In Sickness

He'd truly felt strange all day. Something wasn't right.

The fatigue was weighing him down. He found it hard to focus on the task of the day-helping Ansem proof lines of code. A hot headache bloomed behind his eyes, thick and horrible. Ienzo wasn't pleased to excuse himself, but he knew he would be just about useless.

He made himself tea, tried to sweat out the inevitable illness, but all he did was make himself hot and irritable.

He'd been taking considerably better care of himself, but still he'd fallen sick anyway.

Ienzo lay on the couch under a blanket, shivering a bit. Beans curled against his hipbone, her warmth welcome. What he should really do was get into bed and call Demyx, but Ienzo knew he was busy enough as is-he was filling in for Aerith today-and besides, he could deal with being ill. And he would go to bed-once he found the energy.

What time was it? Had he fallen asleep? It was as though time had clipped, which was concerning. Where had he put his phone? Goodness, it was all the way over by the door. It might as well have been on another world.

Just get up, Ienzo.

His elbows were shaky, and they ached. He cursed his corporeality. What was the point of a body if it continuously broke down? Sweat crawled along his hairline, both hot and cold. Was it the tea that did this? Merely a fever? His thought processes were muddy at best, and he felt he might vomit.

It had gotten dark; when had that happened? The door creaked, louder than he thought possible.

"Oh… hey, sorry. I thought you were asleep. Why are you sitting here in the dark?"

A lamp flicked on, blinding him and sending a flare of pain through his head. He might've said something, but he forgot it immediately. He heard the bathroom door shut, water running. It could've been an hour, or ten minutes, before Ienzo felt a cold hand against his cheek. "Geez, you're out of it," Demyx said. "How are you feeling?"

"Not… well." Things were dangerously sheeny. "I was going to call you-"

"Couldn't get up?"

"...No." A wave of shame broke over him.

"Hey, it's okay. You've got me, right? I'll patch you up." He slid his arms under Ienzo, hefting him up. A shock of dizziness made everything go gray for a minute. "God, you're warm."

Ienzo felt the bed under him, and his sweater being tugged off. "...What?"

"You're overheating in all these layers."

Ienzo could not recall putting on more than one, but evidently he had.

"Let me take a look at you." Demyx touched his forehead. "Bet you feel pretty achy, huh?"

"How'd you know?"

"I've been dealing with the flu all day. You're basically a textbook case. I must've carried it in with me. Sorry."

"...How bad is it?"

He exhaled heavily. "You're at about forty now. If I had to guess."

"...Fuck."

He laughed a little. "I can fix it, okay?"

The next thing he knew he was being given a glass of something sour. He flinched.

"I know it sucks," Demyx said, "But we've gotta get your fever down."

He was able to get it down, as well as some other kind of pill. Demyx had explained it to him, he was sure, but his mind felt like a sieve.

"Bet you feel quite a bit woozy," he said.

"I don't recall ever feeling like this before."

"Well, don't worry. It should pass in a few hours. Maybe you should sleep, to make time go faster?"

"I do worry."

Demyx's face came into focus for a moment. "About what? I've got you."

"What if I were… to…" He was shivering now. "...become delusional, like Ansem?"

He smoothed Ienzo's hair away from his face. "Well, if you did, I'm right here, okay?"

"But…"

"But what?"

Ienzo felt his eyes watering. "I'm not sure."

He squeezed his hand. "Babe, it's okay." A pause, then, "Do you… do you feel lost like that?"

"I don't think so." His body was so heavy and so cold. He tightened the covers around his shoulders. "I still… have nightmares. I feel they may be much worse while I'm-"

"Try to ride this out, okay? Take a few deep breaths."

"I don't like the way this feels." His voice sounded outside of himself.

"It'll pass. It'll be over before you know it. Just let the medicine do its work, okay?"

His breath caught. He pressed his face into the pillow. Demyx rubbed his back through the covers.

"I think you have a great excuse to have a good cry," he said softly. "I'll even pretend it didn't happen."

Ienzo's lips twitched in an uneven smile. "You shouldn't have married me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not… you're too…" He heard the sob more than felt it.

"Baby…" Demyx kissed his forehead. "You're still so warm. Let me…" Ienzo heard him wring something out, felt the cold cloth on his face. "It's just the fever, twisting things. The more you stress about it, the worse it will get."

"How do you do this all the time?" he asked. "Take care of people. It must be so exhausting."

"It's not easy."

"Do you regret it?"

Demyx thought about this for a long time. He ran a hand through his hair, flipping the heavier middle part left and right again. "...No," he said at last. "It feels good, getting rid of that pain. I never realized how heavy apathy is. You know?"

"I'm not sure," he said.

"It takes work, to not care," Demyx said. "I'm too… I'm too tired."

"I suppose that is wise."

"Mm."

The pain in his body was lessening. "Oh, goodness, I've probably gotten you sick too."

"I'll take it. You're still pretty cute, even when you're a mess."

"You flatter me." Ienzo bit his lip.

"...I took one of the cures, anyway. In case. Get ahead of it, right?"

"Don't give up on me," he mumbled.

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know."

"Yeah, you're just a little delirious. It makes things… weird. Like, the depression. It's not… your reality." He looked so tired.

"Can we talk about something else?"

"Of course. Like what?"

"Like…" He was feeling heavy. "Like… I don't know."

"Get some sleep."

"Lay down with me?"

"Yeah, I should… I'm exhausted."

Was he delirious, or did Demyx sound sad?

He drifted… and he woke suddenly, covered in sweat.

"Oh good," Demyx said. "Your fever broke."

The world was clearer, but not quite sharp. Ienzo sat up. "Did you get any sleep?"

"A little. I was worried. You were burning up there for a while."

Ienzo took his hand. They were cold, a bit clammy. "I was just ill."

"I know. I…" Demyx laughed a little, but there was a dark undercurrent to it. "It's hard to see you like this, you know. Helpless. It reminds me of…"

Ienzo took a deep breath. "That affected you a whole lot more than you ever admitted, huh?"

"It shouldn't."

"But it did." Ienzo reached for his hand. The sheets were damp, cool-with his sweat, he realized, and he shuddered.

"I…" Demyx rested his face in his hand. "I feel like I keep going back to this. I know you were just sick, but I still…" He exhaled. "I see it too much. In my head. You were… you were dying. For me. I… the thought of losing you… is that codependent?"

He tried to think, but his mind felt like sludge. "I don't think so. There are… layers as to why you feel this way. All those people you lost then… that's just below the surface." There was a flash of something like insight. "Is that why you do this? So nobody else dies?"

"Maybe? Is that a… good reason?" He exhaled shakily. "I… I don't know. It's a lot of pressure and I don't know how to not take it personally. This just… reminds me of that." He looked towards Ienzo. "...I shouldn't be talking about this now. You probably feel like shit."

"I don't feel great."

"...Sorry."

"It's okay. Don't be ashamed."

He nodded, sniffling a little. "Let me, um. Get you something."

"You should talk to Aerith about this. Maybe she can help you more than I."

Demyx handed him another glass of medicine. "Maybe. Did you… did you have any dreams?"

"Not that I can recall. Nor do I recall falling asleep. Which I suppose is a mercy." He propped himself up, his arms shaky and sore. "Why don't you get some rest? I'm alright now. Things might feel a bit better. You tend to get grouchy when you don't have enough sleep, which as of late is quite often."

Demyx nodded. Sometimes the knots of their pain were easy to unravel; this was not one of those times. "You'll wake me up? If you need something?"

"...I also plan on going back to sleep. But yes." He squeezed Demyx's hand. "I love you."

"I… I love you too." He leaned in and kissed Ienzo before he could pull away.

"You're most certainly going to catch it now," he said.

"Eh, I've been breathing your air for hours."

For a long moment, Ienzo watched him settle. It occurred to him-not for the first time-that love couldn't solve their issues. Demyx had to work things out on his own.

Ienzo may have just been prone for several hours, but he felt like he was also witnessing something helpless. He exhaled. He was not in the headspace to be able to deal with this.

He rolled over and went back to sleep.


Ienzo did feel noticeably better when he woke again. It was midafternoon, if the light was anything to go by. There was an unpleasant film all along his skin, from the fever. The first thing he needed was to bathe; then the inevitable, tedious process of cleaning the place down.

He heard the slight, soft pluck of Demyx's sitar; he was already awake, on the couch, his left hand wandering aimlessly along the frets. In the bright sunlight, Ienzo could see the glint off his wedding ring. It was a bit dazzling, hypnotic.

He figured he must still be rather ill.

Ienzo stood, feeling some degree of vertigo.

Demyx's head snapped up. "Sorry-did I wake you?"

"No. I heard it in my sleep. Quite pleasant, actually." He stretched. He never did like the way sickness felt, the way it made his body yet more alien.

"How do you feel?"

"Better. Not good." He felt Beans rub against his legs and gave her a pat. "No work today?"

"No… I… figure I might be contagious. So here I am." He shrugged. "You should eat something. The antiviral's probably going to make your stomach upset."

"Nausea is the least of my worries." Ienzo sat next to him. "Something is very clearly going on with you."

"I…" Demyx cut himself off and inhaled. The sitar disappeared, almost hesitantly. "You're sick. You should be resting. You don't need more stress."

"Deflecting isn't going to do any good. We're sick, and we're stuck with each other. I am going to make you speak with me." He touched Demyx's cheek; it was clammy. "So. What's wrong, hm?"

Demyx shied away from his touch. "I don't know, I feel so…" He trailed off. "I feel so fucking empty, okay? Is that what you want me to tell you?"

Ienzo froze. "For how long?"

He took a breath, sucking in his cheeks. "I did something stupid," he said. "I… I messed up. Someone died."

He blinked. "When?"

Demyx shrugged.

"How long have you been sitting on this?"

"A… a week or so."

Ienzo bit down hard on the indignation he felt. "What exactly happened?"

He looked down at his empty hands. "It… there was this kid," he said slowly. "Couldn't figure out what was wrong with him for the life of me. Something degenerative? I don't know. I figured… it was something that would go away on its own. I should have asked for help, I should have asked for a second opinion, but he just…" Demyx covered his mouth. "I couldn't stop the memories."

Ienzo took his hand.

"Every time I feel like I'm getting better this is what happens. I get… stuck. I'm not… what if this keeps happening? Forever?"

"Maybe you should stop doing this. At least for a little while. You've burnt yourself out, and now you're more vulnerable to your triggers."

"Then what would I do?"

"What do you want?"

"The thing is, I do like helping people. I just-"

"You have to take care of yourself too. You have a little more to work on before you can withstand all the pressure in a healthy way. It's okay."

He really was getting worked up now; Ienzo could see the flush in his neck. "I fail all the time-"

"You're not failing."

He took a sharp breath, a few tears slipping free. Ienzo put his arms around Demyx. "You can cry, if you want. I'll pretend it didn't happen."

Ienzo felt him shudder. He cried for a while, almost worryingly, but finally Demyx pulled himself together. "I'm sorry," Demyx said.

"Oh, love. You did nothing wrong."

He wiped at his eyes.

"I wish you would tell me about these things."

"I tried, I did, but-"

"It was less painful to protect yourself?"

He nodded. "But we're married, I should tell you everything-"

"Not necessarily. You're entitled to some privacy, you know. But if something truly hurts… let me help you. It's just as important for you to tend to your mental health as the physical. Think of it like…" Ienzo bit his lip, which was dry and cracked from illness. "Think of yourself as your own patient."

"That's… not half bad advice. You're good at this."

"I'm good at you. That took some practice."

He smiled through the tears.

Ienzo kissed his cheek. "Relax today. Catch your breath."

He snorted. "You should too. Mister Forty-degree fever. God, it was terrifying."

"Then it's a deal?"

"It's a deal."