Day 2: "You're burning up."

Whumptober 2024 Prompt: Fever / Sick / "You Don't Look So Good"

_

Kenma didn't like attention, especially not the kind that came with worry. That's why, when he first started feeling sick, he kept quiet. He chalked up the chills to fatigue from late-night gaming, and the sore throat was just an excuse to drink more tea. Nothing serious. Nothing Kuroo needed to know about.

But by day three, Kenma was struggling to keep his eyes open during practice, his body swaying from exhaustion. Every spike that Kuroo sent his way felt like it echoed in his skull, each movement requiring more energy than he had to spare.

Kuroo noticed, of course. He always noticed.

"Kenma," Kuroo said, stepping beside him during a break, his voice low enough so the rest of the team wouldn't hear. "You don't look so good."

Kenma blinked, trying to focus. He gave a weak shrug, but even that small motion felt like too much. "I'm fine," he murmured, his voice rough, his head starting to pound with the effort of standing.

Kuroo narrowed his eyes, not buying it. He reached out, pressing the back of his hand to Kenma's forehead before Kenma could pull away. His fingers were cool against Kenma's burning skin.

"You're burning up," Kuroo muttered, his concern immediately deepening. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Kenma lowered his gaze, pulling away slightly. "It's nothing. I didn't want to bother anyone."

Kuroo huffed, the sound more exasperated than annoyed. "Kenma, you know better than that. If you're sick, you need to rest. This isn't nothing."

"I can handle it," Kenma mumbled, though even he wasn't convinced anymore. His vision blurred for a second, his body swaying again, and Kuroo was quick to catch him.

"Yeah, sure," Kuroo muttered sarcastically, keeping a firm hold on him. "You can handle it, except for the part where you're about to pass out."

Kenma didn't have the strength to argue. His body felt like it was made of lead, every muscle aching. He just wanted to sleep, but the pounding in his head wouldn't stop.

Kuroo let out a long sigh, his grip on Kenma gentle but firm. "That's it. You're coming with me."

Kenma blinked sluggishly. "Practice…"

"Forget practice," Kuroo said, already leading him toward the locker room. "I'm taking you home."

Kenma barely registered the short walk to the locker room, his legs moving on autopilot as Kuroo kept a hand on his shoulder, guiding him. His thoughts were fuzzy, disjointed, like his mind was wrapped in a thick fog. All he could focus on was Kuroo's warmth, steady and reassuring beside him.

Before he knew it, they were in Kuroo's apartment.

Kenma hadn't protested much on the way. He hadn't had the energy. Kuroo had half-carried him the last few steps up the stairs, and now he was gently lowering Kenma onto the couch, fussing with pillows and blankets.

"You didn't have to," Kenma mumbled, though even as he said it, he was already sinking into the comfort of Kuroo's couch. It felt like heaven compared to the harsh gym floor or the cold bench at practice.

"Yeah, I did," Kuroo replied, his voice soft but firm. "You'd never take care of yourself if I didn't."

Kenma wanted to argue, to tell Kuroo that he could manage on his own, but the warmth of the blanket Kuroo tucked around him was too comforting, and the pounding in his head was too relentless.

Kuroo knelt beside the couch, reaching up to brush Kenma's sweat-damp hair away from his face. His touch was gentle, careful, and Kenma leaned into it without thinking. "You should've told me sooner," Kuroo said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kenma didn't answer, his eyelids already drooping. The fever had sapped all his energy, leaving him helplessly drowsy. The world around him blurred, and all he could feel was Kuroo's presence, steady and comforting in a way that words couldn't match.

Kuroo got up, moving quietly through the apartment. A few minutes later, he returned with a cool cloth, gently placing it on Kenma's forehead.

Kenma sighed softly, the coolness offering some relief from the heat raging through his body. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Kuroo smiled, sitting down beside the couch, watching over him with that same calm, protective energy that Kenma had always known. "Don't worry about it. Just rest."

Kenma tried to stay awake, to say more, but the fever was relentless, dragging him down into sleep. His last conscious thought was of Kuroo's hand resting on his arm, a solid, grounding presence.

_

When Kenma woke, the room was dark, the only light coming from the kitchen. He blinked slowly, feeling disoriented but somewhat better. His fever had broken, leaving him tired but no longer burning up.

Kuroo was still beside him, his head resting against the back of the couch, eyes half-closed. He must've stayed up, watching over him, Kenma realized.

"Kuroo?" Kenma's voice was hoarse, but the worst of the soreness was gone.

Kuroo stirred, blinking awake. He rubbed his eyes before looking at Kenma, his face lighting up with relief. "Hey," he said softly. "You're awake."

Kenma nodded, shifting slightly under the blanket. "I feel… better."

"Good." Kuroo stretched, wincing slightly as he stood. "You scared me for a bit there. You were really out of it."

Kenma looked down, feeling a bit guilty. "Sorry."

Kuroo shook his head, smiling softly. "Don't apologize. Just promise me you won't try to hide it next time you're sick."

Kenma hesitated, then nodded. "I'll try."

Kuroo chuckled, ruffling Kenma's hair. "Good enough."

As Kenma settled back into the warmth of the couch, he felt lighter. Maybe it was the fever breaking, or maybe it was knowing that Kuroo would always be there, even when Kenma didn't ask for help.

In his own quiet way, Kenma was grateful—grateful for the unspoken care, the presence that made everything a little less heavy.