A/N: And thus the second chapter is here, lol…

Well, the next chapter will probably be the last (if I don't do an Epilogue, that is.)

Oh and thanks xOxYourDevilxOx, for the fav
And thank you ocmaker317, for following the story

Chapter 2: Anidote

Xanxus

Normally, I would've just picked up some bitch and wouldn't have been back to my room before three a.m.
But I'm not in the mood lately, whatever the reason, so it just happens that I'm now in front of the new room.
Well, I hate to share the room, but it better be the stupid shark than any other trash.
Why did that scum go to bed so early anyway?

Whatever.
I open the door and turn the lights on. I don't know if that guy's asleep or something – he will surely fall asleep again and it's not like I really care about it either.
So I just barge in, but what I see, isn't really something I expected to see.
The fact that there's only one bed here, aside, he's not asleep at all.
He's laying half under the covers, with his face buried in the pillow beneath, his knees in the mattress – I guess, since I can't see it under the blanket, but his lower back is up high, so it must be like that – and his gloved handy tightly around his arms and shoulders, withering in pain – or whatever it is.
He gasps and shakes again, a bit heavier than before.
Seems like pain.
He looks at me and seems slightly shocked.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, scum?", I ask, kinda confused.
What happened between dinner and him lying on the bed like a…I can't even relate anything to that.
Well, not that I really care about him…but I obviously have to sleep next to him, so it would be annoying if he stayed like that.
"I…don't know…", he can barely get out between gritted teeth.
"So…and what did you do?" I don't know why I'm asking, but it never hurts, right?
"No…thing…gah"
I take a walk around the bed, on the other side and watch him. On the bedside table seems to be some kind of…medicine? Why would they place something like that here?
"Hey, shitty shark…what's that supposed to be?"
"Wha…at?", he stutters and tries his hardest to look in my direction. How feeble. Pitiful. "That…that's something…from that…freak…you…shou-hg…stay away…"
"Freak?"
"He…probably…did this…to me…"
It's hard to understand his words under his heavy breathing and panting.
His face seems flushed, even though I can't see much of it, and he's shaking even more than before.
Probably really is in pain, huh?
I look back at the nightstand. There's a pill on a little plate and a new plastic bottle of water, right beside it. Underneath the plate is something that looks like a letter.
It says Xanxus.
That means, someone addressed this to me.
I take the letter and open it up. It's written in Italian, not American, so someone knew us beforehand.
That's definitely no coincidence – even I can tell that much.
There's more than one piece of paper inside…wait. Why do I even care?
Why am I reading this? I shouldn't care. That's not me.
But I'm kinda curious, so I read it anyway…

'Dear Xanxus,
well, you probably don't know me, but I'm a Doctor, so you can trust me.
Your partner has a serious problem, and if you want him to get better then make him take the medicine, that I lay out on the plate above the letter that you're currently reading.
Ya can't miss it, don' worry ;D
If ya have that…then read page two.

Btw.: If he's resisting to take it, you can just force him to…'

…

I hate orders. I seriously hate them.
But it looks like I can't bring the stupid shark to shut his trap and calm down, if I don't do it.
So I take the little white pill and the water, toe my shoes off – for whatever reason – and climb on the bed, right next to the shaking idiot.
I wanted to give him the pill – I'm really nice today – but he jerked away as much as he could in his condition.
It makes me growl "The letter says you have to take this to get better. Now take it and be quiet."
"But…you can't…trust hi-mh…"
By now, I remember the last line of the letter.
With an annoyed sigh, I bend over his back and wrap one of my arms around his waist. A really slim waist, I have to admit. He should have become a woman to begin with – I mean, what's with that friggin hair of his? I never really got his deal with that. What kinda oath is that, anyway? Well, whatever.
I lay the pill and the bottle down, right next to me and yank him up, his back against my chest, in a sitting position. Then I move my hand from his waist up to his hair and grab a handful of it, to pull his head back over my shoulder.
"It's feeding time, scum…", I purr into his ear, that's now right next to my face, in a teasing voice.
The fact that I only get a strange, cracked sound in response, shows just how fucked up his current state really is.
I use my still free second hand to pry his mouth open, after I retrieve the pill from the mattress beside me. The pill slips easily past the gap between his lips and I let go of his hair, so I can press it on the latter – so that he won't be able to spit it out again. To end my task, I take the bottle, open it with one hand, take my hand back, the same moment I set the bottle to his lips and make him drink, and he does, since he has no choice but to gulp it down if he doesn't wanna choke on it – although he spills a lot. It's flowing out of the corners of his mouth and starts dripping down his chin, directly on his shirt.

My gaze follows the little droplets down and that is the first time I realize, that he's actually not even wearing pants under that giant shirt. Did he mistake it for a short nightgown? Freak.
Well, everyone has his kinks, I guess… And I honestly have to admit that his legs aren't bad to look at, either – like I said; he should have been a woman in the first place. That would also fit his behavior.
I look back at his face.
His cheeks are flushed, his breathing flat and his eyes glassy.
But he seems to relax in my arms and it looks like the pain wears off slowly.

Well, that doesn't mean I have to let go of him instantly…