Hi Could You Write Something Where A Has Been Hiding Sickness For A While Now, But Suddenly B Got Sick

Hi could you write something where A has been hiding sickness for a while now, but suddenly B got sick as well (maybe got it from A) and everyone else are too busy so they ask A to take care of B not knowing A is worse off? Maybe A even gave up some comfort items or the last meds for B?

just a disclaimer that this is all in good fun and not actually recommended treatment for the following illness - I just wrote purely from vibes lol 😆

A suppresses another cough in the corner of their elbow, disguising it as a clear of their throat. They’ve definitely felt off for the past week or so - deep aches and chills all the way to their bones, a constant cough, and the desire to just stay curled up in bed - but they’re not going to tell anyone that.

Instead, they pull on a sweatshirt and head down to the kitchen to make themselves a cup of tea to ease their shivers, praying that today is the day they finally take a turn for the better.

“Hey, have you seen the hot water bottle anywhere?” C bursts into the room, eyes searching urgently, just as A takes their first sip.

“Um…yeah, it’s in my room.” And it’s been my constant companion for the last two nights because I ache all over and can’t get warm for anything. “Why?”

“B woke up not feeling great, so I was gonna grab it and give it to them. You’re good if I take it?”

“…Sure.” A rolls their shoulders, rubbing their aching joints and trying to stretch out their sore muscles. They’ll take a hot bath later, then.

“Thanks,” C says, darting back out of the room, then suddenly poking their head back in. “Hey, A?”

“Hmm?”

“Listen, I’ve got a bunch of errands to run today and a work meeting I’ve got to go into the office for, and D’s working later at the hospital, so do you think you could look after B?”

A shrugs, clearing their throat. “Sure.” If C’s asking them, then B must be much worse off than them - so they owe it to them to suck it up and help out.

After they finish their tea, they head upstairs to B’s room. B’s curled up in bed reading a book, hot water bottle laying on their stomach.

“How’re you feeling, B?” Despite not feeling well themselves, A has to admit that B looks a little wan and peaked.

B sets the book down, coughing into their elbow. “I’m okay. Just a fever, aches, that sort of thing.” Their voice is scratchy, but they’re clear-eyed and alert.

Same as them a few days ago, then. Guilt washes over A - if they’d have just confessed to being sick, they could’ve isolated and B would be okay. This is all my fault. “Well, can I get you anything?” They try to brighten their voice, but overdo it and it just comes out sounding forced.

But if B notices, they don’t let on. “Maybe….some cough medicine? It’s all in my chest, and coughing hurts.” They rub their breastbone with a wince, pulling the hot water bottle over their chest.

“On it.” A shuffles off to the bathroom, pulling the brown bottle they know all too well from the medicine cabinet. There’s only a little left, but they don’t even give it a second thought - B needs it more, and they can text C to grab more while they’re out. Their hands tremble as they pour the remainder of thick liquid into the little cup, and they squeeze their eyes shut to try and stop shaking. Come on, A. Get it together.

By the time A sets the dose of cough medicine on the nightstand, their vision’s swirling in their eyes. Even walking to the bathroom was exhausting.

“A, are you alright?” B sits up in bed, eyebrows furrowed as they pick up the dose and knock it back. “You’re really pale.”

“I’m…I’m fine.” A sudden shudder rattles their teeth and they lean on B’s bed for stability. Despite their layers, their whole body’s just gone ice cold, a sheen of cold sweat and goosebumps covering their body. They tilt toward the bed and lean heavily against the mattress, bracing themselves with both their arms, suddenly finding it hard to take a full breath between the deep, painful coughs.

“A, I’m serious, are you sure you’re…”

But A doesn’t hear the rest as their knees slip, and they’re falling down, down…..

“A. Wake up. Come on, now.” B’s raspy voice cuts through the haze, commanding with an edge of fear. They’re out of bed and on the floor with them, looking just as shaken as A feels. “Get up. Please.”

A blinks awake, immediately aware that B’s at their side, tugging at their sweatshirt, trying to lift them off the floor.

“A. Get in bed. Now.” B’s voice is someone between stern and on the verge of tears. A’s so spent that they can’t even respond verbally, so as B half-lifts them with their remaining strength, A claws at the comforter to pull themselves up, up, until they tip onto the covers in a heap next to B. They cough deeply, the effort burning in their chest, and moan slightly. In a minute, they’ll get up and care for B.

“A….are you sick too?” B’s crackly voice sounds small and scared, and A wishes that they could spare them from this.

I should’ve said something. This is my fault. I’m sorry.

But a sob is the only thing that can escape their lips as they nod. They’ve been trying and trying so hard not to bother anyone with this, and now they’re collapsing in front of the only other sick person in the house.

“God, A, why didn’t you say something?” The words are angry, but A can hear the tremble in B’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” A weeps. “I just didn’t know what to say.”

“Hey, hey, you’re alright. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.” B clears their throat, resting a hand on A’s shoulder. “You’re just scaring me, is all. Tell me what’s up.”

“I’m so cold,” A chatters weakly, hugging themselves. That’s all they can get out, anyways. In reality, they’re feverish and cold to the bone, shivering from head to toe, and their chest is on fire. They’ve barely done anything and yet they can’t catch their breath, and the air feels thick and heavy when they breathe.

B hurriedly covers them with a blanket, pulling them close and rubbing their shoulders, pressing the hot water bottle to their chest. A clings to it like a lifeline against their sore chest, but the chills still course through their body. Nothing warms them - they’re slowly freezing from the inside out, even though they can feel their head and joints burning with fever.

The next hours (or days - A’s lost all sense of time) are an absolute blur. They’re aware of a voice shouting, thought they sound like they’re underwater, even though there’re right next to them. Hands tug at their clothing, pulling off their sweatshirt, and in their fevered dreams, vultures peck away at them, and they’re unable to fight off the vicious birds. Cold, damp rags are laid across their forehead and over their chest and stomach, and to them, they’re trapped in the deepest ocean, and seaweed wraps around them and chokes the life out of them.

And the shakes - god, the shakes are unlike anything they’ve ever felt. Great, rolling earthquakes of chills from their core that rattle their bones and teeth so hard they’re scared they’ll break. At times, it seems the only thing keeping them together is the warm arms that hold them tight and the gentle whisper of comforting words in their ear.

When A surfaces from the dark hell they’ve been trapped in, they realize they’re still in B’s bed, covered in piles of blankets. D hovers next to them, fiddling with a small orange bottle, and the night table has been filled with all sorts of medical paraphernalia - medicine bottles, a nebulizer, a stethoscope and box of tissues. Perks of living with a doctor, they think, but they’re too drained to poke fun at B about it.

They’re acutely aware of feeling worse than they had earlier. Everything aches - their arms, their legs, their back and shoulders, especially their chest, and even shifting in bed is painful. Not to mention that they’re still freezing, and they can’t take a deep breath.

“What….happened?” They rasp, coughing between each word.

“Hon, you’ve got pneumonia.” D slides onto the bed next to them, pushing A’s hair back off their forehead to feel their fever. “How long were you feeling this bad?”

A shrugs. “Couple days.” D gives them a pointed look, but doesn’t push further. Instead, they pop open the small bottle and tap two pills into their hand.

“Take these,” D says. “B called me at the hospital freaking out, and we were able to chat with the doctors and get some antibiotics to pump into you for the next few days.”

A’s too tired to respond to that, so they just oblige as D slips the bitter medicine under their tongue, then props their head up so they can sip some water to chase them. As they sit up, the blankets slip from their shoulders and allow the cool air of the room underneath, setting off another round of shivers that send them clutching at the covers. D hurriedly tucks A back in, gently rubbing at their shoulders.

“Shhhh, you’re alright. You’re okay.” The chills seize their body for what feels like an hour, but finally, A stops shivering enough to ask the question on their brain.

“B, how’s B?”

“Fine. We still think they’ve got a bad cold, but they shouldn’t get nearly as bad as you if we take care of them.” D smiles sadly, gazing up at the ceiling. “They’re in your room - we didn’t want to move you.”

As if on cue, B pokes their head in the door, blanket wrapped around their shoulders. A’s awake enough to see them lean against the door, exhausted from their own illness.

“B, I thought I told you to stay-“

“Is A okay?” B asks it in that crackly, worn out voice of theirs.

D glances back at A. “Still pretty sick. But we’ve got some medicine in them now. Once C gets back with the rest of the prescription, I think we’ll be out of the woods.”

B nods, coughing into their own elbow. “Sorry you’re sick, A.”

A nods, stifling a coughing fit of their own, cinching the covers up to their chin. In that moment, B darts back into the room, carefully settling on the bed next to A while D’a back is turned. When D sees it, they exhale and roll their eyes at B’s clinginess. “B, you need rest. Go back to-“

“Can’t I stay here? Just for a little bit?” B’s voice is pleading, and they nestle closer and rest their head ever so gently near A’s stomach.

D finally relents. “A few minutes. But only until their nebulizer treatment’s done. You push it, and you’ll end up like A here.”

B nods, sneaking under one of A’s many blankets and wrapping an arm around A’s waist. D fiddles with something on the nightstand and turns around with the mask of the nebulizer in their hand, then gently eases it over A’s face.

“There. That’ll help your breathing a bit.” D rubs their hands together and surveys the room, and with every breath of the medicine A wants nothing more than to throw their arms around D and thank them for helping them be able to breathe better. But D leaves to go get something else, and B curls closer, pressing themselves into A’s side like they’re scared they’ll fade away.

“Don’t you ever sacrifice yourself like that again, okay?” B’s voice is shaky, and they gently rub A’s side.

A nods weakly, letting their tired eyes fall shut. They wish they could pull B close, but they can’t bring themselves to pull their arms out from under the warmth of the covers. So instead, they just roll toward B and hope they get the message. And from the way B hugs them tighter, A thinks they do.