Chapter One: Sickness and Appointments

This is the third time this morning and it started mid-month. Shuichi thought as he upchucked once more into the toilet bowl. When he was done, he pressed his forehead to the cool porcelain. I hate being ill…he thought, his eyes closing and breath shaky.

"Brat?" The blonde haired writer muttered, hands rubbing his face as he entered the bathroom. "What's wrong?"

Shuichi glanced at his wrist, finding the time on his novelty child's watch. It was five a.m. Yuki didn't get to bed until one… "I'm fine Yuki, go back to bed. I'll be there in a bit."

Yuki stood at the door a moment longer, staring at his little lover who had hunched back over the toilet bowl. He shook his head and made his way into the room to gently rub the singer's back. He waited for his lover's dry heaves to end and asked, in a soothing voice, "Better?"

Shuichi nodded against the toilet seat. "Thank you." He croaked.

Yuki stayed by his side until the sun rose, alternating between tenderly rubbing his lover's back, stroking his bubblegum-pink hair out of his face and tracing delicate circles on his slim stomach. As the sun flooded the bedroom, Yuki gazed at his lover, his heart aching as those eyes he loved so much – the eyes he would happily drown in – turned to him, tear-filled.

"I'll call the doctor." He murmured, and got up to leave, but weak fingers grabbed his wrist – holding him in place with the slightest of touches and he turned back to his love. Shuichi was shaking his head vigorously.

"Just call K." He whispered hoarsely, eyes closing for a moment. "I'll go to the doctors later. Drop-in clinic or something. Just tell K I won't be in. I really wanna sleep." With that said, Shuichi slumped into Yuki's side, eyes closed and a tiny furrow on his forehead.

What am I going to do with you? The usually indifferent writer thought, stroking the young boy's face and drawing his hand back as he noticed the temperature of his lover's skin. You're burning up, you doofus!

He swiftly picked the singer up and transferred him to his bed, covering him with the blankets. He shuffled to his side and wrapped himself around his love before reaching over to the nightstand to grab his cellphone and dialing the gun-wielding maniac's number.

"K."

"Shuichi's not coming in today." Yuki murmured harshly, worry eating away at him as he continued to regard his little lover. "He is very ill."

K sighed. "What is it this time, Mr. Writer? Too much sex?"

Yuki growled. "I'm genuinely… worried about him, asshole! We've been up since five with him hunched over the toilet bowl. It's the fourth time this week and god knows if it's been happening and I was unaware!"

There was silence on the other end of the phone this time. "Get him to see a doctor today. It doesn't do to have the lead singer of my band taking time off." With that the line went dead and as much as Yuki hated that American, he had to admit, at that moment he respected him.

The blonde writer continued to watch his love through the rest of the day, only leaving the bed when nature called for it. He would be damned if he ever told the brat, but he was seriously worried. His mind was full of 'what ifs' and NONE of them were even vaguely happy what ifs.

Finally that train of thought slowed as Shuichi's eyes began to flutter open. Eiri glanced at the time. It was 12:20.

"Welcome back, Brat." The writer said, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Shuichi smiled up at him. "Yuki…"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I know, Brat, I know." Yuki said, averting his eyes. "Now, about this doctor's appointment…"

Shuichi groaned, trying to sit up and Yuki noticed to his dismay, how violently the singer's arms were shaking from the effort. "I wanna go in on my own, but could you drop me off there? Maybe drive round the block while I have my appointment? I don't think I can get there on my own… though I could take the bus."

Eiri shook his head. "I'll take you and I'll wait outside for you too." Shuichi nodded his agreement.

"Help me get ready Yuki?"

"Are you sure you want to go in on your own?" The worried writer asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of Shuichi's hand.

"Yeah, it's easier then. I'm sure it's nothing, probably the flu or something. So you don't have to worry." Shuichi smiled tiredly at his lover.

"I'm not worried about you, Brat!" Yuki growled, his cheeks tinting red slightly. Of course he was apprehensive, his lover could be seriously ill. Being such a well known romance novelist, it was important for him to come up with the odd tragic ending and he had many a disease stored in his brain… and right then, far too many of them were making their symptoms known to the blonde man, through his lover.

Beside him, Shuichi let go of his hand and stretched, lithe body arching. Yuki gazed at him. If this was serious, if he lost the singer, Yuki knew he would most definitely go mad. However if this turned out to be some cold, Yuki also knew he would march Shuichi home and be screaming at him for not taking better care of himself. Although if the writer did that, he knew he'd end up having to explain his anger to the brat if Yuki "didn't care" or "wasn't worried".

"Shuichi Shindou to surgery four, please. Shuichi Shindou to surgery four."

Shuichi stood, looking back at Yuki, a tiny smile on his face, "Well, this is it." He said. "Let's hope it's not too serious." And that was enough to send Eiri's heart thumping in fear.

He grabbed Shuichi's hand just before he left and kissed the knuckles, "I'll wait in the car. I'll be there, I promise."

The singer smiled widely. "I love you, Eiri." Before walking off to the doctor's sugery.