Disclaimer: *pnish*'s, not mine
Warnings: BL, of course. Drabble, angst
Author's Note: For yomimashou, who's going to pull through :)
Izumi shudders and shivers beneath the covers Haru's piled on top of his frail form, wool and fleece blankets and down comforters and kakebuton and quilts alike, anything he can scrape off of any bed in the house, he has, but it doesn't seem to give Izumi much reprieve. His body trembles as his forehead burns (Haru checks once every five, ten minutes), and though he knows there's really nothing he can do, he wants so badly to ease the discomfort as Izumi looks up at him bleary-eyed, murmuring non-sequiturs in the haze of a fever that he's taken from an unwilling but unable-to-protest Narumi.
He paces the room at first, unable to sit still without feeling useless but unable to actually do anything to help the boy so clearly suffering as he rolls back and forth in fits in Haru's own bed, but when Izumi, in a semi-lucid stream of misplaced dialogue, begs him to calm down, Haru forces himself to settle in the chair he's pulled up to the bedside, clasping Izumi's hand between his palms, though whether it's for Izumi's comfort or his own, he's not sure. Things like this happen with some regularity, be it bruises from Taji's tumble down the stairs or burns from his mother's cooking accident or blood from Haru's own skin after a particularly bad run in with a cat; Haru is always standing by as Izumi's body is pummeled with injury after injury, and though he knows the boy recovers, too, with superhuman tenacity, he hates the sense of complete helplessness that washes over him, seeping in through his skin every time he sees the scars and marks left over to commemorate the traumas of others he's endured over the years.
But no matter what the boy endures, he fights his way back to health with more strength than Haru can even fathom, a smile on his face and a spring in his step, and though Haru hates not knowing, hates being left to hope that Izumi will recover, he never loses faith that the boy he loves will come right back to him as soon as humanly (more-than-humanly) possible.
And so now, as Izumi fidgets and squirms beneath the covers, Haru holds tight, lips pressed to the back of Izumi's hand as he murmurs, "You're going to pull through."
At that, what Haru could swear is a smile flickers on Izumi's face, and though his eyes remain closed, he replies hoarsely, "I know," as beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead.