She's not here. It's the first thing he notices. She's always the first thing he notices in this dismal excuse for a school. He needs her here, needs to know why she's not, but he's not very happy when he does.
"And she's home alone?" he demanded, eyes flashing. "What about your parents?"
"There's a conference at the university this morning," Allie defended. "They were gone before we even got up this morning."
He turns from her, thinking, but it doesn't take him long to make up his mind. Without another word to Allie, he rises from his desk, swings his bag onto his shoulder and sets off briskly between the rows intent on making it into the hall before the teacher arrives.
She needs him.
She's dying. Well, not actually, but it feels like she is. Of that, she's absolutely certain. Normally she adores rainy days, but she knew today would be a miserable one from the moment she woke up. She hasn't thrown up, but her sinuses are filled to the brim and the smallest light sets off a new wave of pain. She's not running a fever, but she's got the chills, and everything just hurts. It can't get any worse than this. But it could get better. Something could make it better. Someone.
She needs him.
He takes the stairs two at a time, hair still a bit damp from the rain, not slowing until he reaches her door at the end of the hall. He knocks softly before easing it open. It seems unnatural to him, to find her so still, so quiet.
"How did you get in?" she asks him, her voice so low he almost doesn't catch it.
He answers as he enters the room and moves toward her bed. "Allie told me about the secret key compartment in the King Arthur garden gnome." She stares at him blankly and he pauses, unsure.
"Are you cutting class?" she wants to know, her voice soft but steady.
"Yes…" his reply is hesitant. "Are you going to yell at me?"
"No." she whispers. She weakly holds her arms out to him, a clear invitation.
"I have to go change first," he tells her, patting his bag. "I figured sweats would be more comfortable than jeans in bed. Also, there's some of my mom's soup in the fridge if you get hungry later." She stares at him unabashedly, a tender look that he can't quite put a name to settling over her face. It's still there when he returns a minute later. Approaching the bed, he pauses as she speaks.
"You know you'll get sick, right?"
Without even hesitating, he answers. "Worth it."
That tender look returns as she blurts "I love you." She wasn't planning on telling him that, but by God does it feel good. Like releasing a breath she'd been holding just a little too long. He laughs quietly, clambering onto the mattress beside her and folding her body into his.
His grey eyes seem to shine a little brighter after her confession. He's more than willing to return the sentiment, but she's already fast asleep, so he settles for pressing a kiss to her forehead and pulling up the covers.
He'll get his chance soon though. Not two days after she returns to school, their roles are reversed as he comes down with the same bug; just in time for the weekend.