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adrift-in-thyme · 6 months

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Whumptober Day 26: "Sometimes I get so tired; I don't even know myself" + "You look awful"

This one's for @uncleskyrule who suggested a fic about "Sky being tired of being tired"

Read it on Ao3

- Sky & Warriors

- Summary: With nightmares persistently keeping him up at night, Sky struggles with exhaustion

CW for brief mention of blood and injury

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Sky dresses methodically.

Every movement is thoughtless and automatic, done with the precision of one who has gone through these motions too many times to count. An outer tunic slips over his inner one, his belt fastens around his waist. Then, comes his sailcloth, secured around his neck. The feel of it draping down his back and the soft, familiar scent that wafts up from it are comforting at least. But they cannot wipe away the remnants of the dreams that claw at his mind and soul. They cannot rid him of the exhaustion that threatens to overpower him even now.

Last night had been yet another agonizing march of hour after hour filled to the brim with turbulent storms and violent images. Another night where he had awoken with a start, pressing a hand to his mouth lest he let loose a scream.

The nightmares aren’t prophetic…at least not as far as he can tell (and if they are? If he has pushed them aside when he shouldn’t have and their contents come to fruition? Well…Sky doesn’t know what he’ll do then. Prophetic dreams, though meant to warn, aren’t always as effective at doing so as one would think.)

But no. These are only the normal, run-of-the-mill, baggage from being a hero nightmares. They have to be.

The ones where Zelda is still falling and Demise leers down at him as he lies there in the water, choking on mouthfuls of blood.

He can deal with those. He can.

Only…sometimes he wishes he didn’t have to.

“Ready to go, Sky?”

It’s Wind, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. Sky smiles at him.

“Yeah, I’m ready, sailor.”

He pushes himself to his feet and follows the hero to where their brothers stand. They are all dressed and armored now, weapons clean and ready, sleep wiped from their eyes. Hylia only knows what will greet them along the road. They all know they have to be ready for anything.

Though, today is one of those agonizing days when Sky certainly doesn’t feel ready for anything. Except for bed, perhaps.

He’s exhausted, he realizes, dimly, as he trudges along the forest path, staring dazedly at Legend’s back. And it isn’t that shocking. He had known, after all, with the distant certainty of one merely existing. It had nagged at him all morning, through breakfast and packing, through dressing and washing up in a nearby stream. It had tugged and pulled at him, begging that he surrender to the sweet release of slumber.

As he walks in a smothering haze, it still does.

He should be used to it by now. He is always tired. Every day is a fight to push through it. To prevail in a battle he seems unfit to win.

To be honest, he is more than a little tired of being tired.

But he doesn’t know how to fix it. Monsters are able to be slain, beasts and demons faced down. The terrors that rule the night, however, are undefeatable. When he conquers one, another arises, bigger and stronger and harder to endure.

Sky sighs. The nightmares aren’t going away anytime soon. He’s well past the age where he had hoped they would simply disappear into the vast sky above. So, he might as well make do with the lot he has been given.

It could be worse, after all. He has seen the looks in his brothers’ eyes when they awaken from a torturous night. Their dreams are certainly worse than his.

Yes, he decides. He can make do.

…but perhaps a nap is in order today.

Not now, though. Now, he needs to keep his eyes on the road, alert for any threats that could jump out at them.

“Doing alright, Sky?”

He startles, blinking out of his daze. Warriors has fallen in step with him. He regards him with a mixture of concern and amusement.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Sky waves a hand. “Oh, it’s fine. I’m just in my own world I guess.”

Warriors hums. “A dangerous thing for a knight. Last time I was in my own world Wild snuck a mouse into my scarf.”

Sky chuckles, relieved. He had half been expecting Warriors to condescend him for his lapse in attention.

“I wish I’d been there to see that. Must’ve been quite a sight.”

“It was,” Legend pipes up from just ahead. “You’d think a gibdo was hiding out in his clothes the way he screamed.”

Warriors shoots an irritated glance his way.

“I did not scream. I’m used to rats. I’m a city boy, remember?”

Legend waves dismissively, a smirk on his lips.

“It was a mouse, not a rat. And whatever you say, those who witnessed the event know the truth.”

Warriors’ scowl intensifies. Legend ignores it, turning instead to strike up a conversation with Hyrule.

With a sigh, the captain turns back to Sky, who is watching the whole encounter with a slight smile on his lips.

“Anyway. I was asking if you were alright. Because — and please don’t take this the wrong way — you look rough, Sky.”

Sky blinks, once, twice. It’s not unlike the captain to speak his mind. But he wasn’t quite expecting such a blatant callout.

“I’m tired,” he says, simply. “That’s all.”

Warriors is quiet for a moment. Then, “Nightmares?” he asks in a hushed voice.

Sky swallows against the sudden dryness in his throat. It turns out there is a whole lot that is unexpected about this conversation. The captain is nothing if not perceptive, often even more so than Time or himself. But for him to have just surmised something like that…

“How…How’d you know?”

Warriors shrugs. He is no longer looking at the Skyloftian, gazing instead at the road with determined steadfastness.

“It’s not too much of a stretch to guess. All us heroes have them.” He pauses, the silence filled with the sounds of the other heroes talking and their footsteps plodding on firm ground. “And…I heard you crying a few nights this week.”

“Oh.” Sky drags in a breath, forcing his feet to move forward despite their sudden eagerness to plant themselves in the middle of the road. “I’m sorry. I usually try to keep it down so I don’t wake anyone.”

“No, no, don’t apologize.” Warrior sets a hand on his shoulder. “I understand, believe me. I think it comes with the job description, unpleasant though that may be.”

Sky walks a few steps in silence, slightly hunched in on himself. The day suddenly feels a hundred times heavier than before. Which is saying something, given how badly it had started.

“I had them before,” he says, finally, a mumble more than anything else. Warriors turns to him with a raised eyebrow and Sky meets his gaze, dully. “Before I became a hero, I mean. I’ve had them for as long as I can remember. And some of them…some of them come true.”

Warriors nods, understandingly. “Well, I don’t think you’re the only one here who’s had that experience either.”

“I just wish they’d go away.” He breaths it, almost like he's afraid that if he says it any louder the sky will fall. “I’m so tired.”

He has stopped in the middle of the road, now, sagging beneath the weight of his admission. He is dimly aware of Wind halting next to him, a worried “Sky?” on his lips. Warriors nudges him onward and the others go with him, sensing the need for privacy.

“I’m sorry.” Sky shakes his head, trying to clear the darkness from his brain. Dragging his gaze up from where it had fallen to stare down at his boots, he offers Warriors a small smile. “I didn’t mean to…I don’t mean to complain. I’m fine, really.”

The captain gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’re fine, Sky. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I only wish I could do more.”

Sky hums and keeps that smile plastered on his face.

I wish you could too. --------

The rest of the day drags by at the speed of a slug. Warriors remains by his side as they travel and his presence is a comfort. But exhaustion tugs at him with every step, muddling his thoughts and slurring his speech, until Sky is ready to flop down in the grass and let everyone go on ahead.

When they stop at last to make camp, he is more than a little relieved.

Dinner is a hazy blur, the conversations wafting and curling around him like the smoke from the fire. And halfway through it, Sky feels himself begin to drift. He tries to keep his eyes open, he tries to stay alert. But his body has had enough of his constant fighting. Before he knows it, his eyes have slipped closed.

Someone gently tugs the bowl of unfinished stew out of his hands, while someone else drapes a blanket over his shoulders. With a contented sigh, Sky slumps sideways, cheek colliding with someone’s shoulder. For being such a bony part of the body, he finds this particular shoulder quite comfortable. It's warm here, safe. And when his makeshift pillow puts an arm around him, he can’t resist snuggling closer.

Dimly, he registers the sounds of people shifting positions, rustling clothing and shuffling feet. Then, the warmth intensifies as the other heroes cuddle in around him. Sky manages to drag his eyes open just long enough to make out the blurred forms of his brothers, before he loses the strength to even do that.

He drifts off, sandwiched in between them all, Warriors’ arm holding him close, blanketed by a haze of warmth and life and light. And that night, no nightmares come to haunt him.

#whumptober 2023 #no.26 #“sometimes i get so tired; i don't even know myself”#“you look awful”#linkeduniverse #fic #blood tw #injury tw #trin writes #lu sky #lu warriors #hurt/comfort #angst #thanks for the suggestion reyna <33 #I enjoyed projecting my tiredness onto sky lol

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celira · 6 months

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day 26

She slid a sidelong glance at him. "You look awful."

"And you, in all your glory, look immaculate as ever." He slumped into the chair next to her in not yesterday's but the previous day's clothes.

She looked down at her own rumpled activewear and decided that on balance, she did look better than someone who'd pulled more than one all-nighter and was running on fumes and academic spite, but "immaculate" was doing a lot of unpaid labor. Dramatic. "Just how bad was that last paper?"

He shoved his hands in his hair, doing nothing for the bramble bush it was becoming. "Awful. But truthfully, that wasn't all."

She affected a mask of calm at this, already knowing the only other thing that could render him so useless, as he said, "Dulcie wrote back." He expelled a breath too forcefully to call it a sigh. "She's not able to come over the holiday break."

"I'm sorry." They shared a moment of silence, impromptu but mostly sincere. "Well, we'll have to make do on our own."

"How much longer do I go on like this, Cam?" he asked, and she remained silent, not having an answer for him or for herself.

#whumptober2023 #no.26 #quote #“you look awful”#the locked tomb #fanfic #fanfiction #tlt fanfic #tlt fanfiction #the locked tomb fanfiction #lira does a thing #the sixth house #camilla hect #palamedes sextus #i am sad and so is camilla hect #campal

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slytherinlesbians · 6 months

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Whumptober 2023, Day 26: Working to exhaustion/"You look awful."

“You look awful,” JJ says seriously, pulling up a chair beside the table Spencer’s working at.

“Thanks,” he says, pulling a face at her. She doesn’t smile.

“No, seriously, Spence, did you get any rest last night?”

“A little,” he says, avoiding her gaze and studying the geographical profile in front of him, “but this is more important.” He rubs a tired eye and chews on the end of his pen.

JJ sighs. He really does look awful, dark purple bags under his eyes and two days worth of stubble littering his chin. He’s wearing his glasses - further proof he didn't sleep last night and forgot to put in his contacts this morning, and he’s got on yesterday's clothes.

“This case isn’t more important than your well-being,” she says gently. “And you know you work better with sleep and food in your system. When was the last time you ate?”

Spencer shrugs nonchalantly, ignoring most of her words, and pushes himself out from the table, standing up to study the board, frowning. She can see the gears turning in his mind as bounces up and down on the balls of his feet adding up whatever it is in his head that is starting to come together. But she can’t ignore how obviously tense he is, how his fingers tap agitatedly against one another, the permanent frown creased between his eyebrows. How jumpy he’s been. Something is clearly wrong.

“Come and take a coffee break with me,” she offers, but he shakes his head.

“I’m okay, thanks.” He doesn’t look at her. She exhales heavily and pushes herself up from the table, re entering the main room the team are using. Hotch and Rossi walk in at the same time as her from the other side of the room.

“Did Morgan and Emily go take a look at the first crime scene again?” she asks tiredly.

“Yes,” Hotch says. “Can you two go look at the second one? I think they both need re inspection.” He gestures to both Rossi and JJ, who nod.

“Where’s Reid?” Hotch asks, frowning.

“Still in there,” she jerks her head towards the breakout room Spencer’s working in. “I couldn’t convince him to take a break.”

Rossi sighs. “Kid’s overcompensating for something,” he says wisely. “Someone’s gotta talk some sense into him before he collapses from exhaustion.”

“I don’t think he’s going to listen,” JJ replies, pursing her lips and wiping a hand across her face tiredly. She’s been growing more and more concerned about Spencer as his behavior has become more self destructive the longer the case continues, and they’ve all approached him without much luck.

“I’ll speak to him soon,” Hotch promises resolutely. “Go look at the Walters house again and let me know what you find. Check in with Garcia, too.”

JJ and Rossi nod and take their leave. After a moment, Hotch sighs and enters the room Spencer’s in.

“Reid,” he says, and Spencer jumps about a foot in the air, an expression of fear flitting across his face when his name is said, before he realizes Hotch is the one saying it. Hotch frowns.

“Hotch!” He attempts to straighten up without much success, and rubs at his eyes as though it’ll get rid of his tiredness. “I think I’ve got something here. Depending on what Morgan and Prentiss find-,”

“Reid,” Hotch says again, more seriously. “I appreciate that this case is important and that we’re running out of time. I would like to hear your theories in a moment. But please,” he gestures to the chairs at the table, “sit down a moment.”

Spencer advances to the table cautiously, like he knows he’s about to be lectured. He all but melts into the chair when he’s there. Hotch takes up the chair next to him, scans him concernedly for a moment, then speaks.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He asks.

Spencer grimaces, and his eyes flick away from contact with Hotch’s. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says. “Why would something be wrong?”

“You’re overcompensating,” Hotch echoes Rossi’s words from earlier, “and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”

“I’m not,” Spencer says, rapidly tapping his foot on the floor, “I just want this case to be over.”

“Why?”

“I just-,” Spencer exhales, still not looking at Hotch. It takes him a moment to gather his words. “I really want to go home,” he says finally, in a small voice. This is not what Hotch expects him to say. His eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Is everything okay? Is your mother alright?” He says quickly, his mind jumping to the worst conclusions possible. Spencer nods, still avoiding Hotch’s gaze.

“She’s fine. I just, uh. I don’t like it here. Much.” His anxiety is obvious now, his fingers shaking and interlocking and repeating the process, his leg bouncing up and down.

“I know when you’re not telling me something,” Hotch keeps his voice gentle. “Please, Reid. Spencer. You can talk to me”

Spencer exhales heavily, rubbing at his forehead.

“I just - you’re just going to make a big deal out of it. And I don’t want that. I just want to prove that I can solve this case and get out of here,” he says, a little bitterly. Hotch’s surprise grows by the second. He reflects on Spencer’s words: ‘I want to prove I can solve this case,’ and something clicks, suddenly.

“Did someone say something to you?” Hotch says, trying to keep his voice even. “One of the officers?” Small town local officers are always difficult to work with and this bunch have been no exception. They’re often made up vastly of backwards thinking older men, who feel emasculated by the FBI coming in to solve their case for them. He’s already had a few harsh words with one of them after he overheard them using derogatory words to describe Prentiss and JJ. Hotch knows his team can all take care of themselves, but there’s always a risk that Morgan or Prentiss will blow up at them and get in trouble with the Bureau, which he doesn’t want. He’s been careful to keep an eye on his team, but Reid has been glued to the geographical profile while the rest of them have been out in the field, so there have been plenty of chances for one of the officers to have had a chance to say something to him that Hotch hasn’t caught.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Spencer murmurs, staring at his knees, wrapping his arms around his midriff.

“Spencer,” is all Hotch says, his voice low. Spencer looks up, finally, and makes eye contact with Hotch, sighing shakily and gives in to whatever has been eating away at him.

“I know that I’m smart,” he starts. “I know that. It’s an incontrovertible fact. I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute. I know I can do things that no one else can. That’s the beauty of our team. We are all exceptional at different things, it’s why our success rate is so high. But when-,” he inhales shakily, and Hotch’s frown deepens, “but when people who don’t know me meet me they make… assumptions. They only see the things they don’t want to. Like when I stim. Or when I refuse to shake hands with them. These officers,” he gestures vaguely at the door that leads into the main part of the station, “they don’t like people…. like me. I heard them say…” His voice cracks, and he pushes up his glasses, blinking and looking away, clearly unable to go on.

Hotch’s blood boils. He’s known Spencer for close to six years, knows all of his quirks and needs, is in constant admiration of the work his youngest agent does and the compassionate person he is. Spencer is as much a part of his team - his family - as any of the others. There is nothing he could do or say to change that. The fact that Spencer has been subject to such blatant ableism after so many years of incredible work for the Bureau - hell, even if he’d never worked a day in his life for the Bureau - makes Hotch furious. He swallows down his anger, knowing Spencer doesn’t want him to make a big deal out of whatever it is he’s heard the officers say, and knowing full well he’ll see to it the officers will not get away with it.

“I’m sorry they said that, Reid,” he says, doing his best to keep the anger out of his voice. “They will not go without consequences, but that’s not for you to worry about now. What I want you to do now is take care of yourself. You have nothing to prove to anyone that cares about you, and those are the only people whose opinions you should care about.”

“I know,” Spencer mumbles, looking down at his hands, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “They made me feel stupid. I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Hotch agrees. “But I bet you are tired. You’re overworking yourself to prove to them that you’re more than what they say, and I understand why. But you’re not going to be able to keep this up much longer Spencer. You’re hurting yourself.”

“I know,” Spencer whispers after a pause, looking up. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Hotch says firmly. “Those officers are the only ones who need to apologize. Look, I can see that you’ve made several connections here, and the others will be back from the crime scenes soon. I’m going to get you and I some food, and leave you in here for a moment with the blinds closed so you can do whatever it is you need to do to decompress. When the others are back, we’ll talk about what you’ve discovered and if we solve this any time in the next hour or so, you can keep working. You can’t go out into the field in this state, but if we go back out, I will not leave you alone here. Someone will stay. If it looks like we’re going to be here a while longer, you’re going back to the hotel and getting some rest, because I can’t stand seeing you like this,” Hotch says. He doesn’t mean to say the last part aloud, but he does. Spencer’s eyes widen for a moment at the slip in Hotch’s tough facade, then after a moment, he nods.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you, Hotch. Really.”

“Of course,” Hotch says, standing up and squeezing Spencer’s shoulder. “Of course.”

#whumptober2023 #no.26 #working to exhaustion #“you look awful”#criminal minds #abelism tw #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi

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lilimonarch · 6 months

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Doctor Hanahaki - The Memories that Never Return [26]

Doctor Hanahaki Prequel: Whumptober spinoff!

Whumptober day 26: Seeing double, working to exhaustion, "you look awful."

Sometimes I get so tired, I don't even know myself

Konoha doesn't remember the last time he slept well.

He's been up thinking; thinking about Akaashi, thinking about Bokuto, thinking about their sports records, thinking about the team's well being, not to mention the harsh coughs which ravaged his throat every now and again. The obvious signs of fever, of illness, of exhaustion.

Konoha was exhausted.

He felt the chills run throughout his body during practice, but he still had to be the all-rounder everyone relied on him for. There were assignments and projects, not to mention tournaments coming up, and he had to keep the freshmen in line. They've promised to be with him, but it was still hard for the words to truly set in. Konoha wasn't even sure how he managed, dragging himself to school and back with whatever disease was plaguing him. The reality was he had worked himself sick, and wasn't too keen on paying the price for it either.

Konoha staggered and opened the gym doors, seeing his teammates already practicing. On top of it all, his nose was still healing from Bokuto having punched him (the captain apologizing profusely), and the... the...

A wave of dizziness swept over him as he leaned against the door, trying to hold himself upright as he coughed below him. He could see Bokuto rushing over, a sunshine grin on his face. "Hey! Konoha!" His voice boomed through the gym as Konoha blinked a few times, the single person in front of his splitting into two versions of Bokuto.

Now that isn't right.

"-noha? Konoha?" Bokuto waved his hand in front of his teammate, a bit of concern on his face. "You okay? You look awful-" he slowly reached out for Konoha's forehead, the other shaking his head and moving out of the way.

"Yeah, just tired. Come on, I'll warm up and we can start practice."

Warm ups, practice, it all seemed so much harder in his state as his headache grew and his patience shrunk. Being the average all-rounder was not enough anymore, especially with their star players off their game. He had to get better, for all their sakes. Better at receiving, better at...

Why were there two Bokuto's running towards him?

Konoha shook his head as the ball he was initially intended to receive landed right beside him, swaying on his feet as Bokuto carefully ran towards him. Konoha blinked once and suddenly, he was in the arms of his captain. "I got you, buddy. You're alright," Bokuto slowly sat down on the gym floor as Konoha leaned his head onto Bokuto's shoulder, closing his eyes and coughing into where his face was pressed. "God, you look..." Bokuto tried to search for the words, Konoha filling them in for him.

"Like shit, yeah," Konoha shook his head, shivering in Bokuto's hold from the chills.

"I was going to say awful, but that works too. You look awful, Konoha."

He was oddly emotional for his state, still cracking jokes as tears sprang at the corner of his eyes. "Feel like it too, been sick for the past few days."

"Konoha, why are you showing up to practice sick? Are you crazy?" His coach came up as the rest of the team stared from their positions in the gym. At that moment, he realized how long he had been down, his teammates staring in concern. "How much sleep have you gotten in the past few days?"

Konoha chuckled, already feeling unconsciousness trying to lull him away. "Konoha, kid. I'm serious, how many hours of sleep did you get last night."

"Y'see, coach. That's a different question," Konoha coughed, but he felt at peace. It was almost as if Bokuto was rocking him, like a child in a rocking chair... or maybe his fever was making him delusional. "Same answer... I don't think I got much-"

"Konoha, you're an idiot."

"Thanks, Bokuto. You're so kind."

Their coach sighed, laying a hand on Konoha's forehead. "Alright then, you're burning up too. I don't want you in this gym until you're better and can prove it-"

Konoha shook his head, that can't be. He needs the practice, he needed the practice! Bokuto needed him, his team needed him. They- "God, holy shit my head," Konoha groaned at the sudden pulse of a migraine, never letting go of Bokuto. "Mm... alright then."

#whumptober2023 #no.26 #seeing double #working to exhaustion #“you look awful”#fandom #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#fanfiction #doctor hanahaki prequel #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto koutarou #konoha akinori #haikyuu konoha #exhaustion #passing out #fainting #sickfic #overwork

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thegreenleavesofspring · 6 months

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The twins go looking for a job and Josh makes a return.

#Whumptober2023 #no.26 #seeing double #working to exhaustion #“You look awful”#Original work #Sons of the Star #fic #no triggers #Russ Way #Red Way

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heywriters · 11 months

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If you want to write a dumb little story with a dumb little plot and ridiculously silly characters. No one's stopping you. Genuinely, no one should be allowed to stop you. Write that dumb story with your whole heart and don't hold back.

#look I've deleted fics that made me feel awful #There's a time and a place #A good idea will come back to you again #But some things should be given time to settle #writeblr #writing tips #writing #writer advice #writers on tumblr

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flydotnet · 6 months

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"Fatigue" is French for "Fatigue"

WHUMPTOBER 2023, DAY 26:26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.” Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”

…yes, it's another HSAU flashback fic. Funnily enough, like "Crimson Shards", it's actually part of the official timeline, as it was mentioned as early as the very first entry of the series! To be exact, it's based on two different dialogue bits from two different fics, which you'll find quotes for in the end notes for this fic.

You know the gist: French AU, all characters live in honhon northern land, and stuff. This time, we're only a couple months before the start of the main timeline! Which I think is really neat.

Anyway all prompts are very HSAU Hikaru-core, so you know I had to do it to him. All of them. Yolo.

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"Fatigue" is French for "Fatigue"

Summary: Hikaru is tired of exam season. Jun is tired of his best friend.

Fandom: Captain Tsubasa (funky French college AU edition)

Word Count: 1K words

AO3 version available here.

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There are a lot of good things Jun can say about his best friend: he’s earnest, he’s altruistic and he’s hardworking. In fact, that taste for hard work and pushing limits always further may be his main trait, at this point; because once Hikaru is focused on something, it’s close to impossible to push him out of that mindset.

It’s not such a good thing, sometimes, and this is one of those.

He hasn’t heard from Hikaru in quite some time, because the fool doesn’t check his phone anymore, it’d seem. None of his calls have gone through and none of his text messages, no matter how the app, have gotten any sort of response. This man has gone into laser-focus and left everyone on read, sometimes even less; and with Yoshiko busy with her own exams, it’s up to Jun to see if that guy hasn’t died yet.

To his relief, his numerous rings at his door haven’t gone unheard: soon enough (which is already late, coming from Hikaru and his usually quick reflexes), the door opens and he’s very nonchalantly greeted by none other than his good old pal.

“Oh, it’s you, Jun.”

The first thing that comes to his mind slips from Jun’s brain without any forewarning:

“You look awful.”

It’s an understatement: Hikaru is pale as a painkiller, his face is flushed with an obvious fever, he has rings darker than a squid’s main means of self-defence under his eyes, his hair is sticking out of every possible side, and he can’t settle between hot and cold, because who even wears such a thick plaid on their shoulders in June?

“Love you too,” he replies, snickering, but coughs almost immediately.

“Can I come in?”

“Oh, sure. Just don’t mind the mess around the place, cleanin’ would’ve meant losin’ time.”

They both enter the place. It’s just as much as a mess as a student flat can get, with papers strew all around the place, opened food packaging still lying in the unemptied trash bin and, of course, a bunch of empty energy drinks piling on in the kitchen.

“I thought you hated those,” Jun points out, pointing to the pile.

“I do, I just needed to stay awake longer,” Hikaru replies between two coughing fits.

“Ah, exam season, isn’t it?”

“Oral exam season. ’t was the fuckin’ worst.”

Another coughing fit erupts from him, this time much harsher, and Jun can’t help but seriously worry: Hikaru doesn’t just look awful, he sounds and act like it, from the slugging way he moves to their conversation that should be a lot more informed than that, not to mention the bazillion empty energy drink cans that can’t be good news.

Something must be done; Jun decides on the fly.

“Let me examine you.”

“What the fuck?”

“You look absolutely exhausted, Hikaru, I’m worried you may have something worse than overwork and a little cold going on.”

His friend glares right back at him, beyond unpleased at the turn of events – because of course he’d be – then sighs, shoulders dropping, tears at the corners of his eyes.

“What?”

“You wheeze when you sigh. Your lungs may be flooded.”

“That sounds bad.”

“Then sit down and let me do my thing.”

To his surprise, and surprisingly to a little bit of displeasure, Hikaru does just that: he sits down on his bed with an undisguised urge to lean against the wall. Jun may’ve seen it coming, considering he kept his personal medical tools with him and disinfectant to go along with it. He can only give it to Hikaru: for once, he isn’t resisting a check-up that isn’t some thinly veiled excuse to be in extreme proximity to Yoshiko.

His fears are confirmed as soon as he takes his friend’s temperature: the oral thermometer beeps with a 40 on display. None of the following routines he follows are any better: his heart beats way too fast, his lungs are crackling, and all cycles are overall in overdrive. That all sounds like textbook pneumonia to Jun, but he doesn’t even want to entertain the possibility, let alone how Hikaru somehow let all of that happen to him (or maybe he does, at least to appease his wild, wild imagination).

Speaking of Hikaru, he’s only mildly bothered by it all, since he continues talking as he examinates his eyes.

“I dunno for you, but…. Sometimes I get so tired, it’s like I don’t even know myself.”

“What do you mean?” Jun asks as he moves on to the ears, the only thing left remaining.

“I dunno… It’s like I’m not really here, at times. It’s not like I’m sleepy, I’m just not in my body anymore.”

“That sounds like dissociation, Hikaru. It’s a state beyond exhaustion.”

That barely affects him.

“Huh? Interesting, I guess.”

“How did you even get this drained? I’ve seen you tired before, but this is beyond anything you’ve pulled before.”

This question grounds Hikaru back down to Earth, it’d seem, because his gaze is suddenly slightly clearer.

“My exams,” he says, his voice as limpid as can be with vocal cords sore from excessive coughing. “That exam’s the hardest fuckin’ thing ever, and if I fail it, I dunno what I’m gonna do. I don’t have much money anymore and I don’t wanna be Yoshiko’s burden.”

“It’s the agrégation that got you in that state, huh.”

“Yeah. It’s over now, but… Fuck, it was shit.”

“Weren’t the results today?”

“Yeah, they were.”

“Did you pass?”

A slight smile purses Hikaru’s lips.

“Yeah.”

“Congratulation are in order, then. Now…” Jun has one last question – or couple of – to ask. “Does your head hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“How long ago have you last taken a painkiller?”

“Uh… I think that was three hours ago. When I came back from the store.”

Jun puts away his whole armada of tools.

“I need to bring you to a hospital,” he then announces.

“Why though…?”

“You may have pneumonia and I don’t want to risk it. Beside,” he tests something out on Hikaru’s arm, “you’re severely dehydrated. The only place you should be in is a bed.”

“B-but…”

“No buts. I’m the med student here and I’m not letting you do that to yourself again.”

Hikaru sighs, breathing still wheezing.

“Fine… I don’t have enough energy to fight you back anyway.”

“Good, a compliant patient is a good patient,” he tells him with a smile. “Come on, let’s get you some help, okay? You did all that you had to, now you can – and should – rest.”

“If you say so.”

“I’ll drive you there. Just think of your success for now, got it?”

“Gotcha.”

Despite it all, by the time they reach his car, they’re both smiling like fools.

#whumptober 2023 #no.26 #lyric #working to exhaustion #“you look awful”#captain tsubasa #fic #i had to speedrun this one yeesh #i'll most likely go back and edit it to include the last prompt i didn't use when October will be over

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