Chapter 91 - Taking Care Of The Sick

The condominium unit where Marcellus lives in is empty, but Winter already expects it to be.

She knows since long before that he's living on his own. First order of business, however, is to bring him to bed. She unlocks the front door with the key that Claude gave to her before she heads all the way in his bedroom. Though carrying him up proves to be a struggle, she still manages to do it.

Marcellus is sweating profusely by now. But the heat of his skin has cooled somewhat. Winter grabs one of the clean towels in his closet and wipes the sweat off his face. As she does so, she notices a sort of lifelessness to him – his skin is pale, his lips are dry. 

He barely reacts to her touch, and with his eyes closed he almost looks dead.

'No, don't think that way.'

Winter takes another small towel from his closet and wets it in his bathroom sink, keeping an eye on him through the mirror all the while. She then settles herself by his side and places the towel on his forehead. 

"You'll be all right…" she whispered. 

"What do I do?"

She runs over all the times August has gotten sick and knows that there's really not much she can do until he's awake. Frowning, she stands up to turn on the air conditioner in his room and pulls the blanket over him.

With a sigh, she settles herself by his desk. And she waits.

---

Marcellus wakes up about an hour before lunch, which Winter thinks is good.

"What… happened?" he groaned and stirred, his eyes fluttering open.

"You fainted…" she informed him, moving the desk chair and sitting by his bedside. 

"You're really sick. Take it easy."

"Wait, are we… in my room?"

"I took you here with Sir Claude's permission."

"What?! On your own?!"

"What can I say? I'm a strong, independent woman, 'ya know." 

He sniffed, too tired to retort properly. 

She runs a comforting hand through his hair, and he sighs blissfully at her touch. He then closes his eyes, his mind wanders. All he really remembers is attempting to go to the restroom so he could splash his face with water and refresh himself, but he'd only managed to go as far as the hallway. 

"You're still pretty hot…" Winter said, her lips curled downward, displeased. 

"You should continue to rest."

"But I've always been pretty and hot," Marcellus quipped, his voice cracking at the end because of how dry it was. 

"I'm being serious, Marcellus Lexington."

He tries to lift his hand, but his body feels weighed down somehow. With a sigh, she takes it in hers, lacing their fingers together. Once more, he lets out a breath in bliss. 

"How are you feeling…?" she asked, concerned. 

"Do you want anything? Do you want to eat?"

Marcellus shakes his head. He doesn't particularly feel like doing anything right now. All he wants is for Winter to keep running her hand in his hair and continue talking like this because her sweet, lovely voice is a soothing distraction from the pounding in his head. 

"Sir Lexington…" she called, her fingers tilting his head so he's looking at her.

"Can you please say something?" 

Her countenance is disquieted, and he hates to see that look on her face. He hates to know that he's the one causing her to worry.

Marcellus feels warm, then – not the affectionate sort of warm that came with being next to Winter, but a sickening sort of warm that makes him want to vomit.

"I-I think…" he choked out, helplessly trying his best to sit up and tugging on their intertwined hands. 

"I think I'm gonna-"

Her eyes widen, getting the message. He clamps a hand on his mouth as she hastily helps him out of bed and into the bathroom. As soon as he gets there, he falls on his knees and vomits into the toilet. A pungent stench wafts around the bathroom. She quickly shuts the door before kneeling next to his convulsing body, whispering comforting words into his ear and rubbing his back.

Marcellus shudders, trying to say he's sorry - for this, for everything. But his eyes are squeezing shut and he is puking into the toilet again. When he senses a hollow feeling in his stomach, he sits on the bathroom floor and leans against the tiled walls. 

"T-Thank you…" he stammered out to which she only shook her head with a soft smile. 

"I'll brush my teeth."

"Do you need any help?" she asked, moving to help him up.

"It's okay. I can do it."

"Are you sure? You're really, really sick. And I don't want you to faint again and hurt yourself."

Marcellus shakes his head and lifts himself up. He lurches for a bit, a prickly sensation shooting up his legs. Winter's hands are on his arms in an instant, helping him regain his balance. He has to lean on the wall for a moment.

"I told you! You can't even stand up on you own!" she chided. 

"Don't worry. I just haven't stood up in a while. That's all," he placated.

Determined, he pushes past her and walks to the sink, taking his toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste from the bathroom cupboard. She idles by the door, watching him before saying, "Maybe you need to take a bath while you're at it. It'll help you cool down. Can you do it by yourself?"

"Yes. I can," he squeaked and flushed.

"All right. I'll prepare some clothes for you."

"Don't!" 

He blurted that out before he could think better of it. At her surprised expression, he amends, "I mean, you don't have to do that for me."

She smiles at him. 

"Well, it sounds like you're getting better." 

With that, Winter walks out of the bathroom and shuts the door behind her. Marcellus pauses for a moment, a new wave of heat crawling up his body. But he has to brush his teeth, and he does just that.

When he attempts to remove his tie before getting into the tub, he has to close the toilet seat and sit on it because his legs are beginning to wobble. He knows it's a warning sign that he'd been standing up for far too long in his ill state. Once he's seated, he wrenches the tie off his neck, but the movement makes his head spin. Shaking it off as nothing, he continues to fumble with the buttons of his polo.

That's about as far as Marcellus gets.

As soon as Winter hears a thump in the bathroom, she curses out loud and rushes to the door before pulling it open. She finds him struggling to keep himself upright, his hands clasping at the nearby sink which is the only thing that's keeping him from falling off the toilet. His tie is disregarded a few feet away, and his unbuttoned polo hangs openly from his torso.

Exclaiming his name, she helps pull him upright. He dazedly settles his head by her chest, his eyes sliding shut.

"I can't leave you alone for one minute…!" she muttered, irritated, as she pushed him back. 

"I guess I have to-"

Hearing Winter stop mid-sentence causes Marcellus to open his eyes. He blinks wearily at her. It's only when his vision clears a bit that he sees an appalled expression on her face. His heart sinks.

"Sir Lexington…" she whispered, voice quivering slightly, when she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. 

"Were you overworking yourself? Haven't you been sleeping properly?"

Marcellus tries to smile, his usual reassuring smile, but there's the lack of sincerity in that smile that he can't bear to give to Winter right now. He sighs and attempts to speak, but the intensity of her gaze discourages him from saying what he wants.

"I'm sorry…" he croaked out instead, jarring her from her thoughts.

"I never wanted you to see me in this pathetic state."

"O-Oh," she trailed off, and when she averted her gaze, he felt like he had just been stabbed through his heart.

"Ms. Agreste, I was-"

"Stop." 

Marcellus closes his mouth. At the distinct hurt in his eyes, Winter quickly tries to explain, "I don't want you to say anything right now. Just... let me give you a bath."

Wordlessly, he allows her to bring him to the bathtub. He feels her fingers shaking when she pulls his polo off. If it's been on any other occasions, he would've teased her already. He would've taken pleasure in this moment. But his current situation doesn't allow him to.

After a few more moments of feeling her timid caresses, he pulls forward, burying his head into his knees. 

'This isn't supposed to happen. She's never supposed to see me this way.'

Marcellus hears Winter slide into the bathtub, kneeling in front of him. He's vulnerable right now. And he doesn't like it. He doesn't like exposing his weakness like this.

He's supposed to be stronger than this. He's supposed to look perfect all the time. He's not supposed to let his nightmares get to him.

His nightmares. 

Now that he remembers them, he finds himself doing exactly what he didn't want – cowering in fear. 

"Marcellus."

Hearing Winter call him by his first name, firm and stern, Marcellus snapped out of it.