Unprofessional Development

"I'm back, you idiot," I murmumed, slipping back into Kaito's studio apartment. 

He still hadn't moved, but the sounds of his heavy fever filled breaths were now louder than before.

The steam filling up the kitchenette as I was finishing the porridge, when the sound of teeth chattering echoed around the small studio apartment.

Ch-ch-ch-ch.

I rushed back to the futon. Kaito was curled into a tight, shivering ball, his knuckles white as he gripped the edges of that pathetic, thin blanked over him. His breath was coming in short, jagged puffs. The fever was spiking again.

"Kaito?" I knelt beside him, pressing my hand to his cheek. He was ice-cold on the surface but radiating a terrifying, dry heat from within. "Akizuki, look at me."

He didn't open his eyes. He just pulled the blanket tighter, a small, broken whimper escaping his throat. "Cold... so... cold..."

I stood up, my eyes darting around the room in a frantic search. I checked the small closet—empty. I checked the drawers—nothing but socks and T-shirts. The man didn't own a spare blanket. He didn't even own a heavy coat.

"You absolute, self-sacrificing moron," I hissed, my voice trembling.

The room was growing colder as the sun dipped. I looked at the door, thinking of my car, of the heaters, of the luxury of the Kujo estate. But he was shaking so hard that his thin bed was rattling against the steel frame.

If he’s going to survive the night, he needs a proper heat source, and in this sad excuse of an apartment he calls home, there’s no other choice but to share my own warmth.

Oh Kaito, I’m going to charge you so much for this, you wouldn’t be able to pay it off in 5 lifetimes.

I kicked off my flats and hesitated for only a second before sliding under the thin blanket. The moment I moved closer, Kaito reacted instinctively. Like a moth drawn to a flame, he lunged toward the source of warmth, his body seeking any reprieve from the rigors of the fever.

His arms wrapped around my waist, his forehead pressing into the crook of my neck. He was a furnace, his heat bleeding through my silk blouse.

"Mom...?" he mumbled, his voice thick, small, and completely stripped of his usual bravado. He nuzzled closer, burying his face against my shoulder, his shivering finally starting to slow. "You're... here? I miss... I miss you so much..."

He was completely out of it. He didn't see me as the rival who had bought him out, preventing his academic downfall. In his delirium, he had regressed to a boy who just wanted to be held. He truly believed his mother was there, a comfort he clearly hadn't felt in a long time.

"I’m not your mom, you idiot," I whispered, my face flushing a deep, humiliated crimson as I reached out and reluctantly locked my arms around his shaking shoulders. My heart was hammering so hard I was sure he could feel it.

He didn't hear me. He just exhaled a long, shaky breath of relief, as his grip tightened on the back of my shirt as if he were afraid I’d vanish if he let go. "Mom... Why is everything... spinning..."

"Because you're a disaster," I breathed into the crown of his hair, the scent of rain and cheap shampoo stinging my nose. "A brilliant, reckless disaster."

"I’m sorry..." he mumbled again, his voice cracking. "I’ll... I'll be the best. Just don't... don't leave yet."

The arrogance was gone. The "Scholar King" who spent his days trying to outmaneuver my every move was replaced by a boy who sounded like he was apologizing for his very existence.

"You already are the best, you idiot," I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "That’s why I have to work so hard to crush you."

I reached up, my hand trembling slightly, and brushed a damp lock of hair from his temple. His skin was still far too hot, but the violent shaking had finally ebbed into a dull, manageable tremor.

He let out a long, shuddering sigh and finally went limp against me, his head heavy on my shoulder as the fever-induced exhaustion claimed him.

I stared at him for a while; without the undying spark in his eyes and that annoying smirk he always had, he looked... peaceful. 

Then the air around us changed; I don’t know if it was the sudden drop in Kaito’s temperature or the cold night air seeping through the thin walls, but before I knew it, I found myself leaning in.

I was so close that his warm, shaky breath breezed against my face. My eyes began to drift shut as I slowly narrowed down the remaining space between my lip-

What am I doing?

The thought hit me like a bucket of ice water; I instantly jerked back so that the bed shook.

 Was I really about to do that?

I am Reina Kujo. I was the heir to a multinational conglomerate. And yet, here I was, a few centimeters away from kissing my rival... who was too weak to even know what was happening...

"Focus, Reina, You are not here for some low-budget, late-night romance." I hissed into the dark. “This isn’t one of those cliche rom-com situations...”

I looked at the sleeping figure next to me; the phantom heat of his breath still burned against my lips.

“Focus, Reina!!!!!!!!”

As the night deepened, the cold began to seep through the thin walls, but the space between us remained a sweltering, uncomfortable furnace. I closed my eyes, telling myself I was only staying because a sudden drop in his body temperature could lead to a secondary shock.

But as Kaito’s breathing finally leveled out into a deep, steady sleep, his hand still stubbornly hooked into my shirt, I knew I was lying to myself.

"One night, Akizuki," I murmured into the darkness, my eyes stinging with a fatigue I refused to acknowledge. "Heaven help you when you see the bill for this."

I adjusted the scratchy quilt over both of us and waited for the fever to break, the "untouchable heiress" keeping watch over the only rival she couldn't bear to lose.

The morning light filtered through the thin, gray curtains, shining light on the bed, waking me up. My arm was numb, pinned beneath Kaito’s head, and my blouse was a wrinkled catastrophe of silk and sweat.

His fever had broken sometime around 3:00 AM, leaving him in a deep, genuine exhaustion rather than a delirious state.

Slowly, his eyelashes fluttered. I held my breath, my heart performing a jagged, panicked rhythm against my ribs. If he wakes up now, if he realizes who is holding him...

"Mom...?" he croaked, his voice cracking. He shifted, his face rubbing against the fabric of my shoulder. Then, he froze.

I felt his body go rigid, inch by inch, as his brain processed what happened. The scent of my perfume, which was not his mother’s. The silk of my sleeve wasn't a cheap cotton nightgown, either. And the person currently acting as his heater was definitely not a ghost.

He pulled back sharply, his eyes snapping open. They were bloodshot and tired, but the clarity in them was devastating.

"Reina!?" He scrambled backward on the narrow futon, nearly hitting the wall, his blanket Tangledtangled around his legs.

"What... why are you... why am I..." He looked down at his own hand, which was still red from where he’d been gripping my shirt all night. Then he looked at my disheveled hair and my shoe-less feet.

I sat up with as much dignity as a girl could muster while emerging from the futon. I smoothed my skirt, my face feeling like it was being held over a Bunsen burner. “You idiot, not only can you not take care of yourself, but you also had the audacity to treat me like a body pillow.”

Kaito stared at me, his mouth slightly open. He looked at the basin of water, the damp cloth on the floor, and the organized stack of textbooks. Then his gaze drifted back to me, lingering on the dark circles under my eyes.

"You... stayed? All night?"

"I couldn't leave," I snapped, standing up and reaching for my blazer. My legs felt like jelly, but I refused to stumble. "Every time I tried to even move away, you just held me tighter.”

"Reina," he said again, his voice softer now. "I... I remember... I thought you were..."

I froze. A slow, lethal smirk spread across my face. I had just found the ultimate leverage.

"Oh? You mean 'Mommy'?"

Kaito’s entire face went from pale to a deep, agonizing crimson in three seconds flat. "I—no. I didn't—"

"‘Please stay, Mom! I miss you so much, Mom.'" I pitched my voice into a mock whimper, leaning in closer until I could see the sheer panic in his pupils. "You were practically purring, Kaito. You gripped my shirt so hard I thought you were going to rip the silk. It was honestly adorable. In a tragic, 'I-need-therapy' kind of way."

"Reina, shut up," he groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I was delirious. I had a forty-degree fever."

"You called me 'Mom' at least four times," I continued mercilessly, feeling a surge of pure, delicious triumph.

"If you tell anyone, I will actually jump off the school roof," he muffled through his fingers.

"Oh, I won't tell anyone," I whispered, grabbing my bag and heading for the door. I paused, looking back at him with a wink that felt like a death sentence. "But every time you try to act tough in the classroom, just remember: I’m the one who tucked you in while you cried for your mother. Heat up the porridge on the stove, Scholar Boy. You better show up on Monday."

I slammed the door before he could throw a pillow at me, my heart dancing a frantic, happy jig all the way down the stairs.

...

I slowly entered my room, the silence here feeling heavy and sterile compared to the cramped, chaotic warmth of Kaito’s apartment.

I sat on the edge of my bed, attempting to fix the wrinkles on my skirt and blouse, but there’s very little I can do since he’d held it for hours.

My bed is spacious, soft, and probably costs more than what Kaito makes in a year... but it felt strangely cold and lonely... Then the memory replayed in my mind again.

What was that?

I touched my fingers to my lips. The phantom sensation of his breath was still there, a soft, shaky breeze that had nearly dismantled years of Kujo family conditioning. I, Reina Kujo, had almost kissed a boy who was hallucinating.

I had spent my life surrounded by things that were expensive and perfect, yet all I could think about was a drafty studio apartment in the slums and the boy who, for a few hours, had made my world feel remarkably less lonely.

“Don’t go… Mom.”

The memory of his voice made my chest tighten in a way that defied medical logic. I had spent my life surrounded by people who wanted my name, my money, or my influence. But Kaito? Kaito had reached out for comfort, and in his delirium, he had found it in me.

I rolled onto my side, clutching the navy blue bear that he gave me. I should have been disgusted. I should have been drafting a legal waiver. Instead, I was wondering if he’d actually eaten the porridge I left.

"He's an idiot," I told the shadows. "A reckless, brilliant, irritating idiot.”

But as I finally drifted toward sleep, the last image in my mind was the way he had looked when he finally went limp against my shoulder and how for a few hours, he was entirely mine to protect.