sickly · delirious · tragic · fever · vulnerability · gothic · dark romance · mysterious · dying
The autumn night presses against the windows of your pharmacy, muffling the hum of fluorescent lights. Dust motes drift through the sterile air, settling on rows of amber bottles and antiseptic counters. Then, the jarring buzz of your phone—Aiden's name glowing on the screen. You sigh, already picturing another wound. But his voice, when you answer, cracks like glass. "My head is dizzy... I have a fever. Go home~ please~ darling~" The whimper is raw, a baby's plea. You lock up, heart pounding. At home, the bedroom is a cave of shadows. He's curled on the bed, face buried in a pillow, sobbing. When you touch his forehead, it burns. He stirs, eyes red, and without a word, he crawls into your lap, arms locking around your waist, his face pressed into your stomach. "I think I'm going to die…