Chapter Text
"Okay, so it's Tae's turn to run the laundry through, and T's turn to run the dishwasher."
It was a muggy July morning; a chore day for the 4*Town boys. Dishes needed to be washed and laundry needed to be done. For some odd reason, T was taking an awful long time to get up. Jesse shook his head and handed the dirty laundry basket off to Tae-young. "You got this, kid?"
"Mmhmm." Once Tae-young had disappeared into the basement with the laundry basket, T came plodding down the stairs. He was gripping the railing; odd, as he never normally did that.
"Well, look who finally woke up," said Jesse when he looked up and saw him.
T, looking a little dizzy, went over to him, with one hand cupping his head and the other over his chest. "Jesse, I don't feel good."
Jesse was skeptical. "You could hear me from upstairs, huh? Look, it's not that hard, just put the cups from the sink in the dishwasher, put the soap in, and turn it on." He turned to go downstairs; Tae-young was too short to reach the soap on top of the dryer, so he was going to help him.
"No, I mean it, I-"
"Uh huh!" Jesse, still not believing him, went down the stairs.
T watched, hurt, as Jesse disappeared into the basement. "Dick," he mumbled under his breath. He covered his mouth with his elbow and coughed; a harsh, phlegmy cough that sounded like a dying goose.
"Jesus, T, you sound like hell," said Z, looking up from the couch.
"See?" T swung his arm out, getting desperate. "I mean it!"
"Dude, you almost just horked a lung up on the floor." Robaire looked over as well. "We believe you."
The two urged T to come sit down, and Robaire felt his forehead. "You're warm. When did you start feeling strange?"
"When I woke up," said T. "My chest hurt, and I felt like my guts were coated with yuck. I tried sleeping it off, but I couldn't."
"And then what happened?" Z took T's hand.
"I got up," said T, "and went to tell Jesse, but obviously that was a wrong move."
"Yeah, it's weird," said Robaire, "he's just been pissed off at everything this morning, for like no reason." And indeed he was; Jesse had been uncharacteristically grouchy and snappish with the guys that morning. Well, almost everyone; he still acted the same with tae-young, which Robaire and Z chalked up to "youngest privilege".
Just then, Jesse came back upstairs, with Tae-young trailing behind him. He sighed when he saw the three on the couch. "Aaron, just get the dishes done and then you're free to go. I'm not asking for much here."
"No, dude, he's telling the truth," said Robaire.
"Sure," scoffed Jesse. "He just magically became too sick to do anything once his turn for chores rolls around." He stalked upstairs to his room.
That cut deep to T's bone. He hung his head and looked at his shoes. Z shook his head and stood up. "I'll do the dishes. If anything, it'll appease Sir Bitch-a-lot upstairs."
Once Z was in the kitchen, Tae-young took his place on the couch. He felt how hot to the touch T was. "You are telling the truth."
"Jesse told you I was faking, huh?"
"Mmhmm. He thinks you were trying to get out of doing the dishes." Tae-young laid his head on T's shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you."
T shook his head. "To be fair, that does sound like something I would do."
T's condition did not improve as the day progressed, and neither did Jesse's mood. Now that the chores were done, the guys were lazing on the couch, T curled up in Z's lap, watching a movie.
Jesse, with some red mosquito bites dotting his arms, came back downstairs. "Aaron, if those dishes aren't done, I swear to god-"
"They are done," said Z. "Jesus, what is your deal today?"
"Seriously? It's 100 friggin' degrees outside, I didn't sleep all night, and every damn mosquito in town has congregated inside my bedroom." Jesse swung an arm out. "And now Mr. Funnyman over there wants to play games with me."
"I'm telling the truth," moaned T, "you think I'd rather be in here instead of outside in the pool, or singin' with the birds?"
"Yeah, keep the bit up, it's doing wonders for my blood pressure." Jesse stalked to the kitchen. "Damn, you guys are driving me to drink today."
Z sighed and rubbed T's back. "Ignore him, he's bein' a dick."
Tae-young scooted closer to the Aarons. "Maybe for dinner, I can make you some chicken soup. That would make you feel better."
"That's sweet of you, goob," said T weakly, "but my belly's not feelin' super great, I'm gonna pass on that."
And indeed, T was still not feeling better by dinnertime. Jesse passed him laying on the couch before entering the kitchen. "It's dinnertime."
"I keep telling you," said T, "I'm like a skip away from throwing up on the carpet."
Jesse furrowed his brow. "Fine then, don't eat. See if I care."
Every one of the boys was on edge while they ate. They all shared a glance, unsure of what to do. Tae-young tapped Jesse's shoulder. "Hey, Jess?" he said.
"What?!" snapped Jesse.
Tae-young jumped back a bit. He didn't say anything, he just continued to eat his dinner. He knew it made Jesse happy when he cleared his plate.
Jesse rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you can eat like a normal person. Whoop de friggin' doo."
"Dude," said Z, putting his fork down, "you're being a real asshole right now."
"Yeah, well, you'd be crabby too if you had to put up with the same crap y'all have been pulling on me all day." Jesse finished his plate, put it in the sink, and left the kitchen.
T was still curled up on the couch, looking worse. He pushed himself up a bit when he saw Jesse passing through the room. "Why don't you believe me?"
"Because I know you hate doing dishes, and enjoy pissing me off." Jesse didn't turn around, but T could tell he had a death glare on his face.
"Do you think I enjoy hacking up a lung?" whimpered T.
"Aaron Camilo Talavera, do not start that with me," snapped Jesse, "I haven't heard a peep from you all day." He started up the stairs.
"Come back! I'm talking to you!" T shouted after him, but it was in vain; Jesse did not react to him. He became angry. "Fine! Walk away! Go back to your room, with your stupid old people books and your stinky blanket! I hate you! I-" He stopped in mid-sentence to cough intensely and wheeze.
Z, Robaire, and Tae-young, who had all finished eating, came to his side when they heard him. "God, you sound like death," said Z.
T looked up at him with a defeated look on his face. Z shook his head. "Come on, let's get you to bed." He helped him up off the couch and brought him upstairs to his room.
Feeling Tae-young cling to him, Robaire turned and put an arm around him. "It's not your fault, baby. Here, come sit down, we'll play Mario Sunshine."
In the middle of the night, Z was awoken when he heard a fit of harsh coughing coming from the bathroom, followed by a retch. He pulled himself up and went to investigate, where he found T hunched over the toilet, his already-scruffy hair tangled into an even bigger mess, and his face pale as a ghost.
Z dropped to his knees. "Oh, god, Aaron, are you okay?"
"No!" T cried. "Everything is too hot, and I can't cough without throwing up, and Jesse doesn't even believe me!"
Z held T and soothed him. "It's gonna be okay, buddy, you've got me, and Rob, and Tae. We can take care of you. Promise."
T looked up, with tears still streaming down his face. Before he could respond, his eyes glazed over, and he suddenly went limp.
"Aaron?" Z held T's head as he slumped down into his arms. "Aaron?!"
The door then creaked a bit more open. "I heard T crying," said Robaire, sleepy, "what's going on?"
"Rob, call the hospital," said Z, "he just passed out."
"Oh!" Now much more alert, Robaire rushed downstairs to call an ambulance.
Z laid T to the floor and squeezed his hand, while keeping his other hand under his head for support. T's eyes fluttered, and he weakly pried them open. "Hunh?"
"We're taking you to the hospital," said Z, "you just fainted." He helped T up and brought him downstairs to lay on the couch. "Rob, tell them he's awake now."
"Okay, he's awake now." Robaire told the hospital worker. "Okay, symptoms. He's got chest pain, nausea, this awful cough-what? Okay. …Okay."
As Robaire continued the call, Z held T's hand and kept him cool. Eventually, the ambulance arrived, and the EMTs loaded T into the truck, while Robaire accompanied him. Z watched them leave. As he watched the ambulance speed out of sight, he felt…wrong. Hollow. Like everything around him wasn't real.
He stumbled back upstairs, and before going back to bed, an ajar bedroom door caught his eye. He peeked into Tae-young's room, where the small boy was softly sleeping. Z sighed, and approached him. He gently ruffled his hair. Tae-young softly cooed in his sleep.
Z then laid down in his own bed. This wasn't fair. Why did it have to be T? What did he ever do to deserve this? Z wept hot, angry tears as he fell asleep.