Yuna vs. 'Just a Cold'

The next morning after my awkward dinner experience, I got a message from Yuna.

Yuna: Hey.

Yuna: I know it’s not for another 5 days, but I might not make it to prep class this week.

Yuna: Not feeling so good.

“...Great. How did she manage that?” I muttered.

I typed back:

Ren: Fever?

Yuna: I don’t know… Headache. Sore throat. A bit of a cough… The baby is moving though, so I think that’s good.

I was already standing up.

Ren: Stay in bed.

Ren: I’m coming over. No 5 minute emergency cleanup this time please. Don’t worry about it.

Yuna: Eh??? No, you don’t have t-

I tucked my phone into my pocket.

Too late.

—---------------------

I rang her bell.

A minute passed. Then the lock clicked weakly, and the door opened a crack.

She peeked out.

And yeah…

She looked terrible.

Flushed cheeks, glossy eyes…

Her hair was a mess and her voice sounded like she’d swallowed sandpaper.

“...Hi.” she croaked.

“Damn…” I blurted. “You look like you’re running on your last HP.”

She tried to laugh, but it turned into a cough. “That’s rude…”

“Can I come in? I brought… concern.”

“No, really. It’s fine… I don’t want you to get sic–”

She swayed.

I caught her before she hit the door.

“Okay, that’s it. You’re officially too pathetic looking to argue. I’m coming in.”

“I… I’m not pathetic.” she mumbled as she stepped back to let me enter.

I slipped off my shoes and closed the door behind me.

She was in pajamas. An oversized t-shirt and soft pants… one hand on her belly, the other stretched toward the wall.

Everything in me screamed hospital but I forced myself to think instead of panic.

“Have you checked your temperature yet?”

“Um… no. I don’t have a thermometer…”

Of course she didn’t…

“Sit. I’ll be right back.” I said, guiding her toward the couch.

“...Where to?”

“To steal my parents’ medical stash.”

5 minutes later I was back, equipped with a thermometer, fever patches and stern instructions from my mother on how to adult.

Yuna sat where I left her, half-slumped into the couch.

Her eyes lifted weakly when I approached. “You actually came back…”

“What did you expect?”

She didn’t answer.

“Here, under your arm.” I said, shaking the thermometer lightly.

She obeyed, watching me from under her lashes while we waited.

The beep finally sounded.

38.3°C.

“Mild fever. Not ideal. We should probably call your OB clinic and double check what they recommend.”

“I’ll be fine… It’s just a cold…” she mumbled.

“You’re in your 7th month. You don’t get to ‘just a cold’ yourself.”

She pouted faintly.

Still, she gave me her phone so I could find the OB number in her call history. I stepped aside and talked to the nurse, explaining the symptoms.

They gave the expected advice:

Rest.

Fluids.

Fever meds safe for pregnancy if needed.

Come to the hospital if her fever spikes higher or the baby moves significantly less.

I hung up and returned to the couch.

“So?”

“They said you’re banned from doing anything except sleeping, drinking water, and… uh… letting me take care of you.”

“That last part doesn’t sound very official…”

“Doctor’s orders.” I lied.

She gave a tired little smile.

“You’re overdoing it… You don’t have to do all of this.”

“I know.” I said quietly. “I still want to.”

I made her tea and some super basic rice porridge in her tiny kitchen. She watched from the couch in a half-doze.

“Do you cook often?” she asked sleepily.

“Not really, but I’m a gamer like you. I know how to survive on minimal ressources.”

“That’s… not really reassuring.”

“Shut up and eat your congee.”

She tried a spoonful and her eyebrows knit together.

“...It’s… very plain.”

“That’s the point. Nothing offensive, nothing exciting… Just survival.”

She ate slowly, taking little breaks to cough or sip tea. Every now and then she winced and put a hand on her stomach.

“Are you nervous?”

“The baby… is moving more when I cough… it’s probably annoyed.”

“Like mother, like… wait. You’re in your 7th month. Don’t you know the gender yet?”

“No… I’m kinda afraid to find out…”

I looked at her for a moment.

“...That’s okay. Take your time.”

My impatient brain would really like to know… but if waiting made her feel safer, then waiting was the right answer…

—------------------------

Once she finished, I took the bowl back to the sink.

When I came out again, she was slumped further down the couch, eyes half-closed.

“Hey. Let’s move you to bed. Sleeping sitting up looks uncomfortable.” I said softly.

“Mm… I don’t want to bother you.”

“You already are, so you might aswell maximize it.” I said with a laugh.

She made a faint sound of protest as I helped her stand. We shuffled down the short hallway. Then, she suddenly stopped, blocking the doorway with both arms.

“Wait.” she said.

“What?”

“My room.” she said, suddenly more awake. “You can’t go in.”

I looked over her shoulder. Door slightly open… it was dark inside.

Taboo territory… She called it that before.

“Yuna… you have a fever and you’re pregnant. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch or the floor because you don’t want me to see your messy room.” I said patiently.

“It’s not about the mess!” she protested.

I frowned. “It was last time…”

“It’s just…” she bit her lip. “I don’t want you to… judge me.”

“Is there a bed in there?”

“...Yes.”

“Is it more comfortable than your couch?”

“...Yes.”

“Then I’m going in.”

She looked like she wanted to argue. But a wave of exhaustion washed over her, and her shoulders drooped.

“...Fine. But don’t look too much.” she whispered.

“I’ll close my eyes the entire time. I’ll guide you telepathically.”

“Ren…”

“Kidding. Come on.”

She stepped aside reluctantly, and we entered.

Her room was… Well…

It looked like a gamer nest. A very expensive gamer nest.

Triple-monitor setup.

Large PC tower with RGB lights glowing faintly.

Cables everywhere, but somehow organized.

A high-end mic on a boom arm.

I felt my eyebrows rise.

“Oh.” I said.

“What?” she asked quickly.

“You really are hardcore.”

She tensed.

“I– It’s not that… I just…”

“Don’t worry about it. If I had this setup at your age, I would’ve never left my room either.”

She stared at me. “You’re… not weirded out?”

“Why would I be? You’re 20 and you have a better setup than most pros. I’m impressed… also slightly jealous.”

“You… are?”

“Yeah.” I helped her sit down on the bed. “Although… one thing…”

“...Yes?” she asked nervously.

“Your living room and kitchen are pretty messy… so the lack of cable hell makes me suspicious. Did you hire a wizard?”

She laughed weakly.

I guess this room means much more to her, so she put in some extra effort to clean it… but this is also where she’s supposed to work for this douchebag… just what exactly is her job…

No matter how much I thought about it, my mind kept drifting to things I really didn’t want to think about.

I gently lowered her onto the bed and pulled the blanket over her.

“I’ll get you a cold towel for your forehead.” I said, placing the fever patch on her nightstand for later.

When I returned with the cold towel, she was somewhere between awake and asleep.

Her hair was stuck to her forehead with sweat.

I wrung out the towel and carefully laid it across her forehead.

She flinched. “Cold...”

“That’s the idea.”

I sat on the edge of the bed.

“Can you sit up just a little? You should drink more.”

She slowly pushed herself up.

I found myself leaning in without thinking.

“Hold on. Let me check something.”

I took off the towel again and touched my forehead to hers.

She gasped.

“W– WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“Comparing temperatures. Mine vs. yours.” I said calmly.

“T– There are thermometers for that…!”

“I already used that. This is bonus checking.”

I learned that from mom. I remember her doing this whenever I was sick. I didn’t think much of it, but I probably overstepped here… too late.

Her skin was way warmer. I pulled back.

“Still feverish… We’ll see how you are in a few hours.”

Her face was red… From the fever. Obviously.

“Y– You can just use your hand next time…” she mumbled.

“Nahh. Forehead is more accurate. Mom gave me a very intense crash course earlier.” I replied.

She sipped her tea, hands shaking just a little, then sank back down.

I placed the towel on her forehead again.

“Sleep. I’m staying until your fever drops.” I said softly.

“That’s… unnecessary…”

“Too bad. You’re stuck with me.”

She hesitated… then, slowly, her fingers reached out and caught the edge of my sleeve.

“Ren?...”

“Yeah?”

“It’s probably the thousandth time I’ve said this in these 2 weeks… but thank you very much.”

Her voice was barely audible.

I smiled. “Anytime.”

Her grip on my sleeve loosened as she slipped fully into sleep.

I sat there for a while, listening to her breathing.

And I realized something as I watched over her…

Taking care of her like this… It didn’t feel like a burden. Not at all.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world…