"There are two kinds of pity. One, the weak and sentimental kind, which is really no more than the heart's impatience to be rid as quickly as possible of the painful emotion aroused by the sight of another's unhappiness, that pity which is not compassion, but only an instinctive desire to fortify one's own soul against the sufferings of another; and the other, the only one at counts, the unsentimental but creative kind, which knows what it is about and is determined to hold out, in patience and forbearance, to the very limit of its strength and even beyond."
~Stefan Zweig~
Three weeks passed by in which the host club were in little to no contact with one another. College studies and work had everyone more preoccupied than club ever did in high school. That, in addition to the fact Tamaki and Haruhi were in Hawaii for two weeks, made everyone separate even more into their own lives; there being no French blonde to intervene and construe up some crazy plan to get them together again.
So Yura could only be downright confused when upon opening her front door, she immediately became a leaning post for said blonde to sob all over.
"Oh, Yura-chan, it's terrible! Simply awful!"
"I-It's ok Tamaki-senpai?" she said vaguely, patting him on the back while moving him to one side so she could see the others and let them explain why she suddenly became a shoulder to cry on.
"Kyouya-senpai's sick." Haruhi clarified.
Yura's eyebrows had a unique talent of forming a clean 'w' on the flesh between them whenever she brought them close together. She looked past the others to the outside world before asking.
"Kyouya-senpai?"
Haruhi nodded.
" Sick?"
The brunette nodded again.
"As in mentally ill and in a psychiatric institution sick?"
Haruhi shook her head.
"I mean bed ridden with a fever, stuffy nose, coughing, sore throat, and a stomach virus sick."
Yura's face only got worse, her lips raised up until a fang peeked out.
'Was such a thing even possible? I mean he's a human being and all, but still…'
Haruhi shared in her confusion and shock, but had resigned to just being dumbfounded silently. For all the pride the Ootori walked around with when it came to himself and his high quality life style and health it was paradoxical that the CEO of a medical and health care zeibatsu should fall ill.
"That isn't the worst part, Yura-chan!" Tamaki cried between his sobs, lifting his head off her shoulder to bring her within a distance of four centimeters between her face and his watery violet eyes. "When we went to go visit him, Tachibana said Kyouya ordered him not to let us in! Isn't he cruel?!"
"Yes Tamaki-senpai, such a bad friend." She said completely straight-faced though she meant the phrase in the fullest of sarcasm and rolled her eyes after he dropped his head back on her shoulder to bawl some more. Yura patted his back again.
She rather have to wash her top than end up having to mop the floor due his going to a corner because of her response. She didn't like the shirt too much anyway.
"Maybe you guys can visit him when he gets better." She suggested, addressing the others who were still standing on the porch.
Tamaki was blocking the doorway with his tall frame and Haruhi shook her head at the sniveling mess that was her husband before covering her face with a hand.
"We thought maybe you could come with us and convince him to let us in." Hunny spoke up, clutching his bunny.
"Ah."
"How would me coming make any difference?" she asked in faux ignorance, dreading the answer.
"Because he's nicer to you! Plus Tachibana has a soft spot for you and might give in if he sees you." Tamaki chimed in, not moving from where he was.
She was relieved to hear the reason wasn't what she feared, though the bodyguard having any preference towards her was a hard pill to digest. She got the feeling he would rather not see her, but she was only basing that conclusion by how jumpy he reacted whenever she greeted or thanked him.
"Please Yura-chan." Tamaki begged, hugging her now.
"There's no need to go through all that. He'll get better soon, you'll see."
Yura still didn't like answering or making phone calls. But if she was distracted enough, she could answer, unaware, with fair normalcy. The blearing ring throughout the living room the next day was given proof as she put the phone to her ear without looking at the caller ID, measuring her clipped fingernails to assure they were all the same shape.
"Hello, Komatsu Residence."
"Takahashi-sama?"
Yura's right eye twitch with a force that almost made it a wink and a sneer escaped before she could prevent it, her whole face going through a convulsion. She hated her family name to the extent where it was unhealthy.
"Hello Tachibana-san, how have you been?"
"Well…thank you." Tachibana responded scrupulously, always caught off guard by her polite amiability towards him.
"Is something wrong?"
"…Yes, well the truth is Takahashi-sama, Kyouya-sama has been sick with a fever for four days now and-"
"Four days?" Yura stopped inspecting her nails, her hand dropped and her eyes started out of her head a little, "Four days?!" she repeated, "But Tamaki-senpai and the others told me he was sick only yesterday."
"Yes, Tamaki-sama called him on the second day, but received no answer because he was ill, the doctor came to see him two days ago and even with the shot he received his fever hasn't gone down…and he seems to be getting worse instead of better."
Yura couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had taken care of Yuki several times since they lived together. The longest he had ever been with a fever was two days and that was mostly due to Hirohito teaching her what to do.
She remained silent and the bodyguard continued, taking her silence (and rightly so) for astonishment.
"And I was wondering if…you could perhaps come over and take care of him…?"
"…Excuse me…?"
"I know, it's impudent of me, but he won't allow me to let his friends in, though I am sure Haruhi-sama would be able to help, but he's adamant about them staying out and he can't keep anything down for more than an hour and it's interfering with the medicine he needs to take to get better!"
Yura eyes darted around the room. She scratched the back her head as she waited for the man to collect himself. She had never heard him raise his voice or sound so concerned.
Tachibana cleared his throat and apologized to her before adding, "While he did order me not to let Tamaki-sama and the others in, he didn't say anything about you."
"Why are you doing this Tachibana-san?" Yura asked with a hardened curiosity; hired help usually did not go this far for a paycheck.
"Because…I'm worried about him." The middle-aged man admitted sheepishly.
Yura's face fell into a tender smile and giggled as quietly as she could. Tachibana had quite an endearing quality to him. To her, he really was the second closest thing to parental affection Kyouya had, besides his sister. How could she say no?
"I'll be there in two hours or so."
"Oh, thank you very much Takahashi-sama!"
"You're welcome. And Tachibana-san?"
"Yes?"
"I do believe I told you at one point to just call me Yura."
"Oh! Right! My apologies Ta-Yura-sama."
"It's fine. I'll see you soon."
Kyouya felt like absolute and utter garbage.
His head spun and pounded, his throat felt like someone had taken a branding iron and shoved it into his mouth and he couldn't get any decent sleep because bouts of coughing fits would jolt him awake. And those happened. A lot.
Couple all this with his body overheating and the pitching of his stomach, Kyouya groaned piteously and put a hand over his eyes at the thought of how much longer he would be like this unless he finally got the medicine he should be taking to stay down. How could a week in Moscow bring him to this state?
The only people allowed to come in and out of the condo were cleaning services and Tachibana. He didn't want the host club seeing him like this, but he also knew he couldn't bear with them fretting about him (and Tamaki's dramatics) to his face.
Tachibana knocked on the gaped door and opened it, watching anxiously as Kyouya tried to sit up before stating, "You have a visitor, Kyouya-sama."
Kyouya's inflamed eyes narrowed and if they were lasers, would have sliced Tachibana's head off.
"Tachibana, I thought I made it clear to you not to let any of those guys…" the visitor came from behind the body guard. His voice drop to a hoarse whisper, "…in…here…"
Though not completely clear, Kyouya could distinguish her just by her height.
"Hello Kyouya-senpai." Yura was still using that detached politeness when addressing him. "How are you feeling?" She strolled up to his bed, making note of the reddish tint to his skin, the clamminess and his fringe, which was damp and stuck to his forehead.
"What are you doing here?"
Yura was about to speak when she sneaked a glance in the black reflective surface of the shiny back drop above his bed and saw Tachibana adjust his sunglasses in nervous habit. All this took a few milliseconds.
"Tamaki-senpai came over with everyone else yesterday telling me you weren't feeling well."
Kyouya rubbed his head, the pounding getting worse at the summary.
"That…idiot."
"How are you feeling?" she asked again, putting the large bag that had been over her shoulder on the floor with a heave.
"Fine." He croaked out before his body turned rebellious and put him in another coughing fit. Kyouya felt like his infected throat was coming out along with a lung.
Yura didn't stop her unpacking to even look at him. When it subsided she opened a box of tissues and handed it to him, still not lifting her head. He ripped the box out of her light grip, vexation building at her calm expression.
"I do not need you coming here out of pity." He spat, coughing some near the end.
Yura turned her head to him as she rose. Then she laughed. A laugh that was hollow and unnatural, like a bad enactment of words in a script.
"Spare me senpai. Pitying you is like pitying a lioness after she didn't get that third baby gazelle." She said with a hint of mirth but mostly banter as she took off her glasses to clean them, her eyes still closed from her empty mirth.
The laugh somehow quailed Kyouya's rising anger, though it was replace by disturbance as he watched her.
"Yura…chan," he tried again, quieter this time, "you do not have to come here to-"
"I'm here to help you get over your stomach virus as quickly as possible so you can take your high grade, expensive, bio-engineered pharmaceuticals and get all better."
Umbrage boiled forth at her tone, like she was talking to some child. He glared at her again, but this time Yura, who tried to keep her glasses up on her nose while searching through the big tote, decided to notice and dismissively waved at him.
"Turn that off senpai, you're wasting energy." She said with boredom before ripping open a thin plastic package with her teeth.
"What is that?" he asked incredulously, moving away so she couldn't put the white rectangle she had pulled out of the cheap packaging on his forehead. Yura pursed her lips and, leaning forward more, quickly and firmly pushed up his wet fringe, sticking the pad to his forehead.
"Hiepita."
He touched the cold adhesive.
"I thought you said you were here to help me get rid of the stomach flu."
"I am, but it doesn't hurt to try and get your temperature down too." She mumbled, rummaging through the bag until she pulled out a pot with latches above the handles.
"Tachibana-san, do you mind heating this up for me please?"
"Uh, no, not at all. Of course Yura-sama!" the jumpiness was not going anywhere as Tachibana took the pot.
"Now, we should subdue your throat and cough so fluids won't seem so….galling to you."
Kyouya watched as she took out a brown bottle out of a white and red box. She took the measuring cup off the cap, twisted it off and began pouring cloudy white liquid into it. She could almost feel the alarm rolling off him.
"Relax, you can use this without worrying about having a meal first, so long as you drink something."
Tachibana came in the same instant with water, handing it to her.
"Thanks Tachibana-san. Here you go senpai."
He took the glass with a shaking hand and downed the contents, halting as he felt his stomach lurch.
'You were supposed to sip it…'
Having no glasses on with the dizziness he was feeling, the little measuring cap was harder to obtain. Kyouya began to squint, reaching out unsteadily. Yura scanned his now cluttered nightstand and gave him his glasses, which he took and put on smoothly, despite his shaking and lethargic movements. He took the cap and downed the syrup as he had done the water, weakly speculative about where Yura found such strange medicine.
Until it hit his tongue.
Kyouya had drunk all matters of juice and medicine these past four days and couldn't taste a thing. This liquid seemed to rip open his nasal passages and punch him in the taste buds with the acidity of vomit, the bitterness of aloe vera, and a slight medicinal flavor the manufacturers added as a last attempt to make the stuff taste something remotely like medicine.
"UGH!" he cover his mouth, squeezed his eyes shut, and handed the cap back.
"Buckley's," she repacked the bottle, leaving the plastic cup to wash, "It Tastes Awful, But It Works."
Kyouya was a little afraid and distrustful now as she took up the bowl of broth Tachibana had brought during his harrowing experience. She soon slipped into something similar to day-dreaming. She did this whenever she was the only one around to take care of her brother when he fell ill. It was an unconscious, customized, defense mechanism to counteract the anxiety and worry that would rise in her chest and make her want to think the worst. In this state she dwelt on other things: little observations, thoughts, and even songs. As she stirred the broth, she let "Flying Dreams Lullaby" play in her head. She brought a spoonful of the broth to her lips and blew on it before putting the spoon to Kyouya's mouth.
Kyouya quietly marveled over the change: from rigid teasing to mild affection. Her eyelids drooped, bringing out the natural solemnity in her countenance all the more. He was startled to see her blow the broth, instead of handing him the bowl and spoon like he expected, holding the spoon out to him with every intention of feeding him. Despite that, he opened his mouth, focusing on the dreamy expression. In his fever addled brain he came to some reason that only made sense to him then and made no effort to snap her out of whatever it was she had come to rest in.
His attention was arrested more and more by her than the broth being fed to him, wanting to know why a melancholy smile soon settled unto her face. He became so absorbed, he eventually forgot about the soup and his mouth went slack from contemplating and liquid threaten to dribble out of his mouth. Yura, though in this state of mind, was not completely immersed and scooped the trickle up with the spoon to put it back between his lips, to which his teeth snapped shut on the spoon. Whether it was from the sound of his teeth or the realization that she just treated Kyouya like a seven month old infant, Yura's eyes returned to their normal size and she now really observed the feverish man she had a spoon next to. She put the spoon in the bowl, staring at its near finished contents.
"….Have I been feeding you all this time?"
Kyouya nodded.
"Oh…I'm sorry senpai." She smiled but it looked more embarrassed than apologetic. "I didn't mean to treat you like a child." She held out the bowl to him. "Do you want anymore?"
He shook his head.
She placed the broth on the night stand and stood, trying to remember when she had taken a seat on the large bed.
"Where are your towels?"
He told her and she stepped into the adjoining bathroom and came back with a basin of water and a washcloth. Kyouya flinched as she touched his face with the damp material.
"It's cold."
"Actually it's room temperature." She grabbed his wrist and watched as he shuddered. "That just shows how high your temperature is."
She removed his glasses and wiped (a bit too roughly in Kyouya's opinion) his face and neck. She put back on the rimless spectacles and Kyouya felt his heart give a painful jump at her unbuttoning his pajama shirt. She stopped after three buttons and put her hand down his top to wipe his chest and Kyouya simply stop thinking when she leaned him forward and ran the cloth down his back. He grew upset upon seeing her aloof. In his feverish head, he felt she could have at least blushed.
She then took out a Vicks vapor-rub and opened his shirt more to put the salve on his chest. His irritation only increased as she rubbed his neck and back again, composed and collected.
"Now lie down and try to get some sleep." Yura spoke in almost a whisper as she covered him when he laid back down.
He noted drowsily that he had not coughed the entire time since Yura had given him the cough syrup. The mixture of warm and cool sensations on his body soon drifted him into a comfortable sleep.
Yura was getting vegetables to cook in the broth and an ice bag ready when she heard shuffling and a door slam. She ran into the bedroom and met Tachibana at the door. She saw the tossed off sheets and rushed to the bathroom door to open it. She bit her lip to find it locked. Yura knocked loudly.
"Senpai."
She attempted to be unruffled, but only got louder when she received no answer.
"Kyouya-senpai!"
She got on her knees and pressed her ear to the opening at the bottom of the door. She could hear faint echoing sounds of coughing and spitting.
"Tachibana-san do you have a key for this door?"
"Yes." He dug through his pockets, pulling out a hoard of keys. "Uh…this one."
She snatched it out of his hand, turning them in the glinted knob and swiftly threw the door back to find the room in darkness and the acerbic pungent scent of vomit. Her nose twitched.
"Kyouya-senpai!"
A heavy gasping body was resting its head on the edge of the toilet bowl. Yura minded her step, her face puckering at the sight that he hadn't made it to the toilet right away. She laid a hand on his shoulder. He pushed her off, grunting out that he was fine.
"Yes, which is why you're currently using the toilet rim for a cold compress." She peeled off the warm hiepita, asking Tachibana to bring another one. He came back with two packets and a mop doused with disinfectant. Of course, it wasn't in his job description, but he couldn't just leave the spew there until the maid came. Also he wouldn't let Yura do it, seeing she already had her hands full with his employer.
She dragged him to the nearest wall and got a fresh towel wet with hot water to wipe his mouth. Kyouya weakly struggled to get away, but could only shake his head he was so exhausted and disoriented. Above all this was mortification at being cleaned like he was some baby who had just spit up.
"Come on." She got out in a gruff, venturing to get Kyouya on her back.
"Tak-Yura-sama wait! I'll help you."
Situating an arm over each shoulder, Tachibana and Yura got him back into bed.
"Kyouya-senpai I know you're not gonna want to after what just happened, but I need you to sip some ginger ale. We have to replace the fluids you've lost."
Kyouya regarded the glass with the straw in aversion and turned away.
"Senpai, please." Yura pleaded, worried now by the perspiration that was now sticking the pajama sleeves to his arms. "You'll become dehydrated."
He swayed a little to see a deep wrinkle in her forehead and her glasses slipping off her nose, those strange mint green eyes imploring.
He brought the glass closer and hazarded a sip.
This went on for multiple times throughout the day. Kyouya, in one of these occurrences, whacked the lemon and honey flavored water she had brought for him out of her hand. If he had to hurl every time he swallowed something beside his own saliva, he'd rather be dehydrated. But Yura, her expression looking sadder as night dusked, only cleaned up the mess and put a towel on the ground to sop up the water before coming over to him with a mug of the same contents, only warmer.
Kyouya was caring less and less about he must look to her and refused to take anymore fluids. Yura entreated. He would not give in. Unsure what else to do, Yura decided to leave him be after two hours of coaxing. If he got any worse between now and tomorrow, she would just call the doctor and let her take over.
It was about midnight when Yura was awoken by Tachibana, his sunglasses off and his face riddled with uneasiness.
"What is it?"
"I think you should come see yourself, Yura-sama."
Yura walked with a restrained haste, trying to keep herself placid. The pretence held no ground as she beheld the sight of Kyouya thrashing around in his bed, mumblings, incoherent and low, escaping his white trembling lips. His whole body trembled. Yura held her breath and put her forehead to his, keeping his head still with her hands.
"It's gotten worse. This has gone on long enough. Tachibana-san, call the doctor."
The body guard nodded and flipped open his phone as he left the room. Yura was preparing to follow, but she heard a hoarse whisper that sounded like her name.
She turned back. A clammy hot hand rested on hers as she place her hand on the bed.
"Just relax Kyouya-senpai, Tachibana-san is calling-"
"I'm sorry."
She tilted her head and smiled a little, half amused.
"For getting sick? Senpai, I don't think-"
"I'm sorry, Yura. Please forgive me….I'm sorry…" his voice dropped just above a mutter, "don't go…"
Yura slowly reached for the lamp on the night stand and switched it on. His eyes were barely opened.
And they weren't focused on her.
A tear streamed from his left eye across the bridge of his straight sharp nose and added to the dampness of his pillow.
Yura drew her hand away and turned off the light, confused and fearful.
"Yura-sama."
"Yes Tachibana-san." She replied, turning to him, but not mindful of what she was doing.
"I couldn't reach the doctor. I left a voicemail on her phone."
Yura turned on the light again. Kyouya's eyes were closed. She began to crack her knuckles, studying the heavy breathing invalid on the bed. She looked from side to side as if options were listed out for her on the sheets and she weighed each one with slow consideration. Her mouth, after about five minutes, set into a firm line as she drew her lips. She turned to Tachibana.
"Where does he keep his pajamas?"
Tachibana pointed in silent confusion to Kyouya's dresser near the window. Yura opened each drawer until she reached the third one and pulled out a set. She then walked into the bathroom and came back with the same bowl and another cloth. The bodyguard wasn't sure what was going on until he saw the young woman drip a few drops of a light yellow liquid which disappeared into a milk-like wisps into the water, pull the covers off Kyouya and began to unbutton his shirt.
"Yura-sama?"
"What he doesn't know won't kill him. If he asks, you weren't here and didn't know, understand?"
Tachibana reluctantly nodded.
Yura took the cloth and wiped Kyouya's chest and stomach before lifting him out of his wet pajama top and wiping his arms. She felt a shiver run through him as her hand grazed his ribs. Lifting him required more extra effort than she planned but she succeeded in getting him to lean on her while she wiped his back. Yura couldn't believe how four days without proper eating had emaciated him so much.
She put on the fresh shirt and Tachibana blushed and was about to speak up as she began to pull down his pants. Until he saw she left his underwear on. He wondered if she had seen him undressed before, the reason she was so unfazed about undressing her ex-fiancée now. She, on other hand, was focusing on getting this over and done with before her sense of embarrassment caught up with what she was doing.
'Well, this answers my boxers or briefs question...' Yura thought in a vain attempt to make a joke to distract herself from the task. She glanced at the black boxers more than she would like to admit as she ran the cloth along his long legs. Getting the pants back on proved more difficult than the shirt. Half straddling Kyouya while tugging his pants up the side of his hips was not something Yura had planned to do when she decided to come take care of him. After the ordeal she got a quilt and put it over the comforter already on him.
Tachibana was amazed to see the change in such a short span of time. He wasn't thrashing and it looked as if he was sleeping well.
"Yura-sama, how did you-"
"It worked with my brother when he had the flu. Though I know if senpai was conscious he would have never agreed to it. I figured earlier today that just wiping his chest and back would be enough."
Tachibana nodded. And after much reasoning on her part, Yura finally managed to get the middle aged man to go home to his wife and daughter.
When she finished cleaning up, Yura went back into the living room and lowered herself unto the sofa in deep reflection, rendering her practically immobile.
"Ah, Kyouya-sama. I'm glad to see you're up." Tachibana bowed as his employer came out of his bedroom. He was walking slowly but Tachibana was relieved to see he wasn't tottering anymore.
He nodded.
"It seems Yura-sama's home remedies have done an excellent job."
"Where is she?"
"Yura-sama? I believe she left already. She wasn't in the living room or the guest room when I arrived."
"I see..."
Kyouya froze when he reached his living area to see Yura on the couch, curled up and fast asleep.
"I thought you said she left."
"I am absolutely sure she wasn't there when I came in." Tachibana asserted as he went over and began to shake the young woman gently by the arm.
"Wait Tachibana, don't-"
It was already too late by the time the bodyguard turned around to listen to Kyouya. Yura raised her head, eyes barely open and still drowsy.
"Good morning Yura-sama."
"Morning." she droned, rubbing the sleep (and possible eye crust) away.
"I thought you left."
"Hm? No, I just went to the bathroom."
Yura got up when she caught sight of Kyouya.
"Hey senpai, how are you feeling?" she asked in an almost timid tone, a small smile on her lips.
He had not seen that coming.
"Much better."
"Good, now we can do something about your sore throat." Yura spoke, going into the kitchen and turning on the kettle filled with water. She searched through six cupboards before she could even find the seasonings much less what she needed.
"…Is this another one of your crazy home remedies?" Kyouya asked in incredulous slight sarcastic jest, leaning against the counter.
"Oh please, if it wasn't for those 'crazy home remedies', you'd still be retching out what little mucus was left on your stomach lining."
When the water was hot enough Kyouya watched as she poured some into a mug and put two teaspoons of salt in before handing it to him with the simple instruction of gargling it.
"And this is supposed to help my throat?"
"Yes, now go on," she shooed him all the way into his bathroom. "And after you finish gargling, take a shower. It'll help with your fever. No hot water." And with that she left him.
Kyouya dried his hair, a shiver going up his spine that he could barely contain. The lukewarm water still felt cold to him. That wasn't a good sign. He was dumping the worn sleep wear in the laundry basket when he stalled and lifted the lid higher for a closer look. In the supposedly empty container were a crumpled, wrinkled shirt and pants. He inspected the blue ones over his arm.
'Wasn't I wearing white pajamas yesterday…?'
Kyouya eyes widened and he threw the clothes on top of the basket, rushing out of the bedroom with something akin to a glare on his face.
"Yura-chan."
"Yes Kyouya-senpai."
"Did you change my clothes last night?"
Yura stopped mid chop of the onion she was cutting, but resumed with such quickness that it went unnoticed by him.
"Yes, I did."
"Why?"
"Because-" Yura turned around to find Kyouya in nothing but a towel, his head still wet and the cloth around his hips looking like it was ready to fall to the ground the knot was so loose. Water droplets slid down his chest and the shallow v cut on his waist was visible to great detail in the bright illumination provided by the kitchen ceiling lights. She turned back around. "Because you were doused in your own sweat and thrashing about delirious in high fever." she explained with haste, nearly cutting off one of her fingernails.
With her back facing him, Yura missed the multiple eye twitching before he covered his face, just in case she glanced at him.
"Is that all?"
Yura was chanting in her mind (actually she was begging) that he wouldn't ask her that.
"Yes." She answered in reflex.
The one time Yura was expecting him to doubt her he didn't, but headed back to his bedroom, realization only settling in once he was in his room that he had nothing but a towel on.
'This fever is messing with my brain….'
Yura's first move as he re-entered the living area (with clothes on) was to give him a glass of water and put a bucket near him. They both waited in unpleasant anticipation to see if it would stay down. Half an hour passed.
Nothing happened.
Yura then tried a piece of toast and after an hour, she declared Kyouya safe to consume food.
While Kyouya stirred the soup Yura had prepared (all she did was add vegetables and some cayenne pepper to the broth), he tried not to get upset at her sticking the thermometer under his arm. She sat resting her hands in her palms as she waited for it to beep.
"…I never imagined you to go a whole evening and morning without a shower." Kyouya finally got out, not sure how to go about offering Yura the use of his guest bedroom.
"Me neither, but what can you do," she sighed with a heaviness that disclosed it bothered her more than she was letting on. The thermometer beeped and Yura looked at it and smiled in relief.
"37.7 degrees, it's gone down. Good." Yura ambled over to the fridge and took down four different bottles, placing them on the coffee table. She left and returned with a glass of water and began reading the labels.
"Yura-chan."
"Hm?"
"…Why are you doing this?"
"Reading the labels? One of them was specifically for fevers, but I don't remember-"
"Not that."
Yura looked fixedly on the man who had barely touched the soup.
"Doing what then?"
"This…" he gestured to the table that the bowl and various medicines were on.
"Taking care of you? What? You still annoyed about me coming?"
"I did not say that, I just wanted to know why. Especially after…" he couldn't bring himself to finish, dreading she would go back to using that strained politeness with him if he did.
Yura was on her feet again to get a spoon.
"Because we're friends. And if you're still thinking I should forgive you, then I already have."
Kyouya raised his head from the floating carrots and broccoli in the bowl to behold the smile he had seen on her face the day the host club met him at the airport a year ago; slightly ambiguous, as though she were hiding something, yet genuinely happy. The glare on his glasses placed themselves as a barrier to hide his wide eyes.
"Now shut up and sip your soup."
Ah, being sick is not fun at all. A hiepita is a cold compress sheet. That Buckley's cough syrup is an actual product and "It Taste Awful But it Works" is their actual slogan. They warn you at the very least. So now the two are on good terms...for the present...
Chapter 30 next!
Love and Peace.
