingering on his red, swollen nose and the way he swayed slightly when he moved. She didn’t push, though, letting it slide as Rexar’s booming voice erupted from the living room.

“C’mon, Princess! The car’s not loading itself!”

Vaelyn’s jaw clenched at the nickname, and he shoved his suitcase shut with more force than necessary. “Hilarious,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing the handle and dragging it down the hall.

In the driveway, Rexar leaned casually against his hummer, his sharp grey-and-red eyes gleaming with amusement. He gestured toward Vaelyn with a lazy flick of his hand as the guitarist stuffed his suitcase into the back.

“Bless you, by the way,” Rexar quipped, his smirk widening. “Hope you’re not coming down with something, or this trip’s gonna be real romantic for Kal.”

Vaelyn shot him a withering glare, his reddened nose twitching ominously. He paused, sniffled thickly, and then barely managed to growl, “Shut up, Rex, you know she likes my sneezes anyway…” before his breath hitched again.

“Hhh—hhH’EISSHHHhhuhh! ” The sneeze doubled him over, leaving him clutching the side of the hummer for balance.

Rexar chuckled, patting Vaelyn on the back. “You know, Princess, I think she’ll get over that reeeeal quick if this is any premonition…”

Vaelyn’s muffled groan was all the response he could muster.

The bitter winter air stung his flushed, feverish cheeks, and he could feel the congestion tightening behind his eyes like a vice. With every step, his boots crunched against the icy driveway, matching the soft hiss of his strained breathing.

The ride to Kalypso’s house was nothing short of torture for Vaelyn. The hum of the engine felt like it was reverberating directly through his skull, amplifying the dull, relentless pounding in his head. Rexar’s voice, normally loud but tolerable, felt grating today as he chatted away with Kriia in the front seat. Every joke, every laugh, felt like sandpaper against Vaelyn’s already raw nerves.

Slumped against the window, his dark green hair spilling messily over his face, Vaelyn let out a soft groan as another tickle bloomed deep in his sinuses. He sniffled uselessly, his red nose twitching against the itch. He scrubbed at it with his sleeve, muttering a faint, “Ugh… just kill me now,” under his breath.

When they finally pulled up to Kalypso’s house, Vaelyn forced himself to move. His legs felt like lead, and his joints ached with every step as he trudged to the front door. He muffled a couple of wet, itchy coughs into his elbow, wincing as the motion sent another wave of dizziness washing over him. His knuckles rapped against the door, the sound sharper than he intended, and he instantly regretted it when a sharp throb rippled through his temple.

The door flew open in record time, revealing Kalypso in all her gothic glory. Her jet-black hair, streaked with vivid lime green, fell in choppy layers around her pale, angular face. Her emerald green eye gleamed with its usual sharpness, but the moment her gaze landed on Vaelyn, her smile faltered.

“Jesus, you look like dog shit,” she said bluntly, her tone matter-of-fact as she leaned against the doorframe, one hand on her hip.

"Good to see you too," Vaelyn muttered back, his raspy tone doing little to hide his irritation as he turned on his heel to start walking back towards Rexar’s waiting vehicle without waiting for her. His throat was burning, every word scratching painfully, and he had half a mind to just shove her back inside and leave her there.

Kalypso grabbed her bag and followed, closing the door behind her with a loud click. Sliding into the back seat, she didn’t bother hiding her amusement as she leaned back, crossing one leg over the other.

“Sup,” Rexar greeted her with a lazy nod from the driver’s seat, his sharp grey-red eyes flicking to her briefly before returning to his phone.

Before Vaelyn could follow her in, his nose surged to life once more. He froze mid-step, head tilting back as his breath hitched wildly. “Hh-! Hh’ISCHHh! EISHhh! H’ISHHhh! —ish! shh! —sh! ………………hh’EISHHhhhuhh!” The sneezes tore through him, rapid and relentless, each one sapping the little energy he had left.

Finally, a soaked, waterlogged sniffle followed that did nothing to clear his sinuses, Vaelyn sighed to himself, exhaustion settling deeper into his bones. His red nose was practically glowing against the pale flush of his skin as he opened the hummer door and dropped into his seat like a puppet with its strings cut.

He leaned his head back against the seat with a groan, wiping his nose with the edge of his hoodie sleeve.

Kalypso wrinkled her nose, scooting an inch farther away from him. “You better not get me sick,” she warned, her voice dripping with exasperation, but her eyes told a different story as she smirked in slight arousal.

Vaelyn gave her a sidelong glare, resting his temple against the cold glass of the window. “I’b dot sick.” Vaelyn croaked, his voice hoarse and heavy with congestion. “By suitcase was id the back of by closet and was dusty as fugk. I have allergies if you rebebber.”

Rexar chuckled from the front, glancing at Vaelyn in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, okay Vee. We definitely believe you.”

Vaelyn shot him a glare, his reddened nose twitching with the ghost of another sneeze. “Shut the fugk up, Rex.”

With a grin, Rexar hit the gas, and they were off, the car filled with a mix of groans, sniffling, and Rexar’s relentless commentary. Vaelyn closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the constant tickle in his throat. The trip was already shaping up to be exactly as miserable as he’d expected.

The ski resort was every bit as picturesque as Kriia had promised. Snow blanketed the rolling hills and pine trees like a perfect postcard, and rustic yet luxurious chalets dotted the landscape. The main lodge stood proudly in the center, its towering stone chimney sending plumes of woodsmoke curling into the icy air. Inside, guests lounged on plush couches by roaring fireplaces, sipping steaming mugs of hot chocolate or nibbling on an assortment of gourmet pastries from the buffet. It should have been paradise.

For Vaelyn, it was pure hell.

The moment he opened the car door, the icy air hit him like a freight train, biting into his fevered skin and making his already-clogged lungs seize painfully. A sharp cough rattled out of him, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his torso as he stepped out into the snow.

Kalypso, who had to hop down from the high seat of Rexar’s Hummer, landed with a dramatic bounce, brushing invisible snowflakes from her black jacket. Behind them, Rexar and Kriia climbed out as well, giggling quietly about something Vaelyn was too sick and too annoyed to decipher.

The cold wasn’t the only thing weighing him down. As Rexar opened the trunk and started pulling out their suitcases, Vaelyn muffled yet another violent sneezing fit into the neckline of his hoodie.

“Hhh! Hhh’EISHhh! Ishhh! hh—shh! …hhehh—hh’EESHHHHuhh!”

The wet, marshy sound was enough to make him grimace, his bare chest damp where he’d pressed the fabric to his face. He swiped at his raw, angry nose, sniffling miserably as he tried to regain some semblance of composure.

When he finally looked up, Kalypso was standing in front of him, her emerald green eye gleaming with amusement as she held out the handles of her two enormous bags.

“Still holding to the ‘it’s allergies’ excuse?” she asked with a smirk, shaking the bags slightly to get his attention.

Vaelyn sighed loudly, his aching shoulders already screaming at the thought of carrying anything heavier than himself. “Yes. It was fuckigg dusty,” he snapped stubbornly, grabbing her bags along with his own. The combined weight nearly knocked him off balance, and he had to take a moment to steady himself before trudging toward the lodge.

The warm air inside the lodge was almost too much after the biting cold, and it immediately set off another round of sneezing.

“Hhhhh-! Hihhh—godda… sdeeze! Hh’ISCHHh! EISHhh! H’ISHHhh! —ish! shh! —sh! ………………hh’EISHHhhhuhh!”

The sound echoed embarrassingly through the grand lobby, drawing a few glances from other guests. Vaelyn bent forward, bracing his hands on his knees as he rode out the fit, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Rexar, who was collecting the room keys from the front desk, raised an eyebrow and muttered loud enough for only Kriia to hear, “You sure he’s not patient zero for a new plague?”

Kriia shot him a sharp look, elbowing him in the ribs. “Rex,” she hissed before turning her attention back to Vaelyn. Her voice softened with genuine concern. “You okay, Vee?”

“Peachy,” he croaked sarcastically, though his voice was barely audible over the congestion clogging his sinuses. His feet dragged as they followed Rexar toward the elevator, and he swayed slightly with each step, his body teetering dangerously close to giving out.

The elevator ride up was silent save for the occasional sniffle or cough from Vaelyn. Kalypso leaned against the mirrored wall, clearly more interested in scrolling through her phone than acknowledging his misery. Kriia, on the other hand, kept stealing worried glances his way, but she knew better than to press him.

When they finally reached their rooms, Rexar handed out the keys, flashing Vaelyn a pointed look. “Try not to die before we hit the slopes tomorrow, yeah? I don’t feel like carrying your ass back up the mountain.”

Vaelyn glared weakly at him, fumbling with the key card before muttering, “You’d let be freeze for a laugh and you dow it.”

Rexar just grinned. “Yeah, but I’d take a great picture first.”

Kalypso rolled her eye, grabbing her bags from Vaelyn’s shaking hands and pushing her way into their shared room. “Try not to sneeze all over everything while I’m unpacking,” she called back with a laugh.

Vaelyn didn’t even have the energy to retort. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, his head pounding and his chest tight, before finally dragging himself into the room, already dreading the hours to come.

As he stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him, Vaelyn winced as another powerful fit ripped through him, his entire body snapping forward at the force. “Hhh… Hh—Hh’EISSHHhh! hh’EISHHHH! —shhh! ...hhh’IESHHHuhh!” His breath hitched at the tail end, as if daring him to endure another round, but he managed to stave it off for a few precious seconds. Bracing himself against the edge of the fireplace mantle, he clung to it like a lifeline, his knuckles white against the smooth wood. His red-rimmed eyes were watery and distant, and his nose was an angry shade of pink, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Every shallow breath rattled through his chest, heavy and wet, as if his lungs were wading through molasses.

Kalypso’s single emerald eye fixed on him with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “God, can you stop for five seconds?” she snapped, her voice as biting as the winter wind outside. She sat perched on the couch’s armrest, her black nails tapping an impatient rhythm against her thigh.

Vaelyn groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Stob complaiding,” he shot back, though his voice was hoarse and broken, making his retort sound far less intimidating. “You’re dot the ode—hh—IESHhh!—sufferigg here.”

Another sneeze barreled out of him mid-sentence, interrupting his words with a desperate, breathless gasp. His knees buckled slightly, and he leaned harder against the mantle to steady himself, blinking furiously to clear his vision. The humiliation of his own body betraying him made him bristle even more.

Kalypso shot up from her seat, her chains clinking with the movement. “Jesus fucking Christ, Vaelyn! Just lie the fuck down already!” Her tone pitched higher as her frustration boiled over. “You’re walking around sneezing like a goddamn germ factory! I swear to god, you’re so fucking useless!”

Vaelyn blinked at her outburst, too caught off guard—and frankly too sick—to respond with his usual snark. He looked like he wanted to argue, but his shoulders slumped in defeat, the exhaustion weighing on him. “Wasn’t askig for you to babysit,” he muttered under his breath, though his congested voice robbed the words of any bite.

Kalypso threw her hands in the air. “Yeah, well, too bad!” she snapped, grabbing a plush pillow from the couch and hurling it toward the bed. “Instead of enjoying the hot tub or actually relaxing on this stupid trip, now I have to deal with your dumb, germy ass. You’re a fucking nightmare, Vee. Just lay down before you pass out or something. And if you do, I’m not calling for help—I’ll leave you here.”

Vaelyn sighed dramatically, muttering curses under his breath as he shuffled toward the bed. Every step felt like dragging himself through wet cement. He collapsed onto the comforter like a marionette with its strings cut, his long frame sprawling awkwardly. Kalypso stalked after him, glaring down at him with her hands on her hips.

“Happy dow?” he rasped, turning his face into the pillow to stifle a harsh, chesty cough that left him wincing.

Kalypso rolled her eye and grabbed the tissue box from the nightstand, tossing it squarely onto his chest. “Ecstatic,” she muttered dryly. “Now blow your nose before you drown in your own snot, dumbass.”

Vaelyn groaned but complied, blowing his nose into a crumpled tissue with a wet, gurgling honk. The action left him lightheaded, and he slumped back against the pillows with a dazed expression. “This trip… is gonnuh… hh—godda sdeeze… hhH—hh’IESHhh! hh’EISHuhh!” He barely managed to grab another tissue in time before dissolving into a fresh fit.

“God, you’re exhausting,” Kalypso muttered, stalking toward the kitchenette. She yanked a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and shoved it into his hand. “Drink. You look like you’re about to keel over, and I’m not dealing with you dying on me.”

“Thadks,” Vaelyn muttered, though his tone dripped with sarcasm. He sat up before cracking the bottle open with trembling hands, taking a small sip as Kriia poked her head into the room.

“Everything okay in here?” she asked cautiously, her deep purple eyes scanning the scene with a mixture of concern and amusement.

Kalypso threw her hands up in exaggerated exasperation. “Oh, yeah, totally fine! Just playing nursemaid to this walking biohazard instead of soaking in the hot tub like I planned!”

Kriia smirked knowingly, turning her gaze to Vaelyn. “Vee, you good?”

He waved a hand weakly, his fever flushed cheeks standing out among the eggshell colored bed linen. “Alive,” he croaked, though his voice cracked painfully.

Kriia chuckled softly. “Well, that’s something.”

Kalypso flopped dramatically onto the couch, grabbing her phone and muttering loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m charging him for this emotional labor.”

Vaelyn’s lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smirk before he buried his face in another tissue, sneezing again with a force that made Kalypso groan audibly from the couch.

Kriia sighed, giving Vaelyn one last concerned glance before shaking her head and standing. “Alright, well, try not to die before dinner,” she teased lightly, stretching her arms over her head. “We’ve got reservations in a few hours, and I’d rather not have to explain to the hotel staff why my roommate perished from self-inflicted stubbornness.”

Vaelyn grumbled something unintelligible into his pillow, punctuated by a sluggish sniffle. Kalypso barely spared him a glance as she scrolled through her phone, her legs stretched out comfortably along the couch.

Rexar, who had been uncharacteristically quiet up until now, finally spoke up from behind Kriia, arms folded behind his head. “Man, I can’t wait to see you attempt to be a functioning human at dinner.” He smirked. “It’s gonna be like watching a zombie try to blend in at a five-star restaurant.”

Vaelyn groaned and sat up just enough to glare at him, his blue eyes watery and rimmed with exhaustion. “I’b fide,” he muttered, voice barely above a congested rasp. He wiped his nose against his hoodie sleeve—much to Kalypso’s audible disgust—and slumped back against the pillows.

“You’re so not fine,” Kriia corrected, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her bag. “But whatever, it’s your funeral. I’m gonna go get ready. Try to make yourself at least look alive before we leave.”

Rexar stretched with a dramatic groan, cracking his neck. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I’ll make an effort too. Gotta look good for all the rich tourists.” He shot Vaelyn a teasing wink. “You, though? Maybe just invest in a lot of concealer.”

Vaelyn lifted a middle finger in his general direction before turning onto his side, burying his face back into the pillow.

Kalypso, still stretched out across the couch, gave a lazy sigh. “Well, I guess I should get ready too.” She glanced toward Vaelyn’s miserable heap of a form and smirked. “You need help picking out an outfit, Princess? Or do you just wanna roll up in that hoodie, all sniffly and tragic? I hear pity gets you free drinks.”

Vaelyn let out a weak, muffled groan that was quickly swallowed by another harsh sneezing fit. Kalypso yelped, dramatically recoiling as if he’d just unleashed a biohazard into the room. “Oh my God, you’re a disaster,” she griped, running a hand down her face.

Vaelyn grinned lazily, eyes half-shut, barely listening. “Fuggk you,” he rasped, sniffling damply into the tissue he barely bothered using. “If I suffer, you suffer.”

As Kriia and Rexar left the room to go get ready, Kalypso tossed another tissue box toward Vaelyn’s head, which he barely managed to catch. “At least try to contain yourself before we go.”

Vaelyn exhaled heavily, rubbing at his sore, twitching nose with the back of his wrist. He sniffled again—so deep and murky it made her physically recoil.

Kalypso huffed, dragging herself up from the couch and grabbing the remote off the nightstand. The room was already suffocating under the weight of Vaelyn’s sniffling, coughing, and dramatic, wet sneezes, and if she had to listen to another one echo off the walls like a goddamn shotgun blast, she was going to smother him with a pillow.

With a sharp click, the massive flatscreen flickered to life, flooding the dim room with artificial light. She flipped through the channels quickly, searching for something—anything—to drown him out. Antiques Roadshow filled the room, the refined voice of an elderly appraiser describing a “rather exquisite 19th-century silver tea set.”

Perfect. Boring. Unbearably dull.

Behind her, Vaelyn was doing his absolute best to be as obnoxious as possible.

First came the exaggerated sniffles, loud and congested, dragging through his sinuses in a long, drawn-out snnrrffk that made Kalypso’s eye twitch. He followed it up with a few pitiful little coughs, as if testing the waters, before escalating to full-on dramatic wheezing.

“Oh my God,” she groaned, pressing the volume button until the television nearly shook with the sound of an auctioneer rattling off bids. “Could you not?”

Vaelyn barely looked up from where he was sprawled across the bed, his long limbs tangled in the blankets like a man who had fully accepted his slow, miserable demise. His blue eyes—bleary and heavy-lidded with exhaustion—flicked toward her, glinting with pure mischief beneath the mess of his overgrown bangs. Utterly unrepentant, he slumped back against the pillows, his lips parting as he blinked dazedly up at the ceiling. His breath hitched softly again, teasing another fit, and Kalypso braced herself for another obnoxiously loud assault on her eardrums.

Instead, he sighed—deep, stuffy, and pitiful. “I cad’t stop,” he groaned, His voice was a wreck—hoarse and strained, thick with congestion. “Feels like a billiod bees crawled up by dose add are havigg a party.” He croaked, dragging the back of his hand against his red, irritated nose. “I’b just… hh—hhiihhh… suffering.”

Kalypso turned up the volume again.

The booming voice of an elderly man filled the room, his tone enthusiastic as he gestured toward a faded porcelain vase on the screen. “This fine specimen dates back to the Qing Dynasty and is valued at approximately—”

Kalypso smirked, dropping the remote onto the nightstand triumphantly. There. If Vaelyn was going to make her life hell, then she was going to bore him into submission.

But to her absolute horror, Vaelyn perked up.

“Ohhh, dude, that’s actually sick,” he muttered, sniffing sharply as he propped himself up on one elbow.

Kalypso blinked. “Wait. What?”

Vaelyn cleared his throat, scrubbing at his nose with the edge of his hoodie sleeve. “Look at the detail od that vase,” he continued, his voice thick and nasally. “The glazi’g is idcredibly well preserved—Dt’ISHHh! Ishh! Ish! Ish!—shh! —sh! …… …Hehh’ISHHHhew!”

The sneezes burst out of him in rapid, itchy succession, folding him at the waist where he sat. His shoulders tensed as the last one left him gasping, and he clumsily pawed around for a tissue with his free hand, eyes fluttering as the aftershocks of the fit shivered through his sinuses.

Kalypso rolled her eyes. “Okay, that’s it, I’m turning it off.”

“Wait—do’d’t!” Vaelyn whined, snatching the remote before she could reach for it. His voice was breathy and uneven, still tangled in the aftermath of his fit. “You hadda start it—hhHh! Hh’ISCHHh!—so we gotta see what it’s worth.”

Kalypso let out an exaggerated groan and flopped back onto the couch, rubbing her temples. “You are such a loser, oh my God.”

His brows furrowed slightly in concentration, his mouth parted just enough to suggest actual, genuine curiosity. He was watching the screen like it held the secrets of the universe.

And then, right when she thought he had finally shut up, he pointed at the desk being appraised and muttered, “Dude, I’b telling you—that’s worth at least forty-five grand.”

Kalypso blinked. “…what?”

Vaelyn sniffled, wiping his nose halfheartedly on the sleeve of his hoodie before jabbing a finger toward the screen. “See how the ha’dles are carved? That’s high-quality shit, Kal. Bet you adythigg—hhehh… Hhhiihhh... eishh!-ishh!-ish!-’shh!... —hehh’HH-EESSSHHHhhuh!—nnngh… fuggk.” He sniffled again, swiping at his nose. “I bet you it’s—Hh’ISCHHh! EISHhh! H’ISHHhh! —ish! shh! —sh! …ugh!”

Kalypso groaned, kicking at his leg. “Geezus, Vaelyn. Would you just finish sneezing before you start making bets?”

Vaelyn let out a weak little wheeze of a laugh, rubbing furiously at his irritated nose as he sniffled again. His lashes fluttered, lips parting slightly as if the tickle wasn’t quite done with him yet.

Kalypso watched, exasperated, as he hovered on the edge, breath hitching lightly—waiting, waiting—before his face crumpled and—

“hh—huhhh—HHHIESHHHHhhuhh!!”

It was violent, his body snapping forward with the sheer force of it. His hair, already a wild mess, flopped into his face as he barely caught the sneeze against his wrist.

He flopped back into the pillows with a congested, miserable groan. “Fuggkid’—dew that was godda be a big ode…”

Kalypso shook her head, unable to suppress her smirk. “You are so dramatic.”

Vaelyn lifted a lazy middle finger. “Add you love it.”

Kalypso would have argued—should have argued—but instead, she snorted, giving his shin a halfhearted kick. “Shut up.”

Despite herself, she found her gaze drifting back toward the screen.

“—so, given its pristine condition, I would estimate this piece at… forty-two thousand dollars.”

Vaelyn let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Shid, I was close! That’s insade,” he muttered, pressing a tissue to his nose with a congested sniff.

Kalypso groaned again, though there was less bite to it this time. “Great. Now you’ve infected me with your nerdiness.”

Vaelyn smirked sleepily. “It’s just the adtiques getti’g to you.”

They fell into a rhythm after that—an uncharacteristic truce forged in the fires of pure boredom and mutual disdain for moving. Kalypso, despite herself, started throwing in snarky commentary every time some rich idiot gasped at the worth of an old clock. Vaelyn, for his part, got more animated the longer they watched, pausing only to sneeze or blow his nose before launching into another half-baked analysis on “just how sick that carvigg techdique is, Kal, you dod’t get it.”

And—against all odds—Kalypso actually found herself laughing, tossing in occasional commentary that had Vaelyn snorting through his congested nose. And, surprisingly, the more they joked, the more relaxed she felt.

It was subtle at first—a scoff here, a smirk there—but as the minutes stretched into an hour, she found herself shoving his arm lightly when he said something particularly dumb, or shaking her head with a half-smile when he barely managed to get through a sentence before another sneezing fit tore through him.

He was so fucking pathetic, but somehow, it was starting to get… kind of endearing?

She shook the thought away as quickly as it came.

Vaelyn, too sick and tired to keep up his usual bravado, leaned into her warmth without hesitation, his fever-flushed skin hot against her shoulder. His sniffles never quite ceased, his breath hitching every few minutes as his nose betrayed him over and over again, forcing him to press his face into his hoodie sleeve with another helpless, “hhh-HHhh—! Eh-hh! EISHHh! —ISSHHh! ISHH!-ish!-’shh!... HH—……HH’EISSCHH’uhhh!”

Kalypso, who had been deeply irritated by the sneezing at the start of the night, found herself less and less bothered as the evening stretched on. Maybe it was the fever that made him so compliant, or the way he melted against her shoulder every time she bumped into him, but something about the way his body jolted with each sharp, breathless release made her stomach twist in a way she didn’t quite hate.

And maybe—just maybe—she didn’t actually mind the way he leaned against her, warm and pathetic and entirely at her mercy…

To be continued…

[aller-geez]

Live, Laugh, Lose Consciousness

written & illustrated by: allergeez 🖤

Wow, geezie can write fics that AREN’T Remi or Vaelyn? I know, I’m shocked too. "૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა saw @mew31 ‘s prompt (found here) and after a lovely anon encouraged me, (love you, Nonny 🖤) this fic was born. 4.3K words with a follow up fic in progress already..... @thekinkyleopard owns Elex 🖤

The stream started like any other—well, mostly. S7en leaned back in his chair, rubbing one eye with the heel of his palm as his other hand clicked through his usual startup routine. His teal and orange hair was a little more ruffled than usual, sticking up in odd places like he’d just rolled out of bed five minutes before going live. Which, to be fair, he had.

The camera feed flickered on, revealing his usual setup: LED-lit walls casting a dim glow over his desk, a collection of figures and posters crammed haphazardly onto shelves in the background, and of course, the telltale flick of his fluffy orange tail behind him. Normally, it swayed lazily or curled in satisfaction when he was vibing, but tonight it twitched with silent irritation. Not that he acknowledged it.

S7en dragged his mic closer, exhaling through his nose before finally addressing chat.

"Alright, you motherfuckers, 1Shot9Lives here and we’re live," he muttered, voice slightly raspier than usual as he adjusted his headset. He didn’t give the change much thought. Probably just needed water. Or caffeine. Maybe both.

He clicked through a few things on his second monitor, setting up the game as his chat flooded in with their usual chaos. "We’re playing Ghost’s Gambit today because—uh, because I said so. Also, Elex bailed on our co-op stream last second, so everyone bully him when you see him."

The messages scrolled at lightning speed.

[MOD] REXBURN: u sound like shit dude

VOIDGREMLIN: bro did u sleep at all

STYXORRI: uhhh yeah S7en u good?

CATTITUDE69: u look kinda rough tonight lmao

S7en rolled his eyes, clearing his throat sharply before speaking again. "I always sound like shit, thanks. That’s my brand.” He sniffled for dramatic effect, shooting a look at chat before continuing. "Y’all need to chill. I’m fine. Let’s start."

And that was that. He powered through, ignoring the mild scratch at the back of his throat, the slight congestion creeping into his words. It was nothing. Just one of those days where talking felt rough. Nothing new.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

For a while, things went smoothly. He played through the first section of the game, making sarcastic commentary about the haunted mansion’s ridiculously dramatic soundtrack and the protagonist’s questionable life choices. But every few minutes, he had to pause to clear his throat or take a sip of his drink. The rasp in his voice wasn’t going away—it was getting worse.

Chat, of course, noticed.

GHOSTBEE: ur voice is actually breaking dude

LOSTLAMB: are u dying or

[MOD] REXBURN: drink water. now.

S7en squinted at the chat, then at his can of soda. Technically, that was liquid. Good enough. He took a swig, wincing as the carbonation stung the rawness in his throat.

He barely acknowledged chat’s growing concern, too focused on the game—or at least, that’s what he wanted them to think. In reality, he was starting to feel it. That creeping, telltale tightness in his throat, the way his words felt just slightly too rough, like they were catching on sandpaper. He swallowed, grimacing at the lingering scratch, and reached for his drink again.

But carbonation and a sore throat? Not exactly a winning combination. The first sip stung enough to make him wince, and he had to bite back a cough. He set the can down with a little more force than necessary, shaking his head. "Geezus. That was a mistake."

VOIDGREMLIN: u good there, my guy?

CATTITUDE69: literally why do u drink soda when ur voice is dying lmao

[MOD] REXBURN: I SAID WATER. WATER, DUMBASS.

S7en rolled his eyes but still didn’t move to grab anything else. Instead, he cleared his throat again—harder this time—forcing his voice back to something more manageable. "I said relax. My voice is just doing that thing where it sounds like I’ve been chain-smoking for forty years. It’s fine."

It wasn’t fine.

He knew it wasn’t fine.

His throat felt tight, raw, and somehow both dry and congested at the same time. His sinuses had started to ache—not enough to be distracting yet, but enough to be annoying. He exhaled sharply through his nose, sniffling once before refocusing on the screen.

But chat wasn’t about to let it go.

STYXORRI: Uhhhh u sound worse than u did 10 min ago???

GHOSTBEE: Does this man even have a water bottle? Blink twice if you’re being held hostage by your own bad decisions.

VOIDGREMLIN: definitely getting sick lol

S7en scoffed, dragging a hand down his face. "Okay, first of all? Rude. Second of all?—" He cut himself off with another sharp sniff, his nose twitching slightly. A brief pause, his brows pulling together like he was trying to focus on something just out of reach. Then he suddenly turned his head, breath catching in a sharp, desperate inhale.

"Hh—! Hhh! HAHPT’tschiew!! HAH! AHHDT’shiiiiew!"

The sneezes snapped him forward, harsh and congested, forcing him to duck his head into his arm at the last second. He stayed there for a beat, sniffling, before straightening up with a heavy sigh.

Chat immediately lost it.

STYXORRI: OH HE’S GONE

VOIDGREMLIN: LMAO THAT WAS WET AS HELL

[MOD] REXBURN: fucking called it. called it.

CATTITUDE69: lmao he sneezes like an anime girl

S7en groaned, rubbing a knuckle under his nose as he sniffled again. "Okay, fuck you guys. That was—ugh—that was nothin’."

Another sniff. Another irritated twitch of his nose.

Yeah. This was definitely not nothin’.

S7en barely had time to blink before his breath caught again, his whole body tensing as another sneeze clawed its way to the surface. He gasped—sharp and desperate, his head tipping back slightly before he was wrenched forward once more.

“Hh! HHhih—! HAHDT’tchhhiiew! Hhh! AHHDT’tsschueh!!”

The force of it practically shook his frame, leaving him momentarily dazed as he blinked blearily at his screen. His ears flattened slightly, tail flicking behind him in a telltale sign of irritation—whether at himself or chat, he wasn’t sure.

And chat? Chat was feral.

VOIDGREMLIN: HOLY SHIT

CATTITUDE69: BRO U GOOD?

STYXORRI: this is the sickest catboy streamer arc we’ve ever seen

[MOD] REXBURN: called it AGAIN. y’all owe me money.

S7en groaned dramatically, scrubbing at his nose with the heel of his hand. It did nothing. If anything, the congestion just laughed at his attempt at relief, settling even deeper in his sinuses like it had set up camp there permanently. He sniffled, but it was weak, ineffective. The sheer stuffiness was making his voice even raspier when he finally muttered, "You guys are the worst."

GHOSTBEE: says the guy actively sneezing himself into an early grave on stream

VOIDGREMLIN: honestly impressive at this point

CATTITUDE69: u literally sound like a dying cartoon character lmfao

S7en exhaled sharply through his nose—immediately regretting it when the movement made his breath hitch again. “Oh, fuck m—hhHh!—me.”

His hands barely got up in time before he was thrown into another sudden, wrenching sneeze.

"HH’AHPT’TSSCHIIEW!!"

The force of it made his shoulders jerk violently, ears flattening even more as he sniffled miserably into his sleeve. His brain felt like it had short-circuited. He blinked a few times, dazed, before shooting chat an exhausted, half-lidded glare. "This is your fault, by the way."

[MOD] REXBURN: how the fuck is this OUR fault

GHOSTBEE: yeah bro I don’t remember being the one rolling around in a pile of pollen or whatever the fuck u did to yourself

STYXORRI: nah he just has the immune system of a wet paper bag

VOIDGREMLIN: get wrecked, nerd

S7en opened his mouth, fully prepared to snap back at chat, but the sharp inhale that followed cut him off completely. His breath hitched—quick, frantic gasps pulling his chest upward as his nostrils flared helplessly. He was on the precipice, teetering on the edge of release, his head already tilting back as his body prepared for the inevitable.

And then—nothing.

The sensation fizzled out entirely, leaving him stranded in the worst possible limbo. His nose twitched furiously, a cruel, lingering tickle buzzing deep in his sinuses like static electricity with no release in sight. His breath wavered once more, teasing at another attempt, only to leave him stuck in place, helpless and miserable.

Chat immediately exploded.

CATTITUDE69: oh my god he’s stuck

STYXORRI: SOMEONE PUT HIM OUT OF HIS MISERY

VOIDGREMLIN: bro buffering like a dial-up connection

[MOD] REXBURN: this is just embarrassing now

S7en let out a strangled groan, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes in pure frustration. "I hate you all," he muttered, voice thick with congestion, but the heat crawling up his neck betrayed the way chat’s relentless teasing was getting to him.

He sniffled, thick and wet, scrubbing at his nose with the side of his hand in a fruitless attempt to banish the stubborn tickle. His fluffy tail flicked behind himk in irritation, but he quickly straightened up and forced a nonchalant shrug, trying to redirect the focus back to literally anything else.

"Anyway!" he rasped, voice still wrecked, but he powered through, picking up his controller again like nothing had happened. "We’re not gonna sit here and analyze my respiratory system, alright? Let’s get back to me carrying this game—since we all know I’m cracked as hell, even while dying."

He pressed a button to unpause, but his nose twitched again, a rapid series of sniffles betraying him before he could fully recover. Chat was still absolutely losing it, and he knew—he knew—they weren’t going to let him live this down.

For a while, he managed to power through. His fingers moved on autopilot across the controller, leading his character through dimly lit hallways and flickering candlelit rooms, his voice providing commentary—albeit raspier and more strained than usual. He made sure to keep the energy up, even as he had to stop every couple of minutes to sniffle or swipe a knuckle under his nose.

If he ignored it, it wasn’t happening. That was the rule.

But his throat was starting to itch. Not just a little tickle, not just something he could clear away—it was deep, an irritating scratch that no amount of swallowing or subtle throat-clearing could shake.

Still, he tried.

"Ahem." He coughed lightly into his fist, barely audible over the game’s ominous soundtrack.

Chat noticed immediately.

VOIDGREMLIN: bro you’re actually falling apart rn

GHOSTBEE: is it me or is he literally getting worse every five minutes

CATTITUDE69: cough once if you’re dying, cough twice if ur in denial

[MOD] REXBURN: just grab some water before you get stuck like that forever

S7en rolled his eyes, but his ears gave him away. The orange, tufted tips had started to sag, drooping ever so slightly as the irritation in his sinuses and throat mounted. He sniffled sharply, forcing himself to sit up a little straighter as if better posture would somehow help.

"Y’all are dramatic," he muttered, his voice definitely dipping further into hoarseness, but he just forced a cough and kept playing.

The itch in his throat lingered. It crept deeper, settling into his chest like a slow burn, and he knew—he knew—that if he wasn’t careful, he was gonna start coughing for real. He muttered another useless, half-hearted cough, barely suppressing a grimace when it rattled weakly in his lungs.

God, his eyes were getting blurry.

His vision kept swimming, the words on screen harder to focus on as his slitted pupils narrowed in an attempt to adjust. He blinked quickly, rubbing at his face with the palm of his hand to chase away the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes.

He knew the solution. He just really didn’t want to grab his damn glasses.

It wasn’t even about comfort—they just made him look nerdy, and not in a cool, hot-guy-who-reads way, but in an I’m-an-insufferable-know-it-all way. Not a look he was going for.

Still, his ears flicked back, half-pinned against his head as he tried to ignore the way his vision kept going fuzzy around the edges.

This was fine. Totally fine.

He just had to hold out a little longer.

S7en blinked hard, rubbing at his temple with the heel of his hand as the dull ache behind his eyes slowly tightened its grip. His brightly lit screen wasn’t helping. The artificial glow pressed against his already blurry vision, and he caught himself squinting just to make out the text at the bottom of the screen. His ears twitched, then flicked backward slightly in irritation.

Still, he kept his usual energy up.

“Well, this guy’s an idiot,” he quipped as his in-game character opened a door that was very obviously a trap. “Yeah, lemme just step into the most ominous room possible, what could possibly go wrong—OH okay, yep, cool, immediate ghost attack. Love that.”

Chat scrolled fast, a mix of reactions ranging from LMAOOO to we tried to warn you to bro is squinting so hard right now, grab the damn glasses.

S7en ignored them.

He wasn’t even in that bad of shape, really. Sure, his throat felt like sandpaper and his nose was definitely trying to ruin his night, but he’d gotten through worse. He just needed to push through a little longer, keep the energy up, keep—

CLOUDHOPPER24: DUDE, hop on ESO, let’s run some dungeons.

S7en scoffed. “Yeah, no—”

STYXORRI: WAIT YES ESO TIME

VOIDGREMLIN: oh my god yes dungeon run let’s goooo

GHOSTBEE: don’t be lame get in nerd

[MOD] REXBURN: you’re outnumbered bro, just give in

S7en huffed, dragging a hand down his face before reluctantly exhaling through his nose. He already knew there was no getting out of this. The second chat got attached to an idea, they latched onto it like leeches.

"Fine,” he sighed, feigning great suffering as he exited his current game. “But if we’re playing ESO, I have to get my glasses or I’m not gonna be able to read shit.”

Chat didn’t seem to mind…

CATTITUDE69: GLASSES ARC LET’S GOOOOO

VOIDGREMLIN: nerdification incoming

STYXORRI: I REPEAT WE ARE ENTERING THE GLASSES ERA

He rolled his eyes but smirked slightly, peeling his headset off and pushing his chair back from the desk.

Before stepping away, he quickly pressed the mute button on his mic—at least, he thought he did.

His nose was still running. He sniffled thickly, pressing the heel of his palm against his septum before finally giving in and grabbing a tissue from the box on his desk. He tried to be discreet, turning away slightly as he blew his nose, but the sound was way thicker and wetter than he anticipated—loud, congested, a full-on mess.

And apparently, his sinuses were not ready to be cleared out all at once.

A maddening itch flared to life deep inside his nasal passages, raw and unrelenting. His breath caught, his chest stuttering through sharp, gasping build-ups as the sneeze took its time wrecking him.

“Hhh—! HhhAHH—! HAHDT’tchhhiew!! Hhh! AHHDT’tschhhiu!!"

The force rocked him forward, leaving him dazed for half a second before the itch surged right back up.

"Hhh! HAH—hhAHDT'shhiiew!!"

He sniffled hard, rubbing his nose roughly with his palm before finally slumping forward against the desk, exhaling sharply. God, that was miserable. But at least it was out.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head, grabbed his glasses from the shelf, and finally slid back into his chair. He adjusted the frames on his nose, pressed the power button on the monitor—

—and was immediately greeted by absolute chaos in the chat.

S7en’s brain took a solid three seconds to process what he was looking at.

The chat was moving so fast it was practically a blur. His orange ears twitched, then pressed flat against his head as he stiffened in realization.

CLOUDHOPPER24: BROOO WE HEARD ALL OF THAT

VOIDGREMLIN: THAT WAS UNHOLY

GHOSTBEE: unmute challenge (failed)

[MOD] REXBURN: you absolute dumbass.

CATTITUDE69: I THOUGHT HE WAS GONNA DIE FOR A SECOND LMAOOO

STYXORRI: new ringtone just dropped

S7en blinked.

“…What?”

That was all he could manage.

VOIDGREMLIN: LMAOOOO HE DOESN’T KNOW

STYXORRI: MY GUY. MY DUDE. YOU LEFT YOUR MIC ON.

GHOSTBEE: THE WHOLE THING. LIVE. UNFILTERED. IN HD.

[MOD] REXBURN: chat has been enlightened by the ancient knowledge of your waifu-esque sneezes.

S7en paled. His hand shot up to check his mic settings, only for his stomach to drop when he saw it. The mute button was still unpressed.

No.No. No. No.

Slowly, he turned his gaze back to chat, his tail flicking erratically behind him.

“…You guys heard that?…”

STYXORRI: YUP.

CLOUDHOPPER24: EVERY SINGLE SECOND.

VOIDGREMLIN: including the part where you DIED midway through the buildup

CATTITUDE69: top ten tragic anime deaths

GHOSTBEE: bro got done in by his own sinuses

[MOD] REXBURN: bro you took, like, a FULL ten seconds to die

S7en groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Oh, my god.”

He was never going to live this down.

His head thunked against the desk in pure, unfiltered misery. “This is literally the worst day of my life,” he muttered into the woodgrain, voice muffled.

STYXORRI: no, this is the best day of OUR lives

VOIDGREMLIN: actual best content we’ve ever gotten from you, 10/10

CATTITUDE69: sneeze tier list when

GHOSTBEE: top ten streams that changed history

S7en groaned again, lifting his head just enough to glare at his screen. His nose twitched, still red and visibly irritated.

“You’re all the worst,” he sniffled, rubbing his knuckles under his nose as he slumped back in his chair. “Swear to god, I could die on stream and you’d just clip it.”

[MOD] REXBURN: correct.

CLOUDHOPPER24: exactly. that’s what the clip button is for.

STYXORRI: ‘local streamer perishes in real time, audience eats popcorn’

VOIDGREMLIN: ‘thoughts and prayers (clipped for later)’

S7en huffed, shaking his head as he reached for his controller, ears still half-flattened in lingering embarrassment. “Remind me why I stream, again?” he grumbled, clicking through the ESO title screen.

But even as chat continued to roast him mercilessly, he couldn’t quite stop the tiny, amused smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips.

S7en settled into his chair, rolling his shoulders back in an attempt to shake off the stiffness creeping into his muscles. The chat scrolled rapidly beside him, a chaotic mix of mocking comments, dramatic sympathy, and the occasional unsolicited health advice. He skimmed over it absently, only half-registering the words as he adjusted his headset.

“Alright, alright, let’s get this over with,” he muttered, loading into the game. His voice was rougher now, a rasping undertone slipping in that hadn’t been there at the start of the stream. He cleared his throat sharply, but it only aggravated the scratchiness, sending a brief, irritated shudder down his spine.

The dungeon queue popped, and as the loading screen flickered, he exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to steady himself. It didn’t help. His sinuses were a mess of static, an unbearable, crawling sensation burrowing deep behind his septum. He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, willing the feeling away, but it only grew stronger, teasing at the edges of his control.

The dungeon started, and S7en forced himself to refocus. He tightened his grip on the controller and sent his character charging into battle—only to immediately regret it. His timing was off. His dodges felt sluggish. His fingers barely seemed to respond to his brain’s commands. He sniffled sharply, but even that felt like it took effort.

This was fine.

He could push through.

Except—he was already pushing too hard. And his body? It was beginning to push back.

His fingers fumbled over the controls, barely registering the vibrations in the controller as his character staggered from another mistimed dodge. The edges of his vision blurred slightly, the bright colors of the game screen bleeding together, making it harder to track what was happening. The chat continued to roll, but he could only make out scattered words between the rising noise in his head—something about him playing like shit, a few half-serious “get well soon” messages, and Rexar demanding he take a damn break.

S7en ignored them.

Or, at least, he tried to.

The static in his sinuses had evolved into something sharper, a deep, pulsing itch winding its way from the bridge of his nose down into his throat, clawing at his lungs. He sucked in a careful breath through his mouth, but it only made the irritation worse, sending a raw prickle skittering down his airways. His ears twitched in frustration before flattening again, his tail curling tightly against the back of his chair.

“hHh—! hh—! HAHHDT’tchhIEEW!!”

The sneeze tore through him without warning, snapping him forward so fast his headphones nearly slipped from his head. He barely had time to catch his breath before another struck—"HhHAPTT’tchhiEW!!"—leaving him dazed, blinking against the sudden dampness in his eyes.

A quick glance at chat told him all he needed to know. They were already losing their minds.

“Dude, shut up,” he croaked, scrubbing a sleeve under his nose before sniffing sharply, only to regret it immediately when his breath hitched again. He groaned, dropping his forehead against the edge of his desk, gripping the controller weakly in one hand.

This was bad.

His head was thick with congestion, the weight of exhaustion settling into his limbs like lead. Every movement felt sluggish, every blink heavier than the last. He sniffled again, but it barely did anything, his sinuses clogged beyond saving.

S7en was losing it.

Not just in the game—though, yeah, that too—but in general.

His entire body felt like it was made of damp cement, each movement slower than the last. His reactions were sluggish, his dodges mistimed, his attacks weak. He knew he should have been moving—ESO dungeon bosses weren’t that hard—but every time he tried to focus, his head swam, a dull, pulsing ache pressing against the backs of his eyes like someone had wedged cotton into his skull.

His ears remained half-down, twitching every so often when the congestion shifted in his sinuses. He was hyper-aware of everything—the scratchy dryness spreading through his throat, the constant, prickling tickle that bloomed behind his nose and refused to either build or dissipate, the way his nostril chain swayed whenever he sniffled, brushing against the irritated skin of his nose and making everything so much worse—

He was also hyper-aware of chat absolutely clowning on him for standing in yet another AoE.

VOIDGREMLIN: bro. MOVE.

STYXORRI: S7EN. YOU ARE LITERALLY DYING.

CLOUDHOPPER24: I’ve never seen someone eat this much damage in my life.

GHOSTBEE: watching him tank this boss like he’s a healer main is making me sweat.

[MOD] REXBURN: you are getting bullied in a video game. please pull it together.

S7en sniffled, slumping forward slightly in his chair as his character hit the floor again. His hand lifted sluggishly, rubbing at his pink-rimmed nostrils with the back of his hand before his tail flicked in frustration.

“Tch… shut the fuck up, you all suck so much dick it’s not even funny.” he muttered, voice rough and hoarse. He cleared his throat again, trying to chase away the itch, but all that did was send him into a brief fit of unproductive, breathless coughs.

The chat immediately jumped on him.

CATTITUDE69: nuh UH what was that.

VOIDGREMLIN: ?? HELLO??

STYXORRI: sir. sir you are literally dying live on air.

[MOD] REXBURN: LOG OFF.

S7en ignored them, waving a lazy hand at the screen as he tried—and failed—to get his character back to the fight in time. His vision blurred slightly, and he blinked hard, trying to refocus, but it only made his sinuses throb. His breathing was getting shallower, his chest starting to ache in a way he really didn’t want to think about.

Then, just as the dungeon boss was finally, finally defeated, his entire world was shaken—literally—by the front door slamming open.

“Yo, I’m home—what the fuck are you still doing awake?”

S7en physically cringed.

His fluffy orange ears pinned flat against his skull as he slowly turned his head, as if that would somehow make him seem less guilty.

Elex stood in the doorway, arms crossed, staring him down like he was a parent catching their kid sneaking an energy drink at 2 AM. His dark green brows furrowed slightly, his mismatched eyes scanning him for a second before narrowing further.

S7en knew that look.

That was the you look like shit look.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Calm down, I’b—hh—! hhHAHPT’tSCHHhhuue!!!!”

The sneeze absolutely wrecked him. His already weak frame pitched forward with the force of it, his headset nearly slipping off as he ducked down into his sleeve. His breath barely had time to hitch before another one overtook him.

“hH! HAHDT’tschhhiuuue!!”

The second left him dazed. He sniffled thickly, blinking blearily as his ears drooped even lower.

Elex just stared.

“…Uh huh. Yeah. No. You’re done,” he announced, marching over without hesitation.

“Dude, I’b fide—“

“You’re not fine.” Elex cut him off, reaching around him and—without a second thought—closed the game.

S7en gawked. “EXCUSE ME—”

Chat, meanwhile, lost their minds.

STYXORRI: EL EX JUST STRAIGHT UP LOGGED HIM OUT LMAOOOO

VOIDGREMLIN: nah bc that’s actually so funny

[MOD] REXBURN: thank fuck, finally.

CLOUDHOPPER24: you have been evicted from the internet.

Elex turned to the screen, squinting at the chat before promptly leaning in and—click—ending the stream entirely.

S7en could only sit there, stunned.

“…Okay, rude.” He sniffled, rubbing his nose against his sleeve again. His voice was wrecked, all rough edges and stuffy vowels.

Elex huffed, eyes still sharp but softening just slightly as he took in the way S7en’s ears stayed pinned, how his shoulders drooped with exhaustion, how his breaths were already starting to wheeze.

“…How bad is it?” he asked, quieter this time.

S7en hesitated.

And for the first time that night, he didn’t have the energy to lie.

“…Bad.”

The end~

[aller-geez]

A Ruff Morning

A short, non-canon 3000 word piece from Coldshare's old prompt that can be found here 🩶

It’s been so long since I’ve posted a fic, I decided to dip my toes back in a little with this short Remi torture 🖤🖤. Includes allergies he doesn’t usually have but I got a little carried away with the idea 😭😂

The morning sun streamed through the dusty cabin windows, golden light catching on the faint trails of floating pollen in the air. Remi leaned heavily against the counter, arms crossed as his head tilted back ever so slightly. His green eyes, dim with the beginnings of what promised to be an absolutely miserable day, blinked rapidly as his breath hitched.

“Hhh… hhh’ihhh…”

No, not again. He clenched his jaw and straightened, his glowing eyes narrowing as he fought against the tickle building deep in his nose. A faint, persistent itch teased the back of his sinuses, growing sharper with every ragged breath.

“Dot today,” he muttered hoarsely, his voice thick with congestion. His black hair fell into his face as he gave a fierce sniff, trying to wrangle the irritation into submission. It was spring, his least favorite season, when every blooming tree and gust of wind turned the world into a personal battleground for his nose.

Remi’s nostrils flared involuntarily, his breath catching again. “Hhh—hhh—!” His broad shoulders tensed, his chest rising as the sneeze prepared to explode out of him. But no. He refused to give in to it.

“Ugh, come on,” he growled, jamming a finger under his nose in a desperate attempt to hold back the inevitable. The pressure helped, at first—a tiny reprieve as the tickle wavered and receded. But then, disaster struck.

A warm, wet sensation spread against his finger, and he froze in horror. His nose, apparently fed up with his defiance, had decided to start running. He could feel the dampness on his finger already, and worse, it only seemed to enhance the ticklish sensation inside his nostrils.

“Fugkigg disgustigg…” he muttered, hastily grabbing a tissue from the box on the counter. He pressed it to his nose and blew forcefully, his ears popping slightly with the effort. For a moment, it felt like progress—his sinuses cleared, and he could finally breathe without obstruction.

But his victory was short-lived.

As he inhaled deeply, savoring the relief, the air around him carried a fresh wave of pollen directly into his newly cleared nasal passages. His nose twitched violently, the tickle roaring back with a vengeance. “Hhh—hhh--HhhHhh! Hahhh…” His breath caught again, but he refused to let the sneeze win.

Remi spun on his heel, his frustration mounting. He couldn’t stay in the kitchen—not with the sunlight streaming through the window and the thick scent of spring in the air. He stalked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

But as soon as he stepped into the room, his nose twitched again, the itch flaring to unbearable levels. He sniffled sharply, glaring at the room as if it had personally offended him. His glowing green eyes scanned the space, landing on the thin layer of dust coating the nightstand and dresser.

“Seriously?” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Whed’s the last tibe this place was cleaded?”

The answer didn’t matter. All that mattered was that the tickle in his nose, already unbearable, had somehow doubled in intensity. He rubbed at it furiously, trying to dislodge the irritation, but that only made things worse. His fingers grazed the most sensitive part of his nose— his septum, where the itch was strongest.

“Hhh—hhhihhh! Hh…hhh’ihhhh…” His breath hitched uncontrollably, his nostrils flaring wide as the sneeze teased him mercilessly. His face contorted, eyebrows knitting together and lips parting as he hovered on the brink of release. But it wouldn’t come.

“Ughhh!” he growled, stomping out of the room and into the fresh air outside.

Big mistake.

The moment he stepped outside, the world seemed to conspire against him. The trees lining the path were in full bloom, their delicate flowers releasing plumes of pollen with every breeze. The air was thick with it, clinging to his skin and hair. His nose twitched wildly, the tickle now a raging inferno deep in his sinuses.

“Hhh…hhh’iiiHh—!”

He tilted his head back instinctively, his glowing eyes fluttering shut as the sunlight hit his face. The sudden brightness triggered an immediate photic reflex, his breath hitching violently as the sneeze finally surged to the surface.

“Hhh… hhh’EHTSSHH’UE! Hhh’IISHHhhhuh! HI’DTSSHHIEW!”

The sneezes burst out of him in rapid succession, bending him at the waist with their force. His hands flew up to his face, barely catching the mess before another sneeze overtook him.

“HD’IZTSsHHhhh’ih! hiHH'ISCHHH'UE! Hhh’IETSH’UE! H’ihhSHHhhiew!”

By the time the fit ended, Remi was left sniffling miserably, his broad shoulders slumping as he straightened up. His nose, now red and irritated, twitched again, threatening to launch him into yet another sneezing frenzy.

“Why?” he muttered, rubbing at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Why mbe?”

He turned back toward the cabin, defeated. But even as he trudged inside, the tickle remained, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to strike again at the slightest provocation.

Inside, Remi slumped onto the couch, grabbing another tissue and blowing his nose again. It brought no relief—if anything, the irritation only deepened, and he felt the maddening itch crawling back into his sinuses. His glowing green eyes narrowed as he glared at the box of tissues.

“Hhh…” His breath hitched again, his nostrils flaring as he tilted his head back. “Hhh’IETSH’UE! Hhh—IISHHhhh! Hhh’ISSHHhiEW!”

The sneezes tore through him with violent force, leaving him gasping for air. He sniffled miserably, grabbing another tissue as he sank further into the couch cushions.

Levi entered the room moments later, his freckled face lighting up with a mix of amusement and concern. “Rough morning?” he asked, holding out a fresh cup of tea.

Remi shot him a look, his voice hoarse as he replied, “You thidk?”

Levi chuckled softly, setting the tea on the table beside him. “Well, maybe next time you’ll let yourself sneeze before it turns into a whole production.”

Remi groaned, burying his face in his hands as the tickle in his nose started to build again. Spring was going to be the death of him.

[aller-geez]

hii, saw your last reblog, the bronchitis scenario, and now i need a svelex fic/art about it 🙏🙏

Hey there Nonny! Okay I literally love you sm for this req, bc usually I don’t write dramatic fics, (and granted, this might not be exactly what you were looking for, but I digress…)

But oh my god, this is definitely my favorite Svelex fic to date, although @thekinkyleopard may disagree whenever she comes back and reads the 300 fics I’ve written since she’s been online 😂

It’s not technically a snzfic cause the prompt was about bronchitis, but definitely very whumpy at least •⩊• so I hope you enjoy it!

I also was so excited to post it that I didn’t really draw a cover, I just slapped some text on a gif so there’s that ˙ᵕ˙ 2.5k words

⤹ The prompt nonny is referring to is this one ⤸

This was supposed to be a kind of a follow up for Live, Laugh, Lose Consciousness found here, but doesn’t actually have any context so do with that what you will~

Elex had never been good at handling emotions. Anger? That was easy. Frustration, violence, resentment? Second nature. But this—this tight, twisting feeling in his chest as he sat on their couch, cradling S7en’s overheated, miserable body against him—this was something else entirely.

The kid was burning up, fever pressing into Elex’s skin through the thin, sweat-damp fabric of his hoodie. His hands, calloused and rough from years of fights and harder living, felt clumsy as they adjusted the nebulizer mask over S7en’s flushed face. The mist curled out from the edges, visible in the dim glow of the TV’s silent menu screen. He didn’t know how long they’d been sitting here, but his legs were going numb under S7en’s weight—not that he gave a shit.

The wheezing was bad. Worse than bad.

Every breath S7en managed to pull in rattled through his lungs like broken glass, thick and wet and wrong. It was the kind of sound that made something animal deep in Elex’s gut tighten in instinctive dread. This was bad. Too fucking bad.

S7en stirred against him, whimpering softly in his sleep before a cough wracked through him, convulsing his thin frame so hard Elex had to tighten his grip to keep him upright. The coughing fit went on longer than it should have, deep and raw, until S7en made this awful little sound—like he was drowning. Elex clenched his jaw, shifting his mate just enough to rub slow, grounding circles against his fevered back.

"Easy, dumbass," he muttered, voice lower than usual, almost gentle. “Breathe through it.”

Not that S7en had much of a choice.

His breath hitched weakly, another wheeze scraping its way out before he slumped heavier against Elex’s chest, boneless and exhausted. His head lolled to the side, cheek pressing into the crook of Elex’s shoulder, mouth falling slack with hoarse, congested snores that were barely distinguishable from his wheezing.

Elex swore under his breath.

This was not just bronchitis anymore. He’d seen S7en sick plenty of times—hell, the guy caught everything like a damn sponge—but this? This was the worst yet. Every inhale sounded like a battle, and every exhale took just a little too long to come.

Elex wasn’t a doctor. Didn’t know shit about medical stuff, other than how to patch up a knife wound or pop a dislocated shoulder back into place. But he knew what it looked like when someone couldn’t fucking breathe.

His fingers found their way back into S7en’s sweat-drenched hair, combing through the tangled mess with slow, deliberate motions.

“Geezus fuck,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “You really don’t do shit halfway, huh?”

S7en whined softly in response, shifting just enough to bury himself further against Elex like he was seeking out his warmth. Elex let him.

He’d let him do whatever the fuck he wanted, as long as he just—kept—breathing.

The badger was out of his depth.

He could handle a lot—had handled a lot. Fights. Crime. The constant weight of hiding who he really was. But this? Watching S7en struggle just to breathe in his arms, his chest barely rising before another wet, strained wheeze forced its way through his lungs—this was worse than any fight he’d ever been in.

The nebulizer wasn’t helping. The mist curled and dissipated into the thick air of their apartment, but S7en’s breathing wasn’t getting any easier. If anything, it was getting worse.

Elex gritted his teeth, eyes darting down to the weak rise and fall of his boyfriend’s chest. Too slow. Too shallow. Every inhale was a war, every exhale a desperate, failing attempt to clear the congestion that clung like tar in his lungs.

And he wasn’t winning.

"Hey." Elex shook him gently, trying to rouse him. "S7en. Wake the fuck up."

Nothing.

S7en barely reacted—just a sluggish twitch of his ears, a pathetic little whimper as another round of coughs rattled through his fragile frame. His head lolled heavier against Elex’s shoulder, burning hot and damp with sweat, his body boneless in a way that sent a bolt of pure panic through Elex’s chest.

No. No, no, no. This was bad. So fucking bad.

He pressed his fingers against S7en’s ribs, feeling the sharp, stuttering way his breath refused to move properly, how his body worked too hard for air that just wasn’t coming.

"Fuck," Elex hissed under his breath, his grip tightening.

He should’ve seen this coming. The second that fever started climbing, the second the wheezing didn’t ease up after the first treatment—he should’ve done something. But he’d let S7en convince him it was fine, that he’d been through worse, that he didn’t need to go to the damn hospital.

And he believed him.

Like a fucking idiot.

Another strangled noise clawed out of S7en’s throat, half-cough, half-miserable gasp, and his body jolted weakly against Elex’s chest. His breath hitched. Then hitched again.

And then—stopped.

For one horrific second, there was silence.

Elex’s blood ran cold.

"Sven—!"

A choking, rasping inhale suddenly tore through the quiet, and S7en shuddered hard against him, sucking in air like a drowning man breaking the surface. His hands jerked where they were limp in his lap, weakly gripping at Elex’s hoodie like he was trying to ground himself.

The breath wheezed out of him in a shaky, half-conscious moan of pain, his chest rising in uneven, frantic movements as his body fought violently to breathe again.

"Shit, shit, shit—stay with me, kid, come on—" Elex muttered, shifting to get a better hold on him, his own heartbeat a rapid-fire thud in his ears.

S7en was barely clinging to awareness, his lashes fluttering against fever-flushed cheeks. His lips, normally some shade of cocky smirk, were pale—too pale.

Elex had seen enough.

Fuck stubbornness. Fuck whatever argument S7en was gonna put up when he got dragged into the ER. They were going.

Now.

With an iron grip, Elex hooked an arm under S7en’s legs and lifted him like he weighed nothing—because right now, in this state, he did.

S7en groaned weakly at the sudden movement, head lolling against Elex’s shoulder. His tail, usually flicking with irritation or mischief, just hung limp.

Elex’s jaw clenched.

"Yeah, I know," he muttered, adjusting his hold as he strode toward the door. "But you don’t get a choice, kid."

And with that, he kicked the door open, disappearing into the cold, night air, S7en burning fever-hot against him the whole way down to his car.

Elex barely registered the sound of the car door slamming shut behind him as he maneuvered S7en into the passenger seat. His grip was too tight, too urgent, his fingers digging into S7en’s burning skin as he wrestled the seatbelt across his trembling frame. His breathing was still so wrong—fast and shallow, like his body was trying to compensate for what his lungs refused to give him.

“Stay with me, kid,” Elex muttered under his breath, fumbling with the belt buckle before finally clicking it into place. S7en didn’t respond. His head lolled against the window, his fluffy ears twitching slightly but otherwise unmoving.

Elex didn’t like that. He didn’t fucking like that.

His breath was coming fast, sharp through clenched teeth, but the only sound he was really hearing was the wheezing. The sick, labored pull of S7en's breath, like a fucking broken accordion barely holding together.

“Fucking hell,” Elex snarled under his breath, slamming the door shut hard enough to rattle the frame before bolting around the hood of the car and throwing himself into the seat. The keys shook in his hand as he shoved them into the ignition—too hard—the metallic clang echoing through the car before he twisted them with a forceful jerk. The engine roared to life, but Elex barely heard it over the pounding of his own heartbeat.

A string of curses tumbled under the badger’s breath as he slammed the gear shift into drive and tore out of the driveway, the tires shrieking as they lurched forward. He wasn’t supposed to be driving, but fuck that. Fuck everything.

He wasn’t about to let this stupid, stubborn cat die on him.

His hands were white-knuckled on the wheel. His eyes kept darting between the road and S7en, glancing over every few seconds to make sure he was still breathing.

His chest still rising? Yeah. Okay. Fuck.
But how long could he keep that up?

"Just hold on, S7en," Elex muttered, foot pressing harder on the gas. "We're almost there."

S7en had been so still, so out of it, that when he suddenly sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath and jolted forward with a strangled choke, Elex nearly swerved off the road.

"Geezus—!"

S7en gasped again, curling in on himself, his orange ears flattened completely as his claws scrabbled weakly across the fabric of his seatbelt. His breaths were shallow, coming way too fast, way too wrong.

Panic.
He was panicking.

"Hey, hey, hey—Sven—!" Elex reached over without thinking, resting a firm hand against S7en’s chest, feeling the uneven, frantic rise and fall beneath his palm. "You're okay. You're alright, just breathe, babe. Breathe slow."

S7en blinked blearily, his pupils blown wide in the dim glow of the dashboard. His chest stuttered with another ragged breath before he whined, soft and miserable. "Elex…?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got you," Elex said quickly, eyes darting back to the road for a split second before locking onto him again. "We're going to the ER."

S7en’s expression barely shifted, but the little furrow between his brows made Elex know the argument was coming before the hoarse words even left his mouth.

"’m fine," S7en rasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of the road beneath them. "Don’t need the—"

"Bullshit."

The word came out sharper than he intended. But Elex was done pretending this was fine, that this was something they could just ride out.

S7en flinched at the tone—then slumped back into the seat, squeezing his eyes shut.

He tried again, weaker this time. "Elex—"

"You can’t breathe, S7en."

Silence.

S7en coughed, a horrible, wrecked sound that rattled through his frame and left him panting for air. When he finally opened his eyes again, something had changed in them.

Realization.

Defeat.

And finally—reluctant, unspoken acceptance.

Elex swallowed hard. His grip tightened on the wheel.

S7en didn’t argue again.

Elex was driving like he stole the damn car, which—okay, he had stolen plenty of cars in his life, but S7en’s wasn’t one of them. Still, right now, it felt like he was outrunning something worse than the cops. He was pushing the speed limit, weaving through empty streets with white-knuckled fists, but no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t outrun the rasping, strained breaths coming from the passenger seat.

S7en’s head lolled against the window, his half-lidded, fever-glossy eyes barely tracking the streetlights as they flashed by. His mouth was parted, sucking in shallow gasps of air that weren’t nearly enough, and Elex could hear the congestion rattling thickly in his chest. Every breath sounded wrong. Too much and not enough at the same time.

Elex tried, just once, to lighten the mood. “Y’know, you bitch at me for my driving, but you’re real quiet right now,” he muttered, flicking a glance over at S7en in the dim glow of the dashboard. “Guess that means I win.”

It was meant to be teasing. Just a distraction.

But then S7en let out the weakest huff of amusement—and it shattered into a coughing fit so violent that his whole body pitched forward, his spine arching against the seatbelt. His face went red, scarlet, as he gasped and choked, his shoulders trembling with the force of each ragged hack. The sound was awful, wet and shredding, like it was scraping raw against his lungs.

“Shit, breathe—” Elex yanked one hand off the wheel, blindly reaching over to rub circles into S7en’s back as he choked. It wasn’t doing anything. It wasn’t helping. Elex gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “Almost there, kid, just hold on—”

They skidded into the ER parking lot a minute later, Elex slamming the gear into park without even turning off the engine. He whipped around to look at S7en, bracing for a complaint about his driving, about whipping the car around like it was some GTA getaway.

But S7en didn’t say anything.

He just slumped weakly against the window, his usual sharp, Cheshire grin nowhere to be found. His pupils were blown wide, dazed from fever, his breaths shallow and barely moving his chest.

That was not right.

“Fuck—no, fuck that—” Elex was out of the car in a flash, yanking S7en’s door open and hooking an arm around his waist, practically hauling him out of the seat. S7en barely reacted, his legs almost folding under him the second he was upright. His tail drooped, heavy and limp, barely twitching.

That scared Elex more than anything.

He half-carried, half-dragged S7en through the sliding doors of the ER, his heart slamming against his ribs. As soon as they stepped inside, the nurses at the front desk immediately jumped to action.

“S7en? Again?” One of them—Lillian, maybe?—was already reaching for a nebulizer before Elex could even say anything. “What are we working with this time?”

“Bronchitis—maybe pneumonia, I don’t fucking know—” Elex snapped, gripping the back of S7en’s hoodie so tight his nails almost tore through the fabric. “He’s burning up, he can’t breathe, he—”

“We’ve got him.”

That was the only thing they had to say before taking S7en out of his hands, guiding him toward a room like this was routine. And, fuck, it was routine. S7en was in here so often that nobody even blinked. They just got to work.

Before Elex knew it, he was sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair beside S7en’s bed, watching the nurses slip a nebulizer mask over his boyfriend’s face.

The first few minutes were tense—S7en sat there, glassy-eyed and swaying, chest still rattling—but after a while, the mist started working its way into his lungs. His shoulders slumped, his body slowly unwinding, like his muscles had been clenched so tight for so long that he forgot how to not be in pain.

Elex sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at him in silence. Just waiting. Watching.

S7en’s ears twitched first. Then his tail. Then his orange eyes—bleary, but focused—flicked toward Elex, catching him staring.

“…y’look like you’ve seen a ghost,” S7en murmured, voice still wrecked but a little stronger.

Elex scoffed, raking a hand through his green hair. “…Yeah, well. You weren’t exactly breathin’ a few minutes ago, dumbass.”

S7en blinked slowly, processing. Then, to Elex’s absolute horror, his lips curled into a soft, lopsided grin.

“Worried about me?”

“No.”

S7en hummed, tipping his head back against the pillow, eyes slipping shut. “Liar.”

Elex didn’t dignify that with a response. He just exhaled, leaning back in his chair, his shoulders finally losing some of the tension they’d been carrying for hours.

For now, at least, S7en was breathing.

Elex would deal with whatever came next.

The end 🖤

[aller-geez]

Blood Isn’t Always Thicker

written & illustrated by: allergeez 🖤

Hello yes this is my first Svelex fic, so hopefully I wrote them to @thekinkyleopard ‘s vision! A little bit over 8k words, lore heavy allergy snz Sven. Just a warning, there’s no snz until around 3K words, but I swear he makes up for it! Strong Language, snz obviously, allergies, family drama, etc.

Sven's gentle, purr-like laughter rumbled through the spare bedroom, the walls now adorned with posters of his favorite games and technology. The badger and himself had spent countless hours renovating the room, transforming it into a cozy "game room" where the Cheshire could stream to his heart's content.

“Alright guys, it is getting late here… I think I’m gonna end this stream for tonight and go bother Elex to go pick up some Taco Truck.. I’m starving!” The cat laughed again, a warm, charismatic sound that was accompanied by a slightly toothy grin as he placed the PlayStation controller onto the desk sitting in front of him, which was lit up with bright orange LED lights underneath it.

The choir of friendly insults that were thrown in the cats direction from others in the stream made him grin even wider, a wholehearted laugh rumbling from his lips.

“Hey! Shut the fuck up!” Sven adjusted himself in his— admittedly a little too expensive —gaming chair with a wave of his hand towards the camera, planting his feet firmly on the hardwood floor so the chair didn’t start to roll away.

“I told you, I’ll start streaming Red Dead Redemption 2 tomorrow! You’ll just have to wait…” The feline snickered, lifting his hands to adjust the custom headset sitting on his head, cleverly tucked away behind his thick teal fringe. Elex had surprised Sven with a custom headset that allowed him to wear it while his cat ears were still out, and it had been such a confidence boost for the Cheshire, although he wouldn’t admit it if you asked him.

“You could try sleeping, yknow…. Isn’t it like 4 am there? Don’t you have work in the morning?” Sven asked toward the camera, obviously getting another snarky reply that caused the cat to shake his head with another wide grin. “Well that’s on you, man. Personally, I’m gonna con the badger out of a super burrito so—“

A sharp, distinct cough from the doorway behind him ripped Sven from his playful banter to see the annoyed scowl on his boyfriend’s otherwise beautiful face.

The feline flashed the green haired man a sheepish smile before hurriedly facing the camera again, moving the cursor to hover over the ‘end stream’ button. “Okay, gotta go! Join tomorrow for some Red Dead, I promise~” Sven winked at the camera with a small wave, before ending the stream and quickly snatching off his headset.

“……how much of that did you hear?” The feline’s orange ears flattened to his head as he looked over at Elex again.

The badger had his muscular arms crossed over his chest with an increasingly disapproving scowl tugging down on the corners of his mouth around the sharp canines that jutted out from his lips just slightly.

“Enough……” The man stood silent in the doorway a second, and a tinge of anxiety flooded the cat’s chest. After an uncomfortably long few moments, finally the badger snorted a laugh, unfolding his arms from his chest and burying his hands into the pockets of his torn jeans. “okay but let’s get one thing straight, you aren’t CONNING a badger out of a super burrito, okay? I’ll go pick ‘em up, but that’s because you’re gonna be paying for both of us, AND calling in the order, alright, you little shit?”

The corners of Sven’s mouth instantly pulled up into a coy grin, and he raised his palms in front of him in defense. “Alright, alright, I suppose that’s fair~” The cat purred another laugh with a quick flick of his large orange tail, dropping his gaze to locate his cell phone among the massive amount of electronics around him.

“Call it in, I’ll go pick it up right now. I still have your card from earlier and I’ll use it to pay. You know what I like… and I swear to fucking god if they fuck it up again I’m going to swing on someone…” Elex tossed over his shoulder as Sven fumbled to unlock his phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call it in. Be safe!” He replied rather quickly as his boyfriend closed the front door behind him. When the feline finally got his phone unlocked, the notification of a new text message from an unsaved number instantly caught his attention. As quickly as he could, the cat opened it, his slitted eyes widening as he read the full message.

??? — Hello Sven, I hope this message finds you well… This is your Father. I know you’ve tried to keep this number from me, and I’ve been told that trying to contact you was a bad idea but I couldn’t help but try.

??? — I was wrong about you, Sven. I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel alienated from the family. That was never my intention. But honestly, everything I want to say to you couldn’t be fully conveyed to you through a text message…

??? — That’s why I want to invite you to dinner at the house on Saturday, if you’d be willing to come. You may read these texts and laugh and not even reply and I’d understand if that was your choice. But if you would be willing to hear me out and hopefully at least be on speaking terms, I would love to hear back from you.

Sven's heart raced as he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. How had his father gotten his new number? He had made it very clear that he didn't want any contact with him...but then why did the message say "I was wrong"? Sven squinted at the words, his eyesight possibly failing him once again. But there it was, unmistakable. His mind swirled with conflicting emotions as he tried to make sense of the unexpected message. Was this a trap? Or was his father truly admitting fault? Sven didn't know what to believe anymore, and it terrified him.

The text took him so off guard that he had to lock his phone again and place it facedown on his lap, his orange slitted eyes drifting off as his thoughts raced through his head.

What was he going to do? Would he really be able to go back to /that/ place and eat a whole meal while being face to face with his dad and be patronized for god knows how long, just to MAYBE get a half assed apology from the man?

However desperately the cat wanted to gain a shred of acknowledgement from his father after he became invisible behind Draeko’s shadow, he had no idea if his psyche could handle the man that made him run as far away from the circus as possible and get a place in secret with Elex in the first place.

Suddenly, his phone that still lay face down on his lap began to vibrate wildly, jerking Sven from his thoughts and back to reality.

Lifting the phone to his face, Elex’s contact photo plastered itself across his screen, which made the feline curse under his breath, preparing himself for an angry badger on the other end when he answered.

A dull clawed finger answered the call, lifting the phone a good foot out from his ear, and before Sven could even say “Hello.”, Elex’s angry voice poured through the phone, causing the cat’s ears to fold flat on his head sheepishly.

“SVEN WHAT THE FUCK? DID YOU NOT CALL IN THE ORDER? CAUSE ITS GONNA BE A PROBLEM IF THIS FUCKING DICK IS LYING TO ME RIGHT NOW…”

“Lex! Sorry, sorry! I got distracted and forgot to call, my bad!” The feline cried out frantically, and the frustrated grit of the badgers teeth was audible through the phone, making Sven want to be as small as possible.

“There better be a good fucking reason, Sven..” Elex mumbled, and the sound of a car door slamming shut could be heard on the other end as the badger got back out of his car.

“There is, I promise I’ll tell you when you get here— you won’t fucking believe this shit…” Sven snorted, trying his best to sound nonchalant and mask the fact that he was honestly scared shitless over the entire situation.

— but Elex could sense something was off by the tone of his boyfriends voice, and decided to let up on the cat. Whatever the distraction was, it was clearly heavy and weighing on him.

“Just — fuckin’ A, you’re annoying..” Elex sighed dramatically, seemingly put out that he had to place the order himself.

“You love me~” Sven replied with that same faux nonchalance, making Elex silently cringe.

“Yeah, yeah.” Click — the line went dead.

Sven hung his head low, swiping up his phone and hiding it under the couch cushion as if that would make the situation any better. The silence of the house was almost deafening as he thought about how to tell the badger about the texts...

He needed to clean something. Anything.

A loud sigh escaped him as he got up from the couch, making his way to the kitchen. In all honesty, the kitchen was already almost spotless, but there was plenty of stuff that could use a wipe down. His heart raced anxiously as he grabbed a dishtowel and started on the counters.

Tap, splash, scrub, tap, splash. The sounds echoed through the otherwise quiet house as he went about cleaning up any and all messes he could find. The sink faucet squeaked with every turn of the handle, the dish soap smelled strongly of lemon, and the warmth of it against his palms felt comforting.

The humming of Elex's car in the driveway snapped him out of his thoughts once again, reminding him that the badger would be home soon. A cold shiver ran down his spine at the thought of seeing his face when he walked in, and having to open up to his boyfriend on that level... Being vulnerable was kind of a hit or miss with the green haired man.

He quickly rinsed off the sponge and threw it into the sink before taking a moment to straighten up around him; even standing on his tiptoes to wipe down the very top of the fridge.

Suddenly, the front door flung open, and Elex came charging through with both of his hands full of large styrofoam cups full of soda, and a white plastic bag full of various foods hanging from his arm, an annoyed scowl across his face. Although, instantly upon making eye contact with Sven, seeing the stress weighing heavy on his features and the wad of paper towels he used to wipe down the fridge clutched tightly in his hand, the badger gave a knowing sigh as he slammed the door behind him with his foot.

“I’m so sorry, Lex, I didn’t mean to—“ Sven started to explain himself but was quickly cut off as Elex set down the drinks and the bag of food on the counter in front of him with a loud thump.

“Nah, I don’t care about that shit. What I do care about is what the fuck distracted you so much. You’re obviously stress cleaning, so it has to be something.” Elex quickly snatched the paper towels from Sven’s hand, throwing them in the trash. “Now spill it before the food gets cold.” He demanded, eliciting a cautious breath from the feline, his bright orange eyes locked on the floor.

Well, here goes nothing…

“Well… you know how I got my number changed so my dad didn’t have it anymore, when I moved, right?” Sven asked quietly, pulling on a loose string on his jeans as he spoke.

“Err… yeah? Of course. It was a pretty fuckin big ordeal if you remember….” The badger replied, one eyebrow cocked with a puzzled look on his face.

“Well…” the Cheshire swallowed before continuing. “I got a text from him…. A few actually..”

“Oh, this aught to be good… what the fuck did that prick have to say?” Elex scoffed bluntly, leaning his back against the wall with a snort.

The cat’s heart was pounding in his chest as he spoke, "He invited me to dinner. Saturday evening, at his house," Sven mumbled, looking down at his feet. He took a deep breath before continuing, "I know I shouldn't go... but it's been so long since we've spoken... and I just want to see him... and maybe make things right..." He trailed off, biting his lower lip as his ears flattened against his head.

Elex rolled his dual colored eyes, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Fuckin A, Sven. You're an adult now, you don't have to go crawling back to that asshole just because you feel bad. It's not like he'll actually apologize or anything," he scoffed again. The badger shook his head, disgusted with the idea of Sven even considering going through with this. "You know what he put you through."

"But it's not just that," Sven mumbled, looking up at Elex with pleading eyes. "I miss him... I miss— the circus, a bit…"

Elex huffed, leaning against the counter. "Well then," he started, "honestly, it sounds like you already made up your mind… But I don’t think it’s a good idea at all.”

Sven’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, although he knew from the beginning that Elex wouldn’t support him going either way.

“I mean, I haven’t replied to him yet, but… after really thinking about it… I can handle just one dinner on the very slim chance it’s not bullshit this time... And if he starts being his same ol self, I’ll just leave.” The feline shrugged, trying to put up the same faux nonchalant facade that he had tried earlier on the phone.

“I mean whatever, Sven. But don’t fucking hold your breath for that fucker to suddenly stop being an asshat to you out of no where. It’s been 26 years and he hasn’t gotten it together.” Elex shook his head with a sigh as he pulled a travel sized bottle of hand sanitizer from his pockets and squirted a small amount onto his palm before holding it out to Sven, who offered his hand. “You’re just going to get fucked over like always and he’s going to treat you like you wear a fucking helmet or some shit, and it’s going to be a disaster like it always fucking is.”

The cat’s tail twitched in annoyance at his boyfriend’s negativity, but he didn’t push the issue any further to avoid any arguments; instead he simply rubbed his palms together to sanitize his hands before silently removing his burrito from the bag on the counter.

“Thanks for this by the way.” He gestured to Elex with his unwrapped burrito before taking a large bite, to which the badger simply nodded as he removed his own food from the bag. “You’re fucking lucky I’m feeling generous today. Don’t let it happen again though.” The green haired man snorted, shaking his head back and forth as he sipped on the straw to his beverage.

As the two sat and munched silently on their food, Sven quickly typed out a reply to his father.

Sven - Hey, Dad. I just got your texts… uh, yeah… I’ll be there for dinner on Saturday night so maybe we can get shit off our chest and catch up.

Instantly the little blip in the corner began to show that his father was typing a reply. Typical.

??? — I’m so happy to hear that, Sven. Thank you for giving me a chance. I’m excited to hear how you’ve been. Dinner will be at 6 on Saturday. See you then.

Sven let out a deep breath as he finished his text to his father and looked up at Elex, who was already digging into his burrito as if nothing had happened. They sat in silence for a few more minutes, occasionally glancing at each other as they enjoyed the warmth of their food. Once they were done, they cleaned up the kitchen and headed to their room to unwind for the night. They both changed into their pjs, Sven donning a small tank top and shorts while Elex wore boxers and an oversized t-shirt. The room was cool despite the air conditioner running, but it made for comfortable sleeping conditions. They turned off the lights and crawled into bed together, cuddling close as they always did when it was time for sleep. Their bodies molded together like two puzzle pieces, two halves of one whole. For now, there was peace.

The room was dimly lit by the glow from the city outside their window, casting a soft blue hue over everything. The sound of cars honking floated in through the open window, mingling with the low hum of conversation from people walking by on the sidewalks below. It made Sven feel connected to something larger than himself—something grounding. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep but found himself unable to stop thinking about this decision he'd made that could potentially shake up his life in ways he couldn't predict; he tossed and turned throughout most of the night, trying not to wake Elex up, but he couldn’t stop his mind from racing.

The days leading up to the dinner were filled with countless arguments between the two. It was as if the tension in the air had a physical presence, making it difficult to breathe and impossible to ignore. They would start off fine in the morning, exchanging gentle nuzzles and soft whispers while they got ready for the day. But by the time they would end their days, tired and drained, their tempers would often flare up over minor things like leaving shoes in the wrong spot or forgetting to buy milk.

The cat, usually so patient and understanding, found himself snapping at Elex for no reason at all, and of course the badger would fire back. Sven was usually so level-headed and considerate, but instead he would lash out in anger over trivial matters that would normally be brushed aside. Their nighttime routine remained unchanged; they would cook dinner together, watch TV, and cuddle in bed before sleeping. But now it felt forced, like two strangers going through the motions instead of lovers sharing their space. The food they cooked together lacked flavor and sparked more arguments about whose turn it was to cook or who forgot an ingredient. The TV shows they watched would always be interrupted by sarcastic commentary or change of channel without notice. Their warm embrace before sleep turned into cold shoulders as they tried to find solace in their own thoughts instead of each other's touch.

Sven couldn't help but feel a knot forming in his stomach every time he thought about facing his father again after all these years. The last time they had seen each other had been tumultuous, to say the least. He just hoped that this dinner could be a fresh start for them both. However, part of him feared that it would only lead to more arguments and hurt feelings. As Saturday drew closer, so did their anxiety levels, making them both irritable and snappish towards one another.

That is— until Saturday morning (or, more accurately, 2 pm… but to Sven, it was morning..) finally rolled around…

It was his phone buzzing on the nightstand that finally woke the cat from his deep slumber. Opening one of his golden eyes groggily, Sven snatched it from the nightstand in annoyance and sat up, his teal hair splayed wildly in every direction. Still half awake, he squinted at the text message on his screen before clearing his throat to try and rid himself of the sudden itchy feeling that snaked down his esophagus. It was from his dad.

Dad — Hello Sven, just checking to be sure you’re still going to be here for dinner tonight? Looking forward to seeing you.

Clearing his throat again, Sven sniffled absentmindedly, rubbing the sleep from his eye with one balled up fist, using the other hand to tap out a reply. God, was he thankful for autocorrect.

Sven — Yeah, Dad, I’ll be there.

The cat left it at that, locking his phone with a loud yawn, his large orange ears flattening to his head as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and plopped his feet onto the floor with a heavy thud. Guess it was as good of a time as any to get up…

The night before had ended in another heated argument with Elex, and the badger had slept on the couch in the living room, allowing the feline to not have to be as worried of how loud he was being to avoid waking him.

Instinctively, Sven sniffled again before reaching up to scrub small circles into his nose with his palm. So itchyyyyy…

With a disapproving grunt, the cat pulled open the drawer to the nightstand shoved up against one side of the bed and fished out a blister pack of Claritin, half of the pack already punched out and foil hanging loosely from the back. He’d be damned if his allergies were going to choose today of all days to be a problem…

With a soft sniffle, Sven positioned the pack over his other hand, but before he managed to remove one of the small round pills from the pack, his breath snagged suddenly in his throat, a desperate gasp parting his lips before his head snapped downward with a soft, “Hehh.. n’gtx!”

The sudden, unexpected sneeze caused one of the cat’s nails to puncture the foil on the blister pack, one of the small round pills clattering against the hardwood floor beneath his feet before quickly rolling out of sight under the bed. But with the intensity of the buzzing within his nose, the Cheshire knew better than to assume the single sneeze was the end of it.

“K’tchh! Nnch! Nkch! — Hhh—! Ktch! Nkcht! Hh‘gsch!! Nngch!”

Wave after wave of sneezes overtook Sven as he tried to catch his breath, each one more intense than the last. "Ngt’chh! hptt’CH! h’gTShhHh! hiIh’nGkt!!" He couldn't seem to stop; his nostrils quivered maddeningly and his eyes pooled with allergic tears before they streamed down his face. Desperate to calm his overly sensitive nasal passages of the all encompassing sensation licking down the bridge of his nose, the cat frantically knuckled at his septum, but it didn't stop there; his nose still tickled mercilessly, demanding release.

“Hh—… H-Hhh—! H’NgXt! Hh‘gsch! God damnd it!” The cat hissed angrily once finally able to, quickly getting up off of the bed and darting into the bathroom with one hand cupped over his nose and mouth. He slammed the door behind him as hot tears of frustration began to stream down his cheeks, his head feeling like it was about to split apart from all of the sudden, intense sneezing.

Sven hated this feeling. The uncontrollable urge to sneeze; the intense tickling sensation in his nose that demanded his full attention and refused to go away no matter how many times he was caught up in an endless, desperate fit. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

“N’gxt—! Heh’n’gtx—!” The feline couldn’t even catch a break in the safety of the bathroom as another round of sneezes overtook him. He snatched a handful of tissues from the box on the sink counter and furiously blew his nose, trying to clear out the allergen that was causing this hellish reaction.

But no matter how much he blew his nose, it just seemed to make things worse. And with every forceful exhale, more tears leaked out of his eyes until he could barely see clearly anymore.

Fuming with frustration, Sven reached for a glass on the counter and filled it with water before yanking open the medicine cabinet and swiping yet another pack of Claritin from the shelf. He popped two of the pills from the foil package and threw them into his open mouth, chasing it all down in one gulp.

Even after multiple rounds of blowing his nose and sniffling desperately into tissues, the Cheshire could still feel that annoying tickle in his nose. It felt like there was something lodged deep within his sinuses that just wouldn’t budge.

Feeling utterly defeated, Sven slumped down onto the edge of the bathtub and rested his head in hands.

Why did he have to be such a fucking mess? Why couldn’t he have normal allergies like normal people, like dust or pollen? The cat honestly felt like the butt end of some sick joke from the universe to have such debilitating allergies to his own body.

With a suddenly very waterlogged sniffle, more hot tears began to sting at his eyes before spilling over his cheeks and splashing against the tile floor below him. How was he supposed to show up at his dads like this? It would be like asking for it at this point…

Suddenly, a sharp knock at the bathroom door ripped the cat from his thoughts.

“Sven?” Elex’s voice poured out from behind the thin, wooden door, followed by a few seconds of silence. When he was met with no response, the badger tried again. “—Sven?”

“Ghhh— go away..” Sven muttered softly, still sitting on the edge of the tub with his chin resting on his palms, followed by an almost inaudible gasp as his breathing shuttered. “Nnch! Nkch! Ktch! Nkcht!”

“You okay in there?” Elex’s concern was evident in his voice as he pressed for a response. The worry in his tone was enough to make the cat’s heart ache with guilt from the way he had acted towards the other the night before.

“—I’mb fide,” Sven managed to say, his voice muffled by the tissues he pressed against his face. “J-just dealigg with... allergies.” He let out another stifled sneeze, followed by a defeated sigh.

Elex’s gentle exhale was barely audible over the sound of Sven blowing his nose. “I’m coming in.” He stated simply despite the cat’s previous objections.

When he pushed open the door to the bathroom, he was met with the sad sight of his boyfriend huddled up on the edge of the bathtub, a wad of tissues tented over his nose and mouth and tears staining his pink cheeks. Any argument between the two the night before was easily forgotten.

“Geez, kid… One of those days?” Elex asked with a tilt of his head, a sympathetic expression on his face as he came to sit on the tub next to Sven. He couldn’t say he was jealous of the Cheshire’s plight, that’s for damn sure.

“Obviously…” The cat sniffled miserably, clearly getting lost in the sensation as he scrubbed at his sensitive nose, his large orange ears pinned back against his head in embarrassment. “Of course it w-would be— thhh— today—! Hh‘gsch! ngsh!” Growling in frustration, he blew his nose again, to which the badger offered a soft smile.

“At least that gives you a reason to cancel on your dad, yeah?”

Sven rolled his orange eyes. “Ndo, El. Cadcelligg dow would just prove himb right..”

Elex scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Well, what the fuck are you going to do then? Going like this is definitely going to make you a target.”

The look that the cat shot his mate was like daggers, despite the red rimmed appearance. “See, I was hhh— hopigg it would b-be differedt thhh— H’NgXt! Hh‘gsch! k’gnsh! SNNRRFF!! —guh…”

Without even finishing his sentence, Sven yanked more toilet paper from the roll and blew his nose yet again, still to no avail, his expression getting more and more frustrated and hopeless as his fit continued.

This time, it was Elex’s turn to roll his eyes. As utterly adorable as his boyfriend was currently, he was also utterly stupid to think his dad was ever going to change.

Sven sniffled and wiped his nose again. His eyes were watering prefusely, his face red and splotchy from all the rubbing. He looked at Elex in frustration before slowly shaking his head. "I dod't dow, El. I guess I'll have to sugg it up add go."

Elex sighed heavily, beginning to get slightly annoyed at his stubborn boyfriend. He reached out to gently pat Sven's back comfortingly as he watched him struggle with his allergies. "If you say so," he muttered under his breath, knowing full well that it wasn't going to be an easy task for Sven. "You sure you don't want me to come with you? You know, for moral support?"

Sven shook his head again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his discomfort. “I'b sure it’ll be fide…," he replied between sniffles. “I thought you diddt wadt himb to dnow that were together, adyway.”

The badger’s expression turned up in amusement as he shook his head. “People live together without being in a relationship, Sven… Just tell him your room mate is coming with you, and the old man’ll be none the wiser.”

Sven’s shoulders slumped a little as he let an exasperated, defeated sigh escape his lips. “Fide… but if these Claritid kick id before I have to leave, imb goigg alode, alright?”

The badger raised his palms in front of him defensively, grinning as he rose to his feet. “Okay, okay. Just hurry up and get ready.”

Despite the embarrassment and discomfort, Sven managed to step into the shower and rinse off, letting the steaming hot water run over his body. The warmth felt nice against his skin, but it did nothing to alleviate the itching in his nose or the burning behind his eyes. He threw his head back and closed them tight, trying not to make too much noise as he gently washed himself. His allergies were relentless and already taking their toll on him, leaving him feeling weaker by the minute. Every few minutes he was forced to stop and endure yet another itchy “Nkch! Ktch! Nkcht!” before he could continue.

After rinsing off and patting himself dry with a towel, the cat emerged from the bathroom and into their shared bedroom. His large, fluffy orange ears hung low as he shuffled through his closet, trying to decide on an outfit that wouldn't make him stick out too much. The last thing he needed was for his father to make some snide comment about his choices or the way he dressed.

Sven finally settled on a simple pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt that would hopefully hide the fact that he was having an allergic attack. As he pulled them on, his movements were slow and clumsy; with every breath, he winced slightly from the sting in his nose.

His nose was still running slightly as he sat down on a stool at his vanity, reaching for a bottle of nasal spray. He squirted some into each nostril before inhaling deeply; the cool mist offered some relief from the fire burning within him. He took a deep breath and reached for a hairbrush, running it through his thick teal hair until it shone softly under the dim light of the bathroom.

Walking out of the bedroom, he grabbed his wallet and phone from the coffee table where Elex was sitting on the couch flipping through the TV channels with an absentminded air. Sven looked slightly better than when he'd gone in but the badger could still tell that something wasn't right.

"Well?" Elex asked without looking up at him. "Got everything you need?"

Sven nodded, rubbing at his nose as he walked over to stand by Elex on the couch.

The cat suffered through another itchy, sniffly “H’KngxsstSH! nXGtCHhh!” before responding, "Think I'm good to go. My nose is still pretty hhh— messed up though. Hopefully Dad will just keep his fucking mouth shut.." He sniffled sharply before standing up straighter, adjusting the neck of his shirt to make sure there weren't any wrinkles as he looked down at Elex.

“Sounds like that Claritin didn’t do shit, huh?” The badger asked knowingly.

“No, I just love sneezing my ass off...” The feline shook his head with a scowl, and the badger chuckled under his breath, shoveling his own belongings into his pockets and rising to his feet.

As they walked out of the apartment, Sven could feel every muscle protest as they navigated through the hallway and down the stairs. The scent of fresh paint filled his nose, making him want to sneeze even more but he managed to contain it with a few quick sniffs. The outside air was cool and crisp against his flushed cheeks while Elex held open the door for him - a small gust blowing by carrying with it the scent of autumn leaves burning somewhere off in the distance. The sun was low in the sky painting hues of orange and pink across the horizon; it felt like they were driving into a painting.

The ride was quiet save for the sound of tires against wet pavement and occasional gusts of wind that caused their car to rock ever so slightly. Sven sat rigidly next to Elex, his heart racing with anticipation as he wondered how his father would react to him bringing home the badger as his "roommate". He'd never mentioned anything about having one before—would he be angry? Disapproving? Or would he simply shrug it off like everything else and pretend like he didn't care?

They pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, stepping out into the cool evening air. A sudden rush of moisture hit Sven's skin as he shut his door behind him; he shivered slightly despite the warmth lingering beneath his clothes. His ears perched on the top of his head took turns swiveling to each side, taking in his surroundings. Suddenly, the Cheshire pitched forward into his shoulder. “N’gxt! Heh’n’gtx! Hehh—! n’gtx!”

Elex tossed him a glance. “Bless you.” But Sven simply waved him off.

After a few minutes, the front door flew open and a tall, slender man with a thick pair of feline like ears between his black curls and a large fluffy tail behind him began to jog down the driveway towards the men, and Sven’s ears and tail both sagged in embarrassment. His father’s expression held a broad smile, but there was an emptiness in those eyes that didn't match the joy on his face. He rushed towards them with open arms, engulfing Sven in a tight hug before looking past him to Elex with raised eyebrows.

"Oh! Hello there! I wasn't expecting a guest," he said cheerfully, even though it was obvious from the way he said it that he was anything but pleased about having visitors.

"This is my... room mate, Elex," Sven said awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as they walked inside together. His father led them through a maze of familiar hallways until they reached the living room where they sat down on a plush couch covered in worn fabric from years of use.

His father's tail swished back and forth behind him in a playful manner, his ears twitching with curiosity.

"Oh? A room mate, you say?" He smirked, setting two mugs of beer on the table in front of them.

"Well," he chuckled lightly, leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets, "I hope you two aren't planning on getting any funny ideas." His eyes darted towards Elex suggestively as he winked. He loved playing games like this; it was just one more way he could belittle Sven and make him feel small. He knew how much his son hated it when people thought he was 'different' or 'weird'.

The tension in the air hung palpably as Sven's father's words made their way through the room, causing the cat’s tail to stiffen and his ears to lay back flat against his skull. The badger crossed his arms over his chest defensively, glaring at the man who seemed so nonchalant about everything.

"Excuse me?" he snapped, a low growl in his tone as he shifted from foot to foot under the table. "I assure you, we're not planning anything “funny”. We're simply roommates—and very happy ones at that." He gave Sven a quick sideways glance before looking back at the elder man. "Your son has shown me nothing but kindness and respect, which is more than I can say for your treatment of him." His voice was icy but controlled, his fangs thinly hidden behind pursed lips.

Sven squirmed in his seat, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment and shame. He hated it when Elex stood up for him like this; it only made things worse.

His father's eyes narrowed at the comment, flashing with anger for a moment before he forced a laugh. "Oh ho," he chuckled darkly, "you think you know me so well, don't you?" He stepped forward, leaning down close to Elex's face so their noses nearly touched. The scent of his breath was sour from the alcohol he'd been drinking earlier.

"You think I don't care about my son? Well," he growled lowly, "you're wrong. I just want what's best for him — and what's best for him is to be strong."

He straightened up again and took a swig of his beer.

Sven winced, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while glancing away from both men. He couldn't believe this was happening again. Why did everything have to be so hard with his dad?

Elex sat up straighter, eyeing the man warily but not backing down.

"I didn't say you didn't care about Sven," he replied coldly, "but your method of toughening him up leaves something to be desired." He gestured at Sven's flinching form. "Constant belittlement and humiliation isn't going to fucking make him strong; it'll just make him bitter and mistrustful."

The room fell silent as they all sat there staring at each other across the table.

“Ooooohkay, that’s enough of that…” Sven finally chimed in, punctuating his statement with a clearly forced, awkward laugh.

His father continued as nothing happened, leaving the room to serve dinner.

"Who's hungry?" he asked cheerfully, carrying over a large pot of steaming soup to the table. He ladled out bowls for each of them, the savory aroma filling the room. Sven glanced nervously at Elex, but his father hummed a tune, seemingly oblivious to the tension still hanging in the air.

The three ate in relative silence, slurping spoonfuls of the hearty vegetable stew. Sven's father made idle small talk between bites, asking about their work and interests. He seemed genuinely interested in getting to know his son's new roommate, though the lingering awkwardness made the conversation stilted.

As Sven sipped his hot soup, he could feel that familiar tickle begin to dislodge itself from deep within his sinuses and his eyes began water. “God fucking damn it..” he thought, “not now...”

The car tried to subtly wipe his running nose and blink back the tears, but it was no use. Despite his objections, his eyebrows knit together before he ducked to the side, away from the table. “Hh‘gsch!! Nngch! H’tshhkt!! ngsh! H’NgXt! Hh—! HeHh—! Hh‘gsch! k’gnsh! Ngt’chh! hptt’CH!!”

He started sneezing violently, nearly upending his bowl of soup. His father glared at him from across the table.

"Ugh, here we go again with the sneezing and sniveling," his father grumbled. "It happens all the time, Sven. When are you going to grow out of it?"

Sven flushed with embarrassment, hastily grabbing a napkin to blow his nose. "S-sorry," he stammered. "I can't really hhh—help it—! K’tchh! Nnch! Nkch!"

His father rolled his eyes. "It's those weak genes from your mother's side of the family. I keep telling you to toughen up, but you just keep sniffling and wheezing at every little thing."

Sven sank deeper into his chair, mortified by his father's harsh words. He wanted to disappear completely. Elex shot Sven's father an icy glare.

"Allergies are not a fucking sign of weakness," The badger barked sharply. "They're the result of an overactive immune system, not some kind of character flaw."

Sven's father snorted derisively. "Spare me the science lesson. The boy just needs to learn some self-control, that's all."

Sven stared down at his bowl, pushing his carrots around listlessly. He had lost his appetite, the soup now just a swirling reminder of his failure to meet his father's impossible standards. How could he have really thought this dinner would be any different? He still hadn’t even heard an apology from the man.

Elex opened his mouth to retort, but Sven interrupted before an argument could erupt. "It's okay, really," he mumbled. "I'm sorry for the interruption. Let's just enjoy the meal."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the table once more. The only sounds were the clinking of spoons against bowls. Sven's nose still tickled maddeningly, but he resisted the urge to rub or sniffle, not wanting to invite more criticism.

After several tense minutes, Elex could hardly contain his anger as Sven's father continued to belittle his son, just like the badger had predicted when the Cheshire first told him about this shitty dinner. As the cat stared miserably into his bowl, Elex knew he had to take a stand.

"Sven's allergies don't make him weak," Elex snapped firmly. "In fact, I happen to find his sensitivity and kind heart to be his greatest strengths."

Sven's eyes widened in surprise. His father let out an incredulous laugh.

"Oh, is that so?" he jeered. "And just how would you, a room mate, know anything about my son's character?"

The badger met the older cat's gaze steadily. "Because Sven and I have been dating for the past few months. And in that time, I've seen how caring, thoughtful and brave he is every single day."

Sven gasped softly. They had kept their relationship secret until now because Elex wasn’t out of the closet yet…

His father's eyes blazed with anger. "Dating? Don't be ridiculous. I won't have my son gallivanting around with the likes of you!”

"The likes of me?" The green haired man retorted. "What's that supposed to mean? Is it because I'm a badger? Or is it because I actually care about your son's feelings!?”

Feeling the tension in the room grow to a fever pitch, the Cheshire flew to his feet, grabbing Elex by the arm. He could feel the badger’s muscles flexing under his tight grasp, rearing up quickly for a fight.

“L-let’s jhhh— ngsh! Hh‘gsch! Let’s just go, El.” Sven choked out between each itchy sneeze that he tried to muffle into his closed fist.

Elex shot one last glare at Sven's father before following Sven's lead and rising from his seat. He kept a protective hand on the Cheshire's back as they headed for the front door.

"Don't you dare walk out that door!" Sven's father shouted after them. "If you leave now, don't even think about coming back!"

Sven paused with his hand on the doorknob. For a moment, his shoulders slumped dejectedly. Elex gave him an encouraging squeeze.

"It's okay," the badger said gently. "Fuck him, kid. We've got each other. That's all we’ve ever needed."

Sven turned and gave Elex a small, grateful smile. Then he threw open the door, and the two of them stepped out into the cool evening air.

As soon as they were outside, Sven doubled over with a characteristic fit of rapid-fire sneezes. "H’NgXt! Hh‘gsch! k’gnsh! Heh—! Ngt’chh! hptt’CH! h’gTShhHh! hihh’nGkT—!”

The badger sighed with a smile as he shook his head, already sliding into the driver side of his car, anxious to get out of this particular level of hell. “Bless you, kid. Who would have thought those allergies of yours would be so problematic, huh?” The green haired man chuckled softly as Sven slid into the passenger side with a small frown.

“Stop callin’ me kid, I’m older than you.” The cat sniffled, buckling his seatbelt before glancing over at Elex sitting next to him, a glint of admiration in his orange eyes.

After a second of silence, the badger finally cracked.

“What the fuck are you staring at me like that for?” He asked with one eyebrow cocked.

“You didn’t have to come out to my dad like that…. I know that was a touchy subject for you…” Sven replied with a soft smile, reaching out one thin hand to rest on the badger’s thigh and give him a grateful squeeze.

“Yeah, well…. I love you, kid. And I won’t let anyone think they’re going to talk to you like that. Not even your shit eating dad.”

“Thank you, Elex. I— hhh—N’gxt! love you too…“

[aller-geez]

You’re Safe Here ˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Okay seriously though…. I will not sit here and try to pretend that this fic wasn’t entirely for myself cause wow the whole thing is just self indulgent fluff….

Disgustingly sick Remi with the most sweet and pure caretaking from his mate. About 8k words with a bit more snz…… plus a little more mess than I usually write. Also has Levi help Remi hold back at one point 😏

CW: There’s also one sentence in this about nausea, but nothing past that.

@thekinkyleopard owns Levi as always! 🩶

Remi's peaceful slumber was abruptly shattered by a heinous nightmare, vivid and horrifying as they ever were. The wolf's cry echoed through the darkness of his dream, but its haunting howl also pierced the veil of reality, shaking the walls of their bedroom as he jolted awake in a cold sweat. His heart pounded in his chest like a jackhammer and every nerve in his body was on high alert, fueled by a surge of adrenaline that made his breath come in ragged gasps.

Frantically scanning the familiar surroundings, Remi's green eyes were wide with terror as he tried to shake off the lingering effects of the nightmare. But there was an unfamiliar tightness in his chest and throat, raw and constricting, making it difficult to catch his breath. Before he could calm himself down, his mate's hand squeezed his thigh in a gesture of comfort, but it only served to startle him even more.

With a yelp, the wolf nearly leapt out of bed, trembling as the remnants of the nightmare lingered in his mind. It was a constant battle, trying to keep the terrifying memories at bay, but they always managed to claw their way back into his consciousness, taunting him with their brutality.

“Remington!— Acushla! Hey! It’s just me!” Levi waved his hands in front of his mate’s face, trying to get the others attention.

Quickly, Remi was pulled back to reality by the leopard’s soothing voice. Before he could express his appreciation to the feline, however, the tightness in his chest demanded the spotlight, and his appreciative sigh was choked off by uncharacteristically breathless coughs that rattled within the wolf’s clearly irritated lungs.

Groaning loudly in annoyance over the way his body ached and his head throbbed, Remi forcefully fell back against the mountain of pillows behind him. After a second, he finally turned his head towards his mate, who cautiously smiled at him from the other side of the bed where he was nested in his soft snow leopard print blanket, with a thick, yellow hardcover book in his lap. A half full cup of coffee sat on his nightstand, and the lamp next to him had been dimmed as much as it could, splashing a calming yellow light across that side of the room.

“What’re you doing?” Remi asked through squinted eyes, his voice laden with a subtle hoarseness to it.

Taken off guard by the question, Levi cocked an eyebrow, looking from the book in his hand, then back to Remi and then back to the book again, confused.

“Whatdya mean, Rem? Clearly I’m stealing the Declaration of Independence; isn’t it obvious?” The feline giggled coyly, but the wolf was unamused, rolling his emerald green eyes with a more serious expression over a playful one.

Truth was, he felt like something someone would scrape from a storm drain or a gutter; just soggy and cold and overall just— icky. He didn’t mean to take it out on Levi, and he knew the leopard didn’t deserve it. But his fuse was so short currently, he couldn’t help it.

“No but really.. it’s this amazing book I picked up at the book store a couple days ago with a bunch of different Erotica short stories! At first, it didn’t even sound like something I would like personally, but I started reading it last night and I couldn’t believe —“

Cutting the leopard off mid sentence, the wolf muffled a grunt into his pillow, the pulse of an intense migraine throbbing through his temples. He reached back towards the now silent leopard seated next to him and gently patted the other’s thin thigh through the comforter that was wrapped up around them both.

“I love you, Levi, but—“ Remi’s voice cracked, and he had to forcefully swallow the sticky saliva that coated the inside of his mouth before continuing, though the hoarseness in his tone was clearly heard now. “—but I just— need 5 minutes without any talking..”

Grimacing outwardly, he brought a hand up to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, squeezing his eyes shut. It felt like someone had dropped a cinder block on the top of his head then proceeded to beat him with a shovel, and he was suddenly aware of the pressure within his eyes as his heartbeat pulsed painfully behind his eyelids. The congestion that decided to invade his sinuses the night before had definitely decided to set up shop, making breathing through his nose an imaginary concept. His ears were even clogged, which didn’t help the intensity of the pain within his skull.

Why did he always get such little warnings when it came to his immune system? He would be perfectly healthy the beginning of one day, and within 24 hours he was completely incapacitated by illness.

Without turning his head back and seeing Levi, he could just feel the offense taken by his blunt words. He knew he needed to correct himself and clarify with his mate, however, the energy it took to even confirm with his body about how absolutely shitty he felt was enough to lull the wolf back to sleep for a moment, dozing off with his mouth agape and a thin line of drool escaping his clearly chapped lips, falling onto the pillow below.

The smaller male scoffed almost silently, adjusting the book on his lap and tossing the wolf an insulted glare. “Sure, good morning to you, too, dick.”

Levi shook his head with a frustrated sigh, craning his neck upward a little to try and see his mate’s face, trying to gauge what he was even doing to need silence. When he noticed Remi asleep again, the leopard rolled his icy blue eyes with a huff, before returning to his book.

“Damn, Rude,” he whispered to himself with a crinkle of his freckled nose.

If you didn’t count the loud, ragged mouth breathing, the sub conscious sniffles his body preformed to keep the mess within his sinus cavity from escaping as much as it possibly could while he was asleep, or the occasional unintelligible word muttered in a hoarse, almost grotesque voice, 20 minutes of near silence passed as the smaller male continued to read his book, getting fully enveloped in the story he was reading.

Just as he was coming up on an important part in the plot, he felt Remi’s unconscious body shift next to him, and he managed a quick glance up to his mate, who was completely still again, although now positioned on his back. His broad chest rose and fell rhythmically, although more labored and frantic than usual.

Without giving credit to the sheen of sweat that coated his tanned skin, causing the damp sheet to stick to his bare back, Levi paid the wolf no more mind, desperate to read his book. He picked the book up this time, holding it out in front of his face while his eyes scanned the words on the page until he read something familiar, causing the white haired male to squeak happily before burying his nose back into the text again.

Not even a few minutes pass before Remi’s previously motionless body shifted next to him again; his defined nose quivered involuntarily against the moonlight that was pouring through the bedroom window and glinting off of the single watery line of snot that threatened to drip down the raven haired male’s upper lip.

Quickly placing his thumb firmly under the last word he had read as to not lose his place, the leopard reluctantly ripped his attention from his book again to shoot another glance toward his mate. He had been too invested in the book he still tightly clutched in his hand that his mate’s usual tells had gone unheard and unnoticed, and the cat was caught off guard by the familiar pre sneeze face that twisted the other’s features.

Suddenly, one good inhale caused Remi’s large chest swelled so full it looked as if he might burst, followed by a barely audible whimper, before his lanky frame snapped forward aggressively into a fully upright position.

“hh'IETSH’UE! Hihhh—Hihh’EXTSH’ue! HI’DTSCHIEW!” The wolf sneezed harshly down towards his own lap, decorating the surface of the blanket with thick droplets of mess. His nose ran profusely, causing him to try to frantically snort back the thick wall of congestion without much success as the pink hue that dusted his fevered cheeks became even more intense.

His strategy only resulted in a ticklish coughing fit that rattled deep within his chest cavity, and lasted a little longer than either of the two would have liked, earning a concerned frown from the leopard as he set his book down on the nightstand and reached out one of his pale hands to gently rub circles in his mates damp, muscular back.

“Ghnnhh..” the wolf moaned quietly with his head in his hands, melting into the other’s touch and sniffling unproductively.

Every muscle in his body screamed at him, and the pressure within his skull was almost unbearable after such a rough wake up. Wincing again, Remi brought one of his large hands up to grip his temples between his thumb and index finger, squeezing his eyes shut to try and relieve some of the pressure in some way.

Levi tilted his head as he studied his ailing mate, getting closer to the wolf on the bed and starting to massage up and down the other’s back more intensely, this time with both hands. As the other’s deliberate pressure was increased on his aching muscles, Remi sighed in contentment, turning into jelly within the cat’s expert hands.

“What can I do for you, acushla? Let me help you.” The leopard whispered as quietly as possible to avoid aggravating the other’s headache.

“Hhhnm?” Remi willed his eyes open to glance back at Levi, and the usually bright green glow of his irises was now dim and unsaturated, while dark purple circles painted the flushed flesh under his eyes.

“Oh— Ndo, that’s okay.. Th-Th-hehhh- thandk you, kihhh— ihh- ih’TTSSHH! hih’iiiSSHHH’uu!!” Remi tucked his face into his shoulder to direct the sneezes away from the other, following them up with a thick, waterlogged snuffle and a pained sigh.

“Bless you baby.. do you have a headache? You want me to get you some ibuprofen?” Levi asked gently, already shuffling his body to get up to grab the bottle of medicine.

“Thandks.. and yeah, I guess I could take sobe..” The wolf sighed and admitted defeat, dragging his wrist under his nose and leaving a wet trail up his forearm. With another thick sniffle and a grimace, Remi shuddered, suddenly feeling the air hitting his still damp skin and causing goosebumps to rise all over his body.

“Cad you see if we have ady tissues left, too?” He asked rather pathetically, leaning back against the headboard and pulling the comforter that was lazily draped over his waist up under his chin,  curling up his comically long body so he was in a tight ball around himself.

Levi nodded towards the wolf with an endearing smile, getting up and making his way to the door.

“Of course baby.”

After a second, the leopard returned with a large bottle of ibuprofen paired with a cold bottle of water from the fridge, and gently plopped it into Remi’s lap with a smile.

“Here’s this, and—“ with a sheepish expression, Levi pulled out a fresh roll of paper towels from behind his back and offered it to the wolf. “We ran out of tissues, but I can get more in a little bit.. until then, this is all we had..”

With a single defeated chuckle, Remi took the roll from the other’s outstretched hands, shaking his head as he ripped off a few of the first sheets and folded them twice, then three times before tenting them over his nose. With a loud, productive gurgle, he blew his nose into the paper before exhaling a sigh as he balled it up in his hand, absolutely drenched through. The rough paper towel was harsh against his poor reddened nostrils, only furthering the chapped, irritated skin there. With a ragged inhale, he tried to catch his breath enough to open the bottle of ibuprofen in his lap, but when he was distracted by another onslaught of chesty coughs, Levi’s optimistic expression quickly faded into concern and he sat on the edge of the bed close to his mate, taking the large bottle of medicine from his weakened grasp.

Remi didn’t protest like he usually would; instead he just watched the cat with a pitiful look on his downtrodden features, which made Levi more concerned than anything.

Dumping out 4 ibuprofen into his ivory palm, the cat offered them to Remi with a gentle rumble from low in his throat that sounded like a purr, and a small smile.

He had to remind himself inwardly that his mate always did better when he didn’t lose himself in worry over him, and instead just tried to be optimistic. The wolf always had been bad about absorbing the cats emotions, and he needed to be there for Remi right now, not stress him out more.

Remi reached out to take the ibuprofen almost like a zombie, his expression blank as he took the pills from Levi’s hand, and the leopard could easily feel the heat radiating off of Remi’s hands. Reaching into the wolf’s lap, the cat snatched the unopened bottle of water, cracking the cap off and holding it out to his mate, who took it in an equally uncharacteristic manner as he had taken the pills.

As Remi took a gulp of the cool water, it suddenly occurred to him how dehydrated he was. Without much thought, he lifted the bottle of water so it was almost completely vertical and began to chug the contents as if his life depended on it, only popping his lips from the rim after a moment in order to gasp for air, and sputter a few stray coughs towards his knees breathlessly. Thankfully, at least a couple good gulps still remained in the bottle afterward, and once he caught his breath, he filled his large mouth with the last bit of his water, before tossing back the four pills that he held in his sweaty palm. Once Levi had watched the other take the pills, he tousled the wolf’s hair lovingly as he stood up again.

“I’ll get you another water bottle, and I want to see how high your fever is..” The smile that he plastered on his face was clearly forced, his head reeling with concern for the state of his mate, but Remi was too out of it to call him out for it.

“Okay, thandk you..” Remi croaked out, only his eyes following Levi as he walked out of the door.

He scurried to the kitchen that was only down a short hallway, stopping at the drawer at the very end that was deemed the “miscellaneous drawer” and for some reason was the spot they had decided the thermometer lived. He fished out the instrument from the depths of the drawer and closed it quickly, holding it up with the screen towards him and pressing the button to confirm it still worked. When the numbers lit up across the led screen, he silently cheered to himself before turning towards the rest of the kitchen. As the leopard pulled open the fridge and pulled out another fresh bottle of water, he was startled by another spontaneous fit that was uncharacteristically loud for his mate.

“HEHH’DZSCHh’iEEw! Hihhh- HHHH- hHEH’TZSCHh’UE! Hd’IZTSsHHhhh’ih! HAH—! hiiih’AETTCHHuh!” The wolf sneezed loudly, scrambling to snatch another sheet of paper towel off of the roll and clamp it to his nose and mouth, however the first two escaped before he had a moment to process his impending actions. A river of ick began to pour from his raw nose despite his incessant sniffling ,and tears that welled up in his dull eyes threatened to follow suit. Desperately, Remi stuffed the soiled paper towel under his nose and pressed it there firmly to catch any leakage.

When Levi returned to their room and laid eyes on the pathetic creature that was his mate, curled up under a big comforter, crazy bed head, a soggy crumpled up paper towel pressed to his nose that beamed a crimson hue now, dark circles under his half lidded eyes that were puffy and damp with tears, he swore he felt his heart melt within his chest.

“Here baby, here’s more water, and you know the drill with this..” The leopard smiled with his faux optimism, holding the thermometer up and wiggling it back and forth between his fingers.

Remi snuffled wetly against the makeshift tissue with a nod, removing it from under his nose and lowering his hand until it sat in his lap obediently.

“Sorry if I get sdot odn you, I cadt help it. Mby nose wodnt stop rudding.” He warned with a flat tone, and as if to enunciate his point , a single bead of clear snot suddenly threatened to drip down his upper lip.

“Don’t worry, Acushla. You never have to worry about that kind of stuff, okay?” The cat smiled down at his mate before leaning down slightly and kissing the top of his head. When he pulled back, the wolf managed a slow nod in acknowledgment with a preemptive snort, and opened his mouth for Levi, his tongue slightly raised.

With expert dexterity, the leopard tucked the uncapped thermometer under the other’s tongue just as he closed his mouth. Well, almost closed his mouth. He had to breathe still, right?

Sitting on the edge of the bed again while he waited for the thermometer to beep, Levi began carding his fingers through the damp strands of raven colored hair that even for Remi, looked messy. The wolf leaned his head back slightly, a pleasured groan leaving him as the instrument between his lips continued to get a reading, beeping periodically as it climbed higher and higher.

After a few seconds, Levi could feel his mate suddenly stiffen under him, his ragged breathing now slow and more deliberate.

“L-Levi—“ Remington tried, and the cat’s thin fingers stopped slipping through his hair as he leaned forward to hear him better.

“Yes, baby?”

“I hhh-… I h-have to.. sdehhh- Hihh—! ..sdeeze—!“

The leopard’s icy blue eyes flew to the thermometer perched between the other’s chapped lips, sucking his teeth loudly in response.

“Come on Rem, hold it back for a few more seconds so the thermometer can finish.. I know you can hold it off for just a few seconds..” He coaxed, removing one hand from Remi’s hair and placing a single pale finger under the wolf’s quivering nostrils, pressing it firmly against his septum despite the small pool of wetness that already resided there.

Remi gasped as the sensation that burned within his irritated nose seemed to take offense to Levi’s control, and roared quickly back into an overwhelming force that buzzed so intensely that the wolf began to stumble over his own breath snagging in his throat. The canines ragged breathing sounded almost strangled; breathless. “Hhhh—.. Hhhiihh—“

“Good job baby, only a few more seconds..”

The concentration it took to swallow back the inevitable fit was almost too much for the wolf, however just as he was about to break and succumb to his urges, the thermometer beeped loudly to signify it was finished. Quickly in one fluid motion, Levi removed his finger from under his mate’s nose and snatched the instrument from his lips, before drawing it back towards his face to read it.

Suddenly uninhibited now, Remi couldn’t dream of holding back the forceful, desperate fit that exploded from him, and not a moment too soon.

“Hah'ISSchuu! Hh— hiiih’IITTSSSHUU! tch’ISSH! Heh— hiiiihh—ITSCCCHH’ah! Sdddrff, haah—! hdt’ishhhh! Hihh’ISSHh! Hh— ihH’ktdSHhh!!!” The sheer force of the sneezes that tore through him left his usually strong, able body trembling, a shudder rolling through him as he blew his nose again, soaking yet another makeshift tissue before tossing it to the side. His shaky hands already fumbled with the roll of napkins to tear off another sheet, stuffing the dry paper against his sensitive nostrils that were the equivalent of a broken faucet. Finally turning his head to face Levi again, he snuffled against the paper towel and looked up at the other much like a kicked puppy.

“S’Whats the dabage?” Remi asked, his voice not much more than a whisper and muffled by the mulched paper in front of his mouth.

“104.3…” The leopard sighed with concern, managing a glance towards Remi, who simply nodded when hearing the results.

“If you were human we would be at the ER right now so your brain wouldn’t liquify but—“ With a soft chuckle and a loving smile, Levi reached out to gently pat the top of his mate’s head in reassurance. “It’s nothing some medicine and rest won’t clear up.” He smiled genuinely, a small sparkle of optimism reflecting with his blue eyes.

This small gesture from the other meant more to Remi than his mate knew, and a small smirk slowly appeared across his face.

“Does this mbeand you’ll lay id bed with mbe all day, thend?” The wolf asked hoarsely before managing a chuckle that wasn’t choked out by coughs.

Levi couldn’t help but grin, a wave of relief crashing over him as he was captivated by Remi’s smile; albeit small, it was still more of a smile than he’d expressed since he woke up.

“Of course my love, I would LOVE to spend the day in bed with you.” He answered genuinely before placing another chaste kiss against the top of wolf’s head. “But there’s one thing I want you to do first..”

Quickly, Remi’s smirk disappeared, and he looked down at the bed as he dabbed gently at his leaking nose, the appendage threatening to leak past the rough paper towel that was meant to contain it.

“Bmaybe… depends…” Remi huffed with a more annoyed tone to his already shot voice.

Levi giggled softly at his mate’s theatrics, shaking his head. Leave it to Remington to be a stubborn ass even in the throws of severe illness.

“It’s nothing bad!” The leopard cried, causing Remi to recoil from the volume of the cat’s voice, and Levi clasped a hand to his mouth selfconsciously.

“Sorry— it’s not bad.. I just want you to take a nice, cool bath so you can be clean and comfortable and maybe it’ll bring your fever down a bit..” The leopard finished, avoiding making eye contact with the other for a second, but when he was met only by silence, he turned back to glance at his mate with confusion.

“I dod’t kndow if I cand—“ Remi finally replied sheepishly, one of his hands absentmindedly playing with a loose string that hung off of their comforter on front of him. He already felt as if his head were in a fish bowl, and his limbs felt so weak that he didn’t even trust them to support his weight for more than a few steps, much less wash himself.

“Oh, n-no! I meant— You should let me help you take a bath.. I know you don’t like me having to do all of that stuff but it’s my pleasure, Rem! I just want to do what I can to make you feel even a little bit better, and I think you’ll be so much more comfortable if you’re clean, and I put new blankets and sheets on the bed.. Please?” Levi could feel himself word vomiting, but once the flood gates opened, there was no reeling it in.

At first, the wolf opened his mouth to decline the others kind offer, but watching him get so worked up trying to convince him was enough for him in that moment.

“—okay.” Remi finally croaked out, and it took Levi so off guard that he continued to argue his point, not fully processing the word that had come from the others mouth.

“I swear, you’ll get rid of all that crap in your lungs! I have some Vicks bath stuff that I think will help you and you’ll already be in the water so you don’t even need to bring the tiss— err… paper towels!” The leopard continued frantically, waving his arms about as he spoke.

Remi couldn’t hold back the slightly strangled chuckle that rumbled through his throat. “Kittend— Levi, baby.. I said okay..” he reached one of his baseball mitt sized hands out to place it on the cat’s forearm trying to ground him, his flushed skin just radiating heat a few inches from its surface.

“O-oh— okay, well I didn’t expect you to agree!” Levi beamed so wide that he was forced to close his eyes, and if Remi was honest, that was all he ever needed to recover. The cats smile was bright and infectious and the octaves that it caused the wolf’s  heart to sing could be heard no where else in the world. He would spend days lost in the baby blue pools if he could. But he would gladly accept the feline’s kind offer, if it made Levi happy.

“Wait here, I’ll go get everything ready for you, okay?” The smaller male chirped as he pulled the door open, scurrying down the hallway towards their bathroom as the wolf shook his head with a smirk, and a few more ticklish coughs.

It only took a few minutes for Levi to draw the bath, toss a fresh towel and a fresh comfortable outfit for Remi to change to into the drier in the hallway, drop two of the Vicks tablets into the bath water, and light a few small aromatherapy candles that were placed along the side of the bathtub. Lastly, he dimmed the bathroom lights to create an ambiance that wouldn’t be too much for the ailing wolf. Pausing in the doorway for a moment to admire his work, the cat clapped his hands together with pride before dashing back down the hallway into their room.

Even though it had only been a few minutes, Remi was already fast asleep leaned back against the headboard, his mouth hanging open as he breathed loudly.

Levi approached his mate slowly and quietly, and once he was close enough, he reached out to gently muse the wolf’s hair and kiss him on his warm forehead a few times.

“Hey babyyy… your bath is ready~” Levi mewled softly into his ear.

Peeling open his emerald eyes, Remi blinked slowly before looking back at Levi, his determination obviously dwindling. “Are you sure you wadnt to do this? If i’mb this gross ndow, I cad prombise you it’ll be way worse ind a Vicks bath..” the wolf warned, a little embarrassed for his mate to even see him at this level of disgusting.

“Come on, Rem.. we’ve been together too long for me to get grossed out by anything that comes out of you, alright? You’re Safe Here with me. Here, take my hand, I’ll steady you.” The leopard grinned with understanding as one ivory hand was extended towards his mate, which the wolf reluctantly took as he stood up next to the bed, and Levi tossed his mate’s muscular arm over his shoulder to brace him while they shuffled towards the bathroom together.

Once they had crossed the threshold inside the bathroom door, Remi scuttled to the toilet to sit heavily on the closed lid, his head spinning from the short walk to their bathroom. For a moment, he was silenced by overwhelming nausea, having to hold his breath as saliva pooled into his mouth, but once he was able to breathe for a second with his eyes closed, the churning of his stomach finally stopped. He breathed a sigh of relief, which just turned into the same thing all the others had, and he coughed harshly several times into his fist.

“Here, baby, if this is too much for you we can wait until you’re a little better, okay? I don’t want you to pass out..” The leopard asked cautiously as he ran one of his hands up and down the wolf’s back.

“Ndo, ndo, I’mb good..” The larger man sniffed sharply, trying to clear the obstruction from his nasal passages, still to obviously no avail. “Oh, Sorry— you probably deed these off of mbe, huh?” Remi asked in a haze, tugging at the hem of his sweat pant that were still very visibly damp from his sweat.

“Rem— lemme help you, alright?” Levi placed his palm on one of the wolf’s toned biceps to stop his efforts and the canine jumped slightly, startled from the physical contact. It took Remi a second to understand; an expression that resembled that creepy friend of Alistar’s had taken over the raven haired males features, his face completely blank and his eyes almost vacant looking as he stared at the leopard for a second, the wheels in his head turning.

“I’ll help you get undressed, Rem— I don’t want you to hurt yourself..” Levi assured the confused wolf, who finally seemed to understand what was being said to him and released his grip on the fabric of his sweats. He then ever so slowly stood from the top of the toilet, his knees visibly shaking from the effort as he stood there.

Quickly but carefully, Levi peeled the damp sweats off of his mate, and then his underwear as the larger male leaned on the cat’s shoulders for support. All of the wet clothing was tossed onto the bathroom sink one by one until the wolf stood there naked, shivering madly.

“Okay baby, I’ll help you get in, too, okay?” He smiled genuinely as he finally stood to match the wolf’s height and Remi wrapped his arm around his mates neck for stability. Slowly, the smaller male helped the wolf lowered himself into the lukewarm water of the bathtub until the water almost completely enveloped his large body.

At first he didn’t even notice the difference in the Vicks bath water, the thick wall of congestion behind his eyes seemly impenetrable. But after a few moments of relaxing his aching muscles in the warm water all the way up to his chin, the intense scent of eucalyptus and mint that Vicks gave off slowly began to creep into his nose. In an instant, the pressure within his sinuses began to decrease, but the adjustment of the wet cement within his nose reignited the tickle that had laid dormant since his last overwhelming fit.

“Oh— oh god?” Remi asked outwardly, sounding almost panicked as a thick string of snot dripped down his face from one nostril, and the other threatened to do the same. Mortified, the wolf tried to snort back the obstruction while pressing the heel of his palm back against the bridge of his nose, but by this point, the dam had broken and there was nothing that would stop the mess from flowing from his overly sore nose at this point.

And oh god it fucking tickled so badly..

“L-Levi.. cehh— cad I have a tihh— tissue? Toilet p-paper, sombethigg—?” Remi asked frantically, waving one hand at the leopard while he pinched his nostrils closed with the other hand, his dim green eyes squinting through tears.

In a panic, the leopard scanned the bathroom for something he could give to Remi, but the toilet paper dispenser sat in the corner behind the toilet with a sad, empty tube on it. “Sorry babe.. I told you I have to go run some errands when it’s a more appropriate time..” the leopard tried to defend himself, but Remi was preoccupied with keeping his breathing steady, his eyes squeezed shut and thumb and index finger squeezing the raw, pink flesh of his nose.

“you want me to get the paper towels from the room?“

The wolf couldn’t even open his eyes to answer his mate’s question; he was only able to nod frantically, his breath snagging harshly in his throat a few times despite all of his efforts.

Quickly, Levi hopped up from his spot on the side of the bathtub, and dashed down the hallway into their room. His bright blue eyes scanned the messy room trying to locate the roll of paper towels he had given Remi as quickly as he could, but when he finally managed to find them stuffed under one of the wolf’s hundreds of pillows, he was too late.

“Hd’IZTSsHHhh’ih! HEhH’eEZSCHhh’iiEW! HEHH’DZSCHh’iEEw! Hih—hiihhh— hh—“ the last sneeze caught, leaving the raven haired male gasping as the tickle began to back off and climb back into his sinuses, refusing to give him the much needed release. A soft, pitiful whimper could be heard from the bathroom as the wolf scrambled to clean his face of any of the thick ropes of snot that had just embarrassingly exploded from his throbbing face before Levi came back into the room. He swiped his wet forearm against the dripping mess that was his poor nose, and Remi couldn’t help but grimace in disgust at the size of the trail that was left on his skin afterward, quickly using the water around him to rinse it off.

When Levi finally returned to the bathroom again, his expression displayed only empathy as he ripped off a few sheets of the mulched paper and as gently as he could, he cleaned up the wolf’s face before holding the sheets gently over Remi’s bright red nose.

“Blow for me? I promise, I’ll get you those lotion tissues in a few hours to save your poor nose.” The leopard flashed a compassionate smile down at his mate, who although under no normal circumstances would he willingly let the cat help him blow his nose, but his head swam and he was beginning to feel rather lightheaded and delirious from the fever that still burned across his cheeks and forehead brightly, even from underneath his thick black mane of hair. These were not normal circumstances.

Complying without a single snarky comment, Remi forcefully blew his nose into the wad of paper towels in the others hand, completely soaking it in one breath.

“That’s it, Rem—“ Levi mewled his encouragement, gently wiping his mates nose again afterward as to not irritate the red and raw skin with such a rough material.

“Hghnnn..” the wolf shuddered violently as he leaned against the back of the tub.

“Okay, let’s hurry up and get you clean so I can get you back in bed, yeah?” Levi asked with a small giggle, tossing the sodden paper into the trash. Reaching to the side to pull out a blue bottle of shampoo, the cat squirted a small amount of the viscous liquid into his palms and rubbed them together before gently beginning to work the shampoo into his mate’s thick raven colored hair.

The wolf felt as if he was put into a trance. With a soft hum, Remi closed his eyes and let Levi run his long, thin fingers across every inch of his scalp as he lathered up all of the shampoo, nearly willing him to sleep again.

Once the cat was satisfied, he took the shower head off of the wall it usually sat on, and when he reached over his mate to turn the water on, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at the wolf. He breathed a gentle laugh at how content the other looked, admiring the man for a moment before returning to business.

Warm water began to flow gently from the handheld shower head, and Levi made quick work of rinsing all of the soap from the wolf’s hair before hanging it up on the wall again. By this time, Remi was barely conscious, his head resting back against the lip of the bathtub with a half lidded haze clouding over his features. He would help lift his own limbs when he was instructed to so Levi could gently wash his tanned skin, but that was about all of the help he was able to give.

Finally, after what seemed like an entire lifetime, Remi was clean and rinsed off completely. Leaning over his mate again, Levi pulled the cover off of the drain in the bottom of the bathtub and the water began to loudly get sucked away from between the wolf’s feet.

“Okay my love, let’s get you dried off and back in bed, okay? Can you stand up while I go get your towel and change of clothes?” The leopard asked seriously, afraid leaving the wolf alone for 5 seconds would mean certain death for the canine.

Slowly becoming slightly more lucid, Remi managed a slow nod before lifting his arms to the sides of the large tub and using all of his remaining strength to will his body to a standing position while Levi dashed off to pull the warm towel and the comfortable clothes from the drier that he had prepared for the wolf.

When he managed to come back into the bathroom again, he was greeted by a naked Remi who stood shivering aggressively on the tile in front of the tub. “Here baby, this should feel a little better..” Levi tossed one of the towels over Remi’s head as he approached and the canine moaned happily, his shaky hands coming up to grasp the towel and pull it tighter around his torso. Levi had another warm towel that he used to tenderly dry his mates legs, before having him sit on the top of the toilet. The leopard continued to dry the rest of the other’s body very gently until the only thing left wet was his dark, thick hair.

As his mate compassionately took care of him, the wolf continued to become more and more like himself again, and by time Levi was ready to help him get into the clean clothing he was brought, Remi was far more alert and present. Relief washed over the leopard to see the other in seemingly better spirits.

Rising to his feet a little faster than he should have, Remi had to pause for a second and brace himself with one hand against the doorframe. Recovering with a slow shake of his head, the wolf took the pair of socks and clean underwear from his mates hand and proceeded to clumsily pull them onto his lanky body. Once finished, he glanced back at Levi with a bigger smirk than before, almost like he hadn’t just been nearly comatose in the bathtub a few short minutes ago.

“I’ll let you help mbe put these odn though..” the wolf chuckled, stumbling backward a bit and sitting back down on the top of the toilet seat rather roughly.

Levi couldn't help but chuckle softly at Remi's playful remark, his heart swelling with relief and adoration. He understood that the wolf's attempt at humor was a way to mask his vulnerability, to lighten the weight of their situation.

With a soft smile, the smaller man nodded and approached his mate with the sweatpants in one hand, and the tshirt thrown over his shoulder. He kneeled down in front of the wolf, and gently guided Remi's feet into the openings, carefully pulling the fabric up his toned, trembling legs. Each movement was slow and deliberate, ensuring that he didn't cause any discomfort to the weak wolf.

As Levi slid the shirt over Remi’s head, his fingers brushed against Remi's hot, flushed skin, causing a shiver to run up the wolf's spine. Once the shirt was pulled down over the wolf’s head and adjusted around his torso, Levi stepped back to admire his handy work with a grin.

“Perfect!” Levi squealed, to which Remi couldn’t help but blush.

Finally reaching for the hairdryer and turning it on, its familiar whir filling the room as he positioned himself behind Remi. The wolf's damp hair cascaded down his neck in disarray, strands clinging stubbornly to his flushed skin. Levi combed through the small tangles with his fingers before using the hairdryer to blow warm air through the thick raven colored strands, drying each section of Remi's hair with delicate patience as the wolf sat more still than the leopard had ever seen him.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Levi finished drying Remi's hair and set the hairdryer aside. With a gentle hand, he turned Remi's face to the side and pressed a tender kiss to his fevered cheek. The wolf let out a soft sigh, feeling the warmth of his mate's lips against his skin. It was moments like these that made him feel truly loved and cared for, reminding him how lucky he was to have the leopard in his life; let alone being actually LOVED by such a compassionate, outstanding man, when Remi was so… well, Remi.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed,” Levi said softly, helping Remi off the toilet seat and leading him over to their bed. As they walked slowly through the hall, Remi stumbled slightly, his weakened body still struggling to find its balance. But with Levi's supportive arm around him, he managed to make it over to their bed without falling.

As they approached the bed, Levi noticed that the sheets were still damp from where Remi had been lying earlier. He knew he had to change them before they could snuggle up together.

“Shit, hold on babe. Lemme change these first, okay?” the leopard asked, to which the wolf nodded slowly as he rubbed at his nose with a soft clicking noise and sniffled . With a sense of urgency, he quickly pulls off the old linens in a flurry, balling up the fabric and tossing it in the laundry hamper in the corner. The leopard then rifles through the closet, selecting a fresh set of sheets in a cool grey hue that he knows Remi loves. As he makes the bed, Levi smooths out every wrinkle and tucks the edges in neatly, wanting to create a comfortable haven for his recovering mate.

With the bed ready, Levi helps Remi over and eases him down onto the mattress.

With a contented sigh, the wolf sunk into the pillows and closed his eyes in pure bliss. He couldn't help a small smile to tug at the corners of his mouth at how considerate Levi was being, taking care of him even in this small way. He honestly didn’t deserve the leopard by his side.

Climbing into bed next to his mate, Levi and pulled the covers up over their bodies. He wrapped a freckled arm around Remi's waist and pulled him close until their bodies were pressed together tightly.

For the first time, Remi buried his face into the crook of the smaller man’s armpit, his lanky frame awkwardly tangling into his mates.

“Thanks.. for everything.,” Remi murmured against Levi's chest, avoiding eye contact with the other as he fidgeted with a button on the leopard’s shirt.

Levi sighed softly with a small smile and shook his head. “It’s my pleasure, Acushla. I’d move mountains for you… So making you feel a little better when you’re sick is the least I can do, alright? I fucking love you, Remington Connors— in ways I don’t think you’ll ever understand.” The leopard stated matter of factly, like it was already something well known to everyone except Remington, before kissing his mate’s warm forehead passionately. His lips lingered against the wolf’s flesh for a few moments before finally pulling back to flash a genuine smile.

Nuzzling into the warmth and comfort of the leopard's embrace, Remi returned his mate’s smile before snuffling softly against his wrist. “I fucking love you too, Levi Anderson.” Remi attempted to reply with determination, although he was very clearly fighting his heavy eyelids from closing.

“Get some rest baby.. don’t worry, you’re safe here with me.” The leopard whispered quietly against the other’s temple. Content in each other’s arms, they both fell asleep, their breathing synchronized as they lay intertwined with one another.

Thanks so much for reading! If you’re so inclined, I really appreciate getting feedback, so let me know if there’s something you liked, or even something I can improve on next time! 𖧧 ࣪ . ִֶָ ๋

[aller-geez]

Snow Daze (part 3)

Written & illustrated by: allergeez

(If you missed them, part one is here, and part two is here)

Part three~ as promised, this part is mostly Kriia and Rexar, with Vee and Kalypso thrown in. 6.4k words, not as angsty as the last chapter, with rexar helping Kriia with a stuck sneeze, and cute, wholesome affection between the two while Vee and Kal remain dysfunctional 😂 hoping to get another 2 parts out of this series~

The soft glow of the cabin’s bedside lamps bathed the room in a golden warmth, casting long, flickering shadows against the wooden walls. The distant hum of the resort—the occasional burst of laughter, the quiet clatter of dishes from the dining hall, and the faint strains of music from somewhere down the hall—felt distant, like a world apart from the cocoon of comfort they had found within these walls.

Kriia, already wrapped in the plush robe provided by the lodge, sat perched on the edge of the bed, her crimson hair spilling over her shoulder as she absently twisted a strand between her fingers. A smirk played on her lips as she tilted her head to look at Rexar, her deep purple eyes gleaming with amusement.

"You know," she mused, stretching her legs out languidly, "I was kind of expecting this trip to be a disaster for all of us, but honestly? I’m having a great time."

Rexar, standing at the dresser, tugged the belt of his robe snug around his waist before turning toward her, his own smirk laced with quiet affection. “Yeah, it’s almost too good,” he admitted, his gaze lingering on her as he leaned back against the wooden surface. “Like, I feel like we should be suffering way more than we are.”

Kriia arched a perfectly shaped brow, an amused glint in her eyes. “Why? Because those two are?”

Rexar snorted, running a hand through his unruly white curls. “I mean… Kal’s definitely gonna kill Vee before the trip’s over. Like, it’s inevitable.” His usual lazy rasp had an extra roughness to it, and when he cleared his throat, it barely helped.

Kriia caught the slight hitch in his voice instantly, her gaze sharpening as she studied him. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Rexar answered with a casual wave of his hand, downplaying it like always. “Just dry air or whatever. Not dying.” A slow, lopsided grin spread across his face. “Unlike Vee, who is definitely dying.”

Kriia rolled her eyes, but the fond amusement in her expression softened any exasperation. “Kalypso is probably plotting his murder as we speak.” She shifted back onto her hands, the movement causing the plush robe to slip slightly from one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve beneath. “Not that he doesn’t deserve it. He did lock her out of their room for an hour.”

Rexar’s gaze flicked to the exposed skin at her shoulder, lingering just a moment too long before he chuckled, pushing himself off the dresser and making his way toward her. “Yeah, well… if he doesn’t make it through the night, I call dibs on his guitar.”

Kriia laughed, reaching up as he stopped in front of her, her fingers lazily hooking into the edge of his robe. “You’re terrible,” she murmured, but the amusement in her voice was edged with something softer, something fonder.

Rexar tilted his head, his breath warm as he leaned in just a fraction, his voice dropping lower. “And you love it.”

Kriia’s smirk widened. “Unfortunately.”

Rexar grinned and brushed a kiss against her temple before stepping back, offering his hand.

The steady stream of warm, maple-scented smoke that usually curled lazily from his nose had thinned considerably, flickering in and out like a dying ember. Kriia’s eyes flicked to it, watching as it cut off entirely for a second before returning, the flow weaker than usual.

She frowned slightly. “Babe, your smoke—”

“I said I’m fine,” Rexar interrupted smoothly with a grin, his hand still outstretched in her direction, “C’mon, princess. We’ve got a massage to get to.”

Kriia rolled her eyes at the nickname but took his hand anyway, letting him pull her effortlessly to her feet. Whatever chaos was brewing elsewhere in the lodge, for now, it didn’t matter. Here, in their own little world, everything was warm, easy, and—against all odds—kind of perfect.

As they made their way toward the door, Kriia suddenly halted, her hand pausing on the handle. “Shit,” she muttered, turning back toward the mirror. “I forgot I need to take my makeup off first. The facial’s gonna be pointless if I don’t.”

Rexar smirked, leaning casually against the dresser as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Take all the time you need, babygirl,” he drawled, his grey-and-red eyes gleaming with amusement.

Kriia shot him a fond look before scurrying toward the bathroom, only for a startled yelp and a laugh to escape her as his palm landed sharply against her ass in a playful smack. His deep, rumbling purr followed her into the room, dripping with amusement and something more heated.

Shaking her head, still smirking, Kriia entered the massive bathroom and turned to the sink, grabbing a makeup remover pad from her bag. The warm glow of the bathroom lights cast a soft hue over her reflection, highlighting the striking contrast between her crimson hair and pale, smooth skin. Though her facial markings—two bold, red Xs at the corners of her eyes, the white streaks beneath them, and the stripe down her forehead—were permanent, the rest of her makeup was another story.

She hummed softly to herself as she leaned over the sink, swiping the cool pad over her skin. The heavy eyeliner, the deep red and black eyeshadow, the layers of foundation—each stroke erased the remnants of the look she had perfected earlier in the evening. She sighed contentedly, letting the warmth of the room soothe her slightly flushed skin.

Out in the bedroom, Rexar had flopped back onto the bed, one leg bent at the knee, scrolling through his phone with the easy confidence of a man who had all the time in the world. Occasionally, he flicked his gaze toward the bathroom door, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he replayed the way she had yelped at his smack.

It was a rare thing, these moments of quiet intimacy—not the chaos of their usual nights out, not the frantic energy of a show, but something softer. Intimate, even.

Just as she started working the makeup off of the tip of her nose, an all-too-familiar tingle sparked deep inside her sinuses. It flared up suddenly, fierce and demanding, causing her breath to catch mid-motion. Kriia’s sharp, elven ears twitched instinctively as her lashes fluttered against her cheeks.

"Hihh... hh’tchh! Nnch! Nkch!"

The sneezes burst out of her in rapid succession, barely giving her time to react, and she couldn’t help but aim them down at her bare chest. The force made her double forward slightly, her hands gripping the edge of the sink as she struggled to regain control.

"Ktch! Nkcht! Hh‘gschh!! Nngch! H’tshhkt!!"

The last one sent a small shiver down her spine, the moisture left behind against the soft skin of her breasts glistening faintly in the bright white glow of the bathroom lights. Kriia sniffled softly, blinking away the watery haze from her eyes as she scrubbed her nose with the back of her hand, her expression somewhere between amusement and mild embarrassment.

A low, rumbling purr echoed in from the bedroom.

“Bless you, princess~”

Kriia turned her head slightly to see Rexar pop his head around the bathroom doorway, his red-and-grey eyes gleaming with playful arousal. His white curls were slightly disheveled, his crimson bangs falling into his face as he leaned casually against the frame.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Thanks,” she muttered, sniffling softly. Her nose still twitched, the residual tickle lingering like a teasing whisper, but she gave it a firm swipe with her wrist, determined to shake it off. “I think I’m ready to go now.”

Rexar smirked, straightening up as he stepped back into the room, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. “Good, ‘cause you know if we wait any longer, Vee’s gonna find some way to make everything worse for himself,” he teased, stretching his arms over his head with an easy chuckle.

Kriia shook her head fondly as she grabbed her coat, taking one last glance in the mirror before following him out. Whatever chaos awaited them downstairs, she was at least going into it feeling refreshed… and if the look in Rexar’s eyes was anything to go by, she wasn’t the only one feeling a bit more awake after that.

Kriia looped her arm through Rexar’s as they stepped out of their room and into the softly lit halls of the ski lodge. The air smelled of cedar and faint traces of lavender, no doubt from the spa at the end of the corridor. Their plush robes swayed with each step, the sound of their slippers barely making a whisper against the polished wooden floors.

Rexar’s free hand was tucked into the pocket of his robe, his usual confident stride just a touch slower than normal. Kriia glanced up at him as they walked, catching the way he subtly rubbed at his nose with his wrist before sniffling softly.

She arched a brow. “You sure you’re good for this?”

Rexar chuckled, his voice warm but a little rough around the edges. “Oh, I’m perfectly fine, princess.” He punctuated the statement with a teasing smirk, but Kriia didn’t miss the slight rasp in his words.

By the time they reached the spa, the warm, dim lighting and faint, calming music made her sigh in appreciation. The space was cozy, with soft plush chairs, a fireplace crackling in the corner, and an assortment of herbal teas available near the check-in counter.

Rexar glanced around, then frowned slightly. “Huh. No Vee and Kal?”

Kriia pursed her lips, scanning the room for any sign of their chaotic counterparts. “Maybe they’re already in with the masseuse?” she suggested.

Rexar let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Nah, we’d definitely hear Vee sneezing his lungs out and Kal complaining about it.” He coughed lightly into his shoulder, his broad shoulders shifting slightly at the motion before he rolled them out. “They’re fine, though. Probably still arguing over something stupid.”

Kriia chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, that tracks. I’ll shoot Vee a text when we’re done, just in case.”

Before they could speculate further, a friendly-looking woman in a sleek black uniform approached with a warm smile. “Rexar and Kriia?”

“That’s us,” Kriia confirmed.

“Your room is all set up,” the masseuse said, gesturing for them to follow her down a short hallway lined with softly glowing sconces.

Rexar exhaled deeply, rolling his neck. “Oh, hell yes,” he murmured as they stepped inside.

The massage room was dim and tranquil, the scent of eucalyptus and chamomile lingering in the air. Two heated massage tables sat side by side, and the gentle trickle of a small indoor fountain in the corner added to the serene atmosphere.

As Kriia slipped out of her robe and settled onto the table, she turned her head to see Rexar rubbing absently at his nose again before sniffing quietly.

She smirked. “If you start sneezing while they’re working on you, I am going to laugh.”

Rexar scoffed, flopping onto his table with a dramatic sigh. “Please, my self-control is immaculate.”

The masseuse knocked softly before stepping in, and as the session began, Kriia let her body relax into the warmth of the table. Beside her, Rexar was already melting under the masseuse’s expert touch, a soft rumble of satisfaction vibrating in his chest.

If Vee and Kal were off getting into some ridiculous situation, they could deal with it themselves. For now, this moment was all theirs.

However, it wasn’t long before Rexar found himself locked in a battle against his own body. As the masseuse worked on his shoulders with strong, deliberate motions, his sinuses waged a mutiny. The dull itch that had been nagging him all evening was rapidly escalating into a full-blown tickle, spreading through his nose like wildfire.

He tried to focus on the soothing pressure of the massage, but his nostrils flared involuntarily, his breath faltering as the sensation deepened. He sniffled sharply, trying to clear it, but the action only seemed to stoke the irritation. His sharp, grey-and-red eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his brows knitting together as he exhaled through his mouth, willing the tickle away.

Kriia, lying on the table beside him, had intended to relax, to let herself sink into the warmth of the room and the skilled hands of her masseuse—but her gaze kept flickering toward Rexar. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, she could feel his struggle, could see the way his breath caught in his throat, the way his nostrils twitched slightly before he clenched his jaw in resistance. She knew that look. He was fighting a losing battle.

He sucked in another unsteady breath, pressing his forehead harder into the cushioned face cradle of the massage table. His grip on the sides of the table tightened, the muscles in his back flexing beneath the masseuse’s hands as his whole body braced against the inevitable.

“Don’t sneeze, don’t sneeze,” Rexar muttered under his breath, the words rough and almost pleading.

Kriia smirked, turning her head toward him slightly. “You sure you’re fine?” she asked, her tone low and teasing.

Rexar cracked an eye open just enough to shoot her a glare, though it held little heat. His lips twitched into a smirk that barely masked his discomfort. “I swear, if Vaelyn got me sick, I’m making him carry my snowboard tomorrow,” he rasped, voice rougher than usual.

Kriia chuckled softly, shaking her head, but the amusement was short-lived. The hitch in Rexar’s breathing became more pronounced, his broad shoulders tensing as his body gave in to the inevitable. His nostrils flared sharply, his chest expanding with a deep, shuddering gasp as the burning sensation finally overtook him. He barely had time to brace himself before the sneezes exploded from him.

“Hhh’NKXGsstchh! Hnn’GXssthh! Hhhh’KXGssthh!”

The final sneeze ripped through him with an uncontrollable force, his head jerking downward violently into the cradle of the massage table. A sudden whoosh of flames shot out beneath him, illuminating the dimly lit floor in a brief but dramatic burst. The warm glow flickered wildly for a heartbeat before disappearing, leaving behind only the faintest scent of charred carpet.

The masseuse yelped, stumbling back a step, her eyes wide with alarm. “Oh my god—!”

Rexar groaned, pressing his forehead harder into the cushion as his shoulders shook with a sheepish chuckle. “Shit… Bless me, my bad,” he muttered, sniffling thickly. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some dignity. “Didn’t mean to barbecue the floor there.”

Kriia, watching the whole thing unfold, burst into laughter. “Oh my god, Rex!” she wheezed, barely managing to breathe between her giggles. “You literally just flamethrowered under the table! Did you just light up the damn carpet?”

Rexar tilted his head slightly toward her, his red-streaked curls falling into his face as he let out a low, rumbling purr of amusement. “I mean, it was feeling a little chilly in here,” he joked, but the warmth in his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment.

The masseuse hesitated before letting out a nervous chuckle, clearly debating whether or not she should be concerned. “Uh… just—just try to warn me next time?” she asked, still eyeing the floor warily.

Rexar sniffled again, running a lazy hand under his nose before giving her a lopsided, drowsy grin. “Yeah, yeah… next time I feel a sneeze coming, I’ll give you a fire drill warning.”

Kriia, still giggling, wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Bless you, babe. That was so dramatic.”

Rexar sighed heavily, stretching his arms out in front of him as he settled back into the massage. “Dramatic?” he echoed, his voice thick with congestion. “Nah, that was art.”

Kriia shook her head, still grinning, as the masseuse cautiously resumed her work, keeping a very careful eye on him.

The room settled back into a warm, relaxed quiet—well, as relaxed as it *could* be after Rexar had nearly torched the floor with a sneeze. Kriia was still snickering softly to herself, her shoulders twitching slightly with every barely-contained chuckle. Rexar, on the other hand, seemed content to play it off, stretching out on the massage table like nothing had happened.

But just as the masseuses got back to work, a familiar, restless tickle began to build in the back of Kriia’s nose. She sniffled sharply, trying to chase it away, but the sensation only deepened, curling insistently through her sinuses. Ugh, not now.

Her breath hitched, her hands instinctively tightening against the soft fabric beneath her. She barely had time to press her wrist against her face before the sneezes overtook her.

“Hh’gtsch! K’tchh! Nkchh! Hh—tchh! Hh‘NGXschh!”

Each one snapped her forward slightly, barely muffled against her arm. She sighed in exasperation, rubbing her nose roughly against her wrist before sniffling again.

From the next table over, Rexar had gone still.

“…Bless you, Princess,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

Kriia blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. Rexar wasn’t unaffectionate—far from it—but there was something different about the way he’d said it. Not teasing, not amused—just…genuine.

She turned her head slightly, trying to meet his gaze, but he was still face-down in the cradle, his brows knitted together just enough to suggest concern.

“You good?” Rexar asked, clearing his throat. He sounded almost… hesitant.

Kriia raised an eyebrow, propping herself up slightly on her forearms. “Am I good?” she repeated, amused. “You’re the one who just roasted the damn carpet.”

Rexar didn’t smirk, didn’t roll his eyes or toss back an easy quip like he normally would. Instead, he sniffled and frowned, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, but you don’t sneeze like that,” he muttered. “Not twice in one night.”

That made her pause.

She did have a sensitive nose—prone to ticklish fits when applying makeup or being around certain strong scents—but beyond that? She wasn’t the one who got sick easily. That was Vaelyn. That was Rexar.

Kriia waved a dismissive hand, shaking her head. “It’s nothing,” she assured him, though her voice was a bit rougher than before. “Probably just the essential oils in here or something.”

Rexar didn’t look convinced. His nostrils flared slightly, as if testing the air. “…Doesn’t smell strong to me,” he mumbled, sniffling thickly.

Kriia laughed lightly, rolling her eyes. “Oh, now your nose is working?” she teased. “After nearly setting off a goddamn fire alarm?”

Normally, Rexar would’ve played along, flashing her a cocky grin or making some dumb, flirtatious comment about how hot he was. But instead, he just exhaled slowly, his fingers flexing against the table like he was mulling something over.

“…Just let me know if you start feeling off, yeah?” he muttered, his voice low.

That gave her pause again. She tilted her head, studying him carefully. The thin trails of smoke that usually drifted lazily from his nostrils were weaker than usual, occasionally flickering out altogether. His voice had taken on that unmistakable rasp—not the usual lazy, bedroom rasp, but the kind that meant something was creeping up on him.

She smirked, reaching out to poke his arm. “You sure you’re not the one feeling off, babe?”

Rexar finally cracked a small smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine,” he rasped, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

Kriia chuckled, shaking her head as she settled back down against the table. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

The masseuses continued their work, kneading the tension from their muscles, but a new thought had lodged itself in Kriia’s mind—one she couldn’t quite shake.

Twice in one night.

And the last person she’d been around for a while before this?

Vaelyn.

She exhaled slowly, the realization settling into her bones.

Well.

If she was getting sick, that meant all of them were doomed…

Vaelyn was jolted awake with a sudden, crushing need for air. His lungs seized violently, forcing out a harsh, hacking cough that rattled through his chest like a jackhammer. He barely had the presence of mind to twist out from under Kalypso, his muscles sluggish with fever as he scrambled to sit up. His entire body ached, his limbs leaden as another coughing fit wracked through him, forcing him to double over with the sheer force of it.

His body trembled with each desperate, tearing cough, the sound thick and damp, like his lungs were full of sludge. His fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles white as he struggled to suck in even a shallow breath between fits. His ribs burned, every ragged inhale scraping painfully against his throat, and his sinuses throbbed with a relentless, swollen pressure that made his head feel stuffed with wet cotton.

Kalypso stirred beside him, grumbling something unintelligible as his coughing continued. The sound was loud, miserable, and it had completely shredded his voice, leaving nothing but hoarse, breathy gasps in its wake. By the time he could finally breathe again, he was left slumped forward, elbows braced on his knees as he wiped at his damp, flushed face with the sleeve of his hoodie. A thick sniffle followed, congested and utterly ineffective against the relentless pressure filling his sinuses.

“God…” he rasped as he dragged a hand down his face. His voice was even rougher than last night, just a scrape of sound barely making it past his ravaged throat. “I already feel like fugkigg shit…”

Kalypso let out a slow, lazy stretch, groaning as she sat up. She rubbed the sleep from her eye, blinking blearily at him. “Yeah, no shit,” she muttered resentfully. Neither of them had gotten much rest—Vaelyn’s snoring had been a congested nightmare, a horrendous mix of wheezing and mouth-breathing that kept cutting off with desperate midnight sneezing fits. But as Kalypso shifted, pushing her tangled hair from her face, she swallowed, a sharp, raw burn slithering down her throat, making her wince.

Her eye narrowed.

Oh, hell no.

She turned toward Vaelyn, shooting him a glare as she rolled her eye. “I’m not sick, it’s allergies, I swear!” she mocked, perfectly mimicking his miserable rasp from yesterday.

Vaelyn cracked an eye open to glare weakly at her. His nose twitched faintly, a clear warning of another impending fit, but he still mustered enough energy to be indignant. “Oh, fugk off,” he croaked, his breath hitching sharply.

Kalypso frowned, watching as his features went slack, nostrils quivering, mouth parting slightly as his breath hitched again and again. His glassy eyes fluttered, lashes damp from fever and exhaustion, before—

“Hh’ISCHHh! EISHhh! H’ISHHhh! —ish! shh! —sh! ……………… hh—huhhh—”

The sneezes tore through him without mercy, snapping him forward at the waist with a harsh, uncontrollable force. He barely managed to get his arm up in time, muffling them against the damp fabric of his hoodie, but they left him completely winded, his shoulders rising and falling with each heavy, sniffly breath. His head throbbed, his raw nose twitching with the promise of another, and—

“hh’EEIISSHHhh’uhh!”

A long, miserable groan followed as he slumped back against the headboard, eyes glassy and unfocused from the sheer exhaustion of it. His breath still hitched faintly, a sharp sniffle doing nothing to clear the congestion as he fumbled blindly for the tissues on the nightstand. He grabbed one, pressed it to his nose, and blew—only for the sound to come out wet and gurgling, making him wince.

Kalypso grimaced. “Can’t believe on the first official day of our vacation, I’m already sick because of you.”

Vaelyn, who had previously been so stubborn about denying his own misery, simply let his head fall to the side, giving her a dead-eyed, thoroughly defeated look.

“…Okay,” he admitted hoarsely, voice barely above a breathy rasp. “…Baybe I’b a little sick…” he finished weakly.

Kalypso snorted, shaking her head as she leaned back against the headboard beside him. “Yeah. No shit.”

The peaceful—well, as peaceful as it could be with Vaelyn wheezing like a dying animal—morning was suddenly shattered by the blaring chime of his phone. The ringer, obnoxiously loud and vibrating aggressively against the wooden nightstand, sent a fresh wave of agony searing through both of their already pounding heads.

Vaelyn groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would somehow lessen the pain ricocheting through his skull. Kalypso, however, had no patience for this level of auditory assault.

“Turn that shit down,” she snapped, wincing as she clutched at her temple. “Why the fuck is your volume so goddamn high?!”

Vaelyn, scrambling to grab the phone, nearly knocked it clean off the nightstand in his haste. He fumbled with it, groggy fingers slipping before he finally managed to press accept.

“Hh’ghh—hehh…Hh’ISCHHh!!” The sneeze hit him mid-motion, forcing him to angle away, barely stifling it into the crook of his arm before breathlessly pressing the phone to his ear. “Hh—hhhello?” he rasped, his consonants rounded out by congestion, his voice already wrecked for the day.

On the other end, Kriia sounded awful.

“Vaelyn, you fucking suck,” she croaked, her voice so hoarse it barely counted as words. She punctuated the statement with a string of unproductive, scratchy coughs that were audibly directed away from the receiver.

Vaelyn winced in sympathy—mostly because he felt exactly the same.

Before he could respond, there was a sudden, familiar sound in the background—one that made his fever-muddled brain perk up just a little.

“Heh’EXCHXSHHH'IEU!!”

“Hh’KNGXSHHH!!”

“Hhh’ESSH’UEHHH!!”

Rexar’s sneezes were loud, violent, and unmistakable. And judging by the immediate, panicked shouting that followed, fiery.

“Fuck—!”

“Shit—babe, the comforter!!”

“Oh my god, again?!”

Vaelyn snorted, the sound thick and utterly pathetic, as he listened to the unmistakable chaos of two sick people scrambling to put out a small, accidental bedroom fire. His amusement was short-lived, though, as it instantly morphed into a harsh, grating cough that clawed its way out of his chest, rattling wetly with each strained breath.

Kalypso shot him a sharp side-eye, one eyebrow quirked as if to say, Really? You’re laughing?

Vaelyn gave her a weak shrug, still half-coughing as he turned back to the phone.

“…You guys… good over there?” he asked hoarsely, congestion thick in his voice.

There was a brief pause before Kriia groaned dramatically, the sound muffled like she’d dropped her face straight into a pillow.

“No, dumbass,” she rasped, voice strained with exhaustion. “We’re dying, and Rex just lit our fucking bed on fire.”

Another sneeze erupted from the background—followed by a frantic fwoosh of someone (probably Kriia) desperately trying to beat out any remaining embers.

Vaelyn couldn’t help it. His lips twitched into a small, fever-dazed smirk.

“…S-should I call housekeeping?” he croaked, voice cracking slightly.

Kalypso groaned, flopping dramatically back against the pillows. “Oh my god, you’re all fucking useless.”

“Don’t you fucking dare call housekeeping,” Kriia rasped, her voice barely more than a croak. “We’re just—hhihh… hhh—gonna c-come—hhHh… over—”

Vaelyn winced, instinctively pulling the phone a few inches away from his ear as the end of her sentence wavered into a few soft, hitching gasps. He knew exactly what was coming.

“Hh’tchh!—nnch!—Nkch!—Ktch!—Nkcht!—hh‘gsch!!”

The sneezes were quiet, restrained, but relentless, leaving Kriia whimpering softly on the other end. He could practically hear the exhausted exhale as she released the breath she’d been holding.

“Bless you, babygirl,” Rexar’s voice came through, low and rough, heavy with congestion. There was a thick, waterlogged sniffle before he added, “Y’want me to grab your coat, or just steal one of Vee’s hoodies when we get there?”

Vaelyn swiped at his own nose with the sleeve of his hoodie, blinking sluggishly as he glanced over at Kalypso, who was watching him with an unimpressed stare. She was definitely rethinking all of her life choices that had led to this moment.

He brought the phone back to his ear, voice still raspy as he sighed, “Just grab her a hoodie, man. I don’t care.”

Kalypso rolled her eye, rubbing at her temple as she muttered, “Great. Just what we need. More germ factories.”

Vaelyn barely had the energy to roll his eyes at Kalypso’s grumbling, his head still swimming from the fever pressing in behind his sinuses. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to clear the fog in his brain before sighing into the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, just get your asses over here,” he muttered, voice thick with congestion.

“HhH’IEEXSHH’uhh!!—EHH’KXSHhh’ue!!—huhhh’NGXT’CHOO!!”

Vaelyn yanked the phone away from his ear again as a trio of violent, fire-filled sneezes exploded on the other end, followed by a sharp yelp from Kriia.

“Rex, goddammit!”

“Shit—! Babe, get the—”

There was a frantic shuffle, the unmistakable whoosh of fabric catching fire, and a chorus of panicked voices scrambling to put it out. Vaelyn could practically see Kriia batting at the flames with the nearest pillow while Rexar tried to smother them with his robe.

Vaelyn chuckled, though it quickly dissolved into a harsh, scraping cough that rattled in his chest. He barely managed to croak out, “Y’all good over there?”

There was a pause before Kriia’s voice came back, hoarse but absolutely done with everything.

“No.”

Kalypso snorted, rubbing at her sore throat. “You idiots are gonna burn the whole fucking lodge down before you even make it here.”

Another wet sniffle crackled through the speaker before Rexar grumbled, “We’ll be there in five.”

The call ended with a click, and Vaelyn let his arm drop back onto the bed, blinking sluggishly at the ceiling as his sinuses throbbed mercilessly against his skull.

Kalypso groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the mattress. “Great. Just what I wanted. A fucking sick people convention in our room.”

Vaelyn smirked lazily, voice rough as he muttered, “spoiler alert: you’re sick, too, Kal.”

Kalypso side-eyed him hard enough to shatter glass, but before she could come up with a sharp retort, there was a knock at the door—followed immediately by a sharp thud and a muffled, “Ow, fuck—”

Vaelyn sighed, dragging himself out of bed and staggering toward the door. “Jesus, you two—”

He wrenched it open just in time for Kriia to stumble forward into the doorway, wrapped up in what was unmistakably one of his hoodies, sleeves swallowing her hands. Her normally sharp purple eyes were hazy with fever, and her nose was pink and twitching with irritation. Rexar stood just behind her, looking no better—his white curls were a mess, his grey-and-red eyes rimmed with exhaustion, and a thin stream of smoke barely trickled from his nostrils.

Vaelyn blinked at them. “Y’all look like shit.”

Kriia sniffled miserably, squinting up at him as she croaked, “So do you.”

Vaelyn huffed a laugh, stepping aside to let them in. “Well, come on, then. Welcome to hell.”

Kriia and Rexar trudged into the room, their exhaustion palpable in the way they moved—slow, heavy, weighed down by fever and congestion. Kriia sniffled against her sleeve, blinking sluggishly as she nudged the door shut behind her with her hip.

The suite was dimly lit, the glow from the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The air inside was thick with warmth, a stark contrast to the bitter chill of the hallway. It should have been comforting, but instead, it just made everything feel heavier, like they were sinking into the feverish haze that had wrapped itself around all of them.

Vaelyn barely had time to shuffle back toward the couch before Rexar dropped onto it with an exaggerated groan, pulling Kriia down with him. She landed in his lap without protest, burrowing into the crook of his neck like she was trying to disappear inside of him. He welcomed it, curling an arm around her waist as he let his head tip back against the cushions.

Kalypso, who had been sprawled across the bed flipping through channels on the massive flat-screen, barely spared them a glance. “So,” she mused, her voice rough around the edges as she settled on some crime documentary. “Guessing the massage didn’t help?”

Rexar let out a laugh that quickly turned into a hoarse cough, his body jerking with the effort. “Oh, no. It was great—very relaxing. Highly recommend getting sick as shit and then letting some stranger knead your fever-ridden muscles into oblivion.”

Kriia groaned against his chest. “Please shut up.”

Vaelyn snorted, flopping back onto the other end of the couch and rubbing at his nose with the heel of his palm. “Yeah, we’ll see who’s talking when Kalypso makes us all do shots of mystery mini-fridge liquor to ‘burn it out.’”

Kalypso smirked, but stayed quiet, which did nothing to reassure anyone.

Rexar sniffled roughly, rubbing at his own damp nose with the back of his wrist as he slumped further into the couch. His head felt heavy, his body sluggish with fever, and the ever-present tickle in his sinuses was driving him insane. The only thing keeping him halfway grounded was Kriia, curled up in his lap, her hood pulled up over her crimson hair. She had her sleeve pressed to her nose, brows furrowed in pure, exhausted misery as she let out a pitiful whine.

“Veeee… why…..” she whined, her voice thick with congestion, barely more than a breathy whisper. She trailed off, her expression going slack as her nostrils flared slightly, her breath catching on a sharp hitch—

But nothing.

Her lips parted, waiting for the inevitable release, but after a tense second, her breath wavered and then steadied, leaving her blinking in dazed frustration.

Rexar hummed sympathetically, rubbing slow circles against her back. He could feel her frustration in the way her muscles tensed against him, her damp sniffles growing more irritated.

It happened again. And again.

Kriia’s breath hitched erratically, teasing her mercilessly, leaving her gasping and shuddering against him—but no relief ever came.

Her shoulders sagged, a desperate little noise catching in her throat as she turned bleary, pleading eyes toward him. Her flushed nose twitched against the sleeve of her hoodie, her nostrils fluttering in helpless irritation.

“It’s stuck…” she whimpered breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper between the shaky, uneven gasps that continued to build but refused to tip her over the edge.

Rexar’s gaze softened, his own breath hitching slightly as he gave her an understanding nod. “Poor baby…” he purred, voice low and warm despite the congestion roughening his usual rasp. He shifted slightly, bringing a hand up to cup her face, his fingers featherlight against her fever-warmed skin.

Gently, he traced a single clawed finger down the delicate slope of her nose, dragging from the bridge to the quivering tip with slow, deliberate strokes.

Kriia’s reaction was immediate.

Her breath hitched violently, her chest rising and falling in erratic, desperate bursts as her nose twitched beneath his touch. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting helplessly as she gasped through the overwhelming sensation—

And then it hit.

“K’tchh! Nnch! Nkch!—ahh…! Ktch! Nkcht! Hh‘gsch!!”

She barely managed to stifle them into her sleeve, her body curling into Rexar’s chest with each sharp, breathless release. The sneezes kept coming, drawn out and shivery, her body trembling with the sheer force of them.

Rexar rumbled softly, his fingers still tracing along the bridge of her nose, drawing her through the fit. “That’s it, babygirl… let it out…” he murmured, his voice thick with affection, pressing a lazy kiss to the side of her head between her desperate, stifled sneezes.

When she finally sagged against him, utterly spent, he rubbed soothing circles against her back, his lips quirking into a lazy smirk.

“Better?” he teased, though his voice was tender, his fingertips brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face.

Kriia sniffled weakly, exhaling a breathless, shuddery sigh against his shoulder. “Fuck you…” she mumbled hoarsely, but there was no heat behind it.

Rexar chuckled, low and warm. “Love you too, princess.”

Vaelyn groaned dramatically, flopping against the arm of the couch and throwing an arm over his eyes. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, his voice thick with congestion. “I risked my life infecting you two, and this is the thanks I get? Cuddles and back rubs for Rex and Kriia, and I get nothing?”

Kalypso, still lounging on the bed with the remote in her hand, didn’t even look up from the screen. “You do get something,” she said dryly. “The privilege of knowing you’re the reason we’re all suffering.”

Vaelyn lifted his arm just enough to squint at her. “That’s not comforting.”

Rexar chuckled weakly, still rubbing slow circles against Kriia’s back while she sniffled against his chest. “Sounds like someone’s jealous,” he taunted, though his voice was hoarse and his usual smugness was undercut by how miserable he sounded.

Vaelyn scoffed, sitting up with effort and leveling Kalypso with a pointed look. “I mean, yeah, maybe a little. You never rub my back when I’m dying. Or help me with a stuck sneeze.” He sniffled sharply, dragging a knuckle under his nose. “You just roll your eye and tell me to stop being gross.”

Kalypso turned her head, her emerald eye gleaming with amusement. “Yeah, because you are gross.” She smirked, propping herself up on an elbow. “Besides, you whine enough without me babying you. If I start rubbing your back, next thing I know, you’ll be asking me to spoon-feed you soup.”

Vaelyn’s lips parted, ready with a snarky retort, but before he could say anything, his breath caught. His brows twitched, nostrils flaring as his expression slackened completely. “Hh—hhehh—” His chest rose sharply, but the release didn’t come, leaving him frozen, blinking dazedly at nothing.

Kalypso arched a brow. “Oh, now you’re gonna prove my point?”

Vaelyn groaned in frustration, rubbing furiously at his nose. “I hate everything,” he muttered miserably, his breath still wavering, his entire body at war with itself.

Rexar, despite his own misery, snickered from his place on the couch. “Don’t look at me, Vee. Kriia’s got exclusive rights to my sneezing assistance.”

Kriia, still curled against him, muffled something unintelligible against his hoodie, followed by a sleepy sniffle.

Vaelyn rolled his eyes, flopping back onto the couch with a defeated sigh. “This is favoritism. Disgusting.”

Kalypso just smirked, stretching out lazily. “Yeah, yeah. Suck it up, Princess.”

Vaelyn let out a weak, congested groan and dramatically threw a pillow over his face. He was never going to hear the end of this.

To be continued…

[aller-geez]

Oxygen

Written & illustrated by: allergeez 🖤

Hey! Remember back in August how I teased a Svelex fic set for Elex’s birthday? NWELL, I FINALLY FINISHED IT 6 MONTHS LATER ✨

Just under 8k words, CW: Illness & Injury (fever, pneumonia, difficulty breathing, passing out) Medical Settings (hospital/ER scenes, oxygen use, discussions of health conditions), Mild Alcohol Use (social drinking, light references), Themes of Self-Neglect (pushing past physical limits, refusing to ask for help)

Though Oxygen explores themes of stubbornness, friendship, and vulnerability, at its heart, it’s a story about learning when to let go—and knowing when someone cares enough to catch you.

Summary: S7en has never been great at self-preservation, but for Elex’s birthday, he’s determined to pull off the perfect surprise. Weeks of planning, secret coordination, and late-night prep have all led to this—one flawless night where everything goes exactly as planned.— There’s just one problem. S7en is sick. Really sick. And he’s been hiding it.

With the weight of the day pressing down on him, the only thing keeping him going is sheer stubbornness and the desperate hope that he can hold out just a little longer. But as the night unfolds, his body has other plans, and no amount of willpower can fight the inevitable.

As reality comes crashing down, S7en is forced to confront a truth he’s spent his entire life ignoring—he’s not invincible. And sometimes, pretending to be okay only makes things worse.

Prologue:

S7en had never worked so hard on something in his life.

For weeks, he had been obsessively planning Elex’s birthday party—late nights spent hunched over sketches, paint drying on his fingers as he designed the perfect decorations, hours scouring online shops for the exact shade of green streamers that wouldn’t make Elex groan about “clashing aesthetics.” He’d snuck around behind his back to pull together the guest list, bribe people into secrecy, and track down the most obnoxiously over-the-top cake he could find. It had to be perfect.

Elex deserved perfect.

And, as always, Elex had no clue.

Which, honestly, wasn’t surprising. The man could smell a lie from a mile away, sniff out bullshit like a bloodhound, but when it came to anything about himself, he was painfully oblivious. S7en could have probably told him, straight-up, “Hey, I’m planning a surprise party for you,” and Elex still would have just grunted, shrugged, and gone back to chewing on whatever plastic thing he’d picked up that day.

The same way he had completely failed to notice that S7en was getting sicker by the hour.

It had started as a scratch in his throat, nothing major—just the kind of raw, dry feeling he chalked up to too many sleepless nights and the absolute joke that was his hydration levels. He ignored it, popped a cough drop, kept going. He had too much to do to slow down now.

But then it got worse.

The scratch deepened into a constant ache, turning into that burning, sandpaper sensation that made every swallow a chore. His voice had started rasping sometime around day three, but he played it off, clearing his throat and mumbling that it was just from talking too much.

Then came the congestion.

Thick. Unshakable. A slow-building pressure behind his nose and eyes that made his head feel too heavy, too tight. He kept sniffling between sentences, breath hitching every time he tried to take a full inhale, but he was damn good at keeping it subtle.

Elex never noticed.

When he felt a sneeze creeping up, he’d duck into another room, press the back of his wrist hard against his nose, and wait it out. If he got caught off guard, he’d twist away, stifling into his sleeve so violently it left him dizzy. It left his chest tight, his head pounding, but it was better than Elex hearing and asking questions.

There was too much to do.

If he let himself sneeze once, it would turn into five. Maybe ten. And if that happened, he’d never get through his never-ending to-do list.

So he fought it. Again and again.

S7en had become a professional at dodging suspicion. He had to be—Elex might have been oblivious about some things, but he wasn’t stupid. If S7en so much as sniffled too obviously, the badger would latch onto it like a feral dog with a bone.

So S7en adapted. He learned how to mask it, how to time it, how to slip away just before his body betrayed him.

But sometimes… it got close.

The first time was late—way too late.

S7en had been running on a handful of energy drinks and sheer force of will, hunched over his desk, hand-painting decorations that no one but him would care about. The apartment was silent, save for the soft glow of his desk lamp and the occasional sound of Elex shifting in his sleep.

Which was a problem.

Because that meant every single noise S7en made was way too obvious.

He had been trying—really trying—to keep himself together, but his nose was done playing nice. The burning deep in his sinuses was unbearable, and no matter how much he bit his lip or rubbed furiously at the underside of his nose, it wasn’t stopping.

The tickle teased mercilessly, rising, falling, rising again.

Don’t. Don’t. Not now.

His breath hitched.

He jerked forward, smothering the sound into his hoodie sleeve as hard as he could.

“Hhh’NGXT!—h'KXT’chh!"

He held still, heart hammering in his chest.

The silence stretched.

Then—

A sleepy mumble from the bed.

“...Why you sneezing like a bitch over there…?”

S7en froze.

Shit.

He hadn’t even realized Elex had woken up. The badger’s voice was thick with sleep, slurred and lazy, but there was just enough suspicion in it to make S7en’s stomach drop.

Think. Think.

“Fucking… dust?..,” he muttered quickly, sniffling once for effect. “The paper’s covered in it.”

A long pause.

Then—

A heavy sigh, followed by the sound of Elex flopping onto his other side.

“Go to bed, dumbass,” he mumbled.

S7en stayed still until he was sure Elex had drifted off again.

Then, finally, he slumped forward, burying his face in his arms.

Too close.

The second time was worse.

They were sitting on the couch, half-watching some dumb action movie, Elex’s feet propped up on the coffee table as he mindlessly chewed on the plastic cap of a water bottle. He was in a good mood, talking non-stop about how he "just had a feeling something cool was gonna happen" on his birthday.

Which would have been hilarious if S7en wasn’t actively trying not to sneeze on him.

His nose had been itching relentlessly for the last five minutes. That awful, creeping burn was rising up again, and no matter how much he rubbed at his nose discreetly, it wasn’t enough.

Bad timing. Really bad timing.

His breath hitched—barely enough to make a sound.

Too close.

He needed to get out of there.

Stretching his arms in an exaggerated yawn, he forced his muscles to stay loose and casual as he pushed himself off the couch.

“Gonna grab a drink,” he muttered, already heading toward the kitchen.

“Get me one,” Elex called after him, not even looking away from the screen.

S7en didn’t answer.

Because the second he was out of sight, he barely made it to the sink in time before a violent—

"Hh—! HHAHH—! HAHDT’tchhiew!! Hh—! AHHDT’tchhiiuhh!"

—ripped through him, bending him forward with the force of it.

His hands gripped the edge of the counter, breath shuddering as another chest-deep cough tore out of him immediately after. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to get it together before—

“You good in there?”

S7en nearly jumped out of his own damn skin.

Elex’s voice was casual, distracted, but S7en knew him too well.

The badger had noticed something.

Shit.

He barely had time to smother another cough into his sleeve before he forced his voice to sound normal.

“Yeah. Just—fucking—dropped something.”

A pause.

Then, mercifully, Elex just grunted, attention snapping back to the movie.

S7en exhaled slowly, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples.

Too close. Again.

By the end of the week, he knew.

This wasn’t just a cold.

The signs had been there for days, creeping up on him like a slow, inevitable landslide. At first, it had been subtle—a scratch in his throat, a little extra weight in his chest. But now? Now, every breath ached, every inhale felt like dragging air through soaked fabric.

His lungs weren’t just tight anymore. They were drowning.

And when he coughed—because, at this point, there was no fighting it anymore—it wasn’t some weak, dry little thing he could brush off. No, it was deep, raw, rattling, the kind of cough that came from somewhere low and dangerous, scraping the bottom of his lungs like a dull blade.

It hurt.

And Elex still didn’t notice.

Because S7en made sure of it.

He had perfected the art of hiding it.

Whenever Elex was around, S7en played it off like nothing was wrong. He timed his coughing fits so they happened when Elex was in the shower, when he was digging through the fridge, when he was too distracted ranting about something to notice the way S7en had to brace himself against the counter just to stay upright.

If a sneeze hit, he bit back against it with everything he had, muffling it into his hoodie sleeve until his head pounded. If he couldn’t stop it, he’d make sure to stifle it into near silence, no matter how much the pressure made his already aching sinuses throb.

His voice was going hoarse, his breathing was labored, but he pushed through, kept talking like nothing had changed.

When his hands started shaking, he simply curled his fingers tighter around whatever he was holding—a drink, his paintbrush, the edge of the counter—until they stopped trembling long enough to keep up the act.

His eyes were red-rimmed, glassy, but if Elex glanced at him for too long, he’d just mutter something about being exhausted and wave him off.

Everything needed to be done.

And he wasn’t about to let a little cold ruin it.

Even as it got harder to stand without swaying.
Even as his lungs tightened like a vice with every breath.
Even as his body screamed at him to just stop.

He pushed forward.

Forward. Forward. Forward.

August 10th:

The morning of Elex’s birthday should have been easy.

After all, S7en had spent weeks planning every last detail. The decorations were set up, the cake was waiting in the fridge, and their friends were in on the plan, all waiting for the big reveal later that night.

All he had to do was get through the day.

And yet, when Elex jolted awake that morning—cocky, buzzing with birthday energy, already texting half his contact list like he was about to throw himself the most legendary party of all time—S7en could barely sit up without his vision blurring at the edges.

The second he lifted his head, a fresh pulse of pain slammed through his skull, a migraine so sharp it felt like his brain was trying to escape through his eye sockets. He swallowed against the nausea, trying to ignore the way his throat burned, raw and swollen, while his chest tightened with every inhale.

Bad. Really bad.

But he didn’t have time for bad.

So, S7en forced a grin, let Elex’s nonsense birthday rambling wash over him, and powered through.

“S7en, I swear to God, my birthday instincts are going crazy today,” Elex announced, cracking open an energy drink before he was even fully sitting up.

S7en barely managed to hold back a pained wince at the sound of the can popping. Too loud.

“Oh yeah?” he croaked, then immediately regretted speaking. His voice was wrecked, rougher than usual, like he’d spent the entire night screaming into a pillow.

Not ideal.

But if Elex noticed, he didn’t say anything—too busy stretching with an exaggerated groan before flopping onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. His mismatched eyes gleamed, that lazy smirk pulling at his lips.

“Yeah. It’s like—I dunno, a sixth sense,” Elex went on, taking a sip of his drink. “Like, I just know when something big’s about to happen.”

S7en hummed, noncommittal. “Birthday instincts,” he repeated flatly.

“Exactly.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you might need a refund, dude.”

Elex snorted, waving him off. “Nah, nah, it’s real. Watch—by the end of the day, something sick is gonna go down, and I’m gonna be totally right.”

S7en bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, because if Elex had even the slightest clue about the party, he would not be this calm. But the badger, for all his cocky bravado, was utterly, hilariously clueless.

Good. That meant S7en’s work wasn’t for nothing.

But as he pushed himself up, the room lurched sideways, and his stomach twisted violently.

Shit.

He froze, pressing his hands into the mattress to steady himself, willing the dizziness to pass. But his lungs ached when he took a breath, and his ribs felt like they were wrapped in tight, unrelenting bands.

Breathe. Breathe through it.

Elex, of course, was too busy hyping himself up to notice.

“Bet something sick happens before noon,” he said, checking his phone. “Maybe I’ll win some crazy giveaway. Or, like, get free food somewhere.”

S7en forced out a breathy laugh, ignoring the sharp, rattling sensation in his chest.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Something like that.”

Because at the rate he was going?

Something was gonna happen before noon.

Just not the kind of surprise Elex was expecting.

S7en just had to get through the morning.

Then the afternoon.

Then the party.

Simple.

Except nothing about this was simple when his entire body was actively trying to betray him.

He had barely been upright for two minutes before the pressure in his sinuses flared up again, an unbearable, burning tickle crawling its way deeper. His breath caught just once—a sharp, involuntary inhale—before he forced it down, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to sting.

Not now. Not in front of Elex.

Elex, still riding his birthday ego trip, had zero idea what was going on, stretching like he had all the time in the world. Completely unaware of the absolute war S7en was fighting just two feet away.

"Alright," Elex announced, cracking his neck. "I’m thinking pancakes."

S7en barely heard him. His focus was on not sneezing.

The burning sensation spiked, his nose twitching, his breath threatening to hitch again. He clenched his jaw, exhaling slowly through his mouth, willing the tickle to settle.

No luck.

It was coming, fast.

Shit. Move.

Before Elex could glance his way, S7en swung his legs over the bed and pushed himself up, heading straight for the bathroom. Too fast. His vision swam, dizziness crashing into him all at once, but he barely managed to keep himself upright, gripping the doorframe for balance.

He shoved the door shut behind him, barely able to hold back the gasping inhale before—

"Hh—! Hhh! HAHPT’tschiew!! HAH! AHHDT’shiiiiew!!"

Fuck.

He doubled over against the counter, pressing the heel of his hand against his nose, his breath still stuttering from the sheer force of it. The moment he tried to straighten, another thick, chest-deep cough forced its way up, scraping like sandpaper in his throat.

His lungs felt wrecked. His head was pounding.

And he had approximately five seconds before Elex came looking for him.

Swallowing hard, S7en quickly turned on the sink, splashing cold water onto his face, trying to erase the obvious flush creeping into his cheeks. A second later, he heard Elex’s footsteps outside the door.

“You dying in there?”

S7en cleared his throat, ignoring the sharp pain it sent through his ribs. Make it sound normal.

“Chill,” he called back, voice rough but controlled. “Didn’t know I had to schedule my pisses around your breakfast plans.”

Elex snorted. “I mean, you do. But I’ll allow it, since it’s my birthday.”

S7en exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the sink.

Too close. Again.

By the time S7en forced himself back into the kitchen, Elex had already trashed his pancake idea in favor of raiding the fridge for anything edible. He stood with the door wide open, shoving a piece of cold pizza into his mouth like he wasn’t the absolute most unhinged person alive.

S7en could barely look at food without feeling his stomach twist unpleasantly.

"You good?" Elex asked around a mouthful, finally giving him a passing glance.

S7en shrugged, keeping his movements casual, despite the way his body screamed at him to sit the hell down.

"Tired," he muttered, heading for the cabinet where they kept their mugs. If he had something in his hands, it’d be easier to look normal.

Elex didn’t press, which was both a relief and kind of funny, considering if their situations were reversed, S7en would have had him in a chokehold demanding answers. But Elex just yawned, stretching again.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "Big day. You should nap or something."

The irony almost made S7en laugh.

Yeah. Sure. Great idea. He’d get right on that.

As soon as he survived the next fourteen hours.

But as he reached for a mug, the telltale prickling started up again. His breath hitched before he could stop it.

Shit. No. Not here. Not now.

Keeping his back firmly to Elex, he pressed his wrist hard against his nose, willing it to stop. His shoulders tensed as the itch flared up, teasing mercilessly.

Hold it. Hold it. Hold it.

Elex, blissfully unaware, just kept rambling, his voice distant, drowned out by the relentless burning in S7en’s sinuses.

It was winning.

S7en had no choice.

With as much control as he could manage, he ducked his head into the crook of his arm, forcing the sneezes silent.

"Hh'NGXt! Ktchhh!—h’NNgch!"

The pressure was brutal, his skull throbbing with the effort of holding them back. His lungs seized painfully, a cough clawing its way up, but he swallowed it down, knuckles tightening around the counter.

He waited.

Nothing.

Elex hadn't noticed.

Slowly, carefully, S7en straightened, schooling his expression before turning back around.

Elex was still halfway through his pizza, scrolling through his phone with zero clue about the absolute disaster happening right in front of him.

S7en let out a shaky breath, grabbing his mug with slightly unsteady fingers.

He just had to get through the day.

That was the mantra he kept repeating in his head, over and over, like a scratched CD skipping on the same damn track. Just a few more hours. Then the party. Then the moment when Elex would finally see the absolute masterpiece S7en had spent weeks putting together. Then—maybe—he could breathe.

If his lungs still worked by then.

It was getting harder to ignore. Everything.

The aches had settled deep into his bones, like he was dragging concrete around his limbs. His head pounded relentlessly, his chest felt like it was wrapped in steel wire, and his breath was turning shallow, forced, unnatural.

And Elex?

Still didn’t notice.

Somehow.

It was actually impressive, in a way that was borderline offensive.

Because anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell that S7en was not okay.

His skin was pale, fever-glazed, dark shadows lingering beneath his eyes. His voice had gone from a little hoarse in the morning to full-blown wreckage, scraping and raw like he’d been swallowing glass shards for fun.

And yet.

Nothing.

Elex was still living in his own little birthday world, sending obnoxious texts to his friends, hyping up his own damn existence, and loudly debating whether he should get a new tattoo or a pet snake to mark the occasion.

S7en was dying in real time, and Elex was googling exotic pet names.

Ridiculous.

By the time they left the apartment, the sun was too bright, the air too sharp, and S7en was too damn tired.

He had planned to stay inside, get through some last-minute details, maybe even steal a moment to sit down and pretend his body wasn’t actively staging a rebellion.

But Elex, in all his unmatched, chaotic glory, had insisted on going out.

“It’s my birthday,” he had said, flashing a grin that should be illegal. “You’re legally required to follow me around and do dumb shit all day.”

S7en had just barely held back a groan.

The first stop was some hole-in-the-wall shop Elex swore had the best snacks on the planet. S7en, running on sheer force of will and the lingering effects of a third energy drink, followed him in, head pounding, lungs on fire.

He was so focused on staying upright that he didn’t notice the way his sinuses had been slowly tightening, congestion pressing like a vice behind his eyes.

Then, as he shifted his weight, something shifted with it.

A sudden, sharp readjustment deep in his sinuses sent a blinding tickle straight through his nose, pressure tipping over into something unstoppable.

Oh, fuck.

His breath hitched dangerously, his nostrils twitching, the overwhelming sensation building too fast for him to fight.

Not here. Not now.

He turned sharply on his heel, heading toward the corner of the store, hand clamped over his nose.

The moment he was out of sight, he braced against the shelf, burying his face into his sleeve as his body gave up.

“Hh—HhAH’DTschhh! Hh! HHhih—! HAHDT’tchhhiiew! Hhh! AHHDT’tsschueh!!!”

His ribs screamed in protest, his vision swimming from the sheer force of it. His breath hitched again, another wracking cough tearing out of him immediately after, leaving him shaking, dizzy, breathless.

Too much. Way too much.

He forced himself upright, swallowing against the rawness in his throat, fingers digging into the shelf for balance. He needed to move before—

“Sven?”

Shit.

He barely had time to school his face into something remotely normal before Elex appeared around the corner, holding a pack of sour candy and a soda, looking infuriatingly relaxed.

“You find something?” Elex asked, popping open the drink like nothing was wrong.

S7en cleared his throat, biting back the unbearable urge to cough again. “Nah. Just looking.”

Elex blinked at him, then tilted his head slightly.

For half a second, S7en thought—hoped, really—that maybe Elex was finally putting two and two together. That he’d look at him and actually see what was happening.

But then the badger just shrugged.

“Cool. Let’s hit the gas station. I wanna see if they have those weird energy drinks from Japan.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

S7en swallowed back another cough, another wave of exhaustion, and nodded.

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice scraping at the sides. “Sure.”

And without much more, he followed Elex back out into the sun, lungs screaming, heart pounding, the warmth of the afternoon too sharp, too heavy against his feverish skin.

The heat pressed down on him like a weight, making the air feel thicker, harder to breathe, and for a moment, as they stepped onto the sidewalk, the world tilted dangerously beneath his feet. He forced himself forward, keeping his stride even, controlled, ignoring the way his vision blurred at the edges.

The party was just a few hours away.

He just had to last a little longer.

But his body? His body was done.

The fever that had been simmering beneath his skin all morning had finally boiled over, turning into a suffocating, all-encompassing heat that made the world feel distant and unreal. He felt like he was walking through a fog, slow and sluggish, barely tethered to his own movements.

His hoodie, usually something soft, comforting, familiar, now felt like a weight pressing down on his overheated body. The fabric clung to his skin like insulation, trapping the fever in, suffocating him from the inside out.

It was getting harder to think.

Harder to breathe.

Every inhale was tight, shallow, unsatisfying, as if the air itself had thickened, turning into something too dense to pull into his lungs. He knew he should have eaten something, but the mere thought of food made his stomach twist violently, nausea crawling up his throat.

But none of it mattered.

None of it could matter.

Because Elex was still completely oblivious.

So when the badger shoved his phone into his pocket and announced they were going to the arcade, S7en nodded.

When Elex cracked another joke about his “birthday instincts,” S7en forced out a laugh, even though his ribs ached from the effort.

And when a sneeze built out of nowhere, sharp and relentless, he bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to sting, forcing it back, forcing his breath to even out before it could betray him.

It was fine.

He could do this.

And then—

Elex threw an arm around his shoulders, dragging him closer, leaning some of his weight into him in that effortless, careless way he always did.

S7en felt his legs nearly give out beneath him.

It was only for a second. A brief, involuntary dip in his balance that he corrected just in time, locking his muscles in place before he could actually collapse.

Elex didn’t notice.

Because of course he didn’t.

He just kept talking, laughing, existing, completely unaware that the world around S7en had started to tilt dangerously again.

That the sounds of the arcade were beginning to blur into a low, distant hum.

That every inhale was tighter, shallower, harder to take in.

That S7en, for the first time all day, wasn’t sure if he could keep this up.

A single thought forced its way through the haze.

You’re not gonna make it to the party.

The arcade was a neon-lit blur, the pounding music and overlapping voices slamming into his skull like a hammer to glass. His fever had reached new, unbearable heights, making the room feel hot and cold all at once, the flashing lights too bright, the noise too much.

And still—he kept moving.

Elex was having the time of his life, completely in his element, button-mashing through some fighting game like it was a life-or-death battle. S7en barely processed what was happening, just stood there, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, rocking slightly on his heels to keep himself upright.

The floor tilted beneath him again, nausea coiling tight in his stomach.

Just a little longer.

Just a little—

“Dude, you’re terrible at this,” Elex announced, nudging him toward the machine. “Come on, you gotta play at least once. Birthday rules.”

S7en knew if he sat down, he wasn’t getting back up.

But Elex was staring at him now, actually looking at him, and S7en had to move, had to do something, had to make sure Elex didn’t catch on.

So he shrugged, smirked through the absolute exhaustion dragging at his limbs, and picked up the controller.

The match was a disaster.

His hands were too shaky, his reflexes too slow, but somehow—somehow—he made it through without drawing too much attention.

By the time they left the arcade, the sun had begun to set, and the cool air should have felt refreshing. Instead, it only made his fever chills worse.

S7en barely made it through the door before he was shrugging off his hoodie, the fabric sticking to his overheated skin. His t-shirt underneath was just as bad, suffocating, but Elex was already grabbing beers from the fridge, completely unaware of the absolute train wreck standing behind him.

Elex tossed one over without looking.

“Happy birthday to me,” he announced, cracking his open. “Now drink, coward.”

S7en caught the can out of reflex, but the thought of alcohol sent an immediate wave of nausea rolling through him. He hesitated, fingers tightening around the cold metal, trying to psych himself up.

If he refused, Elex would notice.

So he lifted it, took a sip—

And nearly gagged.

The second the liquid hit his throat, his stomach flipped violently, his body rejecting it on instinct. He swallowed it down, forcing his expression to stay neutral, relaxed, normal, but the warmth rising in his throat told a different story.

Fuck.

The carbonation burned going down, only agitating his raw, sore throat further. He barely contained a cough, throat clenching as he forced himself to lower the can casually, like nothing was wrong.

Mercifully, Elex had already turned away, completely distracted by his phone buzzing on the counter.

“Rex?” he muttered, before picking up.

S7en exhaled silently, relief cutting through the fever haze.

“Yo, what’s up?” Elex answered, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he grabbed his keys.

S7en barely processed the conversation, his focus slipping in and out as Elex and Rexar started talking about car problems, something about the transmission, something about a weird noise.

Then, finally—finally—Elex headed for the door.

“I’m gonna check my car while I talk him through this,” he said, already halfway outside. “Don’t drink all my beer while I’m gone.”

S7en barely managed a smirk, lifting the can in mock cheers as the door swung shut.

The second the lock clicked, his whole body gave up.

The first cough was immediate, tearing through his chest with enough force to make him double over against the counter. The sound crashed through the empty kitchen, harsh and unrestrained, his body finally allowed to react after an entire day of suppression.

Then another. And another.

It was unstoppable now, his body making up for all the times he’d held it back, a brutal mix of hacking, gasping coughs and desperate, shuddering sneezes.

"Hh—hhAHH’Tschh! Hhh—! HhhAHH—! HAHDT’tchhhiew!! Hhh! AHHDT’tschhhiu!!"

His body jerked forward with each one, raw, painful, messy—his breath barely catching before another slammed into him. His hand scrambled blindly for his phone, barely able to see through fever-glazed eyes as he pulled up his contact list.

The party. The guests. He needed to check the plans.

He hit the first name.

Freya.

Her face appeared on screen, and the second the call connected, she took one look at him and frowned.

"Geezus, S7en. You look like death.”

S7en sniffled hard, rubbing at his nose with his wrist, attempting to smirk, but it came out more like a grimace.

“Damn, angel, don’t hold back,” he rasped.

Freya narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Are you seriously still running this party?"

"Obviously."

"You can barely hold your damn phone up."

S7en rolled his eyes, regretted it immediately when the movement made his head swim. "I’m good."

Freya looked like she wanted to reach through the screen and shake him, but before she could argue, another rapid-fire sneezing fit tore through him, leaving him breathless and hunched forward over the counter.

"Hhh! HAH—hhAHDT'shhiiew!! hHh—! HhHPTT’tchhiEW!! hh—! HAHHDT’tchhIEEW!!”

Freya just stared.

Then—flatly: “Uh-huh. Sure. You sound great.”

S7en groaned, sniffling thickly as he waved her off.

"Look, just—are we still good for eight? I don’t have time for a lecture.”

She sighed, clearly not thrilled, but nodded. "Yeah. Everything’s set."

"Good. See you then."

And with that, he ended the call before she could press him further.

Next.

Kriia picked up on the second ring.

And just like Freya, she took one look at him and immediately frowned.

"Yo. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Evening to you, too," he muttered, sniffling into his sleeve.

"You look like you lost a fight. With, like. A bus."

S7en snorted, regretted it instantly as another cough tore through his chest, sending a sharp, tearing pain through his ribs.

Kriia’s expression shifted, concern settling in. "Dude. Are you sure you should be doing this?"

S7en waved her off before she could start, ignoring the way his vision blurred at the edges.

"It’s Elex’s birthday. I’m not ruining it.”

Kriia exhaled slowly, like she was debating whether to fight him on this. But in the end, she just muttered, "Your funeral, man," before confirming the plans.

S7en ended the call and dropped his phone onto the counter, fingers digging into the surface as another wave of dizziness hit.

The door clicked open again.

Shit.

His body snapped upright on instinct, throat still burning, lungs still raw, but Elex was already stepping inside, phone tucked away, beer still in hand.

"Apparently Rex’s transmission’s fucked," he muttered, completely unaware of what had just happened.

S7en forced a half-smirk, voice barely above a whisper.

"Tough break."

Elex flopped onto the couch.

"Whatever. Commute’s gonna be shit, though."

S7en swallowed hard, ignoring the fire in his chest.

"Yeah," he murmured.

Everything was too hot, too loud, too sharp at the edges. His body was dragging, fever weighing him down like cement blocks strapped to his limbs, but the worst part was his head. It was pounding relentlessly, a deep, throbbing ache that had settled right behind his eyes, making his vision swim every time he moved too fast.

And yet—he still almost forgot the damn restaurant reservations.

It wasn’t until Elex, now two beers deep, kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and stretched like he had no plans to move for the rest of the night that it finally hit him.

Shit.

"Alright, get up," S7en said, standing way too fast. The floor tilted. He gritted his teeth, planted his feet, forced himself to stay upright. "We got dinner reservations."

Elex blinked at him, caught mid-yawn. "Wait—what?"

S7en sighed, rolling his eyes like his head wasn’t spinning in slow, miserable circles. "You really thought I wasn’t taking you out for dinner? What kind of boyfriend would I be?"

That earned him a grin, lazy and smug. "Damn. I really am the best."

S7en snorted. "Uh-huh. Now get your shoes on."

And just like that, the plan was back on track.

As long as S7en didn’t pass out before they got there.

The drive was a blur.

S7en shouldn’t have been driving. He knew that.

His vision swam every time he shifted lanes, his hands felt unsteady on the wheel, and every time he blinked, his fever-hazed brain took just a little too long to process what was in front of him.

But if he let Elex drive, that meant questions. That meant attention. That meant a risk he couldn’t afford to take.

So he forced his fingers to grip the wheel tighter, focused on the road like his life depended on it.

Which, honestly, it probably did.

By the time they pulled into the restaurant parking lot, his knuckles were white from how hard he’d been holding on.

Just a little longer.

Except—when they got inside, it all went to hell.

S7en barely processed what the hostess was saying at first, his fever-glazed brain lagging behind reality.

“…I’m really sorry about the mix-up, but unfortunately, we don’t have a reservation under that name.”

S7en blinked. "…What?"

The hostess winced. "It looks like there was an error in our system, and we’re completely booked for the night."

Elex frowned, looking at S7en. "Didn’t you book this, like, a week ago?"

"Yeah," S7en rasped, throat raw, jaw tightening. He turned back to the hostess, forcing himself to stay calm. "So… what’s the wait time?"

She gave an awkward smile.

"About two hours."

S7en nearly laughed out of sheer exhaustion.

Elex sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Welp. Guess we’re going home, then."

And for the first time all day, luck was on S7en’s side.

Because that was exactly what he needed to happen.

He gave the hostess a half-hearted nod before turning back toward the door, shoulders tense, every muscle aching.

Fine. Home it was.

S7en still should not have been driving.

His head was swimming, the world tilting at the edges, but he was too stubborn, too deep into the lie to stop now.

Elex, meanwhile, was perfectly content, reclining in the passenger seat like he hadn’t a single care in the world. "Honestly, I wasn’t that hungry anyway," he mused. "Good call, though. The universe clearly wants me to have homemade pizza instead."

S7en made a noise that might have been agreement, though it came out more like a weak exhale.

His grip on the wheel was tight, too tight, but he didn’t trust himself to loosen his fingers without them shaking.

Then—a problem.

The congestion that had been building behind his eyes all day shifted suddenly, sending a sharp, burning tickle straight through his sinuses.

His breath hitched violently, the urge to sneeze crashing into him like a tidal wave.

No. Not now. Not while driving.

He swallowed hard, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, clenching his jaw so tightly it hurt. His fingers flexed against the wheel, breath quivering, trying desperately to force it back down.

It wasn’t working.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

His vision blurred, breath stuttering, but just as his body jerked forward involuntarily, he lunged for the volume knob on the radio, cranking it up just in time.

"Hh’NGXT! K’tshhh!—h’NNgch!"

The pressure made his ears ring, his head throb twice as hard, but Elex didn’t even flinch.

"Okay, why the hell is the music so loud now?"

S7en sniffled subtly, shifting in his seat. "Needed to wake myself up."

Elex huffed a laugh. "Damn. Didn’t know dinner cancellation trauma hit you that hard."

S7en forced a smirk, even as his sinuses screamed in protest. "Devastating."

And then, thankfully, mercifully, they pulled into the apartment lot.

The second the car was in park, S7en let go of the wheel like it had burned him. His fingers were stiff, locked from how tightly he’d been gripping it the whole drive.

Elex stretched, groaning dramatically. "Man, what a weird-ass birthday. Hopefully, the universe has one more surprise left for me."

Yeah.

You have no idea.

S7en forced himself to stand, lungs protesting, vision blurring dangerously for just a moment.

Almost there.

He just had to get inside.

Just a few more steps.

Just a little—

His breath hitched again, and he clenched his jaw, swallowing it down.

Not yet.

Not until he was alone.

S7en barely made it through the door before chaos erupted.

“SURPRISE!”

The apartment exploded with noise—cheering, shouting, laughter—all blending into one deafening wall of sound.

Elex’s reaction was instantaneous.

His fists shot up, body twisting instinctively, already halfway through swinging on whoever had dared to startle him.

For a split second, S7en had a horrifying vision of Freya or Kriia getting decked in the face, but just as Elex’s arm tensed, realization hit.

His narrowed eyes scanned the room, taking in the decorations, the crowd of friends, the drinks already in waiting hands.

Then—he turned to S7en.

That stupid, crooked grin stretched across his face, all sharp teeth and amusement, his previous fight mode already forgotten.

“You little shit,” he muttered, clapping a heavy hand on S7en’s shoulder, shaking him a little. “You actually got me.”

S7en barely held back a grimace at the sudden contact, his body thrumming with exhaustion, but he forced himself to grin through it.

“Told you your birthday instincts were trash,” he rasped, barely audible over the noise.

Elex laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah—okay, you win.”

The moment should have felt like victory.

And in a way, it did.

S7en had done it. The party had come together exactly how he planned, every detail falling into place just as he had imagined.

He had made it.

But as the music turned up, as drinks started passing between hands, as people settled into the celebration, S7en realized—

He still had to survive the rest of the night...

By the time everyone had arrived, the apartment was a perfect mix of chaos and celebration.

Music blasted.
Drinks flowed.
Elex was in his element, soaking up the attention, grinning like an idiot as his friends hyped him up.

S7en stayed near the edges, tucked into the background, letting the night move around him.

Everything felt far away, like he was watching the party from the other side of a glass wall. The fever had dragged him into a dreamlike haze, every noise muffled, every movement just slightly out of sync.

Still, he could see Elex—laughing, teasing, play-fighting with Rexar over some inside joke about "Toad Biscuit" merch.

The night blurred around him—colors bleeding together, laughter twisting into an indistinct hum, the weight of the room pressing down too heavy, too hot, too much.

S7en had spent the entire day pushing forward, ignoring the way his body was crumbling beneath him.

This was the last thing.

Just one more step.

One more task.

Someone called for cake.

The words barely registered, muffled beneath the fever’s grip, but his body moved on instinct.

S7en stepped toward the table, striking a match with trembling fingers.

The tiny flicker of fire blurred before his eyes, swaying unnaturally, and it took him a second too long to realize—it wasn’t the flame that was moving.

It was him.

The floor lurched beneath him like the ground had been ripped out from under his feet.

His chest tightened—seized—refused to expand.

A sharp, deafening ringing filled his ears.

His vision tilted violently, everything twisting into a warped, spinning mess of distorted colors and movement.

Far away—too far away—he could hear Elex’s voice, lighthearted, distracted, still caught up in the conversation, still completely unaware.

S7en tried to step forward—to finish what he started, to keep going, to keep standing—

But his knees buckled.

His breath stuttered dangerously, shallow and weak, his body losing the battle he had forced it to fight all day.

And then—

Elex’s voice sharpened, cut through the fog.

Something in his tone shifted—not joking anymore, not distracted anymore.

Alarm.

Realization.

“Wait—Sven!?”

Elex saw it happening.

But he was too far.

He was on the other side of the room, still surrounded by people, still grinning one second ago, still completely oblivious to just how wrong things were.

Then he turned.

And his stomach dropped.

He saw it—the way S7en swayed violently, the way his fingers slipped, the way his breath hitched in a way that had nothing to do with laughter.

His body was giving out.

Too fast.

Too soon.

Elex moved instantly, shoving through the crowd, but he was too late.

S7en’s body tilted forward, his orange eyes rolling back slightly.

The match slipped from his fingers, flame snuffing out before it even hit the ground.

His legs crumpled.

And before Elex could reach him—before anyone could react—

S7en hit the floor.

S7en drifted somewhere between consciousness and nothingness, floating in the thick, fevered haze of half-awareness. His body felt heavy, his limbs like lead, his chest wrapped in tight, suffocating bands that wouldn’t let him breathe fully.

He could hear voices.

Familiar, but distant—like sound carried through waterlogged fabric, muffled and uneven.

Then, one voice cut through the haze, clear and sharp.

“His blood oxygen was at eighty-one percent when they brought him in.”

That was bad. Even he knew that was bad.

A sigh—low, exasperated, but not surprised.

Elex.

“Geezus fuck,” he muttered, voice strained with something tired, frustrated, guilty.

The other voice—a woman’s—continued speaking, firm but calm, the kind of voice used to dealing with stubborn, repeat offenders.

“He has pretty severe pneumonia," she said, matter-of-fact. "You’re lucky he passed out when he did. If he’d stayed upright much longer, he probably would’ve just stopped breathing entirely.”

S7en didn’t have to see Elex’s face to know exactly what expression he was making.

Jaw clenched.

Hand rubbing over his face.

That rare moment when Elex wasn’t just annoyed, but genuinely upset.

And not at anyone else.

At himself.

S7en could practically hear the weight settle in his voice when he muttered, “…I should’ve noticed.”

The woman—whose voice was familiar in a way that took too much effort to place—sighed through her nose, not unkind, but firm.

"Yeah," she agreed bluntly. "You should have."

A pause.

Then—paper rustling, the sound of something being shifted from one hand to another.

“These are his prescriptions,” she continued. “Antibiotics, steroids, inhalers—we’re trying these this time. Make sure he actually takes them.”

That voice.

The realization hit sluggishly.

ER nurse.

He knew her.

She had been there every time he’d landed himself in this exact same situation.

Enough times to know him by name.

God, that was embarrassing.

Elex sighed again, and S7en could hear the distinct crinkle of the paper bag as he took it from her.

His voice was quieter this time. Tired. Guilty.

“I got it,” he murmured.

Another pause.

Then—her voice softened just slightly.

“Just… be more observant next time, yeah?”

No sharpness now, just gentle warning.

“Could be worse, next time.”

No argument. No defensive retort.

Just the quiet sound of Elex nodding.

S7en wanted to laugh.

If only he had the breath for it.

After a moment, a long, heavy sigh broke through the silence.

Then—the soft creak of a chair being dragged across the tile.

S7en felt more than heard Elex drop into the seat next to his hospital bed, elbows resting on his knees, the weight of exhaustion settling into his frame.

Then came the sound of both hands dragging down his face, a quiet but telling frustration behind it.

S7en almost would’ve gotten away with pretending to still be asleep.

Almost.

Except—his damn ear twitched.

Elex caught it immediately.

"I know you’re awake, dumbass," he muttered, voice low and uncharacteristically gentle.

S7en hesitated.

Then, slowly, he cracked his eyes open, squinting against the harsh fluorescent light overhead. The world swam for a moment before settling, and when his vision finally focused, the first thing he saw was Elex watching him.

Worried. Tired. Like he’d just come back from a war he hadn’t even realized he was fighting.

S7en’s ears flattened instinctively in embarrassment, a quiet flicker of shame settling in his chest.

The room was small, sterile, impersonal—the same goddamn hospital he had spent far too much time in over the years.

And the weight of his failure hit him all at once.

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

A shift in his nose made him suddenly aware of the cannula, delivering pure oxygen to his wasted lungs.

His fingers twitched, reaching up to pull it off, but Elex’s hand was there first—firm but gentle, gripping his forearm.

"Don’t," Elex said softly.

S7en stilled, swallowing hard, ears pinning further against his head.

A beat of silence.

Then, in the same quiet, unusually careful voice, Elex asked,

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

S7en hated how much that question hurt.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at Elex. Instead, he dropped his gaze to his lap, claws absently picking at the thin hospital blanket.

"I—" He stopped, voice raw, barely above a whisper. He swallowed, trying again.

"I didn’t want to be the reason your birthday sucked…"

Elex stiffened slightly.

S7en continued, ears still pressed flat, tail curling closer to himself.

"I worked so hard to make it perfect," he muttered, barely breathing the words. "And after everything, we’re still here. Another—" his voice wavered, thick with frustration, "another claustrophobic, shitty little hospital room."

Silence.

S7en braced himself for Elex to be pissed. For the usual snark, sarcasm, maybe even an exasperated rant.

But instead—

Elex sighed, slow and deep, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer than S7en had ever heard it.

"Dude. I don’t give a shit about some stupid party."

S7en blinked, glancing up at him hesitantly.

Elex ran a hand through his messy, dark green hair, shaking his head. "You really think I care about that more than you literally—collapsing in front of me?" His voice wavered slightly, jaw clenching before he forced it back down.

S7en didn't know what to say.

Elex exhaled sharply, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees.

"I should’ve noticed." The words came out quiet, guilty. "I mean, fuck, you looked awful all day. I just—I was too caught up in my own bullshit to pay attention."

S7en shook his head weakly, ears twitching. "Not your fault."

"Not entirely," Elex agreed, mouth quirking slightly. Then, more serious, "But you’ve gotta stop doing this, man."

S7en swallowed, feeling suddenly very small.

"You don’t have to—I don’t know—carry everything yourself," Elex continued, voice softer now, tired but firm. "It’s okay to tap out sometimes. Party or not."

S7en hesitated.

Then—finally—he met Elex’s gaze.

And what he saw there wasn’t annoyance, or frustration, or the usual bullshit banter.

It was genuine concern.

That made something tighten in his chest in a way that had nothing to do with pneumonia.

The corner of Elex’s mouth twitched into something softer, and after a pause, he added,

"By the way, next time you try to fake being fine, maybe don’t fucking pass out in the middle of a party. Kinda ruins the illusion."

Despite himself, despite everything, S7en huffed a weak, breathless laugh.

"Noted."

Elex rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it.

And for the first time all day, S7en finally let himself relax.

The end 🖤

[aller-geez]

Okay guys hear me out….

A Remi and S7en fic with a bad allergy day S7en getting forcibly stuck with Remi who’s also getting triggered by S7en’s fur….

That’s it. That’s the post.