𝑾𝑯𝑶'𝑺 𝑮𝑶𝑵𝑵𝑨 𝑷𝑼𝑺𝑯 𝑴𝒀 𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑳𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑰𝑹 𝑨𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑫 𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝑰 𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑲?

[kamaz]

[ More than anything, Cheol-gang just aches—his head feels like it's going to split from the pressure, he's acutely aware of every joint in his body, and his knees and spine in particular have been occupied with a burning, unrelenting pain since last night. The discomfort is what occupies his thoughts when he's not sleeping, but it's not the only concern—his skin's damp with sweat; the thought of food turns his stomach; he's exhausted to the bone and wakes up coughing before he can get any real rest.

The entire experience is eerily reminiscent of the childhood infection that almost killed him—most likely measles, in hindsight, though he'll never really know. A few older children had brought him bits of food when the sickness got so bad that he couldn't get up, but he'd largely been left to his own devices, and he'd survived. One corner of his mouth never moved symmetrically again, but Cho Cheol-gang survived.

And now, at 39 years old, he's being treated as though he's infirm over probable influenza. All he needs is rest and acetaminophen, not... this obnoxious hovering as though he's an infant with a respiratory infection. And, on cue, here's Javert again, handwringing with everything except his hands and watching him with something that feels suspiciously like pity from the side of the couch. Cheol-gang looks up at him without moving his head. ]

Yeobo. I'm fine. You should go to work.

Comments

[policier]

( It may only be a bout of influenza, something slight and innocuous and unworthy of Javert's constant hand wringing — but he cannot help but worry. What if Cheol-gang doesn't take of himself while he is away? What if he were to fall and hurt himself? Javert cannot bear the thought of losing him to something so preventable as this.

He wants to close the distance between them and hold him, pull him close to his chest and feel Cheol-gang's heart beat beneath his fingers, but he knows his beloved would never allow it. So he looks at him trepidly from the other side of the couch, his expression sad and uncertain. )

Not while you are like this.

( He says, his voice a little less stern and confident than usual. )

I would hardly be able to think of anything else.

[kamaz]

[ In the back of his mind, somewhere beneath the thick haze of his current fever, Cheol-gang finds himself vaguely pleased: good. He matters enough for Javert to worry about him, to stay on his mind, even if the manifestations are, in this situation, adding to his present misery. He doesn't miss the faint waver in his partner's usually firm tone—it's the sort of misstep that would signal to him that it's time to circle closer and prepare to strike around anyone else, but the opportunism stays comfortably at bay. He doesn't need to do anything. He's important, in Javert's world. ]

Oh?

[ He knows, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't want to hear it again anyway, especially now, with his fever either breaking or just getting worse without approaching any finite end. He hasn't been this sick in years, even after the sudden shock to his immune system that came with leaving a country dubbed as the world's most insular - though he has no intention of telling Javert that. ]

[policier]

( It isn't in Javert's nature to lose his composure, to let his emotions show and to be so overwhelmed by them he can hardly do anything else. Cheol-gang knows how important he is to Javert, even if he doesn't always wish to say it. He cannot imagine a life without the other man — that is what scares him about this the most. )

I would worry that you would injure yourself, that your illness would get worse with no one to tend to you.

( He doesn't want Cheol-gang to feel as if he's invalid, unable to take care of himself. His brow wrinkles a little and he toys with his hands, looking decidedly uncomfortable. )

Please, let me stay. I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you.

[kamaz]

[ Cheol-gang answers with silence, at least initially—not a manipulation tactic, as it was when they first met, but a pause to weigh out his options here, to decide whether or not to shoo Javert away. Thinking takes longer in this state, an active effort to slog through the headache and string words together in his own mind. ]

I don't own you. Do what you will.

[ After a second or two pause, he adds: ]

Nothing's going to happen to me. I just need to sleep through this. [ He frees an arm from beneath the blanket it's been hidden under and reaches out, giving the closer of his partner's two blocky hands a brief squeeze. ] Go back to what you were doing... read or something.

[ Just don't make any noise. Not that that's ever really been an issue with Javert, but still. ]

[policier]

( I don't own you, he says, and it takes everything in Javert's power to stop himself from correcting him. Does he truly not know how deeply Javert is devoted to him? How he would give up everything he has to see him safe and healthy?

He looks at Cheol-gang with as much yearning as he will allow, all but pouting at him until his partner takes his hand and squeezes. His heart lifts a little, squeezing back and brushing his thumb over the other man's knuckles. His touches are not often so gentle. He and Cheol-gang have never known tenderness, and Javert shies away from it whenever he can. )

You should drink a little, before you do. It will help.

( He speaks lowly, his voice rough and reassuring. He can take care of him, watch him while he rests. Cheol-gang need not worry. )

I can make you some broth later, after you've woken.

[kamaz]

[ Cheol-gang tolerates the stroking, but he doesn't enjoy it. Squeezing his hand back was enough. That said, he's also far too exhausted to do anything about it, so he doesn't return his hand to its place under the covers until his arm starts to feel cold again—too cold, considering the temperature of the room. ]

No. ...Water's okay. I'll vomit if I eat anything.

[ Matter-of-fact and somewhat brusque, in the way that his speech tends to be when he's not performing for the outside world. Cheol-gang pushes himself slightly upright with a grunt, pausing to stifle a cough in his elbow—he doesn't need pneumonia from choking on water in addition to whatever virus he has right now. ]

[policier]

( Javert furrows his brow a little, letting go of Cheol-gang's hand and watching him with ever-growing concern. He doesn't attempt to help him sit up — knowing that it would only injure his pride. And then, Cheol-gang had asked him to fetch a glass of water, did he not?

He stands, going to the kitchen and doing just that. He's dressed in little more than his shirtsleeves and trousers, a little more unkempt than he allows himself to be. That is a part of him on Cheol-gang is allowed to see — the human part, the shapely figure he hides beneath his long overcoats and layers of clothing.

He returns with the glass and offers it to him, sitting a little closer than before. Ready to spring into action should Cheol-gang's hand become a little too unsteady, too fatigued to hold the glass on his own. )

I will fetch you another blanket, if you wish. Whatever you require. You know that I will do anything for you.

( He speaks the words softly, earnestly, wanting to remind Cheol-gang how important he is to him. He doesn't wish for there to ever be any doubt. )

[kamaz]

Yes. I do.

[ The kind of narrow-sighted devotion he requires to be content in a relationship, apparently. Javert's obsessive nature, his loyalty, they work well for him. This isn't someone who would be able to do something like report him to higher authorities or otherwise sell him down the river. He's not capable of it.

Cheol-gang takes a cautious sip, pausing briefly after he swallows to give any unwanted side-effects a moment to rear their head. Things seem... stable. It's not the most pleasant feeling in the world, but he doesn't feel like he's in any imminent danger of throwing up, either, so he takes a few more drinks before he returns the glass to the coffee table.

As he lowers himself back against the cushions he realizes that he'd really be more comfortable in bed — fucking frustrating, seeing as now he won't be able to think about anything else, and there's a degree of ache and soreness that comes with being on his feet, moving in any meaningful way. Cheol-gang sighs, then lurches forward and swings his legs over the edge of the couch, using as much momentum as he can to unsteadily rise to his feet - a spectacle somewhat resembling a new calf's first attempt at using all four of its legs, accompanied by a grunt of discomfort. ]

Grab the blanket. Please.

[policier]

( Javert watches him with singular attention, unable to look away as his beloved presses the glass to his lips and swallows. It's not much — not nearly enough as Javert would like — but it's something. A part of him wants to say something but he holds himself back, his brow furrowed with worry when Cheol-gang pulls himself to his feet. Teetering as if he is unable to keep his balance. Javert is by his side before he can even think, touching his arm to make sure his beloved doesn't fall. )

Tell me where you wish to go.

( He answers, reaching for the blanket so that Cheol-gang won't get too cross with him. He tosses it over his shoulder, and he looks at his beloved as if desiring to do the same to him. )

What is the matter?

[kamaz]

[ What isn't? I'm sore and cold and can't stop coughing. Cheol-gang ignores the light touch at his elbow, allowing it, at least for the time being. He doesn't particularly feel like being touched, but being told to back off any more than he already has been will be upsetting to Javert, undoubtedly. Compromises in a relationship, or something like that. ]

I'd rather be in bed. You can come if you'd like.

[ He doubts he'll be able to get comfortable enough to sleep, truth be told—he wouldn't mind having somebody's company, even if he can't hold a conversation at the moment. He's not a child and he doesn't need to be coddled but at the same time there's something steadying about Javert's presence, something that makes this easier to bear.

It's not terrible that he decided to stay, even if Cheol-gang wouldn't necessarily admit that he's glad the morning hasn't panned out as he thought it would. ]

[policier]

I will come regardless.

( He states matter-of-factly, holding on to Cheol-gang's elbow as the other man continues toward their bedroom. His touch is firm, but not so much that it will hurt. The thought of hurting Cheol-gang even a little is too much for Javert to stomach.

He doesn't let go of him until they are near the bed, until he leads his partner over to side and watches him settle in. Javert stands there in front of him, staring at him with a concerned look and a devoted expression. )

Tell me how you wish me to care for you.

[kamaz]

[ What he wants, truth be told, is to lie down together, as they have on the few occasions when he's been unwell before. His presence alone would be a pleasant distraction, but Cheol-gang finds himself hesitating to say that—he's already pathetic enough in his current state without being overtly needy.

So instead of answering, he shifts the conversation toward a warning adjacent to his answer. ]

You'll get sick too. This is contagious.

[policier]

I don't care.

( He can tell Cheol-gang is going to be stubborn about this. If it was Javert, he would say the same thing. He would tell Cheol-gang to go away, make him sleep in the other room so he doesn't fall ill to the same sickness. Javert is far more healthy than he is — he does not doubt that he can survive it. )

What do you think would hurt me more — being away from you or being ill?

[kamaz]

[ A point he can't argue with, and he's sure that Javert, more clever than he appears, knows that. It's soothing, hearing that suffering as badly as he is at the moment would be a worthy sacrifice to be by his side, that there is someone in this world for whom that holds true. He feels wanted, the only person in his partner's universe, and the contentment of a deep need being met offers a momentary distraction from his headache and throbbing joints. ]

...Alright.

[ Cheol-gang sits up with a soft grunt and swings his legs over the side of the bed to leave Javert space to climb in from his side, an action which draws forth a few shivers as his aching body protests the sudden exposure to the seemingly freezing air of their shared bedroom. Not much longer, he assures himself. He'll be warmer lying against another body—just has to wait. ]