Maybe coming to school was a bad idea after all, Xion thought, sneezing and coughing her way through the hallway. The sea of students parted easily for her.
"You look like shit," drawls a familiar voice behind her right ear.
"Thanks," she grumbles before sneezing into her shoulder. "I don't think I should stay after today."
"You shouldn't have even come today. Man, you look gross," frowns Vanitas, motioning to her very red and very stuffy nose. She tries to smack his arm lightly, but Vanitas dodges and hops back, groaning in disgust.
Xion frowns, but Vanitas is quick to soothe.
"Kidding, kidding. I don't mind if I get sick from you."
The next eight hours pass quickly for Vanitas, but each class is horrific for Xion. If Xion isn't coughing, she's sneezing, if she's not sneezing, she's coughing, and if it's neither, her head is burning up with a fever. By the time lunch has come, Xion is ghastly pale. She laughs in between coughs.
"I look like Naminé, don't I?"
"Her skin tone doesn't suit you. But seriously, you look like death," grimaces Vanitas, holding her sweaty, clammy hand.
Xion rolls her eyes. "I think you've made your point."
He gives her hand another squeeze.
Half-delirious, Xion stumbles her way onto the bus. Vanitas follows shortly after her, putting a hand to her forehead.
"Don't come to school tomorrow," he says firmly, allowing Xion to lean her head on his shoulder.
"I won't," she murmurs weakly. Suddenly, her head stands upright against the bus seat. "Don't stay too close. I don't want to get you sick either."
Vanitas kisses her forehead and guides her head back to his shoulder.
"I don't mind, remember?"
That night, while talking to Xion over the phone, Vanitas feels his throat begin to itch.