Archive of Our Own ^beta

For someone so astute, William Wisp could be exceedingly idiotic. He had no concern for his own well being, and wouldn't stop working, even if it killed him (again). He should have stopped working so much as soon as he felt himself getting sick, but of course he didn't. Which led William to where he was now- on the floor of the training room, fading in and out of consciousness.

He had been feeling sick for the last few days, but it had really only hit him that morning. Overnight, it had gone from a little tickle in his throat to heaving, painful coughs, a dull ache that ran throughout his entire body, constant sneezes, and a skull shattering headache. Not only that, he was freezing.Now, normally his body temperature was a little off- he ran lower than a normal person, and he almost always was cold. This however, was different. This cold felt clammy, and sweaty, and it clung to him tightly, its grip unyielding. 

It was horrible.

And, despite all of this, William still pushed himself out of bed, fully convinced he could function. It was just a cold, everyone got one once in a while. Who was he to complain and say he couldn't do anything? Besides, Alphonz was probably waiting for him in the training area (or at least what was left of it). 

Not only that, William couldn't handle the idea of Vyncent finding out. That would be a nightmare. The thought of his friend caring for him, attempting to cook for him, maybe moving his sweaty bangs out of his face, kissing his forehead to check his temperature... all of it filled William's stomach with butterflies, and his body with an overwhelming sense of fear.

Before making his way to the training room, William passed by the kitchen. On the table, there was an empty pizza box, the last piece likely eaten by Vyncent.  They didn't have anything else ready to go, and William wasn't about to waste his energy to make himself something to eat (in hindsight, this decision wasn't his best, however he wasn't exactly in his right mind), so he made his way to the training area. 

Alphonz was already there, in full armor,  practicing his movements. He didn't really need to, William rarely (if ever) landed a hit on him. Even when he did mange to hit him, it barely did anything. William wasn't exactly the strongest person; especially not today.

"Oh! William, I apologize. I did not see you come in. Have you been waiting long?" Alphonz said, waving William over to him, not looking up,  "I hope that you have not. However, I sincerely apologize if you were." 

"Oh, no, you're fine," William strained, trying to suppress a nasty cough that had been building in his throat, "I don't mind waiting, honest." The last word sounded muffled as he lifted his arm up, unable to keep down his cough anymore. It was a wretched sound, one that caused Alphonz to look to William. "William, have you fallen ill?"

William's face, though already flushed, got ever so darker as he blushed from embarrassment. "No, no I'm fine. Just a little cough. No biggie, I promise," he said, despite his pale face, flushed cheeks, and weak body. Alphonz looked at him with concern, and a little bit of disbelief. "Are you sure?" He asked, to which William nodded.

"Alright," Alphonz acquiesced. He knew that he couldn't stop William from training, the boy was on a mission to at least appear fine, however he could go easy on him. Just this once. "Go on then. Let's begin!"

Needless to say, even when Alphonz was going easy on him, William was struggling. Any time Alphonz threw a hit, it seemed to almost gravitate towards William, and any time William tried to hit back, he failed miserably. Not only that, but despite his hits being light, William looked more dead than usual from them. Every time he was impacted, a pitiful noise would escape him, making him sound like a wounded animal. 

Nonetheless, Alphonz and William continued to "train", the latter mainly just focusing on staying semi ambulatory.

That was, until Alphonz landed a hit in just the wrong spot.

He had been trying to not hit William as much, but even when not trying he was much stronger than the boy. So, inevitably, when Alphonz slowly threw a punch for William to block, the latter's reaction time was just too slow, and it hit him dead on.

William saw as Alphonz's fist met his face, his arm only halfway raised. There was no way he was blocking that. Immediately, he let out a strangled cry of agony, before promptly falling to the ground, unconscious.

Alphonz knew as soon as his hand connected with William's face, he had hit too hard. He knew he had made a mistake, and the poor child in front of him was going to pay for it. He watched as William cried out and crumpled to the ground in a heap. He instantly knelt down and was about to try and wake William up, when he heard a frantic voice from inside of his head, calling his name. 

Vyncent worriedly put Alphonz in the back of his mind, telling him he'd scold him later, before turning his attention to William. He knew he should have stopped Alphonz as soon as William walked in that morning, but he didn't. Now, he was stuck with an unconscious, clearly very sick best friend. And honestly? He had no idea what to do. William was feverish, sweaty, and just extremely ill, and Vyncent had no idea what to do about that.

He assumed that moving William to a more comfortable space was probably best, so, after attempting to wake him up a few times, he carried his friend all the way to the makeshift couch they had created and unceremoniously plunked him down. The force of the fall caused William to open his bleary eyes, mumbling nonsense. Vyncent just nodded and agreed with whatever he was saying, still wracking his brain for possible remedies for this predicament. 

As Vyncent pondered, William began to think a little more clearly. He stopped uttering incoherently and began to actually think.  That, of course, was when he realize he had passed smooth out after one too many hits from Alphonz. That memory instantaneously made him freeze, knowing there was no way he could lie about being ill anymore. The idea of being taken care of by Vyncent still filled him with fear. It wasn't because he didn't feel sick, he definitely felt sick as a dog, it was because he didn't want to risk his...fondness for Vyncent becoming amplified- or worse, revealed.

William knew he had a tendency to be a lot more loose lipped when he was ill; he had learned that when he was young. Even before he died, his fevers would get alarmingly high, to the point of deliriousness, and he would usually spill something he never would have under normal circumstances. It was side effect of an awful immune system, and William would rather die a third time than have that happen in front of Vyncent.

"Hey, uh...Vyncent? I-" William looked to his friend, ready to tell him he's more than happy to take care of himself. 

"Will? Are you actually awake now?" Hearing his name pulled Vyncent out of his train of thought, and he immediately looked to William, concern shining in his eyes. "Why didn't you rest today? Why didn't you just ask for a day off? Next time, just say that you're sick." He continued to look at his friend, wanting an answer as to why he was so self destructive. 

"I'm fine, Vynce. I promise. Just got a little cold is all. I didn't think I'd need a day. But either way, I can take care of it, okay? Don't worry about me." William replied. 

Vyncent sighed, "Dude. You're clearly not fine, and I'm not leaving you to take care of yourself. What kind of friend would I be if I did that? I'll give you an answer- a pretty shitty one."  William opened his mouth to reply and tell Vyncent that he would be fine on his own, but was immediately cut off by a throat destroying cough. He curled in on himself, feeling the cough send a shock of pain through his entire body, on top of the pain that he still felt from earlier that morning. As he sat there, curled up, he let a small squeak of pain leave him, and he curled in even further on himself; this time, however, it was from embarrassment at the sound that just emitted from him. 

Meanwhile, Vyncent just laughed, his cheeks a little pink, before checking that his sick companion was alright. "Now, what do you need, William?" William just groaned- partially because he was still embarrassed at how pitiful he sounded (and looked), partially because he felt so awful, and partially because he hadn't been able to escape the one thing he'd hoped to avoid- Vyncent discovering his ailment. "Oh, and be specific on what you need because I have no idea what a you use on sick people here."

William sighed. Today was going to be a long day. 

After being told what to do, Vyncent grabbed the painkillers and water, along with a thermometer. William hadn't told him to get the last thing, but he remembered from his Mom that you should check someone's temperature when they were sick. He swiftly grabbed it from a drawer that only opened halfway, and returned back to his friend.

As soon as he walked back in, William sighed, suppressing a laugh.  "Vyncent, that's a meat thermometer." 

"So? It's still a thermometer, it should work, right?" Vyncent began inspecting the meat thermometer, thinking it was pretty stupid to have one thermometer for people and one for meat.

"It's not gonna work. We don't have a thermometer," William said, before hastily adding on, "for people. We don't have one for people." He didn't want Vyncent to get confused about technology again. "Now," he continued, "where are those painkillers?"

Vyncent handed the water and painkillers to William, who quickly downed them. He hoped that they'd help tone down his fever in addition to his pain, he didn't need a thermometer to tell he had one, and it would be an absolute disaster if it climbed higher. 

The painkillers kicked in quickly, as did the sleepiness that came with them. Soon, William was fighting to stay awake, while Vyncent was in the other room attempting to research ways to help sick people. He really wanted to stay awake, but William was struggling to keep his eyelids open. It took all of his strength to open his eyes after blinking, and said strength was depleting very quickly. Not even an hour after he took the painkillers, he was out cold. The last thing he heard before passing clean out was Vyncent's grumbling about his phone.

Vyncent sighed as he tried to work his device. He'd been on this planet for months and he still had no idea how to use the damn thing. It didn't make any sense. Despite that, though, he was determined to find something to make William feel better. He already felt guilty enough for not taking over as soon as he knew William was sick. He refused to just let his friend suffer while he did nothing. 

He attempted to think back to what his mother would do for him when he was young. Sure, life was different where he was from, but some things had to be similar, right? He thought back to his old home, his mother looking over him. He recalled her always making him soup, claiming it was the best thing for any sickness. Vyncent made a mental note to do something like that later. He wasn't the best chef, but he sure as hell could try.

After that, she always put him in the most comfortable place possible, before checking his temperature with a kiss to the forehead. Should Vyncent do that for William? He wasn't sure. He wanted to, but he wasn't sure if William wanted anything to do with him. He was way too scared to make a move. If he did and William didn't reciprocate, it would be a disaster; especially without Dakota as a buffer. So here he was, thinking way too much about a simple kiss on the forehead- which was for medicinal purposes, for god's sake! Vyncent sighed into his hands, his face turning red with embarrassment as he sat, in silence, panicking over the boy sleeping in the other room. 

Meanwhile, William was still sleeping, and though his body was still, his mind was moving a mile a minute.

He didn't know how he got here. He was perfectly fine and safe one moment, and he was here the next. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe. His entire body was submerged in quicksand. He didn't know how he knew it was quicksand, but he knew and it was the only thought in his terrified mind. The sand was suffocating him, completely engulfing him. He was holding his breath, fighting the urge to scream, yell, cry out for anyone, anything to help him. He knew if he did it would only make everything worse. So, he stayed, eyes screwed shut and lungs burning for air as long as he could.

 He attempted to move up in the sand a few times, but found that it only lead to him losing more air from effort. He whined pitifully, too afraid to open his mouth and allow the sand to take him completely. He expected to black out any second now, for his body to simply give out on him and stop trying. 

However, no such second came. He stayed submerged for what felt like hours, days, possibly years. His lungs continued to burn, the pain in them somehow still worsening every second, and he continued to slowly sink in this pit of agony, much too aware of how each grain of sand felt on his body. 

Vyncent's ears perked up as he heard a noise from the other room. At first, he assumed it was nothing, but soon after he put his focus back on his phone, he heard a similar sound. "William," he called, thinking he had awoken, "you alright?" He didn't hear anything besides the rustling of sheets. "William?" He said again, growing more concerned as he received no response. Vyncent quickly made his way through the remnants of the base back to the makeshift bed. Upon his return, he froze for a moment, not knowing how to react to the state his friend was in.

William was sprawled out over the bed, a thin layer of sweat covering his body. The sweat also managed to soak his hair, sticking it to his forehead. His eyes were shut tightly, his eyebrows were scrunched together, and his breathing was light and clearly panicked. Whatever medication he had taken for his sickness, it hadn't worked in any capacity. Perhaps it was because of his powers, which made his body differ from others? Perhaps his immune system was just too weak for it to make a difference. Whatever the case was, Vyncent saw William and was frozen in place. He didn't know what to do. His brain simply shut down, too upset at William's own distress.

A strangled noise sounded from the bed, which pulled Vyncent out of his stupor. William turned onto his side in his sleep, a bead of sweat falling off of his hair as he turned. Vyncent swore he could also hear William say his name in his sleep, calling out for him. He felt awful for Will, but at the same time, hearing his name be called by him in a time of fear made him feel...oddly excited. Like he wanted to be William's knight in shining armor. Like he wanted to be the one William went to any time he was upset, or in need, or just wanted someone to be around. Like he...nevermind. Now wasn't the time for that. 

"William? William, wake up." Vyncent said, walking around to crouch in front of William's face. He gently pushed the latter's hair back, not minding the sweat. He knew it had to be uncomfortable for him, and a little sweat was nothing compared to whatever was happening to William right now. Vyncent shook the sleeping figure's shoulder, trying to slowly coax him awake. He knew being woken from a nightmare abruptly wasn't a great experience.

"Vyn..." William half shouted, still asleep. Vyncent continued to shake him lightly and speak to him, begging him to wake up, he was there, there was nothing to be afraid of. He was here, he'd protect him, no matter what (Vyncent knew how that sounded, but he'd think about how complicated his feelings were later).

Despite the softness of Vyncent's touch, when William woke up, it he practically jolted off of the bed. He screamed, attempting to fling himself out of the elf's grasp. His eyes were still slammed shut, though now they were held tightly together, afraid he was going to something, specifically sand, in them. His lungs no longer felt that burning sense they had in his dream, however he began to hold his breath despite not feeling the crushing sand around him. What if it was an illusion, one meant to get him to open his eyes, his mouth? To make him drown, alone, without any chance of anyone finding him? He couldn't risk it. Being dead again. Leaving behind everyone again. It was way too risky of a gamble. 

"WILLIAM!" Vyncent yelled at the top of his lungs. William had immediately sprung away from him and held himself tightly in a ball, holding his breath and barely keeping tears from falling out of his eyes. At first Vyncent had simply tried to get his attention by saying his name, but that clearly hadn't worked, so he resorted to yelling. Thankfully that seemed to be the right move as he got through to the sickly boy. He looked up from in-between his knees, face turning a deep red from holding his breath. "William, Will look at me. Breathe. Please, breathe," Vyncent begged, his eyes shining in earnest and concern. He gently reached out and touch William's hand, trying to help him get out of wherever he was. "William..." he trailed off, "Breathe. You're safe. You're awake. It's Vyncent. I'm here."

William let out a very long exhale and slightly opened his eyes. They were glassy and hazy, yet still panicked. His nerves and adrenaline had overriden the flu as best that they could. It still wasn't near enough to clear his illness-adled brain, and before bursting into tears all he could utter was a terrified, guilty, and embarrassed, "...Vyncent?"

Vyncent felt as the hand he held tightened around his like a lifeline and as William's body collided into his. A throat tearing sob escaped the boy in his embrace and he winced, feeling the sore throat he already had get even worse. The cries were unrelenting, even as Vyncent rubbed circles and whispered nothings into William's ear. His heart was on the verge of breaking as he sat there holding his friend. Each cry was filled with a delirous kind of pain; however it was pain nonetheless, and hearing the only friend he still had in such agony brought tears to his own eyes.

Still, he pushed through, knowing now was not about him. Keeping his body pressed close to the other's, he breathed exaggeratedly. It was all he could do really, try and calm William down and then ask him what had caused him to be in such distress.

Eventually, his plan began to work; William's breath and tears stuttered to a slow stop and his limbs began to relax just a little in Vyncent's arms. Neither made a move to pull away as the latter quietly asked the former what had caused him so much trouble. The question was met with silence at first, the only sound being breathing and small sniffles. Soon, though, Vyncent heard a whisper of a sound. He wouldn't have caught it if not for being so close to William, which he found he didn't mind. 

"What did you say?" He murmured, before hastily adding on, "only say if you want to, though. You know, I don't wanna pressure you or anything." He rambled a little at the end, but he just wanted to make sure William felt safe. That was his number one priority right now (he didn't dare think about how he wanted it to always be his number one priority).

Arms pushed away from Vyncent, and he felt a little sad at losing the feeling of someone else in his arms. William didn't really give off any sort of body heat, seeing as he was partially a ghost, but it still felt nice to have another presence with him.

"It was, um, jus' a dream Vyn...'m fine, promise." William slurred out, his eyelids fluttering. Just being awake this long took a lot out of him. Sickness always managed to do that to him; leave him in a state of lassitude. "I jus'...sand...couldn't breathe. Y'know? It was scary..." He muttered, still very much incoherent from his fever. 

Lucky for Vyncent, he wasn't the worst at connecting the dots. Sure, he could act like it sometimes, but he wasn't stupid. He was just really bad with phones, and equally bad at understanding Prime's culture. That didn't mean that he couldn't understand his friend had endured a fever dream that was likely scary enough to freak out a coherent person, much more an incoherent one. 

"Oh, Will, I'm sorry. That had to have been awful. I know you don't like small spaces. Is there anything I can do to help? I know I'm kind of bad at this whole 'helping people when they're sick' thing, but you know, I can try! I mean, I don't know exactly what to do, I've just been thinking about things my mom did. So. Is there...anything..." Vyncent's train of thought abruptly stopped as he felt a slightly cool sensation on his lap. When he was talking, William had seemingly decided he was too tired to stay awake any longer. He also decided that a certain elf's lap would be the best place to rest his head, apparently. Not that Vyncent was bothered by it.

Silence, only ever interrupted by a soft snore or rustle of fabric, overtook the room once again. Vyncent sighed as his hand autonomously moved to comb through William's slightly sweaty hair. It was a little strange to the touch, but he didn't mind. It was nice, basking in the quiet that surrounded him. Everything felt peaceful, despite the breakdown that had occurred just a few moments before. 

Vyncent looked down at William's sleeping face. He didn't look to be in any form of danger within his dreams, which Vyncent took as a good sign. He was simply laying there, perfectly serene. Freckles that rivaled the amount of stars in the galaxy peppered his face, and Vyncent smiled as he counted them, one by one. He figured it would keep him occupied for a while. 

However, all good things must come to an end. Eventually, William shifted, and turned over off of Vyncent's lap. He once again felt that pang in his chest as he lost the feeling of one's skin against his own. That being said, he had also lost feeling in his legs, so he took the opportunity to stand up, slightly wobbling, and wake them back up. As he stood, he once again tried to think of various things that his mother did to help him. For some reason though, all he was able to recall was the taste of the soup his mother would give him. He could practically taste the various spices that seasoned the broth as he stood there. 

It was then that Vyncent was hit with the realization he hadn't eaten all that much today, and that maybe the idea of his mother's soup was so enticing because it was food. He glanced over at the kitchen, which was only barely intact, but intact nonetheless. He remembered that earlier he had planned to make soup, and now that he had a recipe in mind he made his way towards the kitchen and began looking for ingredients. As he searched, his mind drifted back to home. To his mother. He missed her. A lot. He could see her smile as she cooked for him, telling him to rest. "Sick growing boys need their rest," she'd always say. The thought of phrase made him grin softly as he cooked the recipe he had once had, filled with love.

Despite all of that, though, at the same time, he couldn't help but realize that if he went back now, he'd lose another family. Maybe even...a chance at love.

Wait. No. Love? That's impossible. Vyncent knew that his feelings for William were...complicated to say the least, but love? That wasn't possible. He was just confused. Right? No way he could actually love William. Could he? 

Yes.

Vyncent turned his attention back to the soup he was making before he could think about it too much. His hands shook a little as he cut various vegetables and threw them into the broth, suddenly the prospect of talking to William was a lot more nerve wracking. 

William woke up slowly, his eyes struggling to open themselves. He felt absolutely terrible still, though the medication seemed to help him a little. It didn't bring his fever down far enough to the point where he was coherent, though. He was still a little loopy, but for now he was more sobered up having just slept. A pleasant aroma hit him as he attempted to sit up, even if it was a little difficult to smell due to the congestion in his nose. 

"Vyncent?" He called, curious as to where his friend went, "Do you smell that? What is that?" He hadn't smelled anything like that since leaving his parent's house. As he reminisced in home cooked meals, his elbows gave out from under him, and he fell back onto the bed. He heard someone, presumably Vyncent, make a worried noise as he flopped back down, and suddenly the elf's face was hovering above his own. "You're awake! Are you okay?" Vyncent asked, face still extremely close to William's. Neither of their faces were beginning to redden as they almost touched noses, definitely not.

"Yeah, yeah m' fine. What's that smell though? It's good." Vyncent perked up at that, exclaiming, "Oh! I made soup! It's this recipe my mom used to make for me, it's really good! I kinda just did it my memory, so it's not exactly the same, but I tried it and it's pretty close. My mom always said that it was the secret to making any cold better, so maybe it'll work for you." He chuckled a little pulling his pink face away from William. "Do you want some? Well, that's a stupid question, you're going to eat anyway. You haven't eaten anything all day, and neither have I, so just give me a second and I'll get you some." Vyncent walked away with a pep in his step, or at least William assumed as much. He wondered what had made him so hyper. Was he just happy to be making something from his Mom, or was he nervous about something? He tended to get a little jumpy like this when he was nervous, so maybe that was it. It was kind of cute (No, quit it William. He doesn't feel that way). Either way, he didn't have much time to think as Vyncent came back, two bowls of soup in hand. "Here. I hope you like it." William pushed back on his hands, trying to lift his body up, and managed to do so for a few moments before falling down on the bed again. "Hold on, I got it, I promise..." he trailed off as he tried again, failing miserably.

A sigh came from Vyncent as he placed the two bowls off to the side. He crawled over and placed the pillows that were on the bed behind William before pulling him up and setting him upright. William yelped and turned a bright shade of red as Vyncent grabbed his waist and yanked him up. "Dude, why did you do that?" He stuttered, still reeling. "I dunno. You were struggling." Vyncent replied. He honestly didn't know; he did know that he was now thinking over that choice and regretting it. It was impulsive, and it freaked William out, but his mind was all over the place, okay? He just realized he could be in love with the same guy he just pulled upward, so cut him some slack on his poor decision making. "Anyways," he continued, laughing nervously, "how about some soup?" 

"Yeah, sure." William said; anything to get out of talking. He could already feel tiredness settling back into him,  and with tiredness came deliriousness, as well as a loose tongue. 

Reaching back over, Vyncent retrieved the two bowls of soup he had served up for the two of them. He placed one in front of William, and began to eat the second one quickly. He had failed realized how hungry he was. The contents of the bowl were gone within minutes, the elf eating as if he hadn't in three weeks.

Meanwhile, William was staring at his bowl silently. He wanted to eat it, it looked great, but he was in such a state of lethargy he could barely move anymore. Being awake for such a short amount of time managed to drain him very quickly. He guessed that it was due to the fever mixed with his less than adequate immune system that he felt so awful so fast. The speed with which it happened wasn't uncommon for him; after his fall, he had never really been the same when it came to sickness. It was as if his body assumed he was dead, so it just stop trying to fight disease.

Vyncent set down his now empty bowl and looked up at William. "Hey, why haven't you eaten anything? You need to." William looked at Vyncent blankly, unable to process his question for a moment. Eventually, it went through, and he was able to slur out a small "Tired...can't. Sleepy." Vyncent wasn't able to keep the blush from spreading across his cheeks as he said in a hushed tone, "Well, you have to eat William. I...do you want me to help you?" He trailed off a little at the end, not wanting to make the sick boy any more uncomfortable. There was a pause, but after a moment William answered with a small nod, his eyes not quite open. "Alright. Open up." Vyncent stammered, trying not to get too nervous about this. It wasn't like him to get so jittery, but realizing you might be in love with someone would cause anyone to be nervous.

Eyes fluttering, William struggled to open his mouth. It seemed that even the most simple tasks were like moving mountains now. He finally did, and as soon as he did so he was hit with a mirage of flavors; all of which came together to form the perfect image of home and safety. It was heavenly. 

The warm soup almost lulled him completely back to sleep a few times. When that happened, Vyncent would lightly tap his face or whisper-shout his name. Both actions would cause his eyes to snap open for a moment, but they would just as quickly fall. He was lucky he was being fed soup, because if he weren't he would have been rambling by now about how much he liked Vyncent caring for him. How nice Vyncent was, how his ears always drooped when he was concerned. How he was...well, everything. He was everything to William. He loved him so much. More than he thought was possible.

Faintly, he heard a spoon clatter on the floor. He hadn't even noticed the bowl Vyncent had been holding onto was empty, and he also didn't notice that all of his ramblings from his head had been said aloud. Even if he had realized he had spoken everything out loud, he would have been much too tired to do anything about it. His eyes drifted closed shortly after hearing the spoon fall, and he didn't even see Vyncent's bewildered face as he dropped off into the world of dreams.

Vyncent, though, sat there, eyes wide with disbelief. He wasn't sure he had heard all of that correctly. William? Liked him? Him. Vyncent Sol. He liked him.

William Wisp liked Vyncent Sol.

And Vyncent Sol liked William Wisp back.