Archive of Our Own ^beta

I put the phone down as the call ends and turn to look at Bodhi. He has a strange look on his face and he’s staring off into space. “You okay?” I ask him, reaching around to put my hand on his forehead. He’s warm but not boiling like he was last night.

“Something seemed weird with them,” Bodhi says, shaking his head.

I decide to not mention my text with Garrick earlier when he was spiraling about being attracted to Xaden. I’m so curious about what’s going on up there but I need to focus on Bodhi right now. I shrug, “Maybe they just talked out what was going on.”

“They don’t talk anything out,” Bodhi responds, then leans his head back and closes his eyes.

“Mmm, true,” I respond. I look over at him. He’s so pale and there are dark circles under his eyes. He did okay today, napping for much of the day and letting me hold him and take care of him. His fever has stayed steady but it hasn’t spiked like it did yesterday. He doesn’t have much of an appetite, but I managed to get him to eat some more soup before we called Xaden and Garrick. 

I rub my hand up and down his arm as we lapse into silence for a few minutes. Bodhi suddently shivers, swallowing thickly. “Feel kinda nauseous,” he mumbles. 

My eyes widen and I feel his forehead again. He feels warmer than he did even a moment ago. That was fast, he seemed okay when we were talking to Xaden and Garrick. I get out of the bed and quickly make my way into his bathroom, grabbing the trash can in case he gets sick. I sit back down on the corner of the bed. “How about you lie down? It’s getting late, probably time to get ready for bed anyway.”

Bodhi nods, his eyes still closed. I help him lie down, propping a few pillows under him to hopefully help with the nausea. He shivers again and lets out a pitiful moan, rolling to his side and curling into a ball. 

I run my fingers through his hair. I feel so bad for him. I know he’s miserable. “Anything else hurt, babe? How do you feel?” I ask him softly. 

“Bad,” he whispers. “Head, legs hurt. Stomach is churning. It’s cold.” 

“I’m so sorry, Bodhi,” I say, continuing to run my fingers through his hair. 

“I hate this,” he said, his voice cracking with a sob.

I cup his cheek with my hand. “I know, it’s so miserable being sick. I wish I could take it away from you.”

He shakes his head softly. “No, I just, it’s not fair to you.” He opens his eyes and looks at me. 

I tilt my head, confused. “What’s not fair?”

“This, I ruined our weekend. I’m pathetic, couldn’t, couldn’t get it together.” Bodhi has tears in his eyes. “Just like when we met,” he finishes with a whisper, and closes his eyes, sniffling. 

My heart lurches, is that what he thinks? That he’s pathetic? How on earth could this perfect, gorgeous man think he’s pathetic? I won’t stand for it. “Bodhi, hey,”

He doesn’t respond. A single tear escapes his closed eyes and slides down his cheek. I reach over and sweep it off with my thumb, keeping my hand on his cheek. I feel awful seeing him like this, and I’m not going to let him go down this thought process. “Babe, I know you feel awful, but can you look at me? Just for a second.”

Bodhi opens his eyes, still rimmed with tears. 

“There you are,” I say, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. “Now, listen to me. You are not pathetic. You deserve comfort and care and I am so glad I am the one who gets to take care of you. I’d do it every day for the rest of our lives.”

His eyes widen just a bit but it’s enough for me to notice it. Shit, did I cross a line? We have talked about the future but the last thing I want to do is scare him off. Bodhi is so good at thinking before he speaks, but I run my mouth like it’s an olympic sport and I’m the gold medalist. Sure, most of what I say is absolutely delightful, perfectly timed, and hilarious, but there are plenty of moments where I instantly regret my words. This may be one of those times. 

I decide to gloss over those words and continue. “My point is, I want to be with you, babe. I want to take care of you. I don’t care that we aren’t skiing. The only thing that upsets me is that you are so sick and I can’t make it better.”

“You are making it better,” he says, his voice weak and strained with pain. “I just feel bad. Seems like it’s always you taking care of me.”

I shake my head. “That’s not true.” I tell him. “You take care of me too.”

“Yeah but first it was the club when we met, now this. I’m pathetic.”

I crouch down in front of him, running my fingers through his hair. I gently press my lips to his forehead before I continue. “Babe, there will be plenty of times where you take care of me. You already have. Remember when I had that awful work deadline and you brought me food every day for a week? You made sure I ate and slept. Or that night where I drank way too much at the Karaoke bar? You got me home and stayed up with me when I was sick, and you got me the perfect hangover breakfast the next day. You just being you makes me feel safe and loved.”

He blinks up at me, his fever bright eyes tired and still so sad. “Okay,” he says quietly. 

“I love you, Bodhi. I want to be with you. I want to hold you when you’re sick, comfort you when you’re sad. I want to be the person you call when you need support. And you’re that person to me too, okay?”

He gives me a wordless nod. I move to the other side of the bed and curl around him, wrapping my arms around his chest and resting my chin on his shoulder. I feel him relax into me and let out a sigh. 

“You and me,” I say. “Everything, every moment is like a love letter. Whether we are making cookies, watching a movie, or going on a fancy date, every moment with you is special. Even when you’re sick, or I’m hung over, or you’re having a rough day, it’s a love letter because we are together.” 

“A love letter,” he says softly, his tone just a little bit lighter. “I like that.” 

I smile and softly kiss his neck. “Every moment, every day. This has been the best time of my life, being with you.”

He lets out a little hum that seems a little more content and less pained than before. I think I’ve gotten through to him. We stay like this for a little while. Bodhi seems to doze off and I hold him securely against me. He jerks awake at one point with a small groan and I push up to a seated position to check on him. It’s getting late, he really needs some rest. I reach over him to grab the thermometer. 

“Let’s take your temperature before bed,” I say as I help him put it in his mouth. I sit with him, running my hand through his hair in comfort. I look him over. Even sick he’s so gorgeous. After a moment it beeps and I pull it out. “102.1,” I say. “Not as high as last night, but still pretty high. I know this is miserable.”

“Yeah,” Bodhi says pitifully, his voice strained. “Can’t remember the last time I felt this bad.”

“I’m so sorry babe. Is laying down helping with the nausea?” At his nod, I continue. “Let’s get some more medicine in you to help you sleep, okay?” I put a hand on his forehead, then slide it down to cup his cheek before I stand up to retrieve the pills. 

Bodhi falls asleep pretty quickly after taking the medicine. I sit on the edge of the bed, continuing to run my hand through his hair as he lets out a soft sigh before his breathing deepens. I need to go downstairs and clean up the dishes in the kitchen, but instead I carefully move off the bed and into the chair in Bodhi’s room. I study him, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

I sometimes still feel baffled that this man of mine thinks he’s pathetic or anything short of amazing. I love every part of him and have since the day we met. He’s thoughtful and kind, and just so intentional in everything he does. He is dependable and brings such a calming presence to everywhere he goes. How does he not see that? He’s been through so much but still is optimistic and compassionate. Pathetic is the last word I’d use to describe him. Perfect is a better descriptor. I’m hoping that the fever was the main driver of these feelings for him, but I will certainly continue to remind him of how amazing he is.

Bodhi’s face is relaxed in sleep but I can still see the pain etched in his features. We are two days in this and he doesn’t seem to be feeling any better. I should probably check in with Rhiannon. I pull out my phone and shoot her a text.

‘Fever up to 102 tonight but no throwing up. Been two days though. Does he need a dr? ’

It doesn’t take long before Rhi responds. ‘As long as he doesn’t get dehydrated or worse respiratory symptoms it’s ok. It’s probably a virus,  just has to run its course.’

‘Okay, if you’re sure.’ 

‘Keep him hydrated and make sure he rests. If he feels worse tomorrow I’ll stop by.’ Rhiannon’s text gives me some reassurance. 

‘Ok, thx Rhi.’ 

I look back at Bodhi. I get up and quietly walk over to him, gently placing my hand on his forehead. He still doesn’t feel as hot as last night, so that’s good. He’s sleeping peacefully right now so I decide to go get those damn dishes done. It’s tempting to let them pile up but if Bodhi feels better tomorrow I don’t want him to see them. It would stress him out and he’d try to clean up. Even if he’s better I don’t want him doing that. 

I lean over and give him a kiss before walking downstairs. He doesn’t stir and I run my hand gently through his hair. He’s so gorgeous and perfect. I hope he remembers this, I hope he knows how much I love him. I hope he knows I want this forever.