#they make me physically ill/pos | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aller-geez · 1 month ago

Note

If you're still looking for fic reqs could we maybe see either Remi hiding a horrible cold from Levi who is mad at him because he feels like he deserves it because he knows he's fucked up, or sick Elex in that scenario?

Hey there Nonny!

Here’s your fic with sick Remi hiding his cold from a pissed off Levi! ( @thekinkyleopard owns 🖤)

Hopefully this is what you were looking for, but I very much could have misinterpreted your request at the end, and if so I’m sorry 😭😭

Cold Shoulder

Written & illustrated by: allergeez ✨

Summary: Remi and Levi's relationship is tested after a heated argument leaves them emotionally distant and struggling to communicate. As Levi asks for space, Remi silently battles feelings of regret, isolation, and an increasingly severe illness that he hides from Levi. The tension between them grows deeper, characterized by silence and unspoken longing. Eventually, both must confront their fears and insecurities to bridge the emotional gap and rediscover the meaning of support and affection in their relationship. 5.4k words

Content Warnings:

Emotional conflict and interpersonal tension

Depictions of illness (fever, congestion, intense sneezing, coughing)

Themes of self-isolation and emotional neglect

References to anxiety, guilt, and depressive episodes

Explicit descriptions of sneezing and illness-related symptoms

“You never talk to me, Remi!” Levi’s voice cracked mid-sentence, part from anger, part from something far more fragile underneath.

Remi stood stiff in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. His shaggy black hair hung in his eyes, glowing green and dim—like low coals barely containing their heat. “I do talk to you, Levi. Just not in the way you want.”

“That’s not fair and you know it.” Levi’s hands trembled at his sides, fingers curled tight, like he was physically holding himself back from throwing something. “I ask you if something’s wrong and you brush me off. I try to check in, and you disappear into yourself until you think I’ll stop asking. You can’t keep shutting me out every time you get in your own head.”

Remi looked away, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “It’s better than dumping all my shit on you.”

“Oh, so now I’m just a liability? Thanks.”

“No, that’s not—” Remi ran a hand over his face, voice strained. “That’s not what I meant. I just… I didn’t want to make it worse. You’ve been stressed, and I didn’t want to add to it.”

Levi laughed, sharp and humorless. “You didn’t want to burden me? God, Remi, do you even hear how that sounds?”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full—of everything neither of them was saying. The tension pressed against the walls, brittle and cold.

“I just need some space,” Levi said finally, softer now, but no less final. “Just for a while.”

Remi didn’t fight it.

He just nodded once, stiff and quiet, and stepped back out of the kitchen. The sound of his boots retreating down the hall was too loud in the silence that followed.

Levi stayed rooted to the tile, arms wrapped tightly around himself, already wondering if he was going to regret asking for that space.

Neither of them noticed the faint, stifled snfkk! Remi muffled into his sleeve as he disappeared into the dark.

The sun barely filtered through the heavy drapes of the living room, casting a pale, gray-tinted light across the floor. The space was quiet—too quiet—and far colder than it usually felt.

Remi stirred from the couch with a low groan, one arm draped over his eyes. He hadn't even bothered changing out of yesterday’s clothes. The hoodie clung to him, the collar damp with sweat, but even still, he couldn’t stop shivering.

His head throbbed, each pulse of pressure behind his eyes syncing up with the distant ringing in his ears. His throat felt scraped raw, and every breath through his nose came with a wet, reluctant snffkk.

He sniffled again, louder this time, and winced as the congestion refused to budge. He wiped his nose roughly on the sleeve of his hoodie and sat up slowly, the pounding in his skull intensifying the second he moved.

He blinked blearily at the empty space in front of him. Levi wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t.

The echo of last night’s argument hovered at the edge of his thoughts, clearer now than it had been in the heat of the moment.

You never talk to me. You shut me out. You didn’t want to burden me?

Each word hit harder than the last. And now—on top of everything—his body had decided to fall apart too.

“Hhhuhh—hiiih’ISHHHh—uhH!! Snnffhh!”

The sneeze exploded from him with no time to catch it. He turned his head just barely, spraying into the open air with a helpless sniffle afterward.

His nose dripped instantly, and he scrambled for the tissue box on the coffee table, only to find it empty. He cursed softly under his breath, grabbing a wrinkled napkin from last night’s leftover takeout bag instead and blowing his nose into it with a miserable, wet honk.

He should tell Levi. He should say something.

But Remi just leaned back on the couch, eyes half-lidded and burning, and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

Levi needed space. That’s what he’d asked for. And Remi wasn’t about to crawl back into their shared room coughing and sneezing like a kicked dog just for sympathy.

He already felt like a walking pile of regret. He could handle a little head cold.

Probably.

His stomach turned. His head pulsed. His sinuses burned. And his throat ached with every shallow swallow.

Totally fine.

“Hhhuhh—hehh… hh'IETSH’UE!! snfffffffhh— hhuhhhhh— HI’DTSCHIEW!”

The next two sneezes snapped him forward with force, and he slumped sideways, panting through his mouth, wiping his nose uselessly on the napkin again.

The space between him and Levi had never felt so wide.

Remi lay half-slumped against the arm of the couch, legs stretched out haphazardly, one arm draped over his aching stomach. The other hung limply at his side, fingers still clutched weakly around the crumpled napkin he’d already destroyed with half a dozen nose blows. He needed to get up—needed more tissues, water, anything—but he couldn’t make his body move.

His sinuses throbbed with a swollen, pressurized ache that refused to let him breathe properly. Every inhale through his nose whistled and gurgled, a disgusting symphony of congestion and rawness, but his mouth was too dry to keep doing all the work.

And worst of all… the sneezing. Or rather—the lack of sneezing.

That maddening tickle had nested deep inside his sinuses, clawing its way through every nerve ending, teasing and prickling at the edge of relief like a cruel joke. His nostrils twitched endlessly, his breath hitching in shallow, helpless gasps as the sensation threatened to crest again and again.

“Hhhuhh… hhihhh… hhh-hh’ihhh… snffkk!”

His head tilted back, eyelids fluttering, mouth parting with a soft, pre-sneeze whimper—only for the feeling to vanish at the last moment, like smoke slipping through his grasp.

He sniffled hard, the wet sound miserable and ineffective. “F-fuck’s sake,” he rasped, rubbing at his nose with the cuff of his hoodie, only for the tickle to flare again, sharp and urgent.

“Huhhh-hhhEHh’t—hhihhh!… hh-HHhuhh—snffhh… ughhhh…”

He hung there, trapped in a purgatory of near-release, his whole body tense and expectant, every breath shaky and unsatisfying. The prickling itch climbed back into place, crawling along the bridge of his nose and curling up beneath his sinuses like it knew what it was doing.

Then finally—finally—one slipped free.

“hhEhh-! HhEHh’iiTShh’iiEW! Snngkkt!!”

It was harsh, messy, uncontained. The force bent him forward at the waist, leaving a damp shimmer across the front of his hoodie and a ringing in his ears. It didn’t help. It didn’t clear anything.

Another swelled in its wake almost immediately. His breath hitched again, harder this time, chest rising sharply, muscles locking tight in anticipation.

“HhhUHhh... hhuhhh-HHhhuh—hh’IEHHHt’SHHHhhkk!! Hhuhhh-Hnkt'KNXTuhh!…snnrkkk…”

This one he tried to stifle, purely out of reflex—but the pressure in his head exploded behind his eyes like a hammer, and the stifle only made his skull throb harder.

He groaned aloud, dragging both hands up to cradle his forehead. His skin burned with fever, clammy and tight. Every nerve behind his sinuses pulsed like his body was punishing him for the build-up. And still... he could feel more hovering, teasing just out of reach.

His glowing green eyes were bleary now, dulled with exhaustion and thick tears he couldn’t wipe away fast enough. He swiped at his face with his sleeve again, damp and useless, but the tickle refused to stop. It lingered, wicked and insistent, burning just high enough to taunt but never low enough to let go.

“Snfhh… huhhh... h-hhuhhhHh… oh god—just—f-fucking sneeze already—hh’kKTSSCHhh!!”

He coughed afterward, deep and chesty, curling into himself with a moan. His hoodie clung to his overheated skin, his body trembling with the sheer exhaustion of fighting against every sneeze, every breath, every aching limb.

But still, he didn’t move.

He just sniffled again, throat dry and raw, and closed his eyes as he let his head fall back against the cushion.

Somewhere far away, he thought he heard the creak of the hallway floorboards. But it was probably just his own heartbeat pounding through his ears.

Remi had never been good at apologizing. Not with words, at least.

He wanted to say something. To fix the raw look that had been on Levi’s face the night of the fight. But every time he imagined walking into the room to try, all that came out was a rasped-up, barely intelligible grunt—and the bitter knowledge that Levi probably didn’t want to see him anyway.

So he gave Levi the space he’d asked for.

And if that space just so happened to involve Remi getting steamrolled by a brutal head cold, well... that was his own damn fault, wasn’t it?

He slept on the couch, curled into a ball far too small for his broad frame, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands like a kid trying to disappear. The blanket was too thin, the cushions too stiff, but he didn’t dare venture back to their shared bed. Not when he was this gross. Not when Levi still hadn’t looked him in the eyes since the fight.

The sneezes never came in ones. They dragged through him in doubles and triples, clawing up from deep in his sinuses, tearing through his chest, leaving him gasping and sniffling and soaked with fever sweat.

But Levi never heard them. Not once.

Remi made sure of that.

He’d press his face into a balled-up towel, practically biting down on it as the sneezes tore through him. When he needed to cough—which was often, wet and painful and rattling—he turned on the shower and let the water run, trying to time each fit between bursts of steam.

He flushed the toilet when he blew his nose. Opened the window in the kitchen when he heated soup, so the smell wouldn’t carry. Not that he could taste anything. His sense of smell had packed up and left two days ago.

Tissues were never left out in the open. He kept a stash rolled into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, pulling them out discreetly and stuffing the used ones deep down in the trash so Levi wouldn’t see.

When Levi passed him in the hallway—which was rare—Remi straightened up, cleared his throat, and offered a lazy “Hey.” Short. Normal. Cool.

Levi would nod, maybe say something neutral in return, then disappear into another room.

Good.

Better this way.

He didn’t need Levi worrying about him, not while he was still mad. He didn’t need pity. He didn’t want to force sympathy. He could take care of himself until Levi forgave him—or decided he wasn’t worth forgiving.

The hardest part wasn’t the sneezing, or the aching, or the fevers that left his skin clammy and his limbs too heavy to move. It wasn’t even the bone-deep fatigue that made walking down the hall feel like a hike through molasses.

It was the silence. The space. The absence of Levi’s voice in his day, of Levi’s fingers raking through his hair while they watched something dumb, of his laughter filling the corners of the house like sunlight.

He curled tighter on the couch and pressed his face into a cold pillow. His chest rattled with a breath he tried to keep quiet. His nose ran. His throat burned.

But still, he didn’t go to Levi.

He’d made his mess. Now he’d lay in it—and sneeze in it—until Levi was ready.

At first, the silence felt justified.

Levi had needed space—no, demanded it. And Remi, for once, hadn’t argued. He’d just backed off, cool and quiet, like he always did when the conversations got too deep or the feelings got too big.

At first, Levi told himself it was fine. He needed time to cool down, to think. To stop hearing Remi’s voice in his head with that infuriating mix of logic and avoidance.

But after a day, the silence didn’t feel empowering anymore. It felt empty.

He noticed it when he went to grab tea from the cabinet and realized Remi hadn’t touched the coffee in over 24 hours. Not once. Not even for a dramatic, sleepy entrance into the kitchen followed by his usual lazy grumbling about mornings.

He noticed it when he passed the bathroom and saw the light was on—but the door was closed, locked, and the sound of the shower running had been going for too long. Too quiet in between.

He noticed it when the couch cushions remained uneven, the blanket in the living room stayed rumpled for three days, and the familiar, low murmur of Remi’s favorite music didn’t echo through the floorboards.

And worst of all, he noticed it in Remi’s absence.

Not the physical kind—Remi was clearly here, somewhere. But emotionally? Remi had vanished.

He wasn’t showing up in Levi’s space. Wasn’t peeking into the kitchen with a smirk. Wasn’t making a half-hearted joke to break the tension, or pretending nothing had happened to coax a reaction out of him.

Remi was quiet.

And Remi was never quiet like this.

Levi curled his hands into the sleeves of his hoodie as he stood in the hallway, staring at the closed guest room door. His chest ached with something he didn’t want to name.

Had he pushed too hard? Said something too far?

He was angry—still angry—but now the silence didn’t feel like a boundary. It felt like punishment.

And it wasn’t Remi who was doing the punishing. It was himself.

Levi wiped his sleeve across his nose—dry, irritated—and exhaled shakily. His throat burned, but not from a cold.

He missed Remi. He missed his stupid, stubborn smirks and the way he curled his hand behind Levi’s neck when no one was looking. He missed his glow-in-the-dark eyes blinking sleepily over the lip of a coffee mug. He missed having someone there—even if they weren’t saying the right things. Even if they weren’t saying anything at all.

His eyes burned.

“God,” he whispered, swallowing hard. “What if I asked for space when he really needed me?”

The thought hit him like a stone to the chest.

Remi had a way of making himself invisible when he thought he was a problem. He’d done it before—physically there, emotionally tucked out of reach, like he was hiding behind a wall no one could climb.

It started with a sound.

A subtle one, muffled, easy to miss if he hadn’t been walking down the hall at just the right moment.

“Shhffhh—snrrkkk... snfffhh.”

Levi paused mid-step, brows drawing together. He turned his head slightly toward the bathroom door. It was closed—but not locked. The fan wasn’t on, and the sink wasn’t running.

He waited. Listened.

“Snfhhk.”

Another thick sniffle, like someone was trying to clear a nose too congested to budge. Then… silence.

Levi’s eyes narrowed.

He almost knocked. Almost called out.

But something held him back. He straightened, turned on his heel, and walked away instead, jaw tight. Guilt sulking, he told himself. He probably wants attention. Probably trying to make it look like he’s suffering just enough for sympathy, but not enough to be obvious. Classic Remi.

And yet...

Later that afternoon, while grabbing clean towels from the laundry room, he saw it: a single, crumpled tissue sitting on top of the washing machine. Not a paper towel. Not one of their backup napkins. A tissue.

Levi stared at it for a long moment.

He picked it up with two fingers, tossed it in the trash, and tried not to let it gnaw at him.

He passed Remi in the hall the next morning.

They hadn’t been making eye contact much—just awkward nods and brief, one-word exchanges—but Levi noticed, this time, that Remi’s hoodie sleeves were pulled down lower than usual. His shoulders were more hunched. His steps were slow, dragging like every movement took effort.

And just as Levi opened his mouth to say something—anything—Remi turned his head sharply to the side.

“Hhh’IISSHhh!… hHh’tSSCHuhh!”

Two violent, congested sneezes bent him at the waist before he could stop them. He stumbled, one hand bracing against the wall, the other pressed into the crook of his arm, shaking from the effort.

Levi froze.

Remi didn’t even look at him.

He just sniffled—wet and low—and muttered a broken, “S’cuse me,” before practically vanishing into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, locked this time.

Levi stood there, heart pounding, throat dry.

That hadn’t been a man sulking.

That was someone sick. Really sick.

And he had let Remi suffer like that.

It started with a sound Levi couldn’t ignore.

He was halfway down the hallway, balancing a mug of tea in one hand, when he heard it—sharp, muffled, desperate.

“Hhh’IISSHHHhh’uhhh!!”

The force of it seemed to echo through the closed bathroom door, followed by a gasping inhale and another violent, stifled attempt at control that utterly failed.

“HHRR’tSCHHHuhhh—!!”

Levi froze, his brow furrowing, heart instantly kicking up a notch.

That wasn’t the quiet kind of sniffle he’d overheard earlier in the week. That was full-body, raw sneezing—unrestrained and pained.

He stepped closer to the door, listening.

“Snnkkggfffhh—huhh… Huh’GDSHHhh’ihh! hhuhhh-hhuh Hd’IZTSsHHhhh’-uhh!!”

Each one slammed through Remi with increasing desperation. There was no space between them—just breathless recovery before the next hit, as if holding back for so long had finally snapped something open.

Levi’s stomach turned.

The muffled, wet rustling of tissues came next. A groan. The scrape of something heavy against tile—maybe Remi slumping down to sit against the wall.

Then:

“hhuhhh’uhhHHH—hh’HGDSCHhh!! … hhuhh’DZSCHhhh!

—f-fuuhhck— hhuhh-hhehh’HhETSCHhhhuh!!”

Levi stepped up to the door and pressed his free hand against it gently.

“Rem?” he said, voice careful. Steady. “You okay in there?”

A long pause.

Then a croaked, soaked voice from the other side: “’M fine.��

It was laughable. He sounded like he was gargling gravel, breath catching, sinuses completely shot.

Levi’s throat tightened.

“You don’t sound fine,” he said softly. “Remi, open the door.”

There was a shuffling noise, followed by a congested, miserable cough and the telltale flutter of a tissue being torn from the box. Then another thick blow.

“I—snfkkk—didn’t wadda... y-you were mbad,” came Remi’s hoarse, barely audible voice. “Didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Levi closed his eyes, pressing his palm harder to the door. “You’ve been hiding this for days?” he whispered, not trusting his voice to stay even.

“I was trying not to bother you,” Remi said again, but his breath was already hitching helplessly.

“hhHhh’IEHH’TSSCHHhh!—ehh’GKTSSHHhhue! huhhh-uhhh—hhNTSCH’uhh!”

The rhythm of the fit stole any chance at conversation. It was pure reflex now, violent and constant, and Levi could hear the misery radiating from the other side of the wood.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Okay,” he murmured, stepping back. “That’s enough.”

He gave the door a gentle knock. “I’m going to get the humidifier, some meds, and a fresh box of tissues,” he said, voice warm but insistent. “When I come back, I’m sitting on the other side of this door until you open it. You don’t have to say anything. Just let me in when you’re ready.”

There was a pause. Another congested breath. A small sniffle. And then—so quietly Levi almost missed it:

“…Kay.”

Levi exhaled shakily and turned, moving down the hall with purpose—but his heart ached with every step.

Remi hadn’t just been sick.

He’d been hiding.

And Levi had missed every single sign.

Remi sagged against the cold tile wall, the sleeves of his hoodie soaked at the cuffs, his breath coming in hot, shallow pants. The tissue in his hand had completely disintegrated at this point—too many sneezes, too wet to be of any use—and the trash can beside him was overflowing with a nest of damp, crumpled extras.

He hadn’t meant for Levi to hear him.

Hadn’t meant to lose it like that, trapped in the bathroom, no longer able to muffle the sneezes that kept tearing out of him like they were trying to drag his ribs out with them.

“hhuh- -hd’ISCHhh!! -h’dtTISHh! hhh’ISCHih! !! Snrkkkkff— hhuhh’TSSCHHh-uhh!”

The last one doubled him over, nearly knocked his head against the sink. He braced one arm against the counter, the other shielding his nose as another sneeze clawed up fast behind it.

“HhhiIHH— HI’DTSCHIEW!!! Huhh- hhuhhh… hHAHH’IKKTsh—uhh!!!”

His head swam. Each sneeze left him reeling, gasping, the congestion in his sinuses thick and relentless—like every blow should’ve cleared it, but none ever did.

His nose burned. His eyes watered constantly, not from tears but from sheer overstimulation. And his throat—god, his throat—felt like it had been scraped raw with sandpaper.

He sniffled hard, a sharp, wet sound that only half-worked, and hissed softly as it made the pressure behind his eyes throb. He wiped under his nose with the heel of his palm, vaguely aware of how gross he probably looked, but too tired to care. He caught his reflection in the mirror and winced.

His hair clung to his face in damp strands, cheeks flushed dark red against pale skin. His nostrils were pink and chapped from friction. Even his eyes looked dim, the usual radioactive glow dulled to a tired glimmer beneath heavy lids.

He was a mess. A stupid, stubborn, sneezy mess.

And Levi had heard it now. All of it.

Remi groaned, burying his face in the crook of his elbow as another fit clawed through his sinuses with ruthless precision.

“hhuhh—IHH’EKTSHHHhh!… hhuhhh… h-hh—hEhTXSSHhh’ih!!! snfhhk— hhuhh’ESSHHHuhhh!”

They just kept coming.

He couldn’t even finish a damn thought without another hitting him like a truck. Every word he might’ve said—“I’m sorry,” maybe, or “I didn’t mean to shut you out,” or “I missed you”—was swallowed in the sharp, helpless rhythm of his own body breaking down.

He slumped to the floor again, hoodie pulled tighter around him, body still quivering with post-sneeze tremors.

Remi’s hand trembled as he reached for the lock.

His body ached. His sinuses were an active warzone, and the effort of just getting upright again had left him winded. But through the misery fogging his thoughts—through the congestion, the heat, the rawness of his throat—he could still feel Levi’s presence just outside the door.

Quiet. Patient. Still there.

He leaned against the cool wood for a second, forehead pressing gently against it, and let out a slow, ragged breath through his mouth. Then, with a soft click, he turned the knob.

The door creaked open.

Levi was seated right there in the hallway, back against the wall, legs crossed, a glass of water in one hand and a box of tissues balanced on his lap. He looked up immediately—and whatever expression had been on his face softened into something unspoken the second he saw Remi.

Remi didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. His voice was shredded, and the lump in his throat wasn’t all from the cold.

Levi rose to his feet slowly, setting the water and tissues aside.

His eyes moved over Remi—taking in the sweat-dampened hair, the flushed cheeks, the hoodie sleeves bunched around trembling fists, the completely ruined look on his face—and his jaw tightened slightly.

Not with anger. With hurt.

“Remi…” he whispered, voice thick. “God, you look—” He stopped himself and stepped forward, hands open, not touching, not assuming. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Remi blinked slowly, eyelids heavy and aching. He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a small, helpless sound as his breath hitched again—an apology derailed by another building sneeze.

“hhuhh-hhhHhh… ihH’ktdSHhh!!! ! hHI’DTSCHIEW!—snfffh!”

He managed to turn away just in time, half-catching it in his already-damp sleeve before groaning and sagging against the doorframe.

That did it.

Levi stepped in, wordlessly slipping an arm around Remi’s waist to steady him, the other coming up to cradle the back of his neck.

“Come on,” he said softly. “You’re burning up. Let’s get you to the couch.”

Remi didn’t argue. Couldn’t. He just let Levi guide him, leaning into his touch like gravity demanded it. His legs ached. His nose was still running. His chest felt like it had splintered from the inside out. And yet, for the first time in days, something inside him began to settle.

The guilt still burned. But Levi was here.

Helping him stand. Holding him up.

And somehow, that was enough to let the walls fall.

He sniffled again, thick and miserable, and croaked softly, “I’b sorry.”

Levi’s eyes were already shining when he turned to look at him.

“I know,” he whispered. “But you don’t have to hide when you’re hurting, Rem. Especially not from me.”

Levi eased Remi down onto the couch like he was handling something fragile.

Which, honestly… he was.

The wolf’s usual strong, confident frame looked so much smaller curled into the cushions—his hoodie swallowed his shoulders, his flushed face was slack with exhaustion, and his glow-dimmed green eyes barely stayed open.

Levi tucked a blanket over him, gently adjusting it to cover Remi’s legs and half his torso, then reached over to pluck the tissue box off the coffee table and set it within easy reach.

Remi groaned softly and shifted, letting his head loll against the armrest. He looked completely and utterly wrecked. His hair was sweat-damp and tangled, his cheeks were glowing red under pale skin, and his nose was raw and twitching, never quite calming for more than a few seconds.

Levi knelt beside the couch and ran a hand through Remi’s messy black hair, combing it back from his forehead, then pressed the backs of his fingers against his burning skin. “You��re so feverish Acushla,” he murmured, his voice full of gentle exasperation. “You poor thing.”

“Snffhhk—d-dod’t say it like that…” Remi croaked, attempting a smirk that collapsed halfway in.

Levi chuckled under his breath. “What? Like you’re not pitiful right now?”

Remi sighed miserably and gave a congested sniffle. “Feels like… there’s a drill press… behi’d by eyes…”

“Your sinuses?” Levi asked, already sitting down on the edge of the couch cushion near Remi’s chest. “Cheekbones feel tight?”

“Yeah…” Remi breathed, his voice fading to a whimper. “They’re… throbbi’g. And that damnb tickle—snrggkk—wod’t leave. Feels like I’b godda sdeeze every five seco’ds…”

Levi gave him a warm, knowing look and reached up with both hands, thumbs poised just under Remi’s cheekbones.

“May I?” he asked softly.

Remi blinked at him blearily, caught off guard by the offer. “You… wadda bassage by face?”

Levi smiled. “Light pressure helps relieve sinus pressure. I read about it when I had that awful spring cold, remember? Plus…” He tilted his head with a soft look. “Might take the edge off that stubborn tickle, yeah?”

Remi let out a groggy, congested snort that was half a laugh. “God, you’re a derd.”

“You love that I’m a nerd,” Levi said, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Remi’s burning temple before gently beginning to rub small, slow circles beneath his cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs.

Remi melted.

The sigh that left him was deep and shaky, like he’d finally been able to release some hidden tension. “That’s… hhhnnnh—snfffhh—really dice…”

Levi kept the motion slow, mindful. “Just breathe through it, okay?” he whispered, watching Remi’s eyelids flutter.

The wolf’s breath kept hitching, his poor nose trembling beneath Levi’s fingers. But with the gentle pressure, the sneezing urge began to fade, retreating just slightly from the edge. His brows unknotted. His shoulders sank.

“Better?” Levi murmured.

“…Yeah,” Remi breathed, voice raspy but sincere. “Still gross, but like… slightly less cursed.”

Levi laughed softly and leaned down to nuzzle into his hair. “You’re my gross,” he murmured. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Remi let his eyes close fully, sinking deeper into the couch as Levi continued the massage, his fingers warm, precise, and full of care.

For the first time in days, the ache behind Remi’s face finally eased.

And with Levi’s hands on his skin, whispering sweet nonsense under his breath, Remi didn’t feel sick and alone.

He just felt loved.

Remi’s face felt like it was made of steam and static and ache, but Levi’s touch… it was Magik.

The slow circles of his thumbs under Remi’s cheekbones were gentle but firm, chasing the pressure away little by little. And Levi knew exactly where to press—how to angle his thumbs to ease the throbbing behind his sinuses without making the lingering tickle in his nose worse again.

Remi didn’t even realize he was breathing through his nose for the first time in hours.

Levi didn’t stop the gentle pressure behind Remi’s cheekbones until he felt the other man’s body begin to truly relax. It wasn’t dramatic—just a gradual uncoiling of tension. The subtle slump of his shoulders. The slight parting of his lips as he began to breathe deeper, slower, the fight draining out of him like the fever had finally loosened its grip.

Remi’s lashes fluttered against the tops of his flushed cheeks, and a sleepy, hoarse sound escaped his throat—a noise halfway between a sigh and a congested hum.

Levi smiled faintly, brushing his thumb along the corner of Remi’s nose where it twitched slightly.

“Still itchy?” he whispered.

Remi didn’t answer. Not with words.

Just a faint sniffle, a slow blink, and the barely-there shake of his head before he tucked himself deeper under the blanket with a gravelly mutter of, “Jus’ keep touchin’ my face… s’nice…”

Levi chuckled under his breath and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of Remi’s jaw. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmured. “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for a sneezy disaster.”

A breathy huff of laughter escaped Remi—half-asleep now, barely there.

His body slackened into the couch. His lashes fluttered. His glowing green eyes, dulled by fever and exhaustion, finally closed.

He heard Levi's voice, soft and soothing and close, somewhere above him. “That’s it. Just rest. I got you, Acushla.”

Remi huffed a weak, stuffy breath that sounded like the ghost of a chuckle. “You always say that…”

“Because it’s always true,” Levi murmured, brushing a few stray strands of black hair from Remi’s damp forehead. He grabbed a tissue and gently wiped the edges of Remi’s nose with that same steady touch, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Remi didn’t even protest.

His pride was too tired.

His nose twitched again, and for a second, Levi thought he might be about to sneeze, but instead Remi just let out a soft, congested sigh, lips parting slightly as he finally allowed his body to give in to rest.

Levi tucked the blanket higher up around him and adjusted one of the throw pillows beneath Remi’s head. He watched the wolf’s breathing even out, slow and rhythmic, broken only by the occasional snuffly exhale or faint, unconscious sniffle.

The warm humidifier Levi had set up earlier hissed quietly in the corner, mist curling into the air like a lullaby.

Levi sat beside him on the couch, one arm gently draped along the top so his fingers could still trail through Remi’s shaggy hair. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move.

He just stayed.

Every now and then, Remi’s brow would crease in his sleep, and Levi would run a knuckle along his jaw until it smoothed out again. Every few minutes, Remi let out a hoarse little cough, and Levi would whisper, “It’s okay,” even if Remi couldn’t hear it.

He didn’t need to. He’d feel it.

The fight, the silence, the guilt—none of it mattered.

Levi reached for the cool glass of water he’d brought earlier and set it on the coffee table within reach. Then he tugged off his hoodie, draped it gently over Remi’s chest, and eased himself down onto the narrow space of the couch beside him.

It wasn’t graceful. Remi grumbled a little as Levi carefully maneuvered until his head found a place on Levi’s shoulder, tucked under his chin, arms still folded tight around the blankets.

Levi smoothed his fingers through the tangled, sweat-damp hair at the nape of Remi’s neck.

“Sleep, Rem,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

And this time… Remi did.

His breathing evened out, still a little snuffly, still punctuated by the occasional congested snore, but peaceful. Content. Safe.

Levi stayed awake a while longer, one hand in Remi’s hair, the other resting lightly over his blanket-covered chest, feeling the slow, warm rhythm of his mate’s heartbeat beneath his palm.

Maybe he hadn’t been there right away.

But he was here now.

And he wasn’t going anywhere.

The End ✨

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