Fine with recovery

      When Neil wakes up, he barely manages to make it to the bathroom before violently vomiting into the toilet. As his stomach is spasming, making him heave, a cold hand brushes his hair away from his brow.       “Fever.” Kevin’s voice sounds far away, barely heard by Neil over of the ringing in his ears. When Neil is done uselessly coughing over the toilet, he curls up on the bathroom floor, his head leaning on the wall, the cold tiles feeling like heaven to his fevered skin.       There is a sound of toilet flushing, and then someone grabs his chin gently, urging him to look up. Neil squints at the harsh light coming from the ceiling. Andrew’s impassive face comes into his view, clear worry in his eyes.       “How are you, Neil?” Kevin asks. The gentle tone is so different from his usual petulant self that their teammates wouldn’t believe Neil if he told them about it.       Without much thinking, Neil starts, “I’m fi—”       The hand under his chin squeezes warningly, just as Kevin says, “Finish that sentence and I’m benching you so hard that you won’t see the court for the next year.”       They all know that the threat is rather an empty one, but it still makes Neil reconsider his words.       Kevin continues, “So, what hurts?”       Neil takes stock of his body. His stomach isn’t killing him anymore, now that it is empty, but the nausea is still lingering. Shivers are wracking his body, and he feels tense all over. To sum it up, it isn’t his best day.       “Stomach,” he says and hates how weak his voice sounds. “My head and back.”       With every second, the throbbing in his temples grows stronger, the blinding light definitely not helping the matter. Neil would love to just stop existing for a moment to escape the overall awfulness of the situation and give himself a break.       Just as the tempting thought appears, a loud ringing noise pierces the air, the noise pulsing in Neil’s temples. He lays his head on his knees and takes a deep breath, trying to settle his stomach which seems to be rebelling against him again.       The ringing stops, and Neil realizes that it must have been his morning alarm. It feels like the night lasted less than an hour, but he will manage. He has had worse.       Neil uncurls from his position slowly, one limb at a time. He gives himself a moment to sit with his legs straightened out, so that he doesn’t vomit all over the floor. Throwing up is the last thing he wants to do, followed by Kevin berating him for being late for practice. Neil starts getting up with the help of the wall, shivering. Seconds drag like minutes, the air feeling like syrup which slows his movements.       Through it all, nobody says anything, for which Neil is grateful. A silent presence is near him, close enough to intervene if necessary, but not swooping in to save him; it would be plain embarrassing if Neil had to be carried out of the bathroom by Andrew like some damsel in distress.       When he straightens up finally, he is ready to sit back down. His T-shirt is plastered to his back, and his head might actually kill him with the constant ache. Neil swallows, his throat feeling like sandpaper. A few breaths later, his body seems more stable.       “Done meditating?” Andrew’s question rouses Neil from his thoughts.       “Yeah,” Neil says. He takes a careful step towards the bedroom, and he actually manages it without leaning on the wall. The small victory fuels his determination, so the walk doesn’t take as long as he feared it would, Andrew at his back the whole time, watching after him.       When Neil sits down on his bed, the nausea is so bad that for a second he is sure he will throw up.       “He looks like shit.” He hears Kevin say.       Andrew’s silence is an answer on itself.       “I’m right here, you know,” Neil says with his eyes tightly shut against the light.       “Oh yeah? It actually looks like you are one foot in hell already,” Andrew says. To most, it might sound like one of his usual jabs, but Neil can hear the worry in his tone. It makes Neil feel even worse.       “Just give me a minute"—He breathes in deeply—"and I’ll get ready.”       A few seconds of utter silence are broken by Kevin. “Ready for what?” he asks, disbelief coloring his words.       “Practice?” It sounds like a question, Neil’s mind still trying to grasp what seems to be the problem. A few pills and he will be fine, ready to throw himself into the drills. So why does Kevin look like he has just eaten a lemon?       “You aren’t going anywhere,” Kevin says, his brow furrowed.       “But—”       “No.” This time it is Andrew who speaks with finality. “You’re staying"—he pushes Neil back on the mattress when he tries to get up—"in bed.”       Neil crosses his arms and looks down. When Andrew gets like that, pushing the matter further is utterly pointless. Neil would have pushed him more, though, if his head wasn’t feeling like his brain is being boiled. He focuses on taking deep breaths instead of stewing in his frustration further.       A hand brushes through his curls, and Neil leans into the touch before his mind registers it.       “How’s your stomach?” Kevin asks, his green eyes full of concern.       “Okay.” See — Neil didn’t use 'fine'. The nausea has lessened a bit, and he really hopes it will stay this way.       “Andrew’s calling Abby.” Kevin’s hand massages Neil’s scalp soothingly, easing some of the tension under his skin.       Neil hasn’t noticed Andrew leaving the room, and he kicks himself for such carelessness.       Pull yourself together, Abram, his mind whispers to him in a strangely familiar voice that sounds just like his mom. A bead of sweat trickles down his back, and Neil notices how his T-shirt clings to his skin. He is waiting for the hand in his hair to pull on the strands sharply while his mom reprimands him for being so, so careless—       “Neil.” Kevin’s voice breaks through Neil’s rising panic, his tone the opposite of his mom’s sharp one. Kevin has a gentle side which he rarely shows because 'There’s no point, ' as the man said once. Neil understands the reason behind it — there was no place for being soft as Riko’s Number Two, and there is no place for it on an Exy Court if you strive for being the best. At least, that is Kevin’s opinion.       Neil’s musings are interrupted when someone pushes a cold glass in his hand.       “Drink,” Andrew says, looking at Neil sternly. “Abby’ll be here in half.”       Kevin nods, looking somber, but doesn’t say anything. He taps his fingers on his arm restlessly, and Andrew rolls his eyes. Neil is sure that the subtle gesture has gone unnoticed by Kevin.       “Go and play your stickball,” the blond says.       Kevin scowls, but it quickly turns into determination. “I don’t want to leave you.”       “Your aura is making me nervous.”       It’s such an Andrew thing to say that Neil snorts, which quickly turns into a cough. His partners' attention turns to him, and he winces as the fit passes.       “Sorry,” he says.       Andrew flicks his forehead, which ouch. “Stupid,” he says, then turns towards Kevin. “Grab some crackers on your way back. Now shoo.”       Kevin huffs, but obediently gathers his things. With a kiss to Neil’s forehead and a quiet 'Will be back soon' he walks out, the door clicking shut behind him.       Neil shivers, the damp T-shirt worsening the matter. That is when something soft lands squarely on his head, making the world go dark. Neil sputters and tries to free himself from the offending thing. The fabric feels familiar to the touch and upon a glance he realizes that it is one of his favorite shirts. It has seen better days — the material has a few holes at the bottom and the gray color was definitely darker once, but Neil can’t be sure. Still, it is perfect for lazy afternoons.       Grateful, Neil changes quickly, instantly feeling better. Andrew takes the dirty one and dumps something else on Neil, but this time he recognizes it immediately — a blanket. It takes no time for him to wrap himself in it, his shivers dying down a bit.       “Sit with me?” Neil asks Andrew.       The man sighs deeply (Dramatic, Neil thinks) but settles at Neil’s side, even going as far as hugging him sideways. Success. The warmth doesn’t fail to make him sleepy, so Neil closes his eyes, just for a second. He lets his mind drift, lulled by Andrew’s steady breathing.