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James had pushed himself too far again. Doing shit every day shouldn't make him feel dead.
But it does.
Too many train stations, recordings, friend-errands, writing and rewriting and band practices.
So now, obviously, he's in danger of burnout, the last warning sign he knew of was feeling physically unwell.
Which is his current predicament.
He's been sneezing, coughing, his skins been permanently covered in a blanket of sweat and there's been a shadow of green following him all week, slowly engulfing him.
It's been awful.
James has been on the phone with Will almost the whole week.
Everyone Will works with has been making fun of Will for being so worried about a simple cold but he can't help it. He's in a whole other continent for a about two minutes of screen time in a fifty minute main channel video and James is all alone.
Not only all alone, but he's sick and alone.
Will had been more than sympathetic over the phone, but James could handle that because they weren't in the same room.
He could have the camera off, he could mute the really bad coughs or an unattractive nose blow.
It was easy to be pathetic on the phone because he had no expectations of how the next week would go, he could be a bit sad on the phone and it was fine because Will wasn't even in the same country let alone easily accessible to Brighton.
Just like every other bad cold, he'd migrate between each room, live in mounds of tissues, sleep and watch anything mind numbing enough.
There was no way in hell that Will would still like him if he saw James in this state, christ would he even wanna keep dating?
Obviously they've seen each other sick, it's impossible to have known each other near eight years and not but this is early doors in terms of a relationship and James really, really wants them to last.
During a migration from his bedroom to the kitchen for scavenging, James found his head was too floaty and his feet were flying off the ground so he decided the best way to get back on the floor was to curl up and hope gravity would save him.
Meanwhile
Hazy from cold medicine, a substantial lack of REM sleep and the anxiety that comes with feeling unwell, James managed to have a cry in front of Will about how much it "sucks, being unwell. Will I'm miiiisss-er-able it's not fair! I hate being ill I'd rather lose the last five years of my life than EVER be ill again! No one ever does anythin' you just sit alone in your room all day and all night coughing mucus out your lungs-" and continued that rant until he fell asleep mid sentence.
When Will looked up from his phone, he saw his best friends, found family if you will. "No ones taken care of him when he can't? Not even as a kid?"
It truly is a wonder that James is so empathetic, how his instincts override what he was taught socially. If he was never cared for when ill as a kid, then he didn't know why he wanted to make Will feel better, he just did it out of love.
"Fuck it, I'll book you the next flight back."
Will kissed Aby on the cheek as he scuttled away to throw his scattered belongings back in his suitcase, usually he was far more meticulous but there was no time, he'd already been looking at flights last night. Aby's going to suggest the one at five and it's three right now so he's only got an hour and a half to get to the airport, get through security and all that AND get onboard the plane.
As they say; nothings impossible.
Will stomped through the flats car park, all up the stairs to the fourth floor and unlocked James' front door.
"James? Where ya fuckin' hidin'?" Will shouted to the abyss.
He was met with Otto barreling through the doors and crashing into furniture. He was meowing in a panicked manner and circling around himself, trying to lead Will to something?
Will took a deep breath to alleviate some anxiety about not having a verbal response from his boyfriend, before kicking off his shoes and hanging up his coat on the rack.
He followed the cat up the stairs and-
James was passed out on the floor, his limbs all curled up, he looked like a misshapen pretzel.
Otto was circling James, pawing at him and meowing rather loudly.
Will put a hand to James' forehead, feeling for heat. It was a quite warm, his hair was sticky from sweat and he could hear a rattle in James' lungs.
Definitely sick.
Will tried to shuffle James but he just didn't move, like, his skin didn't even twitch at contact.
So Will decided he'd give the flat a clean instead, he'd all but moved in with James at this point so he already knew where all the cleaning appliances were, he found some rubbery gloves and stuck them on to de-tissue-afy each room.
Then he set to work spraying disinfectant everywhere.
He let the rooms absorb some of the spray before opening windows to get rid of the gross smell that follows illnesses.
Going back and forth all around the flat led Will to trip over James a total of six times.
Not even once, did James even flinch at a whole body collapsing on him.
He did wake up eventually, to the smell of soup?
James blinked blearily and slowly untwisted himself, he managed to get three steps in before coughing into his elbow, he looked around himself, confused.
What happened to all his tissues?
Will ran over to him, sliding on his socks and it took James a good two minutes to process what he was seeing.
"Will!"
Will cackled at James' delay and decided to leave his speech of 'you deserve to be taken care of' for later on, when he's feeling better.
"C'mon love, got some soup."
James waddled along to his kitchen "But you can't cook?"
Grinning, Will explained he'd ordered it for delivery in the midst of James' catnap, not that he really processed it, he just nodded sleepily and sneezed again.
After gobbling down two bowls of soup and taking little sips of tea James decided to bite the bullet, his mind was far clearer now that he'd had some sustenance, and he knew Will, nor the suffocating blanket of warmth and comfort, wouldn't be staying.
"So when's your train home?"
What James hadn't anticipated, was Will's side eye of disgust.
"I'm not leaving you alone like this."
James' eyes widened, what the fuck?
"But you'll get sick, you'll- you won't wanna see me in the morning honestly it's at the worst after sleeping an-"
While kissing was off the table right now, Will used two of his fingers to squish James' lips together, he squinted at Will, confused.
"I'm your boyfriend, I'm not gonna fuck off just cause ye'r a bit snotty a'right? I'm far more empathetic than you give me credit for."
James shook his head and Will released his hold "Empathy spreads germs, you can't get sick you're supposed to go to-
Oh
My
God.
You fucking didn't cancel a main channel shoot just because I'm sneezing?!"
"James! That means fucking nowt compared to you, don't be daft! You're sick, I don'' wanna be there. I wanna to help you!"
"But you'll get sick?" James' voice was quieter again, his words dripping in empathy of Will.
Empathy that right now, is worthless.
"James, y'know how much I love your moral values, but I do not care about getting sick, nowhere near as much as you do."
Delirious from fever, James really didn't put up a fight against Will after that and the next two weeks passed in a far more pleasant blur.
Even though he was still coughing up scary green goo every ten minutes and his throat was red and raw, it was fun because Will was so doting!
He made lemon and honey tea about seven times a day, he ran bubble baths, he ordered made fun meals that actually helped him feel better AND film nights EVERY night! Not only does James get to pick the films, Will cuddles him on the sofa! Which was usually reserved for nighttime in bed because too often 'takes away the specialness'
Something James vehemently disagrees with.
But maybe Will's right because James had never felt so entirely loved in his life.
When he was finally feeling better, Will helped him do a deep clean of the flat because it made James feel better.
That was it, that was the only reason and Will helped him anyway.
He doesn't even lightly clean his own place and yet he was more than happy to help deep clean James'.