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The first thing that greeted him upon waking this morning was pain.
Now, Midnight Vanilla was no stranger to pains and aches upon waking up, that became normal once he was eighteen cycles old.
But this was different from the typical chronic soreness that he had grown accustomed to ignoring.
This was bone deep pain that made him want to close his eyes again and forget the concept of waking ever again.
A throbbing behind his eyelids bid him goodmorning as well, and Truthless curled into the pillow he was clutching with a groan.
How lovely.
Well, at least he was warm like this.
And it would be so easy to just fall back asleep…
…But he couldn’t.
The Sage had convinced him to attend a special lecture he was hosting. Ordinarily, he would have said no, but with the face his boyfriend had pulled when he had opened his mouth to refuse…
It would have felt like kicking a cream puppy.
So he begrudgingly agreed and proceeded to ignore how his heart flipped with the blindingly bright smile Blueberry Milk had given him.
Witches… he had really screwed himself over with this one, hadn’t he?
With a heavy sigh, Midnight Vanilla shakily pushed himself upright, wincing at how his headache flared at the change in his position.
He was fine.
Truthless just needed to go attend the lecture, tell the Sage it was good, and then he could come home and feel sorry for himself.
The blanket fell off of his shoulders and… had he left a window or something?
Why on Earthbread was it so damn cold…?
Midnight Vanilla shivered and pulled his wings around himself, the feathered limbs trembling slightly as well.
Perhaps he had a fever.
At least his wings were helping him warm back up, and his eyes fell half closed as he finally stopped shaking.
Maybe he should just stay home-
No.
He had promised Blueberry Milk that he would be there, and he wasn’t about to go back on his word for something as small as a minor illness.
Steeling his resolve, the Recluse folded his wings back and pushed himself out of bed.
His head felt abruptly far too heavy, and his knees burned with the effort of keeping himself up. Black spots appeared in his vision, and his sight narrowed significantly as a black border crept in.
Leaning against one of the pillars of his bedframe, Truthless took a few deep breaths and waited for the spell to pass.
It did after a… concerningly long time.
Still.
He. Was. Fine.
Midnight Vanilla lifted his hand, summoning his Black Orchid staff and dressed himself with a gentle thunk of the metal against the wooden floorboards.
Though, despite now having several layers of clothing on, the chill didn’t leave his dough.
… If he went out like this, Blueberry Milk would catch on that something was wrong immediately.
His boyfriend may be slightly naive, but he wasn’t blind.
He looked to the side with a frown as his mind sluggishly pondered over his options.
The Recluse’s acting skills were good, but he was too tired to properly put up a facade, and he also assumed he looked to be in a pitiful state.
A cloaking spell could work, but it wouldn’t keep the exhaustion out of his voice and posture, not to mention that the Sage would be able to sense the magic of him using one.
But a smaller spell could work for his purposes…
If he gave himself just enough magic to mask his symptoms every few minutes, he could get through this with ease.
Yes, it would absolutely backfire on him later but… He could just deal with that when the time came, when he was away from everything else.
Mind made up, he pressed a hand to his temple and cast a healing spell.
Instantly, he could feel the headache and body pains recede, as well as the strength returning to his muscles. Energy and clarity of his mind trickled back in, and the chill coating his whole dough faded away.
And now, with the newfound lucidity, he realized just how bad of an idea that had been.
Magic couldn’t cure illnesses like this. They could dampen the symptoms for a short while, but they would ultimately come back and hit the cookie far harder the second time around.
The mana used to ‘heal’ the sickness almost always ended up feeding into it instead, as common illnesses tended to be magic based anyways.
So while it seemed to help in the short term, due to healing magic giving the recipient an energy boost and acting as a painkiller regardless of what the ailment was, all using magic really did was give the illness more fuel to destroy its host with.
But… He couldn’t exactly go back now.
Truthless would just have to reap the suffering of his sewing later, he supposed.
The Recluse stepped onto his balcony, reaching a hand out and catching a blueberry bird on his fingers with a small smile.
After giving it a few scratches on the head and cooing quietly at the bird, he set it down on the railing and spread a few seeds along the metal banister for it.
He should really get going before he’s late…
Truthless jumped on the railing and let himself fall over it, plunging towards the ground faster and faster and faster before extending his wings and flapping at the last second, going shooting back into the sky.
Midnight Vanilla giggled quietly and sent himself into a barrelroll, the crispness of the morning air feeling strangely nice all things considered.
Perhaps his fever wasn’t quite gone; maybe it had just been lessened. That might be why he feels so oddly happy, slight delirium tends to have that effect.
Mm, even so, he wasn’t exactly complaining.
He would rather feel like this than the alternative of being constantly at risk of breaking into tears at any given moment, so he would consider this a win.
A blue and white building came into view, and he angled his wings downwards to slowly descend back towards the ground.
The Recluse could just barely make out blobs of color entering the building, though none of them were the typical azure, white, and gold of his partner.
Blueberry Milk must be doing the lecture inside, today, as there was absolutely no chance of him only being only five or so minutes early. The Sage had the admirable, yet slightly annoying, habit of needing to be exceedingly early for everything.
It was endearing. Yet it was also incredibly frustrating if the Recluse, Witches forbid, didn’t desire to wake up two hours before he needed to be somewhere.
Ovens below, they could quite literally teleport to wherever they needed to go! There was absolutely no reason for the Sage to account for travel time in every single one of his contingency plans.
Midnight Vanilla smoothly landed on the ground outside the academy, folding his wings in and throwing his cloak over top of them out of habit.
He wasn’t exactly worried about these cookies knowing he was an Avian anymore, especially after Blueberry Milk had essentially performed exposure therapy on him by having him reveal his wings in public more often.
It still made him mildly nervous to leave them out, but having cookies see him fly wasn’t so bad, he supposed.
Stepping into the building, the Recluse followed the crowd of cookies and ended up in a lecture hall. And a familiar blue blob was flitting about on the stage seemingly double checking his magic circles.
After a moment, the Sage stopped in place and turned to everyone. Once Midnight Vanilla used magic to enhance his eyesight, he saw that they had locked gazes and a blinding grin was staring back at him.
He rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively, and Blueberry Milk cleared his throat, silencing the hall almost instantly.
“Alright, class! Who can tell me anything about white magic?”
A student raised her hand, and the Sage pointed to her. “Yes, you!”
“It… All of the source information on it was lost upon the death of the Saint of Knowledge?”
“Correct! The only knowledge we have currently is from those who survived the Sealing night. Or at least… so we thought.”
Confused murmurs filled the classroom and Blueberry Milk held up his hand, silencing the classroom once again.
“Today, I have an expert on the subject amongst us.” They made eye contact again. “My darling Recluuseee, could you come up here?” He singsonged, and Midnight Vanilla tried not to shrink underneath all of the gazes now currently on him.
He felt the whoosh of a portal opening behind him, and pivoted to step through it with a light sigh.
A hand grabbed his own the moment he stepped through, and the Sage held their joined hands before the crowd. “Truthless Recluse is the most knowledgeable person on all of Earthbread about white magic, and will be a key part of this lecture.”
His boyfriend turned towards him, pulling up his sleeve and holding out his arm. “Now, my Recluse. Like we practiced!”
Ugh… right.
Trying not to let his discomfort show, Midnight Vanilla summoned a small scalpel made of magic, and made a long incision on Blueberry Milk’s forearm. To the other’s credit, he kept a straight face the entire time.
“Alright, I’m guessing everyone can see the cut that he just made?” Uneasy hums of affirmation. “Good! Now, ordinarily this would take… a few months to completely heal. However, with white magic…”
The Sage nodded to him, cuing him into the next step. The Recluse hovered a hand over the cut, which was already leaking jam by this point. Calling the healing magic to his fingertips, Midnight Vanilla directed it towards the wound, stitching the muscles back together and using the readily available resources in the Sage’s own body to speed up the healing process.
He stifled a wince at his magic pulsing unnaturally, likely being torn between going where he desired, masking the symptoms of his illness, and said illness draining his reserves to fuel itself.
Thankfully, the Sage didn’t seem to notice the hiccup in his magic, so he was safe in that regard, at least.
Within the span of twenty seconds, the cut was completely healed and he let his hand drop back to his side.
Blueberry Milk held his arm up high, showing off the completely barren dough, and the Recluse grit his teeth as a sudden chorus of voices spoke over one another in a mad scramble of questions.
His head hurt…
A minute wave of his hand fixed that issue, however, and Midnight Vanilla shoved away dread building within him at the prospect of feeding into the illness more.
He heard the Sage giving an exuberant explanation on how white magic worked and how there were only a few minutes to the healing capabilities of such magics.
As flattering as it may have felt on a normal day to have someone he loved give a magic type of his own creation such high praise, all Midnight Vanilla really wanted to do was return back to his tower.
It was ironic. He was using the very same magic that he had just used to heal Blueberry Milk to inadvertently harm himself.
The Recluse was such a fool…
“But, white magic can do far more than just heal flesh wounds! In fact, it can repair almost everything!” He tuned back into what the Sage was saying, and looked over just in time to see a large, potted, withered tree sapling get summoned onto the raised platform with them both.
They locked eyes for a moment. “If you would do the honors, my Recluse?”
Silently, he raised a hand and pressed it to the bark of the tree while closing his eyes, tapping into his magic to analyze exactly what was wrong with it.
Well, the tree was still, technically, alive. It was diseased, however, and seemed to be suffering from root rot. Quite a severe case of the condition, at that.
He guided his magic down the trunk of the tree and toward the bottom of the pot, working his way up once he got to the clay floor and eliminating the fungi in the soil.
His magic traveled up the base and spread through the entire tree system, cleansing any other ailments that may have taken advantage of the plant’s weakness.
Even though the tree was cured, it wouldn’t start to look better for a while, and that would be rather anticlimactic.
He could expend a bit of magic to fix that problem.
With a simple accelerant spell, the leaves of the tree livened from the sickly yellow they had been to a strong, lush green along the now lifted branches.
Awed exclamations once again came from the crowd, though the Recluse couldn’t find it in himself to be honored or bashful at the attention. No, most of his focus went to stopping his body from physically shaking as the spell wore off again.
The Recluse was really screwing himself over with how much magic he was feeding to this damn sickness.
But he would be fine. He can just sleep this off once he gets home.
He barely held back a flinch as a hand appeared on his shoulder. “-And why don’t we give a round of applause to our lovely expert here, mm?”
As the claps rang out around them, the Sage stepped closer. “You can go wait in my office if you would like to, my dear. I know you dislike crowds.” He murmured quietly to him.
That… sounded amazing.
Midnight Vanilla nodded, and a portal was opened to his left.
After a slight bow to the students before him, the Recluse walked smoothly into the portal, only letting himself relax once it closed behind him.
He sighed heavily and collapsed onto the couch the Sage had in his office, staring blearily up at the ceiling as he tried to focus on anything other than how damn tired he was.
At least the couch was comfortable.
It would be easy, with how warm and soft it was, to just close his eyes and…
“-and thank you for asking such insightful questions today! I will be sure to have everyone’s papers graded as soon as possible!”
He startled as a muffled voice came from just beyond the door, blinking rapidly and wrenching himself upright, cringing at the headache that crashed into him at the sudden movement.
Had he… fallen asleep?
When had he even actually closed his eyes to begin with? He thought all he had done was consider the idea…
Ugh… and he felt so much worse now, too…
With a quick reminder to his future self to invent time travel and come throttle the present version of him for the crime he was about to commit, the Recluse cast a far more powerful healing spell on himself.
Just as the magic had settled within him, the door was opened. “My Recluusee!” His boyfriend sang out, grinning brightly at him.
Blueberry Milk looked him up and down. “Hmm, you look tired.”
“Your students exhaust me, Sage.”
“Awww, it wasn’t that bad, my dear! They loved you up there!”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure.” Midnight Vanilla said dryly.
“I’ll have you know, many of them approached me after the lecture asking about you.”
“Did they now?”
A nod. “Mhm! I wasn’t quite sure how to answer their questions on where you got your knowledge of white magic from, though.”
“And what did you tell them?”
The Sage’s chair squeaked as he sat down in it, and the quiet rustling of paper was heard as the other organized the ones on his desk. “That such a question was better suited for you to answer.”
“Tch, you just couldn’t bring yourself to part with your precious Truth, could you?”
“Hehe, you know the answer to that question, my Recluse.”
He shook his head, standing and smoothing his robes down. “I will be taking my leave, Sage.”
“Aww, already?”
Midnight Vanilla turned his head to look at Blueberry Milk, hand already pressing down on the doorhandle. “Clingy.”
“Only for you, my dear.”
The Recluse huffed as his face grew slightly warmer, having nothing to do with the latent illness beneath his dough. “Goodbye, Sage.”
“I’ll see you later, my Recluse!” Blueberry Milk said cheerfully as the Avian stepped outside of his office.
He closed the door behind him with a soft click, and the sound of his heels clacking against the tile echoed through the hallway as he made his way towards the exit.
Once outside, he slowly pulled off his cloak, tucking it under his arm as he looked around him. Though that last action was more out of habit rather than genuine fear.
Still, he relaxed seeing no one around him. And after getting a slight running start, he shot into the sky and pivoted toward his tower.
In truth, he couldn’t quite recall the flight back to his tower. His mind went oddly blank during most of it, just basic homing instincts and muscle memory guiding him back to his Peak.
Though he was thrust out of the floaty headspace when his healing spell abruptly wore off and the Recluse practically fell onto the balcony when he landed.
Catching himself on the railing, Midnight Vanilla sighed, already feeling the symptoms flare again.
His limbs shook as he pulled himself back up, though he ignored this fact as he opened the door and stepped into the room.
Or… stumbled into the room, more like.
Using magic would only make him feel worse later, he reasoned. So there was no point in using some just to get to his nest.
He just needed to… make it there.
Just one foot in front of the other.
Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Left…?
Midnight Vanilla tripped and stumbled to the ground in a rather ungraceful heap, groaning and trying to will any amount of strength back into his limbs.
To little use, of course.
The Recluse blinked slowly, wings unfurling and wrapping around his sides as he shivered unhappily.
Witches, he was going to regret this later.
With a small clench of his fist, Magic flowed through him once again, lending strength to his limbs and clarity to his mind.
That was such a mistake…
Shoving down the sinking feeling in his heart at just how much magic he had fed this damn illness by now, Midnight Vanilla climbed into his nest.
Though after what felt like mere moments after he had regained some semblance of wellness, it was stripped away from him as he laid down amongst the pillows and blankets.
The Recluse gripped a blanket in his weak, shaking grasp and pulled it over himself, curling beneath the soft fabric with a sigh. A pillow was also haphazardly grabbed and tucked against his chest.
Without warning, a full body coughing fit rattled through his entire being, leaving his throat utterly shredded in the aftermath.
He whimpered and buried his face in the pillow he was now clutching, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.
By the Witches, everything hurt.
Every breath, every blink, every heartbeat. It all just ached.
And he was so cold…
A rasped, lonely warble reached his ears, and it took him a second to realize it was his own.
…He missed his flock.
Before everything had been ripped away from him, anytime one of them got sick, they would all snuggle together and share stories. Or read books together, or even just sleep next to one another!
Just… be present with each other.
As Hollyberry would always say: “Comfort is the best medicine!”
The Recluse could still recall the love coming from them with each and every scratch of his feverish scalp as he lay between all of them, contentedly dozing off to the rise and fall of the murmured voices around him.
But… he didn’t have that now.
And he wouldn’t ever really have that again, would he?
No… That wasn’t quite true; he had Blueberry Milk, didn’t he?
The Sage would help him, wouldn’t he?
…But Midnight Vanilla shouldn’t need someone to help him. He was a fully grown cookie, damnit!
Besides, who in their right mind would want to help him, anyways? That would just be a waste of effort on their part.
Hurt. Pain. Flock. Help. Where Flock?
The Recluse grit his teeth and let out a trembling sigh, ignoring how it turned into a sob at the end.
He’s fine. He doesn’t need anyone to take care of him. No one would want to anyways.
… Wishing for such would only break him down into sorrowful fragments in the end.
Where Mate?
Embarrassingly, another beckoning, lonely warble pulled itself from the recesses of his throat before he could stop it.
He doesn’t need the Sage to help him.
Blueberry Milk was far too busy to deal with something as… trivial as this.
Another cough shook his whole body, and a shiver racked through him soon after.
…It hurt.
The pillow felt wet, and it took an embarrassingly long moment of confusion for him to realize that it was because he had started crying at some point.
Weak.
That singular thought made Midnight Vanilla curl up tighter into himself, wings enclosing fully around his body as if to protect him from his own mind.
He really shouldn’t want Blueberry Milk to comfort him so badly. To run his hands through the Recluse’s hair and kiss his forehead and just tell him he would be fine-
Another sob.
…
…He wanted his mate…
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Something about the way his Recluse had been acting at the lecture just… really didn’t sit right with Blueberry Milk.
There was just… something that was off about him when they were talking, and the Sage really couldn’t piece together what it was.
He couldn’t point to any one thing that was wrong, either. And that was the frustrating part.
It wasn’t like his little Songbird had been acting entirely different to normal, in fact, he seemed perfectly fine when the Sage recounted the details of their interactions.
But still…
Blueberry Milk just had the underlying, nagging feeling that there was just… something wrong.
The sound of rain starting to pitter against the glass of his window knocked the Sage out of his thoughts, and that was when he realized he had been staring at the same essay page for the past… Witches, how long has it been now?
Too long, he decided.
He clearly wasn’t getting anything done like this, and there was clearly only one way to solve that.
Blueberry MIlk would just go say hi to his Recluse, satisfy his own curiosity, and then he could come back and finish his work right where he left off.
Easy!
Mind made up, the Sage stood up and stretched, spine popping in ways that would make any non-immortal cookie shudder in concern. And with a snap, a portal was opened to Midnight Vanilla’s bedroom.
“My Recluuseee!” He sang. “I do apologize for dropping by unannounced, but I simply had to-”
He stopped mid-sentence, blinking in surprise at the sight in front of him.
Now, he was no stranger to finding his beloved Songbird asleep. It was frankly concerning just how long he could sleep for. However, Midnight Vanilla had commented several times that once he was fully awake, he would be up for at least the next twelve hours.
So this was… highly unusual for him, especially considering that Blueberry Milk had spoken with him only a few hours prior.
And what was stranger was… the complete lack of reaction he received upon entering.
Both of them were very light sleepers when separated, only ever sleeping deeply when together for whatever reason. So not even stirring to the Sage’s fairly… loud entrance was cause for concern in his opinion.
“My Recluse?” He asked, quieter this time, as he floated towards the other’s bed.
His beautiful dove looked oddly uncomfortable, a crease in his brow and sweat beading his forehead.
He reached out to touch him and-
Ovens below!
The Recluse’s dough felt like it was aflame! Blueberry Milk drew his hand back on instinct, eyes widening as he processed what he had just felt.
As he gently shook Midnight Vanilla’s shoulder, the Sage felt his expression twist into one of profound concern. “My dear, my darling Recluse, can you open your eyes for me?”
A cracked and pained sounding trill came from the other as he curled in on himself.
“Songbird?” He asked, hand cupping the scalding dough of the Recluse’s right cheek.
His ivory lashes fluttered open halfway, revealing the glazed over and dazed looking eyes hidden beneath.
That wasn’t a good sign at all.
Midnight Vanilla’s eyes narrowed as he looked up at the Sage. “S’ge…?” He mumbled, slowly blinking at him.
“Hi, darling. What… err, what happened, here?” Blueberry Milk asked, smiling in rapidly building concern over the welfare of his partner.
Quite unhelpfully, the Recluse gave him a weak shrug and closed his eyes again, head resting limply against the Sage’s hand.
“My dear?”
No response, just the quiet, tight sounding breaths of his beloved Songbird.
Crumbs.
Alright, fine. He could work with this!
He could just figure… something out!
Blueberry Milk shifted his position and scooped up Midnight Vanilla, tucking his boyfriend’s concerningly warm head into his neck, and smiled slightly at the way the Avian immediately shifted closer to him with a half asleep sounding mumble.
If he ignored the situation they were in, that wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary at all!
For all of the barbs, gripes, and withering glares that the Recluse gave, he was surprisingly cuddly when he wanted to be. And the Sage, more often than not, would end up with a feathery menace curled up to his side trying to leech off of his body heat when doing basically anything that required him to stay in one place.
He loved his beautiful little bird, however, and would happily let himself be used as a heat lamp if it meant he got to see his smile every day.
The Sage was getting distracted.
Right, medical care!
Throwing open a portal to his home, Blueberry Milk zipped through and gently placed Midnight Vanilla in his bed.
Or well, more often than not, their bed.
He brushed the thought aside and summoned a bucket of water and a rag, dunking the towel inside the cold water and ringing it out, before then placing it on the Recluse’s forehead.
His little bird squirmed a bit at that, shivers wracking through his frame and the feathers on his wings stood on end.
“Shh, no no, you’re fine my dear. You’re alright. I just need to get your temperature down a little.” The Sage knew the other couldn’t understand what he was saying right now, most likely sounding like gibberish in his feverish mind, but he hoped that his voice brought him at least a little comfort.
Blueberry Milk grabbed a thin blanket from the side of his bed, warming it slightly with magic and draping it over the Recluse.
That seemed to do the trick, and the writhing from Midnight Vanilla stopped along with the shivers dissipating almost completely. They were still occasional, but weren’t constant anymore, so he considered that a win.
After he made sure the cloth would stay on top of his Songbird’s head, the Sage took a moment to look over him.
What on Earthbread could have caused such an ailment? And for it to come on so suddenly, too…
He was fairly certain the Recluse hadn’t been sick when they had met this morning, or at least not to this extent, as he would have seen it. Sure, he could have been hiding his symptoms with an illusion spell, but Blueberry Milk was quite familiar with those and could spot them with ease.
So what exactly had happened?
This didn’t seem like the result of a spell backfiring or of a curse, so that wasn’t an explanation for how Midnight Vanilla could have gone from healthy to having a fever that rivaled a Witches-damned fire in terms of heat.
Perhaps he could even fry an egg on his head, though he would be subjected to doing sunny-side-up in that case considering he wasn’t sure if hard boiled or scrambled would work in this context…
No, wait, he was getting off track.
Sickness, right!
It had progressed so rapidly, and he still had no idea what the illness even was!
Though… there was a way he could find out.
Stepping back, Blueberry Milk called upon his magic, casting a spell that scanned over the patient’s body and read over their vitals and would both detect and locate any ailments the being may have. Injuries, illnesses, or anything that could cause harm were included in the scan.
The spell had supposedly died with the Saint of Knowledge, but considering who he had laying here, the Saint wasn’t as crumbled as the general populace had been led to believe.
Witches, it was still so crazy to think that his lifelong idol was now his boyfriend.
Pure Vanilla had always inspired him ever since he heard the stories about the Saint of Knowledge, especially once the Sage had become the Divine of Truth.
He was always a little jealous that the other Divines got to meet their predecessors, whereas his counterpart had supposedly crumbled on the night of the sealing. His friends had each talked at length about the connection they felt with their other halves, and how they truly felt seen and understood by them.
But the Sage hadn’t let that stop him from pursuing the Recluse, and he wasn’t a replacement. No, far from it!
His darling Songbird was something else entirely, but the Sage now understood why he connected with the Recluse, even when he didn’t realize they shared a souljam.
All of the knowledge that he had gained following this discovery was astounding. His boyfriend had shared some before that, of course, but now he could ask the right questions.
And it was especially fun to watch Midnight Vanilla shift back into his old habits as the Saint of Knowledge when explaining complex topics, and he even did the infamous touch to his chest where his souljam would be when talking, despite not having them gem there to grant him the knowledge.
That was impressive in and of itself. Having all of that information stored in his head, remembering it all perfectly, and being able to recite it on command without the aid of the souljam of Knowledge to aid him truly showed just how smart his darling Recluse was…
An electric jolt of magic brought the Sage back to the present, and he looked over the results.
Hmm, this seemed to just be a severe case of the flu…
Odd.
He would need to ask Midnight Vanilla about it when he awoke. In the meantime, however, Blueberry Milk could start preparing some medicine.
Now where did he put that alchemy book…?
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
The Recluse awoke to the sound of gentle humming and bubbles popping.
“Mmm, now just some peppermint reeds, a drop of boysenberry extract…” The… Sage?
Witches, everything in his body hurt. His head, his throat, his limbs, his soul. Not even the floaty, buzzing sensation all over his body could tame the pain.
He inhaled and-
A sudden, aggressive coughing fit overtook him, and tears sprang to his eyes out of both reflex and from the overwhelming pain that burned his throat. The Recluse curled into himself, feeling something slide off of his head and land on the pillow next to him.
The coughs just wouldn’t stop-
Hands were touching him, one rubbing his back and the other gently holding his shoulder to steady him. Someone was softly speaking, though he couldn’t hear what was said over the rattling sounds of his own hacking.
Witches it hurt, it hurt it hurt-
“-ust breathe, my Recluse, you’re okay…” Sage’s voice faded back into focus as the uncontrolled coughing fit died down.
“There you go, see? You’re alright, my dear.”
Soothingly cold thumbs wiped the tears off of his cheeks, and he leaned his head into the contact with a pathetic, hoarse whimper. Much to his delight, the contact grew firmer and a kiss was pressed to his head.
The lips that had been gently pressed to his flushed dough pulled back. “My, you must be quite out of it to let your guard down like this, my Recluse.”
What on Earthbread was he babbling about?
A quiet hum came from above him. “Do you think you can manage some medicine, Songbird? The brew just finished.”
It would be rude not to accept something offered to him, even if all he wanted to do right now was go back to sleep. Midnight Vanilla managed to give a weak nod, and was punished by one of the hands leaving his dough.
Another cracked whimper came from him at the loss, and was not soothed by the fond chuckle that came from Blueberry Milk in the slightest.
Blueberry Milk pulled the Recluse up slightly, just enough to presumably swallow the medicine without being at risk of choking or spilling it. “Just one moment, my darling. Once you drink this, I’ll give you all the cuddles you wish.”
That… wasn’t a bad tradeoff.
A small cup was pressed to his lips, and he opened his mouth. But the liquid inside was foul; sickeningly sweet with a disgusting bitter undertone.
The cup was drawn away from his mouth, but as he went to spit out the horrid concoction that was assaulting his tastebuds, a hand covered his lips.
“Swallow it, Nilla. You’ll feel better if you do.”
With a shiver, he managed to force his throat to open to swallow the revolting potion. Though he instantly regretted that decision when electric pain shot through him with the brushing of the irritated muscle in his esophagus.
He curled in on himself with a quiet cry of pain, leaning into the hand and came up to card through his hair.
“Here, why don’t we do this…” The Recluse was shifted so he was laying against something, and his mind sluggishly realized he was tucked against the Sage.
That would explain why he was warm now, at least, and an absentminded, affectionate coo came from him as he pressed himself impossibly closer.
A strange floaty sort of sleepiness overcame him, and his entire body relaxed with it.
“Go to sleep, my dear. You’ll feel better when you wake, I promise.”
And so he drifted, occasionally halfway awoken by… someone coaxing him to take more of the horrible medication. Every time he felt as though he was able to even partially grasp any sort of actual awareness of the world around him, he would be thrust right back into the inky abyss of unconsciousness.
But then…
“My darling Recluse? My dear, can you sit up for me?”
He groaned, burying his head into the blueberry scented chest in front of him, which rumbled with a quiet laugh.
“Songbird, you won’t get better if you don’t take your medication.”
“Maybe make it taste better then, Sage…” He hoarsely muttered, wings flicking in annoyance behind him.
There was a pause. “Did you… Are you finally back with me, my dear?”
He huffed. “Where else would I be?”
Suddenly, arms wrapped around him and a face was smushed firmly against the top of his own head. “Oh, my Recluse! I was so worried!”
Midnight Vanilla blinked in surprise but wrapped his arms around the Sage regardless. “...Why?”
Much to his displeasure, Blueberry Milk pulled back. When he went to ask why, he stopped as he took in the Sage’s… well… everything.
His boyfriend looked a bit worse for wear. His hair was mussed, dough was slightly paler, and his eyebags looked darker than normal.
“Your fever didn’t break for days. I could barely get you to stay awake long enough to take the potion I brewed and you kept crying…”
“...Crying?”
A nod. “Fever induced nightmares, I assume. No matter what I did, I couldn’t wake you from them. All I could do was just try and at least physically console you.”
He didn’t… remember having any dreams of that sort…
Though in his defense, he couldn’t remember much of anything.
Wait a second.
“Did you say I’ve… been like this for days?”
Another nod. “I’ve never seen a case of the flu this bad, my dear.”
He averted his gaze. “...My apologies.”
An indignant sound came from the Sage. “You have nothing to be sorry for, my love! It’s not like you purposefully made it this bad, right?”
The Recluse grimaced, and he felt Blueberry Milk tense slightly.
“Vanilla.”
Oh Witches…
“Vanilla, what did you do?”
He shrunk on himself slightly. “...I didn’t think it would get this bad.”
“What did you do?”
Midnight Vanilla sighed, closing his eyes to avoid Blueberry Milk’s gaze. “I didn’t want to ruin your lecture by not showing up, but I couldn’t go as I was, so I… I healed myself to mask the symptoms.”
“The healing magic… masked them? Instead of curing you?”
He nodded. “You can’t cure magic-based illnesses. At most, you can mask the symptoms at the cost of feeding more of the magic to the illness, further amplifying its power.”
“...Vanilla.”
The Recluse groaned. “I know, Sage. I know I was foolish and ignorant but you can’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the exact damn same thing!”
It was silent, and the embarrassed anger that had built up all dissipated in the wake of it. Instead, it left him in hot, likely fever fueled, emotional tears.
And that felt worse in his opinion.
Arms slowly wrapped around him again, and a chin was tucked over his shoulder. “...I’m not mad, my dear. I just… I wish you would have let me help you before it got to this point.” The Sage said softly.
He pressed his head into Blueberry Milk’s shoulder, the fabric beneath his eyes growing damp with the tears that just wouldn’t stop coming.
The Sage continued speaking. “You do so much for everyone else. You always have; that’s what made you so beloved by each and every one of your subjects. But you don’t have to do that with me, my Recluse. Just… Please, please try to rely on me a little more, okay? Let me know when you aren’t okay; let me know when you aren’t up for something. We’re a team now; we can overcome everything together, my darling.”
His shoulders shook as he clutched onto the Sage tighter, but relaxed again when his boyfriend rubbed his back slowly. “I love you, my Recluse.”
“...I love you, Sage…”
The hand trailed to his feathers, and a non-fever related shiver shook through him.
“Y’know, your wings haven’t been preened in a few days, have they?”
He shook his head.
“Let me fix that for me, my dear.”
Before he even had time to react, he had already been shifted from his position against the Sage to laying fully on his stomach with his wings spread behind him.
But all of his indignant protests died on his tongue with the first touch to his coverts and he melted into the nest once again.
And as he once again drifted off to the feeling of hands in his feathers and Blueberry Milk’s soft humming behind him, he had the thought that…
Maybe, just maybe, it was okay to let someone take care of him for once.