June jolted awake, startled by a soft movement beside her. For a moment, her mind lingered between sleep and wakefulness, then her eyes fluttered open and fell upon the boy sleeping beside her. Her gaze softened, and a gentle smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
Alex lay there peacefully, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm golden glow across his face. June couldn't help but take in his features: his soft black hair that messily framed his face, his long dark lashes that kissed the top of his pale cheeks, and his snow-white skin that glowed faintly against the light. There was a small cut on his lower lip—faint, but still raw—yet even that couldn't take away from the quiet beauty he held in sleep. He looked delicate, like glass—like something that could shatter if touched too harshly.
Unthinkingly, June reached out and brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. Her fingers barely touched his skin before she froze. Her eyes widened in alarm.
"He's burning up," she whispered, pressing her hand flat against his forehead. "No… he's burning."
Panic surged in her chest like a wave. "Alex! Alex, wake up!" she called out, shaking his shoulder gently at first, then more urgently. "You have a fever! Can you hear me? You need to get to the infirmary!"
Alex heard her voice, but it sounded distant, like it was coming through water. His eyelids fluttered but remained shut, as if the weight of sleep—or the fever—was too much to fight. He groaned faintly, his breath ragged, and turned his face away from her.
His head felt like it was splitting apart from the inside. Each throb of pain echoed like a drumbeat in his skull. His limbs were heavy, too heavy to lift. His throat was dry and coarse, and his skin clammy.
June, seeing that he couldn't move on his own, took a deep breath. "Okay," she said to herself, determination flaring in her eyes. "Let's do this."
She bent down and carefully lifted his arm, draping it over her small shoulders. Then she wrapped her own arm tightly around his waist and stood, supporting as much of his weight as she could manage. He groaned softly, barely conscious, leaning into her with full deadweight.
"Geez, Alex," she muttered through gritted teeth, staggering slightly under his weight. "You look like a porcelain doll, but you weigh like a damn boulder. How are we even the same species?" She bit her lip, adjusted his arm again, and started making her way to the stairs. "Just hang on, okay?"
With every step, her legs trembled, but she didn't stop. She guided him slowly down the school corridor and down the stairs, whispering encouragement in his ear even as sweat beaded her own brow.
"Almost there… Just a little more…"
Finally, they reached the infirmary.
She pushed the door open with her shoulder, panting heavily. "Nurse?" she called out, her voice hopeful.
Silence answered her. The room was empty, eerily so. The curtains were drawn, sunlight barely peeking through, and the chair behind the nurse's desk was empty. June swore under her breath.
"Of all the days for the nurse to be out…" she groaned. She gently lowered Alex onto one of the infirmary beds, doing her best not to jostle him. He moaned weakly, his face flushed and twisted in discomfort.
June knelt beside him, brushing his hair back once more. "Hey… it's okay. I'm here," she whispered, more to herself than to him.
She rushed to the cabinet, rummaging through drawers for supplies. She found a clean towel, a thermometer, and fever-reducing medicine. Returning to Alex, she took his temperature—nearly 39.5°C. Her heart skipped a beat.
She filled a bowl with water from the sink and soaked the towel, then wrung it out and pressed it gently against his forehead. He flinched, groaning again, his body curling slightly. June sat beside him, holding his hand.
As she watched over him, she was struck by how fragile he looked. Despite his usual cold and distant demeanor, despite the reputation he had built for himself—of being emotionless, unbeatable, untouchable—he was still just a boy. A boy who had seen too much. A boy who carried pain like a shadow.
Minutes passed, then nearly an hour. June kept changing the towel, administering medicine, and keeping him cool. Eventually, he seemed to relax, though his breathing remained labored.
Then, as she sat beside him, watching him sleep, something caught her attention.
His lips were moving.
She leaned in closer, eyes narrowing, trying to make out the words.
"Don't leave…"
His voice was hoarse, barely audible, but filled with a desperation that made her chest tighten.
"Please… don't go…"
June's eyes softened. It wasn't a plea to her, not directly—but it didn't matter. She could hear the pain in it. The ache of abandonment. The rawness of someone used to being left behind.
She gently reached for his hand and wrapped her fingers around his.
"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered, blinking back the sudden sting in her eyes. "I'm right here, Alex."
He whimpered faintly in his sleep, his fingers twitching slightly in hers, as if trying to hold on.
June ran her other hand across his forehead again, wiping away sweat, and whispered, "You're not alone anymore. I'll stay with you, okay? Just rest now."
The infirmary, once filled with quiet panic, now settled into a peaceful hush. June remained by his side, watching over him like a guardian.
As the sunlight outside shifted across the sky, casting slow-moving shadows across the room, June continued her silent vigil, her fingers never letting go of his hand.
A soft rustle stirred the air.
Alex slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the dim light that filtered in through the infirmary curtains. His vision was hazy at first, the world swimming in and out of focus. He blinked a few more times, then turned his head slightly—only to stop when a warm weight pressed gently against his side.
There, resting beside him with her head nestled on the edge of the bed, was June. Her breathing was soft and even, her lips slightly parted in sleep. One of her hands was intertwined with his, their fingers loosely laced together as if she'd never let go.
Alex stared at their joined hands, a strange warmth blooming in his chest. He could still feel the remnants of the fever lingering in his limbs, but it was faint now, like a retreating tide. Carefully, he sat up, trying not to wake her, but the shift in movement caused her to stir.
Her eyelids fluttered open and she straightened up with a start. "Alex?" she said, her voice thick with sleep and worry. "You're awake?"
He nodded slowly, his voice a little hoarse. "Yeah... I'm up."
She leaned forward immediately and placed the back of her hand on his forehead. "Wait—let me check your temperature. Do you still feel warm?"
Alex gently moved her hand away with a soft smile. "I'm fine, June. Really. You, on the other hand, don't look so great. Did you stay with me all this time?"
June blinked, her cheeks turning red with embarrassment. She looked down, suddenly self-conscious. "Uh... yeah. I didn't want to leave you alone. I mean... you looked really bad. I thought—" she trailed off, clearing her throat awkwardly. "I thought I might have to arrange a funeral."
Alex chuckled, though it made his ribs ache. "A funeral? Seriously?"
"Well," she said, crossing her arms with a mock huff, "you were pale as a ghost. I figured if you kicked the bucket, someone would have to plan the service. Might as well be me."
His laughter softened into a grin. "Thanks for the consideration."
"You're welcome," she said, flashing him a tired smile. "Who else is going to pester you if not me?"
He looked at her for a moment, his gaze gentler than usual. "You stayed," he said quietly. "Even when I didn't ask you to. Even when I was out cold."
June shifted, brushing a hand through her hair to hide the heat rising in her cheeks. "I just... didn't want anything to happen to you."
There was a brief pause before Alex spoke again. His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "Thank you."
June's eyes widened, surprised at the sincerity in his tone. There was no sarcasm, no wall, no cold deflection. Just two simple words—and they carried more weight than she ever expected.
She cleared her throat again, pretending to focus on the medical supplies scattered nearby. "Don't mention it. That's what friends are for, right?"
Alex leaned back against the pillows, his eyes closing for a second. "Yeah," he said softly. "Friends."
But the way the word hung in the air… it felt like it meant more.
The infirmary was quiet again, but this time it wasn't the heavy silence of worry—it was peaceful, filled with unspoken understanding. June remained by his side, their fingers brushing now and then, neither of them pulling away.
Outside, the sunlight had shifted once again, casting warm streaks of light across the tiled floor. The world moved on, but in that small room, something between them had quietly changed—softened, deepened.
And neither of them dared to say it aloud… not yet.