It wasn't the silence that woke him it was the heat. Sticky, pulsing heat clinging to his skin like a second layer. He blinked slowly, breath heavy, damp strands of hair curling against his forehead. His pillow was soaked. So was his shirt. He sat up, breath catching, and for a split second, he didn't know where he was. Then the dull ache in his skull reminded him. His whole body ached like he'd been hit by a truck. Muscles sore, throat raw, the light from his window too damn bright. Sweat clung to him like guilt.
"What the hell…" he muttered, dragging a hand over his face.
He had to get ready for school.
Getting dressed felt like fighting gravity. He peeled off his damp shirt and threw on a loose black hoodie something soft, something that hid the tremble in his hands. The cold floor against his feet made him shiver, but it didn't help the heat crawling under his skin. Everything felt loud. His heartbeat. The ticking of the clock. The weight in his chest.
Still, he showed up to school.
Because Axel didn't miss school. Not anymore. Not when people were finally starting to treat him like he belonged. Not when things with Noah were… whatever they were.
By second period, his legs felt like they were filled with sand. He was quieter than usual. Which, for Axel, meant really quiet. No teasing. No subtle smirks. Just stares into the desk, a wince here and there, and too many slow, deep breaths. By third period, his hoodie was sticking to him, and he felt cold despite the sweat under it.
Jasmine noticed first.
"Yo." She leaned toward him, squinting like he was a suspicious drink order. "Why you look like you just wrestled the flu demon?"
"I'm fine," he mumbled.
"You look like sh*t."
"Thanks," Axel croaked.
She narrowed her eyes. "You need to go home."
"No."
He said it too fast. Too sharply. Like a reflex.
Javier, sliding into the seat beside them, raised a brow. "You good, dude? You look like a Victorian child who's about to cough dramatically into a handkerchief."
Axel snorted, but it turned into a cough. A nasty, chest-deep cough that made him double over a little.
Jasmine placed a hand on his back. "Nope. No. Go home, Axel. Go. Home."
"I said I'm fine—"
"Axel?"
It was Noah's voice.
Axel turned his head slowly.
Noah stood just behind him, arms crossed, eyes scanning him like he was studying an ancient text. Concern carved into every line of his face. His brows furrowed deeper the longer he looked.
"Axel," he said softly, "you look like you're about to pass out."
Axel tried to smirk. "Thanks, I'm going for the undead look."
Noah didn't laugh.
"Come with me," he said, voice low, serious.
"Where?"
"The nurse. Or out of here. You need to go home."
Axel hesitated.
Then Noah added, quieter, "Please."
Axel didn't remember walking out of the building. Just that one moment he was in class, and the next, Noah's hand was on the small of his back, guiding him through the crowd like he was something fragile. His vision blurred every few steps.
Noah got him into a cab.
And still, he didn't leave Axel alone.
Axel woke up hours later in his bed, shirt clinging to his body again, but this time from fever dreams. The room was spinning a little. His throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper. He groaned and turned over, barely able to process anything until—
Knock knock.
He blinked.
Then the door creaked open, slowly, and Noah stepped in holding a small paper bag and a half-smile.
"You left your front door unlocked," he said, like that was a normal thing.
Axel squinted. "Why are you here?"
"You didn't answer my texts. So I brought cookies."
Axel blinked again.
Noah walked over, placed the bag on the nightstand, then sat down beside the bed. Not too close. Just enough.
"They're still warm," he said softly. "I made them."
"You baked?" Axel croaked, disbelieving.
Noah smirked. "I can do things. I'm multi-talented. Oh—"he reached into his hoodie pocket, pulling out a small blister pack, "—and I brought you some fever pills. You're clearly not taking care of yourself."
Axel eyed them. "Trying to drug me now?"
"Trying to make sure you don't keel over," Noah corrected, handing them to him with a bottle of water from the bag.
Axel stared at him. "Why did you really come?"
Noah met his eyes.
"You looked like hell earlier," he said honestly. "And I didn't want you to be alone."
That hit Axel somewhere he couldn't name.
They sat in silence for a moment.
Noah handed him a cookie. Axel bit into it. It was warm. Soft. Sweet.
And suddenly, he felt like crying.
Not because of the cookie. But because someone noticed. Someone cared enough to come check. To bake. To sit beside him when he looked like sh*t and felt worse. And, apparently, to make sure he actually took the pills. Noah reached out, brushing Axel's sweaty bangs back from his forehead. His touch was cool. Gentle. Axel closed his eyes.
"You're burning up," Noah whispered.
"No sh*t, Sherlock."
They both chuckled quietly. Then their eyes met again.
Noah didn't move.
Axel didn't either.
The air between them shifted thick with something unspoken. Noah's gaze dropped briefly to Axel's mouth. Axel's breath hitched.
But then…
Noah stood.
"I should go," he said quietly. "Before you infect me."
"Too late," Axel said without thinking.
Noah paused in the doorway, turning back.
"Hm?"
Axel swallowed. "You've already kinda gotten under my skin."
Noah's face changed just slightly. Like his whole chest had taken a breath.
"I'll text you when I get home," he said. "Eat the cookies. And take the pills. Both of them. It's part of the treatment plan.""
Axel smirked, weakly. "Bossy."
"You like that."
And then he left.
Axel stared at the door after it shut.
Then at the cookies.
Then at the pills.
Then at the ceiling.
His body ached.
His heart did, too.
But a small part of him… felt warm. Not from the fever.
From Noah.