The fever started the next day.
Lena noticed something was wrong before she even reached the bathroom.
She had just come back from class, tired and distracted, her backpack still hanging from one shoulder as she unlocked the apartment door.
The place smelled faintly of antiseptic and damp towels the result of the rushed cleaning she'd done the night before.
For a moment everything seemed quiet.
Then she heard the sound.
Water splashing.
It came from the bathroom down the hall.
At first Lena frowned, thinking maybe she had left the faucet running. She kicked off her shoes and stepped farther inside.
The sound came again, louder this time. Not just water.
It sounded like movements
Then a voice which was fast at a low tone and sounded serious.
Her stomach tightened.
Lena dropped her bag where she stood and hurried down the hall.
The bathroom door was half open.
When she pushed it wider, the scene inside made her stop short.
Marco was thrashing in the bathtub.
Water sloshed over the sides, splattering across the tile floor.
His hands gripped the edges of the tub as if he were fighting something only he could see.
Words spilled from his mouth in a rush of Italian.
Lena didn't understand a single one of them.
But she understood panic.
"Hey," she said quickly, kneeling beside the tub. "Hey, can you hear me?"
His eyes flew open.
For a second they looked straight at her.
But there was no recognition in them.
They were wild, unfocused in the eyes of someone trapped somewhere far away.
"Non ti avvicinare," he muttered hoarsely. "Dietro di te… spara"
The words meant nothing to her, but the fear behind them was clear.
Lena reached out and pressed her hand to his forehead.
She pulled it back instantly.
"Jesus," she whispered.
His skin was burning hot.
Up close, the wounds she had cleaned the night before looked worse. The bandages were damp, and the skin around them had turned an angry shade of red which seems like infection.
The word flashed through her mind, bringing a wave of dread with it.
"You're safe," she said firmly, leaning closer. "You're in my apartment. No one's here."
Marco's hand shot out suddenly.
His fingers closed around her wrist with surprising strength.
Lena gasped.
The grip hurt tight enough that she knew bruises would appear later but she didn't pull away.
Instead, she leaned closer so he could see her face.
"It's okay," she said softly. "You're okay."
For a brief moment his eyes focused.
Really focused.
Recognition flickered there.
"Lena," he breathed.
It was the first time he had said her name.
The sound of it surprised her.
Lee-nuh.
The pronunciation was different, softer somehow.
Her chest tightened unexpectedly.
"Yeah," she said gently. "That's me."
His grip loosened almost immediately.
The strength seemed to drain out of him all at once. His hand slipped from her wrist and fell back into the water with a small splash.
Marco slumped against the back of the tub, unconscious again.
The bathroom went quiet except for the slow drip of water from the faucet.
Lena sat back on her heels, staring at him.
Her wrist throbbed where his fingers had been.
"I should call an ambulance," she murmured to herself.
It was the obvious answer.
The responsible one.
But she didn't reach for her phone.
Instead, she found herself studying his face again.
Even pale and feverish, he was striking. Dark hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. A faint shadow of stubble had appeared along his jaw since the night before.
He looked younger like this.
More human.
Not like the man she had dragged out of an alley surrounded by dead bodies.
Her mother's voice surfaced immediately in her mind.
Don't be stupid, Lena.
She exhaled slowly.
"Too late for that," she muttered.
Still, she stood up and went to the kitchen.
Her phone sat on the counter.
She stared at it for a long moment.
If she called 911, everything would be simple again.
Doctors would take over.
Police would ask questions.
And this strange, dangerous situation would finally stop being her responsibility.
But another thought crept in.
What if he was a criminal?
What if those men in the alley had been after him for a reason?
If the police got involved, she might be dragged into something she didn't understand.
Lena rubbed her face with both hands.
"Great," she sighed. "Just great."
She looked back toward the hallway.
The apartment had fallen quiet again.
For a second she imagined walking out the door.
Pretending none of this had happened.
But the memory of his voice stopped her.
Lena.
He had said it like he knew her.
Like he trusted her.
She grabbed her keys instead.
"Pharmacy," she said out loud, as if saying the word made the decision more reasonable.
The small drugstore three blocks away was still open.
A tired-looking pharmacist stood behind the counter, her name tag reading Brenda in faded blue letters.
Lena grabbed what she could remember from the first aid videos she'd watched online the night before.
Which said antibiotics, fever reducers, sterline bandage and saline solution.
When the pharmacist rang everything up, the total made Lena wince.
Eighty dollars.
She hesitated for half a second before handing over her credit card.
It was the same card she was still paying off from last year.
"Long night?" Brenda asked casually.
Lena forced a small smile.
"You could say that."
She almost added It's for my brother.
The lie sat on the tip of her tongue.
But for some reason, she couldn't say it.
Ten minutes later she was back in her apartment.
Marco hadn't moved.
He lay exactly where she had left him, his chest rising and falling slowly.
Lena set the supplies on the sink and rolled up her sleeves.
"Alright," she said quietly. "Let's try not to die today."
The words sounded ridiculous in the small bathroom.
But somehow, they helped.
She cleaned the wounds again as carefully as she could, following a YouTube video playing on her phone beside the sink.
Marco groaned once, his brow tightening in pain.
But he didn't wake.
When she finished, Lena sank down onto the bathroom floor.
The tiles were cold beneath her.
For a while she just sat there, listening to the slow rhythm of his breathing.
The apartment felt strangely different now which felt more quiet and smaller like something important had shifted overnight.
Lena rubbed her tired eyes.
"You better survive this," she muttered.
Because if he didn't, she had absolutely no idea how she was going to explain a dead stranger in her bathtub.