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Kaelix didn’t get sick.
Or at least, that’s what he always told the others—half because it was mostly true, and half because he didn’t want to make a fuss. He could tough out headaches, sore throats, long nights, skipped meals. He always had.
But today, the lie gave out.
His whole body felt like it had been swapped for someone else’s. Someone drowning in sludge. Hot and sweaty, muscles aching as if he’d run ten miles in his sleep. His throat was raw. Even blinking felt like a chore. As much as he liked the feeling of a fever, the faint buzz of warmth and getting to sleep in, this was not included in the criteria.
When he tried to sit up, a warm hand gently pressed against his shoulder.
“Easy,” Zeal murmured, perched on the edge of the bed, his voice quiet in the morning hush. “You’re burning up, Kaelix.”
Kaelix groaned, blinking blearily at him. Zeal’s hair was a little mussed, like he hadn’t slept much either, and he wore one of Kaelix’s sweatshirts—baggy, pale blue, sleeves pushed up. Kaelix didn’t remember him coming in. He didn’t remember much, actually.
“I’m fine,” he rasped, and immediately regretted it. His voice sounded like gravel and regret.
Zeal just shook his head and dipped a cloth into a bowl of cool water sitting on the nightstand. “You’re not. You’ve been out of it since early morning. Seible found you curled up on the couch shivering.”
Kaelix groaned and turned his face away. “I didn’t wanna wake anyone up.”
“You scared the hell out of us, darling.” Zeal’s voice stayed soft, but there was a tightness to it now. “You never ask for help. You just keep it in, even when you need it most.”
Before Kaelix could form a reply, the bedroom door swung open.
“I come bearing soup and a grave warning not to underestimate tofu again,” came Freo’s voice—light and calm, a pleasing contrast for how heavy Kaelix felt, almost a relief.
He stepped inside balancing a bowl of steaming soup, a mug of something pale, and a handful of crackers wrapped in a napkin. His hair was neatly taken care of, clearly haven woken up long ago, and he wore a hoodie, sleeves stained with a splash of miso broth.
“I did not underestimate tofu,” came Seible’s voice from behind him, clearly exasperated. “You tried to shape it into tiny cat faces. While it was boiling.”
“And it worked,” Freo said, undeterred, as he set the previously mentioned appliances on the nightstand.
Kaelix watched from his pillow, dazed and exhausted, but a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He reached for the soup and faltered—his arms felt like they were made of lead. Zeal caught the bowl before it could tip.
“I’ve got it,” he said, sliding in beside him and helping Kaelix sit upright, careful and slow. He spooned up a small bite and blew on it before holding it out. “Open.”
Kaelix stared at him, groggy and vaguely embarrassed, a tell-tale pout forming on his face.
“Zeal…”
“I’m not above spoon-feeding,” Zeal said flatly. “Don’t test me.”
Seible snorted. Freo just shook his head and sat on Kaelix’s other side, tucking a blanket more securely around his waist and checking his forehead.
“Still hot,” he muttered. “But no worse.”
“I hate this,” Kaelix whispered, once he swallowed a spoonful. “Being useless.”
“You’re not useless,” Seible said immediately.
“I’m literally lying in bed while you guys cook and dote on me like I’m—”
“—someone we love?” Freo said, smiling gently now. “Because that’s what you are.”
Kaelix looked down. The warmth spreading through his chest wasn’t from the fever this time. His voice cracked slightly. “I don’t deserve you.”
Zeal froze. Seible sighed and leaned into Kaelix, arm curling behind his back. Freo, without missing a beat, moved closer and kissed his forehead—just barely, just gently.
“Kaelix,” Freo said, more serious now. “You deserve softness, love, care. That’s not something you earn or prove. It’s yours. Because we love you.”
Kaelix’s eyes burned. “I’m… not easy to deal with. I know I can be loud. I—I’m not good at being soft back. I feel like all I do is take.”
“We don’t need you to be perfect,” Zeal said, voice low and steady. “We need you to let us in.”
“Exactly,” Seible murmured. “And letting people care for you isn’t weakness, Kae-chan. It’s trust.”
Kaelix blinked quickly, trying to keep the tears in. He leaned a little more heavily into Zeal’s shoulder, and Zeal shifted to make it easier, letting Kaelix rest against him fully. Seible took the bowl of soup and fed him the next bite without a word.
“See?” Seible grinned. “This is teamwork. Gin-chan warms you up, I feed you, Furi…provides top-tier tofu cat pieces.”
Kaelix laughed—choked and watery, but a laugh nonetheless. “I love you guys.”
Freo leaned forward again and kissed his cheek. “We know. And we love you too. Now let us take care of you for once.”
Kaelix didn’t fight it this time. He let them tuck the blankets tighter, let Zeal guide him to drink the herbal tea, let Seible fluff his pillow and brush his bangs off his face. For once, he didn’t try to do everything alone.
For once, he let himself feel held without regret.
Somewhere between the last sip of tea and the warmth of Seible’s hand stroking down his back, Kaelix drifted off again. It wasn’t deep sleep—not with the fever still buzzing faintly in his skull—but it was soft. Safe. The kind of sleep that came from feeling allowed to rest.
He barely noticed when someone left the bed. Or when someone else pulled the blankets back with careful hands.
“Kael,” Zeal’s voice murmured, close to his ear. “Hey, sweetheart. You’re sweaty. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”
Kaelix stirred, eyes slitting open. The room was still dim, but there was a fresh towel folded in Zeal’s arms and the faint scent of soap clinging to his hoodie.
“‘M gross,” Kaelix mumbled, voice rasping again. “Don’t need to.”
“You’re not gross. You’re just sick,” Zeal said, pressing a cool kiss to his temple. “I already ran a warm bath. I’ll help you in and out, and we’ll be done in ten minutes. You’ll feel better after.”
Kaelix wanted to argue. Of course he did. He didn’t want to be seen as weak, even by the people he loved. But when Zeal offered his hands, Kaelix found himself reaching for them.
The fever had softened his pride. Just enough… Plus what other time would he get his darling barista to dote on him so lovingly?
Zeal helped him up slowly, moving like Kaelix was made of paper. His knees buckled at first, and Zeal caught him immediately, tucking an arm around his waist.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Kaelix breathed. “Just dizzy.”
“Lean on me.”
They made it down the hall in quiet steps. The apartment was peaceful, the faint smell of simmering broth drifting from the kitchen. The bathroom was already prepared—dim lighting, clean towels, a soft shirt laid out on the counter, and warm water waiting in the tub. Steam curled gently from its surface.
Zeal helped him undress without a word. Although quiet was usually unnerving to Kaelix, this was okay. This type of quiet was better than the rest. Just soft fingers unbuttoning his shirt, gentle knuckles brushing skin, the occasional low, steady “Okay?” to make sure he wasn’t overdoing it.
Kaelix’s cheeks burned hotter than the fever when he was bare, arms wrapped loosely around himself.
“You don’t have to look after me like this,” he whispered. “It’s too much.”
Zeal met his eyes, steady and unshaken. “I love you. This is part of that.”
When Kaelix said nothing, Zeal leaned in, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.
“Get in. I’ll wash your hair.”
The tub was a balm—warm, perfectly so, just deep enough to soak without drowning him in heat. Zeal knelt beside him, sleeves rolled up, and dipped a pitcher into the water. Slowly, he poured it over Kaelix’s head, soaking the strands. Then, with a gentleness Kaelix still didn’t know how to handle, Zeal worked in shampoo with slow circles of his fingers.
The motion lulled him. He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the edge of the tub, eyes fluttering half-shut as Zeal moved from scalp to neck, thumbs pressing delicately behind his ears.
“You don’t need to do all this,” Kaelix mumbled again, dazed.
“You keep saying that,” Zeal said, tone soft but firm, “but love doesn’t have a bar you have to clear before you’re allowed to receive it. You’re sick. We’re helping. That’s it.”
“Even if I don’t always know how to show it back?”
Zeal smiled, rinsing his hair gently. “You show it. When you bring Freo tea before his streams. When you stay up waiting for Seible to get home even though you pretend to be asleep on the couch. When you notice I’m shutting down and start telling me the weirdest things to make me laugh. You show it, Kaelix. Every day.”
Kaelix went still. Water dripped from his bangs, cheeks flushed for more than one reason. He didn’t speak again until Zeal pulled the drain plug and helped him out, towel already in hand.
Zeal wrapped him up in it like something precious.
By the time Kaelix was dry and dressed in the clean shirt, he felt like a person again. Frail, yes, but real.
Zeal kissed his forehead and guided him back to bed.
“You want me to stay, or should I go check on the others?” he asked, settling Kaelix against the pillows.
“…Stay,” Kaelix whispered. “Please.”
Zeal smiled and climbed in beside him, arm looping protectively around his waist.
Meanwhile, the kitchen was filled with quiet clinking, broth simmering in a pot, and soft music playing on a nearby phone speaker.
Freo stood in front of the stove, his hair slightly wild from the steam of being in front of the stove for half the day, flipping thin slices of tofu in a pan while Seible chopped scallions at the counter. The tension had eased a bit now that Kaelix was resting again, but Freo’s brow still pinched with residual worry.
“He looked so weak in bed,” he murmured. “I hate seeing him like this.”
“I know,” Seible said quietly. “He always acts like he’s fine. Until he crashes.”
Freo turned the burner down and leaned his weight into the counter, arms crossed.
“I just… want him to let us love him without acting like it’s a burden.”
“He will,” Seible replied, glancing up. “It’s not easy for him. But I think today’s helping. You should’ve seen the way he smiled when I fed him soup earlier.”
Freo flushed a little, lips curling into a tiny smile. “He’s cute when he’s too sick to be smug or tease.”
“He’s cute all the time, it’s that pathetic look he gets.” Seible said without hesitation.
Freo looked at him, eyes soft.
“Are you sure you just aren’t into pathetic men?”
Seible stepped closer, and Freo met him halfway in a kiss—tired, yet teasing.
“Don’t start projecting on me now.”
“Thanks for chopping the scallions,” Freo whispered against his lips.
“Thanks for not setting the tofu on fire,” Seible murmured back.
They both snorted and leaned into each other for a long moment. For now, Kaelix was warm, clean, and held. Zeal had him. And they had each other.
Frankly, Kaelix didn’t dream much when he was sick.
Just vague feelings—soft warmth, the echo of a touch on his forehead, the scent of someone he loved in the pillows. The kind of sleep where the world fades out but love stays pressed around him like cotton.
When he stirred awake again, it was slow, drowsy. The world came back in fragments.
The sheets smelled faintly of citrus—Zeal. One arm was draped across his waist. A second later, he realized it wasn’t just Zeal’s arm—it was Zeal, half-curled against him under the blankets, still awake, scrolling quietly through his phone with his free hand.
“Mmn,” Kaelix mumbled.
Zeal immediately looked over. “Hey,” he whispered, brushing hair from Kaelix’s face. “Still okay?”
Kaelix nodded slowly, eyes half-lidded. His fever was still humming gently through his skin—warm, pulsing behind his eyes and along the curve of his spine—but… it didn’t feel bad. Not right now.
Actually, he liked this part. The way his limbs felt heavy and warm, the slowness of everything. The way he could let go of control without guilt.
He liked being taken care of like this. He’d never admit it out loud except for that time for the uno batsu—but the tightness in his chest always eased when he felt so soft and needed.
“I feel like soup,” he croaked.
Zeal blinked. “Like you want soup?”
“No,” Kaelix said, letting his eyes fall shut again, voice faintly teasing. “Like I am soup. Soft, liquid, edible.”
Zeal laughed quietly, his hand pressing against Kaelix’s hip under the blankets.
“You’re not edible,” he said, but he didn’t scold. “But if you were soup, you’d be like… a tomato bisque. Fancy. Too rich for my palate.”
Kaelix let out a little laugh and reached to tug Zeal’s hoodie closer.
Then there was the sound of steps in the hallway and the door creaked open.
“You guys up?” Freo’s voice called gently. “I brought snacks and more water.”
“Come in,” Zeal said, sitting up slightly.
Kaelix cracked one eye open. Freo padded in with a tray. He was dressed down now, just a worn black t-shirt and soft gray lounge pants. Behind him, Seible followed with a full pitcher of water and a container of sliced fruit.
“Hi, Kaelix,” Freo said as he crouched beside the bed. “You awake enough for a snack, or still floating in your head?”
Kaelix looked at him. Freo’s eyes were bright, but tired around the edges. Concern still lingered in the way he knelt close, watching every breath Kaelix took like it might vanish.
Kaelix whispered, “My head isn’t the worst.”
Freo paused. Silent.
“Kind of,” Kaelix admitted.
He expected a lecture. Or a sharp word. But all he got was a small smile, warm and indulgent.
“I get that,” Freo murmured. “You don’t let yourself slow down unless your body forces you to. So if being sick gives you permission to rest… that’s not weird.”
Kaelix blinked. Something in his chest cracked open a little more.
Seible came to sit at the foot of the bed, quietly pouring him a glass of water. “Still,” he said, “you could just ask for rest next time. We’d say yes.”
Kaelix didn’t answer, but he accepted the water.
Zeal shifted aside to make space as Freo crawled up into the bed next, settling against Kaelix’s other side with the same practiced ease of someone who knew exactly where he fit. He slipped his arm behind Kaelix’s shoulders, letting him lean against his chest.
“Okay,” Freo said, combing fingers gently through his curls. “Let me guess. Still feeling woozy? Joints aching? Slightly limp, like overcooked noodles?”
“Exactly,” Kaelix muttered. “Soup. Noodles. A sick mess.”
“A lovable sick mess,” Freo corrected. “Ours.”
Kaelix swallowed around the sudden warmth in his throat. Then Zeal reached down, tugged the edge of the blankets up over his shoulder again, and Seible leaned forward from the foot of the bed, brushing his ankle under the covers.
It wasn’t a pile-up, not exactly. It was careful, considerate. But they were all there—Seible at his feet, Freo behind his shoulders, Zeal tucked along his other side.
He felt surrounded in the best way.
“I think you like this more than you admit,” Freo said after a moment, teasing again. “Being doted on. Warm bed. Three partners within arm’s reach. Soup privileges.”
“…Maybe,” Kaelix muttered.
“It’s okay,” Zeal said, a husky tone underlying his voice. “You don’t have to fight it.”
There was silence for a little while. Kaelix’s breathing evened out. He felt full in a way that had nothing to do with food. Warm in ways that had nothing to do with fever.
“Can we all sleep here tonight?” he mumbled.
“Already planned to,” Seible said, pulling another blanket from the end of the bed. “We’re not leaving you alone.”
Freo leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “You’re stuck with us.”
Zeal’s voice hummed low beside his ear. “Try and stop us.”
Kaelix closed his eyes again and let the weight of their love settle over him like a second comforter. Even as he wanted to fuss about the others getting sick, he knew there was no winning.
Even as his body ached, his heart didn’t.
He didn’t deserve it. But they gave it anyway.
And maybe—just maybe—that meant he was allowed to accept it.
The apartment had gone still for the night. Only the low hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the walls kept time, broken now and then by the hush of someone shifting under the covers.
The lights were out. The bedroom was dim, lit faintly by the city beyond the curtains and a warm-toned night lamp tucked in the corner. All four of them lay together in the bed, layered in soft blankets and soft breaths. Kaelix was still warm and flushed, nestled at the center of it all like a star.
Freo had tucked him under one arm, running fingertips slowly along the back of his neck. Zeal was curled against his front with one hand resting lightly over his ribs, rising and falling with each breath. Seible laid across the three others, but his body was under the covers too, gently resting against Kaelix’s thigh and grounding him with every little squeeze.
Kaelix stirred a little, shifting his head on Freo’s chest.
“You guys awake?” he murmured, voice still hoarse.
Zeal made a soft sound, nuzzling his nose against Kaelix’s hair. “Mhm.”
“Yeah,” Seible whispered. “You okay?”
“Just thinking,” Kaelix said.
Freo’s fingers paused. “About?”
Kaelix hesitated. He wasn’t good with honesty when it made him feel vulnerable. But something about the cocoon of their warmth, the way his body still ached in the familiar way that fever left behind, made it easier to speak.
“I think,” he began slowly, “I like being sick because it’s the only time I don’t feel like I have to earn anything.”
The silence afterward wasn’t awkward. Just open.
“I spend so much time trying to be the best I can be—strong, impressive, likeable. I think… part of me thinks I have to be perfect or I won’t be wanted. So when I’m sick, and I can’t be any of that, and you still stay, it’s like… proof that I don’t have to keep proving myself.”
Freo didn’t speak for a moment. Then he pulled Kaelix closer, tightening his arm around his back.
“But it’s not true,” Freo went on, resting his chin lightly against Kaelix’s temple. “You’re worth loving even when you’re half-conscious, sweaty, and full of noodles. Even when you’re scared. Even when you’re mad at yourself.”
Seible’s voice cut in softly. “You’re allowed to be human. And messy. And complicated.”
Kaelix turned his head slightly, glancing down toward the foot of the bed. Seible was watching him with that calm, look he always wore—like nothing Kaelix said would ever scare him away. Contrary to how he was usually goofing off just as much as Kaelix, when he was calm it was more grounding than anything imaginable.
“I like that you let yourself be soft around us,” Seible added. “Even if it’s only when your immune system makes you.”
Kaelix huffed a tired laugh. “It’s easier when I feel too tired to pretend.”
“Then don’t pretend,” Zeal murmured. His hand moved on Kaelix’s ribs, a soft circle of his thumb there. “Not with us. You’re already more than enough just by being here.”
There was silence again, this time full of warmth.
Kaelix let his eyes flutter closed.
“...Thank you,” he murmured. “Even if I can’t always say it. Thank you.”
“You show it,” Freo said. “You always do.”
Zeal leaned in and kissed Kaelix’s cheek, and Seible gave another squeeze to his thigh.
And then, softly, Zeal asked, “Want us to help you sleep?”
Kaelix blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Just… hold you. Breathe with you. Talk you down if the fever’s still messing with your head.”
Kaelix didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Please.”
Freo adjusted slightly, pulling Kaelix fully onto his chest. “Okay. Let’s just be here together, love.”
Zeal’s hand rose and fell with Kaelix’s side, matching his breaths.
They breathed together. A soft rhythm, like waves.
Kaelix melted slowly against them, feeling his heart quiet in their hands.
They loved him at his messiest. His most helpless. Not just in spite of those things, but with them.
His body still hurt. The fever still simmered. But his heart didn’t ache.
He was held.
He was wanted.
He was home.
When Kaelix woke again, it was morning.
The pale glow of dawn leaked in through the curtains, painting the room in soft blue and silver. For once, the city outside felt distant—muted by the warmth of the bed and the tangle of limbs he was cocooned in.
He wasn’t sure how they’d all managed to stay tucked around him through the night, but they had. Seible had shifted up during sleep, his arm draped across Kaelix’s legs like a seatbelt. Zeal was still nestled in front of him, one leg thrown over his, and Freo’s chest was against his back, his breathing slow and deep. One of Freo’s hands had found Kaelix’s under the blankets and stayed there.
Kaelix’s throat still ached. His nose was stuffy and his body sluggish. But the fever had eased a little—enough that his head no longer swam when he blinked. And wrapped in the sleepy silence of three warm bodies and shared breath, he felt…
Safe. Whole.
He didn’t move for a long time. Just listened.
Zeal stirred first. He stretched and then blinked his eyes open to find Kaelix watching him.
“Good morning, pretty boy,” he whispered, voice still raspy with sleep. “How’re you feeling?”
Kaelix rasped back, “Still soupy.”
Zeal smiled. “Chunky or smooth?”
“Broth. Weak as hell.”
Zeal leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re my favorite soup.”
The motion must’ve roused Freo, because a second later his fingers tightened gently around Kaelix’s and he mumbled into the pillow, “Soup talk again?”
“We’re never escaping it,” Kaelix whispered.
Freo shifted so he could look over Kaelix’s shoulder. His hair was flattened on one side and sticking up on the other, but his gaze was soft and warm.
“You look a little less on death’s door,” he said, brushing sweat-damp hair from Kaelix’s forehead. “Color’s better. Still congested?”
Kaelix nodded.
“Good. Means you’re fighting it off.” Freo leaned forward and gave him a brief kiss on the temple. “You did good, love.”
Behind them, Seible stirred. “Is he alive?” he asked, voice low and warm.
“Barely,” Kaelix mumbled. “I’ve been medically revived through the power of affection and soup metaphors.”
Seible’s hand slid under the blanket again, finding Kaelix’s calf. “Guess we’ll have to keep it up, then.”
Freo chuckled quietly. “I’ll go make tea. Zeal, get the humidifier going again?..And remember to change the water, please.”
“Already on it,” Zeal murmured as he gently untangled himself.
Kaelix watched as both of them peeled themselves from the bed and stretched. Zeal padded out first, and Freo paused at the door, glancing back at Kaelix. He smiled, a soft, quiet one he reserved just for them.
“You stay,” Freo said. “We’ll take care of breakfast.”
As he disappeared down the hall, Kaelix turned his head toward Seible.
Seible was still half-asleep, eyes hooded, his thumb drawing lazy circles on Kaelix’s skin. His touch was always quiet but never uncertain.
“I really don’t deserve you all,” Kaelix said quietly.
Seible’s hand paused, then resumed its circles. “Why not?”
“Im a lot of work.”
Seible sat up slightly, bangs falling around his face.
“So?”
Kaelix blinked at him.
“You think we didn’t know that going in?” Seible said, voice still thick with sleep but unshakable. “We love you because you’re all those things. You’re also kind, and brilliant, and surprisingly soft even if it’s subtle or just outright.”
Kaelix flushed. “Don’t say stuff like that when I’m sick. I’ll cry.”
Seible leaned down and pressed their foreheads together.
“Then cry. We’ve got you.”
Kaelix didn’t cry—but his eyes stung a little.
A few minutes later, Zeal returned with the humidifier gently steaming, and Freo followed with a tray of toast, miso soup, and tea, all carefully prepared and balanced. He set it down on the nightstand, then crawled back into bed beside Kaelix.
“Open up,” he said, holding a spoon of soup.
Kaelix squinted. “You’re going to hand-feed me again?”
“I made the soup. Let me feel like a nursemaid for five minutes.”
Kaelix snorted and opened his mouth. The broth was warm and a little salty, and it settled in his stomach like a hug.
As the others slowly tucked themselves around him again, Kaelix leaned back against Freo’s shoulder, Zeal at his feet and Seible draped across his side. A gentle pile of limbs and love.
“I really love you guys,” he whispered.
“We know,” Zeal said, resting his head on Kaelix’s hip.
“And we love you,” Freo murmured. “Every complicated, dramatic, charming inch of you.”
“You don’t have to earn it,” Seible said softly. “Just breathe. Just be here.”
Kaelix exhaled and let himself believe it—really believe it.
He didn’t have to be perfect. He didn’t have to perform.
He was allowed to be sick, and slow, and soft. And loved.
And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their bodies and the quiet clink of Freo scooping more soup, he thought—
Maybe, just maybe, he could get used to this.