Note: This is another outcome of a dose of insomnia. Like always, enjoy and don't forget to review! Thank you for your time.
Thanks goes out to my brother for editing and having me change my summary at the last moment. As well as providing me with his suggestions for both the story and title alike.
Revised May 27, 2015.
Summary: "The I in illness is isolation, the crucial letters in wellness are we," – Unknown Author. Or alternatively: For the first time in her life, she's glad he doesn't listen.
Pairing: TyHil
Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade.
The Best Medicine
It's safe to say she looked terrible. Or at least, he hoped so for the sake of his life. Her eyes were closed anyways, although red and puffy around their lids as bags dropped menacingly. It accented her suddenly pale skin rather unwell, white as a ghost with flushed cheeks. And standing over her crumpled Kleenex buried body, he's aware why she's still in bed.
Hilary Tatibana was sick, and from what Tyson could see, like a dog. She appeared rather uncomfortable, her body twisted under half the blankets as she pressed her face against a pillow. He was pretty sure he saw drool, her mouth open so she could breath and hack every once in a while. Nonetheless, she was out, getting the much needed beauty sleep she deserved.
And if it hadn't been for that fact, he may not have felt so comfortable standing off center in her bedroom. His face was screwed in a mix of amusement and disgust as he watched; Tyson had never quite seen her in this element.
But it was when she began to stir that all of that vanished, panic registered in his eyes as he really wasn't quite sure what to do with himself, let alone explain his presence. She stretched her limbs, her leg nearly reaching him as he steps back, while coughing roughly into an additional tissue. He braced himself when her eyes fluttered open, widening as they immediately rested on him.
"Jeez! What…. Are you…? For the love of…. Tyson!" she yelped, her mouth obviously at a quicker pace than her mind. Swiftly grabbing the blankets, she hid behind them, covering the oversized t-shirt and plaid pants she adorned.
Cracking yet another smile, he found a free spot on the edge of her bed. "I suppose this just proves that you're human." He chuckled, watching her glare as she drew her legs closer now that she had sat up.
"You think this is funny?" the brunette challenged, although she was clearly not up to it, "I nearly had a heart attack."
Pausing, he quirked an eyebrow. "You're Mom told me you had the flu…," he uttered in confusion.
"I meant, you nearly gave me a heart attack." Hilary rolled her eyes. She coughed again, clearing her throat before adding, "Idiot."
"Oh," he said in acknowledgement, "You see, that makes more sense."
"What are you doing here anyway?" she cut to the chase, fixing her position against the headboard. Tilting her head to the side, she watched him sleepily.
"You're sick, are you not?" he beckoned sheepishly, playing with his hat absently, "I just wanted to make sure you're okay and everything. Alright? I hope it isn't a crime."
"Well it's not alright." Hilary shook her head in disagreement. "I'm still highly contagious and you're just waiting for it to pounce on you."
Tyson spared a few glances down at the Kleenexes that were scattered across her mattress before meeting her gaze. Giving her a skeptical look, he had to ask, "We've been kidnapped, gassed and put on an island, not to mention have buildings nearly crush us multiple times – all this in the first year alone – but you're concerned over a few germs. Does that not strike you as odd?"
"Maybe," she replied softly, a ghost of a smile tracing her lips. Her eyelids still felt heavy as she attempted to focus on the navy haired boy; staring back intently, he leaned back on his palms to support his weight. "You should still go."
He snorted. "Yeah. Nice try."
Hilary sighed, watching as he stretched his legs out leisurely. "Are you just trying to get sick to miss school?" she asked, surprisingly the question didn't hold a note of anger. "Believe me." She paused to clear her throat again. "You don't want this."
"No kidding," Tyson agreed, "If it makes you miss school, you know it's bad."
She smiled again, aware that his jibe was playful by the warmness he was radiating. "I must look terrible…," she mentioned moments later, she ran a hand across her forehead, realizing the difference between her clammy hands against the heat.
Tyson didn't say anything. In silence he drew in his bottom lip, biting it within his thoughts. And Hilary watched as his fingers drummed lazily in a slow rhythm before acknowledging that she had even spoken.
"You don't look… that bad," he stated, clearly lying as his gaze fell. He suddenly appeared rather apologetic, not holding her presence with complete regard.
"Seriously, flattery?" She let her hand drop to reveal her expression, clear incredulity. "Tyson Granger, please don't tell me you're getting soft on me. Where's that…." She paused, searching for the right word. "Spirit?"
"Spirit?" he repeated, glancing at her before his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling with a timid smile. "If by 'spirit,'" he said, using one hand for air quotes, "you mean childish banter."
"Ooh…." Hilary shook her head, her voice giving away into a sudden stream of coughs. She grimaced at the sound, partly embarrassed even with her friend's apparent indifference. "Oh come on, you live for this stuff."
"What?" he asked confused, "You mean like… making fun of you?"
She nodded, moving again to get comfortable. Propping pillows further up to cushion the seating arrangement, she wondered if he noticed the answer.
"Hilary, you're sick," Tyson stated blatantly. He acted as if that's all that needed to be said, and left it to her assumptions.
"And I look hideous," she completed, noticing him exhale deeply at the comment. "What? Don't act like I don't know."
"Nobody looks good when they're sick," he amended, not sparing her a single glance. "And I wasn't going to say that."
"Don't have to," Hilary explained, she gestured towards her head using her index finger, "You were thinking it, I can tell."
Laughing, he allowed himself to fall back, propping himself up now with his elbows. His head leaned against one of the yellow walls while he craned his neck to see her. Due to the position, his hat lifted from its usual spot, making him suddenly appear rather childlike.
"I know what you're doing," he accused, his eyes glinting. "You're trying to make us fight so I'll storm out of here."
She folded her hands in front of her before letting out a tired sigh. "You're a pain, you know that?"
"I'm aware." He gave a limp shrug. "I'm not leaving, so you can save your energy. You barely look like you can stay awake as it is."
Hilary glared, although it barely came across as registered anger. "Did you ever think maybe that's why I want you to leave?"
"Nobody's stopping you from sleeping." Tyson rolled his eyes. He brought his legs up, knees bent so his toes curled around the edge of the mattress. He then smirked. "Although for all the times you've done that to me, it would only be fair."
Her fever now disagreeing with sitting up, Hilary was forced to comply. Slouching further within the blankets, she found comfort in a corner. "Will you just tell me why you're here?" she demanded, shooting him another attempted glare.
"Hilary, you're sick," he repeated, releasing another deep breath. The motion caused his bangs to move, clearing his sight of her.
"Is that your answer for everything?" She shifted, her head tilted in his direction with wonderment.
He didn't waver because of the comment, just simply held her gaze. "Sometimes that's all you need." He shrugged again. "One answer."
"I don't buy it…." Hilary eyed him, though her suspicions were interrupted by a yawn. "Shut-up." She scowled when he laughed. "You're up to something; I'm sick, not stupid."
His grin remained as he nodded towards the desk by her bed. "Your Mom told me to bring up some soup." He threw her a sheepish glance. "I… didn't want to wake you up though…."
She became skeptical, quirking an eyebrow at him. "You didn't?" Hilary asked doubtfully, "I always thought you'd want some sort of… vengeance. After all, you just said…."
"I was kidding," Tyson interrupted, "It's just, when I walked in and you were asleep, you looked so…." His statement hung in the air, his eyes searching the ceiling for answers.
"Peaceful?" she guessed.
"Kinda gross actually." He grimaced at the thought, wrinkling his nose for effect.
"Ugh! Jerk!"
"What?" Tyson frowned, focusing on her now unimpressed façade. "You just said not to act like I didn't know, what's wrong?"
"Well you don't have to be so rude about it," she snapped, and the next thing he knew a pillow had been hauled at his face.
"Hey!" Tyson shouted, pushing the pillow away from him, "So much for me catching germs too, I guess. Seeing how that thing is covered in drool."
Hilary gasped, bolting straight up. "I do not drool," she stressed, pointing to herself. Then the sudden motion was realized, and her head felt light. So Hilary brought a hand to her cheek, nursing the problem and collecting her bearings.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly, and she felt his fingers brush against her arm in comfort. She met his gaze, realizing that he had turned on his side with concern.
"I'm fine," she answered quickly, shutting her eyes, "Just… sorta dizzy."
He withdrew his hand, sitting up and shifting back to the edge of the bed. "Lay down," he ordered, and although it was gentle, there was no room for disagreement. "Now, please."
"You're being too nice," Hilary decided, his hand on her shoulder as she eased back into the comfort of her blankets. She was again eyeing him suspiciously, an amused smile traced across his lips. "I need to know what your problem is."
"My problem?" he repeated skeptically, with his elbow on his leg, Tyson leaned into his palm. "Is this because I won't leave?"
She merely rolled her eyes.
"I'll take that as a yes." He smirked. "Does it really matter that much to you?"
"Yes."
He moved again, falling from his palm only to shift his weight. With one of his legs on the bed, Tyson was now able to face her. "Have you ever noticed you're always there?" he asked, and although it is surprising for Hilary to hear, it came out so soft that any traces of anger left her body.
"Wh-… what?" she stumbled, confused and taken back.
He smiled contently, curving his lips with brief amusement. And staring up at him now she realized his childlike persona has evaporated, forming something else entirely. He's endearing, his eyes holding hers with their lively sparks.
"You're always there," he repeated, adding a shrug for nonchalance. "You look out for me; you make sure I'm okay. Especially when I'm not, and I'm being a colossal jerk. You're there."
She's silenced by his words; they're gentle, yet raw. But she's not quite sure how to respond or if he's finished, and she's left feeling blank over the matter.
"My friends left me," Tyson stated, not a trace of betrayal or animosity lined his words. It came out casual, like something that no longer bothered him; Hilary was between herself, trying to discern if she should be pained or elated. "All of them left, but you stayed."
Not knowing where this was going, she attempted to focus on him. "Kenny," the brunette reminded, coughing uncomfortably.
He nodded in acknowledgment. "I know, he was trying to save us… the Bladebreakers," he said fondly, his gaze falling with sudden reverence, "We didn't want them to leave; you already knew they were gone."
Hilary sighed. "I didn't want them to go."
"I didn't mean it like that, I… you caught on faster. You tried to help me deal, even when I didn't want to," Tyson explained. He paused for a second, clicking his tongue before continuing, "What I don't get is why, you could've gone with any of them – Max, Ray, Kai – they respect you, they would've welcomed you with open arms. But you stayed."
"I… don't think I understand what you're getting at…," she said softly, hoping that it didn't discourage him, having him give up on everything he just confessed.
"I don't deserve you."
"What do you mean?" she blurted out. His words were almost passive, leaving his mouth as if he had already come to terms with the fact.
"What do you mean, what do I mean?" He quirked an eyebrow, although he was still not looking at her. "It's the truth, like I said, Max, Ray… even Kai, they respect you. Me?" He gestured towards himself. "I yell, I blame you for anything possible, I… make you seem like nothing."
She was silenced, his words heavy and leading somewhere she was so far unable to comprehend. "That was before…," Hilary murmured, her voice cracking, breaking away from tranquility.
"I know," he repeated once again, "But that doesn't make it right." A breath escaped his lips when he met her eyes, Tyson forced a smile. "You were right there the whole time, and I never even thought of losing you."
"That's why you're here…?" she questioned reluctantly, "You think you're losing me? My fever has gone down since yesterday…."
"Uh… not exactly," he interrupted, becoming sheepish. "I took you for granted, and that's no better than before."
Hilary frowned, still not understanding. "Not that it isn't great to hear you admit that you are often a jerk, but can you please get to the point?"
"I guess you are feeling better." He smiled, shaking his head slowly. "You're usually in control Hil, you have everything planned and accounted for. Once in a while… I want to be able to take care of you, not the other way around. So I can prove to myself that I deserve someone like you."
She was speechless, her concentration for the meaning giving way to his words. Resting his hand over hers, the warmth instantly subsided her thoughts, making her even more lost.
"If you want me to leave, I can't. It's important to me… us, that you know. I appreciate you." Tyson squeezed her hand, his lips tugging thinly at his smile. "I'm not sure how else I can; I mean… you're the one who's usually together. This is my chance to prove it, I care about you."
"Oh my Gosh, my fever must be worst than I thought…." She grimaced, using her free hand to cover her face. "I just thought you said something… sweet, I must be delusional…."
Chuckling, the capped boy rolled his eyes. "I knew it," he stated, withdrawing his hand so he could lean on it. "It was that bad, wasn't it?"
She pushed herself back up, again sitting amongst the Kleenexes as she exchanged looks with Tyson. Taking hold of his shoulders, she let out a dramatic sigh. "Just so you know, I really care about you too."
He playfully glared at her, her mocking not bothering him in the least. Hilary was also aware of this, enveloping him in a sudden hug; her laughter faded into a string of coughs.
Lightly patting her on the back, her chin fell against his shoulder with a sigh. "I really do appreciate the thought, Tyson," the brunette murmured, "Although I knew it all along, it's nice to hear."
"That's just the kind of guy I am," he boasted, sounding more like the boy she knew.
Stifling a snort, she pressed her lips together, a smile threatening instead. "You might want to stop though…," she said, his hand faltered from the tapping on her back, "Unless you want me to be sick."
"Well, this moment's done…."
Hilary lightly pulled away from him to rest against the headboard. "Seeing how I can't get you to leave…." She rolled her eyes, reaching out to finally fix his cap. "Can you make yourself useful and go heat up the soup?"
"Gladly," he agreed triumphantly, giving her a solid nod. Standing up, Tyson took a hold of the tray that had been sitting on her desk. "I'll be back in a minute, don't you dare lock me out."
"If you want to do a bunch of work for me, who am I to stop you?" She laughed as he shot her an unimpressed glare from over his shoulder.
"Anything for you, Ma'am."
"Hey… Tyson?"
Stopping short at her doorway, he faced her in question. She's suddenly not as lively, appearing exhausted, but content. Her voice had softened, saying his name carefully as if the mould of the letters could break.
"Yeah, Hil?"
"These last couple days, with me being sick, they've been kind of boring. So… don't get me wrong," she said gently, watching as he stared back in interest. "You being here, just to talk and help me out, it has been really…."
She let her word draw out, the sentence hanging in the air. And Tyson had taken a small step forward, a grin on his face. "Awesome? Fun? Sweet? Nice?"
"Hmm…," Hilary thought out loud, a smirk lined her lips as she tapped her chin in question. Realizing what she was doing, Tyson scowled before she even said it. "Kinda creepy actually."
He shook his head, amused by her jeer as the foolishness of not seeing it coming had disappeared. It's not safe to say she looked terrible, and it was worse to let on he had even thought so. Yet now that he had looked at Hilary, with her pale skin, puffy red eyes, tangled hair and menacing bags, she didn't look half bad.
"Glad to see you're feeling better."