rsadelle | (Reply)

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Thirty-Six Hours (2/2)

The conversation with his parents and sisters is the worst one out of all the calls Tyler has to make: them, Jesse, the trainer, Marshy, building management, arrangements to have the place cleaned no matter what happens.

The calls take long enough that they're both shivering and sick by the time he's done.

Tyler rests his head on Ty's shoulder, gathering his strength. "Shower," he says. "We'll feel better." Because there's nothing to be done once you have The Virus but try to make it through.

They shower together, leaning on each other under the hot water, not doing anything but letting the water wash away their sick sweat and the heat ease their muscles. They dry off and Tyler lets Ty collapse back into bed while goes out to the kitchen to get them some juice, bottles of Gatorade, some water. He feeds Marshall while he's out there - The Virus can't cross the species barrier, they say, so at least he's safe - and leaves the door to Ty's room open for him when he goes back to bed.

"Here, drink this." Tyler pushes a bottle of Gatorade into Ty's hand. "And take some of these." He already has the Advil open.

"They're not going to make me better."

"They'll make you feel better." Tyler spreads Ty's fingers open, holds his hand flat, and pours a couple of Advil into his hand. "Take them." When Ty just stares at the pills in his hand, Tyler pushes his hand up toward his mouth. "Take them. You're not going to die because you get so miserable you give up."

Ty takes them and drinks most of his Gatorade. "I'm not going to give up."

"You better not." Tyler drinks most of a bottle of juice, then has to lie down because he's getting dizzy. "I'm not going to be a widow before I can legally buy alcohol in the U.S."

Ty half laughs, and he wraps his arms around Tyler. "I'm not giving up."

*

They sweat their way through it, sleep for long stretches when they can, pet Marshall when he whines and doesn't understand why they aren't getting up to play with him. Twelve hours, twenty-four when they wake up in the morning and stumble into another shower that just exhausts them enough to send them straight back to bed, and finally thirty-six. Thirty-six hours, they're still alive, and Ty stumbles to the kitchen to bring them back something more substantial than juice and Gatorade.

They sit up in Ty's bed, string cheese and crackers surrounding them, more Gatorade, scruff on both their faces because there wasn't any point in shaving before.

"We're Changed," Ty says.

"Yeah." Changed, and it could be a week, two, a month before they know what that means for them. It doesn't always happen the same way. "You sure you still want to marry me?"

"Yes," Ty says immediately, instantly, like he didn't even have to think about it. "You sure you still want to marry me?"

"Yes." Tyler answers just as fast as Ty did. "Probably next summer."

Ty makes a face. "That's so far away."

Tyler shrugs. "My mom and sisters are going to want a wedding." He pushes a box of crackers out of the way so he can lie down. He's still tired. "Could be earlier if there's a lockout."

Ty moves all of the crackers and cheese to the nightstand, where Marshall can't get at them, and lies down next to Tyler. "Could be the only good thing about a lockout." He looks down at his phone, winces, and says, "You should turn on your phone."

Tyler winces right along with him, but picks up his phone. There are so many texts and missed calls he doesn't even bother scrolling through all of them. He sends, Still alive, to most of the people he knows, and, Marrying Ty. Fall wedding if there's a lockout, to his family, and calls it good.