#posting oc content always makes me so nervous hhhhhhhhh
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I wrote another thing for some OCs of mine! I’ll put context under the cut.
I will say this: it’s a long read for what turned out to be not a lot of sick content. Just so you know that going in, haha
Content Warnings: oblique mentions of sex, brief references to emotionally abusive parents, semi-realistic depiction of urgent care/hospitalization and panic attacks
Please don’t bother correcting me on details i may have gotten wrong regarding flu symptoms/the hospitalization process :) I’m not shooting for absolute realism here and likely never will be. Thanks!
Oh, one more thing! This was based off a prompt that I will try to find so I can properly credit OP. It was basically about Character A getting hospitalized on Christmas and Character B decorating their room for them as a surprise.
This is based off a WIP of mine about 2 college roommates who go on a road trip after graduating and fall in love :) This story takes place in their Junior year and isn’t actually part of the WIP. Canon fanfiction? Is that a thing? Anyway.
The 2 characters that matter are:
Gaël Moreno
(Face claim: Reece King)
Santiago “Santi” Velez
(Face claim: Diego Boneta)
That’s p much all you need to know in terms of context!
--
Gaël swirled the last of his cider around the bottom of his plastic cup and sighed. As far as parties went, this one was rather small. Most of the attendees were playing Jenga Truth or Dare in the kitchen and the rest had broken off into small groups and were talking on their own.
With another sigh, Gaël tossed back the last of his cider. He glanced longingly into the kitchen, wondering if Santi would be upset if he slipped out.
"Hey."
Gaël jumped at a sudden voice behind him. He turned and came face to face with one of the GSA regulars. "Hey, Keith."
"I'll get to the point." Keith's strawberry blond hair was styled into spikes that quivered slightly as he talked. "This party blows and you look miserable. Do you wanna," he gestured at the hallway and made a suggestive hand motion. "I have condoms."
Gaël glanced back at the kitchen. Santi was pounding the table and chanting with the rest of the group while one of them clumsily attempted to shotgun a beer. "Yeah."
"Thank God, this night isn't gonna be a total waste of time." Keith took Gaël by the hand and led him farther into the house.
When they emerged, Keith said goodbye and left for the night, leaving Gaël to gloomily resume his spot on the couch. The game in the kitchen had gotten quieter. Santi was talking to the host, gesturing wildly with a half-empty beer bottle.
His eyes lit up when he noticed Gaël on the couch.
"Hey!" he called, a little too loudly than was appropriate for the close quarters. "You ready to go?"
"Yeah." Gaël stood up and pulled his coat back on. "Are you?"
"Yeah, we're winding down here." Santi turned back to the party host, someone with whom Gaël was unfamiliar. "Hit me up tomorrow, I'll totally help you clean up."
"Thanks, bro. Appreciate it "
"You bet." Santi saluted with his bottle, finished the contents, and deposited it in a cardboard box labeled 'recycling.' "Alright, later. Seriously, text me."
"Night," Gaël said stiffly. He took Santi by the arm and led him toward the door.
They walked along side by side, Santi chattering aimlessly about the party and what they were going to do with themselves now that it was winter break.
Finally, he seemed to notice that Gaël didn't want to talk and fell silent.
The clock on the microwave, only just visible from the front door, read 2:58.
"Shit," Gaël groaned. "Tomorrow is gonna suck."
Santi shut the door behind them and locked it with a clumsy hand. "Least you don't have anywhere to be. Unless you wanna come with me to help clean up tomorrow?"
"You're really doing that?" Gaël kicked off his shoes and lined them up by the door. "You're crazy."
Santi waved a hand. "Nah. I mean. I'd appreciate the help if I were in their shoes."
"Fair enough. I'm going to bed."
"Think I'm gonna wait 'til the room stops spinning." Santi sat heavily on the couch. "G'night."
"Night."
Gaël woke to the sound of the front door opening, meaning Santi was either just leaving or just getting back. That, or they were being robbed by the world's most polite burglar.
Yawning, Gaël rolled out of bed and shuffled into the living room. Thankfully, he hadn't drunk enough to earn himself a hangover.
"Hey," Santi greeted him from the couch.
"Hey." Gaël paused on the way to the kitchen. "How did cleanup go?"
"Uhh. I cleaned. I came back. I think I died somewhere on the way home."
"You take any painkillers?"
"Yeah. Like 2 hours ago."
Gaël sighed fondly and rolled his eyes. "I'll get you some painkillers and water."
"Coffee?" Santi pleaded.
"I haven't made any yet." Gaël went to the kitchen to rectify this before bringing Santi a glass of water and some aspirin.
"Thaaaanks." Santi hauled himself into an upright position and took the pills.
Gaël took a seat in one of the armchairs across from the couch and assessed Santi. He looked as bad as Gaël guessed he felt. He was still wearing last night's clothes and his tanned skin was sallow in the late morning sun. His hair was down, which was unusual, and from the way he was squinting, he hadn't bothered putting his contacts in.
They sat quietly for a while, listening to the coffee maker percolating.
"Did you ever end up getting a job or anything?" Santi asked suddenly.
"Oh. No." Gaël shrugged. "I made enough from tutoring that I felt okay not subjecting myself to some heinous seasonal retail job."
"Hell yeah, dude. Enjoy that time off."
"What about you?"
"You know me. Got my busking permit all signed and up to date. One of the choir guys got a hand pan and wants to team up."
"Sexy. Is he going with you to play at the old folks' home?"
"Nah, that's all me. Well, and the rest of the choir but you know." Santi waved his hands aimlessly. "I'm the master musician." He swept his hair back like he was going to tie it up, then noticed he didn't have a hair tie on his wrist. He let his hands drop. His hair fanned back out in unruly waves. "You wanna come?"
"I don't sing," Gaël answered. They had this conversation every year.
"Come on, everyone can sing."
"I can open my mouth and make noises." Gaël couldn't help but blush. Whether he was good at singing was beside the point. He was no good in front of crowds and Santi well knew it. "I'll stay here and hold the fort."
"Alright, alright." Santi leaned back and closed his eyes.
--
Despite the lack of school or work, Gaël actually saw very little of Santi in the following days.
Between busking, practicing for the Christmas concert, and attending house parties, Santi was absent for most of the weekend.
Not that Gaël was sitting around at home waiting for him. Most of his friends had gone home for the holidays, but several members of the GSA had not. Gaël spent much of the weekend with Keith and a few other GSA regulars at various coffee shops and bars in the area.
It wasn't until Monday afternoon that Gaël and Santi had the opportunity for another real conversation.
Gaël came in from a late lunch and found Santi halfway to horizontal on the couch, awkwardly balancing a glass of red wine on his chest.
"I'm not buying us a new couch if you spill that," Gaël said. He locked the front door behind him and came inside properly. There was already an empty glass waiting for him on the coffee table.
"I won't spill," Santi insisted. He sat up a little straighter. Wine sloshed perilously in his glass, a few drops escaping over the side and running onto his hand. "That didn't count."
"You look tired." Gaël sat in the space previously occupied by Santi's legs.
Santi heaved himself properly upright and poured out a glass of wine for Gaël.
"I've never had a Winter Break this hectic before, and that includes the time I was in high school and my parents tried to drag me to Hawaii at the last minute and the airline lost our luggage and my mother threatened to sue them for emotional damages because her favorite Chanel dress was in her suitcase," Santi said all in one breath. He downed half his glass and ran a hand down his face. His hair was down again, which was unusual. In the low light it almost framed his head like a halo. "So it turns out Avi, the guy with the hand pan, has stage fright or something so he wanted to practice until everything was perfect and he kept freaking out every time I tried to improvise. Then we finally get out to our spot and he doesn't want to leave even though I have an agreement with the knife-juggling guy." He paused. "Choir's going fine, though. Except they keep inviting me out to Denny's after every practice and it feels weird saying no. Gaël, I am so sick of pancakes."
"I wondered what all the to-go boxes in the fridge were about." Gaël took a sip from his glass. "Where did this come from, by the way?"
"Oh." Santi sighed. "The choir did a Secret Santa thing which I didn't know about because I'm not technically in the choir and this was the 'backup gift'."
"Not a bad gift," Gaël said with a shrug.
"I agree, especially considering some of the other gifts that were given out."
"Let me guess, candles and hand lotion?"
"You nailed it." Santi drained his glass and leaned over like he was going to refill it before evidently changing his mind and setting the empty glass on the coffee table. "Luckily I have tomorrow off. The concert is on Christmas Eve and then I have the rest of the break to myself. More or less."
"Is there anything you want to do?" Gaël asked. "We could go out for lunch or something. To a real restaurant."
"No pancakes?"
"No pancakes."
"Excellent."
They slipped into silence.
Gaël sighed through his nose. Although he told himself he was over his juvenile crush on Santi, sometimes it came creeping back into his thoughts. This was one of those times. Gaël wanted to run his fingers through Santi's dark blond hair and feel him relax, wanted to run his hands down Santi's neck, his chest--
Blushing furiously, Gaël cut off that train of thought before it could travel any farther south. He just wanted to make Santi feel better, that was all. Because they were friends.
"What is a hand pan?" Gaël asked, mostly to distract himself.
"Oh, it's like…" Santi made a vague hand gesture over his lap. "Like a faceted dome made of metal, and when you hit certain parts of it in a certain way, it makes noise. Kinda like a steel drum."
"Oh. Is Avi any good?"
"He's not bad," Santi said. "Better than I would be anyway. Hang on, let me see if I can find his Instagram."
They spent the rest of the day lounging in the living room, alternating between silence and light conversation. The bottle of wine remained on the coffee table, untouched since Gaël's arrival.
The sun sank below the horizon.
Gaël stretched and shifted positions. "No parties tonight?" he asked, looking sideways at Santi.
"Why, d'you wanna go to one? I think some of the Drama kids are having some sort of get together."
"No." Gaël stuck out his tongue. "I was just wondering."
"You sure? I know some of them. I could introduce you. Or we could have some of your friends over." Santi seemed poised to go on, but instead was overtaken by a yawn. He shook his head.
"Yeah, you look ready to party." Gaël raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you should get to bed."
"Hm, yeah," Santi agreed. He didn't move. "Later."
"Alright, but don't expect me to make you coffee tomorrow."
"Of course." Santi smiled brightly.
Gaël refused to meet his eyes.
--
Ever the early riser, Gaël woke up the next day shortly after the sunrise. Unlike Santi, whose morning routine seemed to involve a lot of squinting and spilling water all over the kitchen in the process of making coffee or tea, Gaël's first act of the day was always to brush his teeth.
Half-awake, he staggered to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and lazily dragged some product through his dark brown curls. He took his time getting ready, knowing that Santi often preferred to sleep in.
To Gaël's surprise, Santi was waiting for him on the couch. He had wrapped himself up in his duvet and sheet and bundled up against one of the armrests. He appeared to be sleeping, but his hazel eyes cracked open upon hearing Gaël approach.
"Morning," Gaël said with a little wave. He poked his head into the kitchen to double check the time. "You're up early. Or did you stay up all night?"
"I was having trouble sleeping so I came out here."
"Did it help?"
"Not really." Santi sniffled and ducked his head under the duvet. After a moment, he sneezed sharply and then emerged. "If you want, you can have my leftover pancakes for breakfast."
"Thanks." Gaël went back into the kitchen to retrieve the to go box. While he was microwaving it, he heard Santi sneeze a few more times. "Bless you," he called over the hum of the microwave.
"Thanks," Santi called back.
He sounded a bit congested, Gaël thought. A familiar wave of anxiety began to rise in his chest. He abandoned his post at the microwave and stuck his head through the doorway into the living room. "Are you okay?"
"I think so." Sanri frowned, confused. "Do I seem not okay?"
Gaël made a face and gestured at the scene before him. Santi was wrapped head to toe in his bedding. Only his face was visible from beneath the pile of blankets. "You seem like you're trying to become one with your duvet."
The microwave beeped. Santi sneezed into his sleeve.
Gaël frowned, but went to go get his pancakes. When he got back to the living room, Santi was attempting to extricate himself from the tangle of sheets and blankets.
"Is the milk still good?" he asked Gaël when he was finally free.
Gaël shrugged. "Go check."
"Just figured I'd ask."
Santi was shivering when he came back into the living room, a bowl of cereal in hand.
Gaël couldn't help but notice. Winters in San Diego weren't exactly harsh, and Gaël was comfortable enough in his boxers and T-shirt. Yet Santi was shivering noticeably.
"Hey," Gaël said. "I think you're sick."
Santi paused in the act of arranging his duvet around himself. "So it's not weirdly cold in here?"
Gaël rolled his eyes. "Go take your temperature."
"But my cereal will get all soggy," Santi whined.
"Alright, whatever. I'm not your mom."
"Thank god for that."
Santi finished eating before Gaël and wandered off. He came back wearing an undersized Grateful Dead hoodie that kept trying to ride up.
"I'm doing it," he said.
"Huh?" Gaël was staring at the little bit of skin that was showing just above the waistband of Santi's sweatpants. He shook his head and looked up. Santi was brandishing a thermometer. "Oh. Good. I mean--" he stuttered. Santi sat down and stuck the thermometer under his tongue. "I hope you're not sick."
"Mm'" Santi hummed in agreement.
They waited a few seconds and the thermometer beeped. Santi made a face. "101.1."
"Huh." Gaël leaned forward. For the most part, Santi looked fine. He was a little pale and he did look tired, but not unusually so. "And you feel okay?"
Santi shrugged. "Yeah, aside from the fact that I'm freezing."
"Huh. Well." Gaël frowned. "I guess let's keep an eye on you."
For a moment, it was quiet. Then Santi shifted under the pile of blankets.
"I need to brush my teeth."
"Go brush your teeth," Gaël said, not looking up from his phone.
"Yeah." Santi got up and left.
The day was, by and large, anticlimactic. Gaël spent most of it on his phone, switching between the couch, an armchair, and his bed whenever he felt the need to move. It went without saying that their lunch plans were cancelled, and Santi went back to bed around noon, leaving Gaël to his own devices.
It would have been a lovely day for a hike, he thought as he looked wistfully out the window, but it wouldn't feel right leaving Santi behind.
So Gaël resigned himself to a boring, lonely day. He did receive a few texts from his friends, but everyone was mostly too busy to have a proper conversation.
At around 6:00, Santi emerged from his bedroom looking noticeably worse, downed a handful of painkillers, and retreated back into the darkness of his room.
"You okay?" Gaël asked as he passed.
"Sleepy," Santi answered, and shut his door.
--
They both woke early the next morning.
"Feeling any better?" Gaël asked upon emerging from the bathroom to see Santi sprawled out on the couch.
Santi said something akin to "not really." The words came out muffled with half his face pressed into the faux suede couch cushion.
Deciding to forgo breakfast for the moment, Gaël came out to the living room to take a better look at his roommate. "Oh. Shit."
Santi was a mess. His dark blond hair was hopelessly tangled around the dangling cross earring he had evidently neglected to take out, and matted to his sweaty forehead. His cheeks were an angry, feverish red and his eyes were blank, not seeming to focus on Gaël or anything at all.
He didn't say anything, just lay there motionless but for the frantic rise and fall of his chest, and let himself be examined.
"Shit," Gaël repeated. Then, "um."
The thermometer was still on the coffee table where Santi had left it last night.
"Can you sit up for me?"
Santi hummed a dissent. "Dizzy."
"Just… Roll over onto your side, then. I need to take your temperature."
"'Kay." Santi rolled over and allowed Gaël to slip the thermometer under his tongue.
For a few tense seconds, Gaël waited and tried desperately not to freak out. They both got sick all the time. This was nothing. Everything was fine.
Then the thermometer beeped and the panic roared again, loud in Gaël's ears. "104.2. How long--"
"I don't know." Santi closed his eyes and scrubbed at his face. "I woke up feeling really bad."
"What time?"
"Night?"
"And you said you were dizzy?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." Gaël bit his lip, thinking. "I think you should go to urgent care."
"Mm." Santi didn't open his eyes or attempt to move. "I don't know if I can--" He shuddered and pulled his knees up to his chest with a quiet moan. "I feel really bad."
"Just try to sit up. I need to grab some things and I'll help get you to the car."
"My wallet's, um… In my backpack. I'm still on my parents' insurance."
This made Gaël pause. "Really?" Then he shook himself. "Sorry, not the time. Just try to sit up."
He darted off. Keeping his wits about him was a constant battle. His body wanted so badly to panic. It was all he could do to not hyperventilate as he packed a few essentials into his school bag and started the car.
Santi was sitting up with his head in his hands and his knees braced against his elbows.
"Hey," Gaël said, kneeling beside him. "I'm gonna help you stand, okay?"
"I'm tired," Santi said, sounding almost on the verge of tears.
"I know. You can rest in the car, okay? Put your arm around me."
Santi's body was frightfully hot. It was hard to walk with him leaning so heavily on Gaël's shoulder, but they managed.
After a short drive, they had to repeat the maneuver to get into the urgent care.
"'I'll check you in," Gaël said. "Are you okay to go sit?"
"No," Santi said, clinging on harder. He leaned heavily to the side and Gaël staggered to try and keep them both upright.
One of the receptionists seemed to take notice of their plight. "I'm sending someone out to help, okay?"
Gaël said nothing. He couldn't. All he could do was try to breathe and to lower Santi to the floor as gently as possible.
Breath, he reminded himself. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. It wouldn't do any good if he passed out too.
So he knelt on the carpeted floor of the urgent care, sinking into a strange feeling of numbness. Santi was attended to by a doctor and a team of medical assistants and Gaël had to answer questions for them but the answers seemed far away in his mind.
His hands fumbled over Santi's wallet, words clumsy and faltering on his lips until every other sentence was "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know."
The carpeting was blue-gray, patterned with rosettes. Gaël watched his cream-colored skate shoes obscure it until it disappeared, replaced by pale orange linoleum.
One of the medical assistants was talking to him. Gaël looked around at the walls of the exam room. The words bounced around in his head without really sinking in.
His body seemed to catch on before his brain did, his shoulders beginning to shake with sobs. He was crying without really feeling it. Tears made dark stains on his pants. Gaël stared blankly down at the orange linoleum and let them fall.
--
"Gaël, I'm going to be fine," Santi said for what must have been the 50th time.
He didn't look fine. It was impossible to look fine laid up in a hospital bed. Gaël would have said so, but he was too busy crying. He hadn't really stopped since he'd started sobbing in the exam room and his head was starting to ache.
"Come on, Gaël, look at me. It's just the flu."
There was a whole list of things Gaël wanted to say to that, but all he could manage was "But I— And you…"
"You need to calm down or you're going to get admitted too," Santi joked. "Can I tell you a secret?"
This caught Gaël off guard. He looked up and wiped his eyes. "Y-yes."
"I'm not actually sick," Santi said in a stage whisper. "I just faked it to get out of the concert."
"Oh, shit," Gaël said as Santi's eyes widened.
"Oh, shit!" Santi echoed, flailing around aimlessly in the hospital bed. "My phone, I need— Ah, shit, shit, shit. What time is it?"
Gaël dived for his backpack, digging around for Santi's phone. He found it and tossed it over to Santi, who unlocked it and began typing furiously.
"Did you miss it?" Gaël asked, watching Santi's awkward attempt at typing without bending his left arm and messing up his IV.
"No, it starts in 2 hours." Santi sank back against the pillows and closed his eyes. "Ugh." The brief moment of panic had robbed him of breath. He was silent for a moment while he breathed. "Gaël," he said, opening his eyes. "I need you to bust me out of here. Steal a wheelchair while I distract the nurses, and we'll go from there."
"Wh--" Gaël squinted, his eyes darting over the medical equipment in the room. "You— No!"
"I'm kidding," Santi said, but his smile faded too quickly. "I just…" He sighed and ran a hand down his face. "I've been looking forward to this, you know? It's kinda the only thing I get to do for Christmas now that my family's all--" He waved his hand dismissively. He sniffled and scrubbed at his eyes even though there were no tears to wipe away. "Sorry, I know it's stupid to freak out like this."
"You just saw me have a panic attack for like three hours and you want to call that a freakout?" Gaël laughed. He wanted to put a hand on Santi's shoulder to hug him, to brush his hair, anything to make him feel even slightly better. As it was, self-deprecation was all he could muster. "I think you're entitled to cry a little bit considering where you are."
"Yeah." Santi gave a heavy sigh. "Merry Christmas, by the way. Your present is in my sock drawer. You can't miss it. It's the only thing in there that isn't socks."
"We can open presents tomorrow. Did they say when they were releasing you?"
"Yeah, hopefully tomorrow. Christmas Day." Santi wiggled his fingers. "They just want to keep me overnight to make sure I don't keel over again. Apparently I'm 'severely dehydrated' and 'drink too much alcohol'."
Gaël scoffed. "They know you're in college, right?"
"That's what I said. Well. Would have said if I could've felt my face at the time."
They fell into silence for a moment.
"I didn't know you liked Christmas so much," Gaël said. "You're always so enthusiastic about everything it's hard to tell sometimes."
Santi raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on the character analysis. "Yeah, I've always liked it. I'm not going to go into a Hallmark movie spiel or anything, but it's just nice. Although out of everything, I think the lights are my favorite." He sighed wistfully. "Quiet Harbor, the old folks' home we always perform for, always has the prettiest decorations in the lobby. Speaking of." He picked his phone up off the sheets. "The group chat is blowing up."
"They're not going to cancel, are they?" Gaël asked anxiously, knowing it would upset Santi.
"No, no. I'm not that important. They're just gonna do it without me."
"Ah."
"Can you do me a huge favor, by the way?"
"Of course."
"Can you swing by home and grab my phone charger? And toothbrush? Mm, and regular brush?" Santi attempted to run a hand through his hair and was instantly stopped by tangled up knots.
"Oh, yeah." Gaël blushed. "I'm sorry, I should have thought of that sooner. I'll go right now."
"Thanks," Santi said. He pulled the covers further up around his shoulders. "I'm going to sleep. Possibly for several thousand years."
Gaël drove home in contemplative silence. He gathered up Santi's things and put them all in his trusty backpack, but did not immediately head back to the hospital.
Instead, he drove.
Surely there were stores open on Christmas Eve. Not everything could be closed.
Sure enough, a dollar store was open. Gaël rushed in and surveyed their selection of holiday decor with a discerning eye. He grabbed a few things, even finding a few cheap strings of battery-operated lights.
Once he'd paid, he hopped back into the car and rearranged his backpack, sticking his new purchases at the bottom and Santi's belongings at the top. The backpack' zipper just barely managed to close, straining the seams. Gaël set it in the passenger seat and, after a moment's thought, strapped it in.
Then he headed back to the hospital.
--
Gaël's plan was not going quite as smoothly as he'd hoped. After an uneventful evening, he'd made the decision to stay the night in Santi's room.
It wasn't, as he'd feared, against hospital policy and Santi didn't protest beyond a few token attempts to get Gaël to leave and spend Christmas Eve with his other friends.
However, Santi was not as heavy a sleeper as Gaël had been hoping and he woke up almost every time a nurse came in to record his vitals.
After one such visit from a nurse, when the sky was just beginning to lighten, Gaël sat up. Tooth by tooth, he unzipped his backpack and set about decorating Santi's hospital room as lavishly as he could without obstructing anything too important.
This might've been against hospital policy, but it wouldn't have to be up for very long.
Since much of the room was taken up by the IV pole, hospital bed, and guest seating, Gaël tried to focus on the windowsill and tables. He set up the lights in careful loops and hung up paper ornaments everywhere he could think of.
When he was done, the room wasn't exactly covered in Christmas decorations, but it was certainly cheerier than before.
Satisfied that Santi was still fast asleep, Gaël set off to get himself a coffee.
"That's lovely," said the nurse, coming in. Her name was Permata. Gaël had met her earlier when she had come in to check Santi's vital signs.
"What's lovely?" Santi asked blearily.
"You'll see."
Santi must have been too tired to argue, because he didn't press the point any further.
From his position by the window, all Gaël could see was Permata's back. She finished what she was doing and left again.
"You awake?" Gaël asked.
"I guess so." Santi yawned. "What did she mean when— Oh." He looked around at all the Christmas decorations: the paper ornaments hung from the edge of the table, the streamers hanging from the message board on the wall, the lights on the windowsill. "Gaël, did you…?"
"You seemed really upset yesterday, and I wanted…" Gaël hesitated. "I didn't want you to be sad on Christmas."
"Gaël." Santi's eyes were wet with unshed tears. "Thank you." He held out his arm for a hug. "Seriously, thank you."
"Of course." Gaël leaned over the bed and embraced Santi. It was an awkward and slightly painful position, with his knees jammed into the plastic safety rail and his body twisted to an odd degree. But it didn't matter. Santi was safe.
That was all that was important.
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