June's POV:
{The present}
I jolted awake, startled by a soft movement beside me. For a moment, my mind lingered somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, hazy and warm. Then my eyes fluttered open—and landed on the boy sleeping next to me.
Alex.
My breath caught, and something in my chest softened. He lay there so still, his chest rising and falling in that quiet rhythm I'd come to know. The early morning light spilled through the curtains, bathing his face in a golden glow. I couldn't help but look at him—really look at him.
His black hair was a mess, framing his face in soft strands. His lashes were long and dark, casting tiny shadows on his pale cheeks. His skin looked even paler in the light, almost porcelain, and there was a small cut on his bottom lip—faint, but raw. It didn't take away from how beautiful he looked like this. No walls. No scowl. Just… peace. He looked so delicate. Like glass. Like if I touched him too hard, he might just break.
I reached out without thinking and gently brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. My fingertips barely skimmed his skin before I froze.
Wait.
My hand flattened against his forehead.
"He's burning up," I whispered, eyes widening. "No… he's burning."
Panic surged in my chest, tightening like a vice. "Alex! Alex, wake up!" I shook his shoulder—lightly at first, then more urgently. "You have a fever! Can you hear me? You need to get to the infirmary!"
He stirred, just a little, but didn't respond. His eyes never opened. His breathing sounded rough, like it hurt. He groaned softly and turned his face away from me.
He was so hot. His skin felt clammy, his face flushed. I could tell by the way he moved—or didn't—that he could barely even register I was there.
I sucked in a shaky breath, trying not to let the fear win.
"Okay," I whispered to myself. "Let's do this."
I bent down, lifted his arm over my shoulders, and wrapped my arm around his waist. He groaned again, his entire weight falling on me like a sack of bricks.
"Geez, Alex," I grumbled under my breath, trying not to tip over. "You look like a porcelain doll, but you weigh like a damn boulder. How are we even the same species?"
Step by step, I dragged him out of the classroom. My legs trembled, and sweat started gathering at the back of my neck. But I didn't stop. I kept whispering to him, even if he probably couldn't hear me.
"Almost there… Just hang on, okay?"
We made it to the infirmary.
I shoved the door open with my shoulder. "Nurse?" I called, hope clinging to my voice.
Silence.
Empty.
The room was dim, and the nurse's chair sat vacant. Of all the days for her not to be here…
"Of course," I muttered under my breath, lowering Alex onto the bed as gently as I could. He whimpered faintly, turning his head away like he was trying to escape the fever burning through him.
I knelt beside him and pushed his hair back again. "Hey… it's okay. I'm here," I whispered. I wasn't sure if I was talking to him or myself anymore.
I rushed to the cabinet, dug through every drawer I could find until I got a towel, a thermometer, and some fever meds. I returned to his side and took his temperature.
Nearly 39.5°C.
My heart dropped.
I filled a bowl at the sink, soaked the towel, and laid it across his forehead. He flinched, curling slightly, and I couldn't stop my fingers from wrapping around his.
God, he looked so small like this.
He always acted untouchable—emotionless, cold, impossible to crack. But lying there… he wasn't any of that. He was just a boy. A boy who carried so much pain behind his silence. A boy who didn't know how to ask for help.
I stayed by him for what felt like forever. Changing the towel. Pressing it to his forehead. Holding his hand. Waiting.
Then… I noticed something.
His lips were moving.
I leaned in close, barely breathing.
"Don't leave…" he murmured.
My heart clenched.
"Please… don't go…"
It wasn't even directed at me—I knew that—but it didn't matter. The desperation in his voice said everything. That he had been left behind too many times. That deep down, he was still scared. Still alone.
I squeezed his hand gently and whispered, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here, Alex."
He whimpered in his sleep, fingers twitching, like he was reaching for something—or someone—he couldn't quite hold onto.
I reached up and wiped the sweat from his forehead again.
"You're not alone anymore," I said, more firmly this time. "I'll stay with you, okay? Just rest now."
The panic faded. The room settled into a hush. The warmth of sunlight crawled slowly across the floor as time ticked by. I didn't move. I just stayed, my fingers wrapped around his.
At some point, I must've fallen asleep.
A soft rustle stirred me.
When I opened my eyes, I saw him—blinking up at the ceiling, dazed but awake.
"Alex?" I straightened up fast, my voice catching. "You're awake?"
He nodded slowly, his voice low and scratchy. "Yeah… I'm up."
I leaned forward immediately, my hand flying to his forehead. "Wait—let me check your temperature. Do you still feel warm?"
He reached up and gently moved my hand away. "I'm fine, June. Really. You, on the other hand, don't look so great. Did you stay here all night?"
I blinked, embarrassed by how fast my face turned hot. "Uh… yeah. I didn't want to leave you alone. I mean… you looked really bad. I thought I might have to arrange a funeral."
He actually laughed—quiet, hoarse, but real. "A funeral? Seriously?"
I crossed my arms, trying to act annoyed. "Well, 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."
He smiled. Really smiled.
"Thanks for the consideration."
"You're welcome," I said, smiling back despite myself. "Who else is going to pester you if not me?"
He looked at me—really looked. His gaze was softer than usual, more vulnerable. "You stayed," he said. "Even when I didn't ask you to. Even when I was out cold."
I looked down quickly, brushing my hair back so he wouldn't see how red my face had gotten. "I just… didn't want anything to happen to you."
There was a pause. Then he whispered, "Thank you."
Two words. Simple. But they carried so much weight, it made my throat tighten.
I glanced around the room, trying to look casual. "Don't mention it. That's what friends are for, right?"
He leaned back, eyes slipping shut again. "Yeah," he said softly. "Friends."
But the word hung in the air like it meant more.
The room went quiet again, but it wasn't heavy anymore. It was peaceful. We didn't say anything else. Just sat there. Close. Together.
Our fingers brushed once more—and neither of us pulled away.
And as the sunlight shifted again across the floor, I knew something between us had changed. I didn't know what it meant yet. But I wasn't afraid of it.
Not anymore.