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Grim sprints through the warm halls, cold-pawed and tracking snow onto the posh carpet floors.
Winter had been cold enough, but sleeping through the morning, through breakfast, that had left him colder and hungry. It was strange that you didn’t wake him—you always woke him no matter how reluctant and whiny he was— but upon coming into contact with your feverish skin and unresponsive self, Grim was too frightened out of his mind to even think about his own well-being.
He’d tried to call for help— for the ghosts, for anyone— but the ghosts couldn’t interact with the tangible, and your shared phone had been drained of its battery overnight. And unless Grim heads out to look for help, you were practically doomed to be worse off.
But if Grim was out of the dormitory, then who was going to watch over you?
At that thought, Grim slaps his own cheeks with his paws. He wouldn’t be useful alone, not when he didn’t know what was happening to you, nor was he skilled in caretaking. That had been your job. His job had been to enjoy what he couldn’t have before, and to be the best Magician in the world. Except, Grim now realises that he had been too ungrateful and naive. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he ever loses you.
Now, he wasn’t going to hesitate anymore.
Earlier, he’d overheard the concerned whispers of the Ramshackle ghosts, wondering why both you and Grim remained asleep when it was already close to lunch. His stomach grumbled at the thought of lunch— goodness, what good was sating his hunger when your life was at stake —but realised that it was the perfect time to look for help!
Everyone would be congregated at the Cafeteria, and that meant that he would find that person too. Thus, swallowing his panic, Grim left every last thought behind…
…And ran.
“Get lost! Get out of my way!”
Grim weaved between the scores of students, eager to reach the Cafeteria. What a bunch of slow-witted fools, he thought. Couldn’t they tell from his shouting that he was in a hurry?
He wasn’t too far from his intended location, but with each and every hungry student obstructing his path and ignoring his warnings, Grim found it to be his greatest challenge since matriculation. He could only push and trip the others, though it wasn’t like he cared. He gave plenty of warnings, even screaming at the top of his lungs, so it wasn't his fault if they didn't want to move out of the way.
He didn’t have much time left. He needed to find that man before he left for winter break!
Your life depended on this guy!!!
“Outta my way!!”
Breaking past the last barrier of students and into the Cafeteria sends a handful of them stumbling over each other, thereby receiving deadly glares and poisonous tongues, all of whom were ignored as Grim stood on his hind legs, keeping a lookout for his target.
There had been whispers about a Mirror that the Headmaster was preparing, a Mirror that lead the students right home for winter break, and even if it weren’t ready for the next hour, Grim worries that he might just be too late. He was holding onto the hope that that person wouldn’t be leaving soon— not until after his Housewarden, at least — and yet, Grim finds his breathing coming out heavier as the moments pass, without even a glimpse of who he was looking for.
Had he been wrong after all..?
Grim had been keeping a look out for the slightest peek of blond and purple, hyper-focussed and hyper-aware of the uncommon pairing. It shouldn’t be that hard to locate a Pomefiore student with blond hair— they almost never strayed from each other. He’d even spotted Vil a while ago, even if he’d been chastising Leona, and the flicker of hope lit. That person was never far from Vil, or Leona, or the both of them together.
But there wasn’t even a lick of blond in the crowd.
Despair begins crawling from deep within his stomach, securing its clawing hold and shackling him. It’s a sinking, hollow feeling, as if someone had viscerally dug out something from him, as he continued dragging, subconsciously, his feet around the room, his thoughts suffocating him:
Where is he…?
I’ve walked the entire place but I haven’t seen him…
Am I too late..? Then what about Yuu..?
Is it too late to save Yuu..? What’s gonna happen to Yuu…?
What do I do now?
What if Yuu dies because I was too late?
Where’s Ace and Deuce— can I ask them instead— but they’re not him— it has to be him— it can only be him but I can’t find him but if it were someone else then there might be a chance but it still isn’t him— it must definitely be—
“Oh la la! I thought I heard a little kitten calling for me! So it was you, Monsieur Fuzzball?”
A pair of beige hiking boots steps into Grim’s vision, accompanied by the combination of roses, sunshine and apples— a smell once nauseating, but a smell now relieving. Grim recognises that stench anywhere. He looks up. Grim doesn’t think he’d ever be grateful to see familiar green eyes that remind him of the disgusting green juice you drank every morning and that disturbingly bright smile, but there he was.
It’s him, he’s here!
And all at once, Grim’s body slackens and crumples to the ground.
Eyes closed, a wave of tears burst forth. “Roo— Rook…!!” He bawled. There was no stopping the tears of relief as Grim cried, unaware of the shocked stares from bystanders. Yet for once, he couldn’t bring himself to care about what they thought of him.
Rook, having picked up on Grim’s unusual behaviour, carries the hysterical beast out of the Cafeteria with quiet hushes. He doesn’t overlook the fact that Grim had been alone and unconsciously calling for him in the middle of the room, and Rook wonders if that had anything to do with his current behaviour. Or the fact that you were nowhere to be seen.
“What’s the matter, petit garçon,” Rook asks, wiping the overflowing tears from Grim’s eyes. Having everyone in the Cafeteria left the hallways pleasantly void of people, something Rook thought that Grim needed most. He leans against the handrail, adjusting Grim’s weight in his arms as the beast claws and burrowed himself into Rook’s tear-sullied uniform. “It’s rare for you to cry this much.”
“Rook—Yuu is— Yuu is—” Grim hiccups between words, even as Rook runs his hand up and down Grim’s back in an attempt to console him. It wasn’t as effective as he’d like, but at least Grim was now able to convey his worries.
“What happened to Yuu, Grim?”
“Yuu is—” Remembering Yuu’s incapacitated state, Grim cries harder. “Yuu isn’t waking up! When I touched her this morning, she was so hot! ‘M so scared that something’s gonna happen!”
Rook’s hand freezes in Grim’s fur.
“What did you say?”
Rook fights back the shiver, but not the grimace, as he steps into the foyer of Ramshackle Dorm. Impossibly undeniable, the interior was colder than the outside and even through the charmed layers of his uniform, Rook feels the chill seeping into his skin.
Without proper heating, it’s no wonder you’ve taken ill.
Rook opens the door wider to your shared room, watching quietly as Grim hops onto your bed. Grim had barrelled in earlier after wriggling out of Rook’s hold, and was now perched by your side, his eyes watching the slow rise and fall of your chest as you slept. The poor thing. Rook too, moves closer with lights steps and a heavy heart.
And then he sees how red your face was, sees how Grim feared and worried for you.
Rook’s heart clenches. Your brows were scrunched tightly together while you breathed heavily through your mouth. Just last night you’d been on call with him, discussing holiday plans while he packed. He, of course, had noticed that you sounded more tired than usual, had noticed how you were slurring your words fifteen minutes into the call. Never would he thought that you were unwell.
He felt that he was absolutely the worst boyfriend you could have.
He presses his lips into a firm line, removing his glove to caress your cheek. His cold hand must’ve been a relief for your feverish skin, as the crease between your brows relaxes. Tension in his muscles eased— when had he gotten that worked up?— before he released a breath he was subconsciously holding onto.
Unconscious, but still responsive; That was good news at least, but you were still too warm for Rook’s liking.
“Rook,” Grim crawls close. His ears were flat against his head, and the flames that usually flicked and licked with excitement seemed to grow dimmer. “Is Yuu gonna be okay?”
“She’ll be fine,” Rook reassures as he removes his hands from your cheek. Carefully, so as to not jostle you, Rook slips his hands under your knees and your back, lifting you in one smooth motion into his arms. Sick as you were, you barely stirred even when Grim hops onto Rook’s shoulder.
“But I’ll be bringing the both of you back to my room; it’s much too cold here.”
When you finally regained consciousness, it was to a warm, weighted blanket that smelled faintly of roses and crown-moulded Pomefiore purple ceilings. You blinked once, twice, slowly as you took in your surroundings carefully.
A double room, gently lit by the twilight moon and a red apple lamp.
Limited edition longbows from Afterglow Savannah.
Cream wallpaper that peeled from the corner, revealing black-and-white developed photographs.
Rook’s room.
You blink again, harder this time, as if you believed you were dreaming. Because, what else could it be other than a dream? Rook is meant to be home in Afterglow Savannah— his sister’s party to celebrate her conferment into the Royal Guards was tomorrow, and he’d already promised her his presence. So there was absolutely—
The door creaks open, and Rook steps in carefully.
—No way…
You were quick to sit up, to confront him, to chide and scold and demand an explanation for his current appearance in school— in his dorm — but words fall when the moonlight shines on his face. Rook looks vulnerable, with relief and worry softening his features.
“You’re awake,” he breathes.
“What—”
“You caught quite a cold, darling. I asked Crewel-sensei to administer some medication intravenously,” Rook explains, brushing sweat-clumped strands of hair away from your face, knuckles flirting with your cheeks. His touch, which has always been gentle, is even softer today. It’s as if you were an orchid, falling apart at just the slightest touch. You frowned. No wonder you felt extra gross and sticky upon waking. “I’ve never seen the garçon lose his wits before, but you managed to scare the poor thing to an early grave.”
Oh, you thought, lips twisting and wrinkling as if you’d swallowed something bitter and your shoulders slump. It wasn’t like you wanted to fall sick. It just… happened. You look away from Rook, refusing to let him see your pouting. The last thing you needed from him was to be chewed out.
Rook notices your petulance, notices how you avoided his gaze, and smiles. It hadn’t been his intention to chastise you, or make it sound like he was, but with how you huffed and puffed and pouted, it toyed with his ridiculously weak self-control.
Your soft sniffles, out of self-consciousness no doubt, reigns in every naughty thought Rook has as he lifts the blanket to slide in behind you. It was almost amusing— despite your impressive show of sulking, your body automatically moved to accommodate him in bed. It seems like your self-control was just as weak when it came to him. Warm as you already were, Rook’s chest against your back should’ve been uncomfortable, especially with how thin your pyjamas were, yet you find yourself snuggling against him, burying yourself deeper into his embrace.
“You should have told me earlier of your illness,” Rook whispers, his fingers coming up to weave between yours. He was nervous, you could tell. You feel the minute trembling when he lifts your hand to inspect every well-manicured finger— his efforts, of course —before resting your conjoined hands back onto your lap.
Rook was absolutely pants at hiding his emotions from you.
“It’s not like I knew when I was going to fall sick,” you mumble, quiet but firm.
You really didn’t think you’d be bedridden from a simple cold!
“I know, I know,” Rook sighs, dropping into the crook of your neck, “I’m just worried— I think I have a right to be worried, ma souris.” His breath, usually warm and sensual, is now cold against your feverish skin. You could only imagine how high of a fever you’d caught, if Rook’s higher than normal temperature now cooled your body.
“I didn’t say you didn’t,” you quickly countered defensively. “But you were supposed to be back home right now, preparing for your sister’s party.”
“They’ve postponed the party after I explained the situation to them,” Rook says quickly, his lips moving against your throat, featherlight and ticklish. You squirm in his hold, but he keeps you tight against his body. It doesn’t help when he begins sucking kisses against your skin, sending a pulse of arousal pooling between your legs. Geez, what was he doing to a sick person!!
“Hn—But—But—”
“But nothing, ma souris,” he dismisses. Rook presses harder into you, the hand gripping yours clenching tighter while his free hand skirts the inner seam of your pyjama bottoms. You bite your lip, holding in a whimper when he squeezes your thigh, as his hand climbs dangerously high. “My parents and siblings are understanding people. It’s imperative that you’re of top health to enjoy the party, or so they said.”
“I know, but—”
You pause upon digesting his words. ‘To enjoy the party?’
You pull away, the sudden movement dislodging Rook’s hands from your body while your arousal and libido wanes spectacularly. You didn’t manage to move far, still in his embrace, but you had enough space to turn and stare at him, at his cheeky smile that gave no other thoughts and emotions away.
“Party?” You repeat weakly, disbelievingly. When had it been decided that you were involved?
Rook nods. He sees the confusion in your eyes, sees how your mouth opened and closed without you realising. “It was meant to be a surprise—”
“And I ruined it,” you say, shoulders dropping. Rook huffs.
“You ruined nothing, mon chouchou.” You wrinkled your nose at the overly childish nickname, just as Rook pulls you back against his body. He begins rubbing circles over your knuckles— to reassure you, no doubt— and continues, “the news still surprised you, did it not? I think it’s quite the success then.”
“I guess,” you shrug. Ever the optimist, there was really no winning against him, you think with a quiet sigh. “But when do we leave? And what about Grim? And my clothes? I don't have time to pack—”
Rook presses his lips against the top of your head, silencing your running thoughts. You can’t imagine how much you smell after sweating out the fever. You must've reeked! How could he, with his sensitive nose, even think about kissing the dirtiest part of your head?
“Don’t worry your pretty little head, darling. Your job is to smoothly recover so that I can bring you home to have fun,” Rook says, shuffling the both of you so that you lay side by side. He pulls the blanket tightly over you, tucking you in. “Oui?”
You blink at him, staring into his trusting eyes and gentle smile. Seems like it was the end of the conversation, then. You squeeze his hand which had never let go of yours, and nodded.
“Okay.”