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This is not how Raffy wants to be spending his vacation. His nose is stuffy, he has a fever, and he’s spent far too long in bed. Alone.
He shifts, the sheets of the bed tangled around his legs. He kicks weakly, trying to free himself—he has to pee and he has to pee right now.
“Hey, hey. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” Raffy’s voice comes from the bedroom door as he walks into the room carrying a tray of various food and what looks like medication.
“It’s eating me alive,” Raffy says, gesturing at the knot of sheets.
“The bed is eating you alive?” There’s a smile on Rome’s face and his eyebrow is raised in that way of his, the one that tells Raffy he’s being silly.
“Tell me it’s not.” He gives another weak kick, body heavy and tired.
“I would never,” Rome says, placing the tray on the bedside table. “Can I help you defeat the sheets?”
Raffy nods, sniffling. “Please.”
Smile only growing wider, Rome makes quick work of the devious sheets, untwining them from Raffy’s legs. Raffy stays still, watching Rome as he works; just watching not admiring—he’s not a simp.
(He is, but he’ll never admit it.)
“Is that better?” Rome’s voice is closer now. He’s standing at the head of the bed, leaning close to put a hand on Raffy’s forehead.
Raffy hums, content. “Bet-ter,” he pronounces, eyes falling closed. He feels like there’s something he’s forgetting, but his head is too heavy to sift through right now.
“You need to eat something, Raffy.”
There’s rustling from next to him and Raffy frowns. “Ew.”
“Ew eating?”
“Ew… ew.” He opens one eye to watch Rome uncover a bowl of rice and put a couple pills next to it.
“Mhm, yes. So eloquently put, baby.”
“I just… I’m so tired.” There’s more he wants to say, but his tongue is thick and uncooperative.
“I know.”
“And bedridden.” That’s an important detail, too.
“I know.”
“And the sheets.” Raffy pouts.
“Why exactly were you fighting with the sheets?”
“Because…” Rome pauses. He can’t remember. “Hmm.”
“Okay, well while we ponder that, why don’t we take some meds and eat some rice?”
The sound of water being poured into a glass awakens something in Raffy’s mind.
“Pee!”
Rome blinks at him. “What?”
“I was fighting with the sheets because I have to pee!” Raffy exclaims, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
He goes to stand, his knees weak and legs shaky. Uh oh.
Rome grabs at him, abandoning the pills and rice. “Whoa, okay, let me help you.”
Raffy takes Rome’s arm, feeling silly and fever drunk.
“You barely bested the sheets, let’s not attempt to fight gravity, too.” Rome’s voice is so fond, Raffy’s heart warms with it.
“You’re so good to me,” Raffy mumbles, leaning into Rome’s warmth. “I think I love you.”
“Well, I happen to know you know you love me, actually.”
Rome smiles. “Yeah, I do.”