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Their date was supposed to be today. Alfred had even booked a nice restaurant with help from his forever-working busy mother, and made sure to pick out a nice outfit from his messy wardrobe.
The plan was to meet at 7, have dinner, go on a walk and have ice cream. Then, him and Arthur would go over to Alfred’s place to have a movie marathon, and maybe do something more than exciting than what a horror film could make you feel. This was all to celebrate their first year together, and high school graduation.
But all of that was ruined as Alfred sat on his bed, around his room messy room full of clean and dirty clothes, and things scattered around, having a tissue box close by his side and quietly dialing a number.
Their date plan was crushed.
“Hello?” The familiar British boy’s voice cracked through the phone.
“Uh… Hey Arthur,” Alfred whispered hoarsely. Before Alfred could say anything more, Arthur knew there was something wrong.
“What’s wrong? Alfred, are you okay?” Arthur interrupted. Concern was clearly laced in his voice.
“No,” Alfred sighed, shaking his head a little. The action suddenly gave way to a rush of dizziness, and he started to cough. “I’m not okay. Artie, I’m sorry. I’m gonna’ have to cancel on our date. I’m sick.”
A pause, just a beat of silence which was followed by an intake of breath. Alfred couldn’t decide if Arthur was feeling disappointed or not. He probably was. They had been planning this for two weeks now, along with studying for finals together.
Arthur said, “No, it’s okay Al. How sick are you?” He was quick to the point.
“I think I have a fever, or just a really bad—“ Alfred paused, taking a moment to hack up some flem rising in his throat. “—Cold.” He finished.
“That’s too bad, I hope you feel better. Do you want me to come over? We could still do something if you wanted—like go on Netflix! Or we could read or play video games.” Arthur asked. “Is your mum home?”
Alfred could swear Arthur seemed to sound nervous. But why he’d be nervous, he didn’t know. It wasn’t like the two of them hadn’t been sick before.
Alfred lay down, his pillow engulfing his head. Although he really wanted to see Arthur, all Alfred could think to do right was sleep.
He felt awful.
“No, she’s not. Sorry Arthur, but I don’t think I’m up for really seeing anybody right now. I just feel really exhausted. Plus,” Alfred added, closing his watering eyes, “I don’t wanna’ get yah sick.”
“Oh, well, okay then,” Arthur replied awkwardly. “Just give me a text, o-or a call when you’re feeling better, alright?” Arthur always thought calling was faster than texting.
“Yeah, I will,” Alfred said tiredly. He hung up after that—feeling too sick for goodbyes, and pulled the covers up. He hoped that hanging up on Arthur hadn’t been too rude.
Alfred awoke to a cool feeling on his forehead. He slowly noticed that a washcloth was resting lightly on his head. As he became more aware of his surroundings, Alfred saw not his mother sitting next to him on his bed, but Arthur.
“Arthur…?” Alfred breathed, sitting up. Feeling a little bit dizzy, he squeezed his eyes shut. “What are you doing here? I don wan ya ta’ get sick.” He slurred.
When Arthur didn’t answer, Alfred opened his eyes. Was he hallucinating? But no, there was Arthur.
The light blond was leaning against Alfred’s extra pillow behind his back. After a couple of seconds staring, Alfred realized that Arthur was sleeping. In his boyfriend’s lap rested his embroidery kit, and on the bedside table beside Arthur was a bowl of washcloths in it.
Suddenly feeling the urge of needing to go to the bathroom, Alfred shakily crawled past Arthur and walked away on wobbly legs.
Hearing the toilet’s flush, Arthur’s eyes flew open. He looked around, and realized that Alfred wasn’t lying down. Sighing, he got up, and as Alfred stepped back into his small cramped room, bumped into him.
“Hey Arthur,” Alfred rasped with a smile on his face. “What’re you doing here?”
“I’m here because your sick, your mum’s not home, and I know you just don’t take good care of yourself even when you try,” Arthur sighed. “Also, tonight was supposed to be our night. I’m going back to England soon… I want to be with you these last few weeks I’m here, even if you are sick.”
Alfred felt butterflies in his stomach. He had ‘forgotten’, or tried to forget that his boyfriend would be leaving him. He was even more upset that Arthur wasn’t going to be staying over the summer—preferring to move when his family did.
“Yeah, but…” Alfred tried again. “You’ll get sick too then, and you need to help pack right?” He rubbed his eyes.
“Enough about me, unless you don’t want me here you tosser,” Arthur muttered. He crossed his arms.
Alfred only nodded in reply, and then decided to crawl back under the sheets of his new bed. Arthur followed, and pretty soon Alfred found his head situated on Arthur’s lap.
“So how are you feeling now? Still bad?” Arthur asked after some silence.
“Yeah, a bit worse than bad though.” Alfred answered, closing his eyes. He felt Arthur place another cold washcloth on his forehead. “By the way, how’d you get in?”
“You told me where the spare key was, nitwit.” Arthur said, rolling his eyes.
Arthur looked down at Alfred’s flushed face and smiled. Then he bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead. He started to comb through Alfred’s wheat colored locks.
Just as Alfred about to drift away into dreamland, he heard Arthur whisper, “Night, Al.”
In the end, they played video games all night after Alfred felt better,