Fool Me Twice | [6/6]
Part 6 is finally here! đ (6/6 feels so surreal to write.) I think this will be the last installment out of this mini-arc, but I definitely want to write more of these two in the future (+ have a lot very loosely planned, if I can ever get around to writing it).
Part 6 ft. fake dating, cold-induced exhaustion, and questionable decisions
You can read part 1 [here]! The other parts are listed in my [fic masterlist].
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Yves isnât sure what he expects.
He wakes up early to shovel snow from the front porch, makes breakfast, weighs his options over breakfast, and thenâmaybe ill-advisedlyâtexts Vincent before he heads out for work.
Y: tell me you got some rest last night!Â
V: Of course
Y: more than 3 hours?Â
V: Do you even need to ask?
Y: iâm sure no one would mind if you took the day off
Y: give someone else a chance to be the most irreplaceable person in the room for a day!Â
Y: i swear iâve never seen you take a sick day
V: No need. Iâm feeling a lot better today
Itâs said with such conviction that Yves thinks he has no reason to question it. It isnât like Vincent to be outright dishonest, after all. If heâs claiming to be feeling better, he must be at least on the mend.
Itâs for that reason that Yves resists the urge to go out of his way to check on him. The office building is spacious enough that neither of them has a reason to cross paths, usually, except potentially at lunch.
And either way, itâs nothing Yves should have to concern himself withâVincent can take care of himself. He can, and he will, Yves thinks. Perhaps in the future Yves will be able to take him out for a proper dinner, as a way of showing his thanks. But until then, things will be back as theyâve always been, barring the unusual circumstances over the last few days. Yves will go back to regarding Vincent as nothing more than a colleagueâas someone he cares about to the appropriate extent, as someone whose life heâs in only tangentially.
And Vincent doesnât need anyoneâleast of all, Yvesâto look out for him. Yves likes his coworkers, but he knows better than to confuse civility with friendliness. He and Vincent certainly arenât close enough to be properly considered friends.
Itâs with that reassurance that he goes about work for the first few hours of the day. Itâs easy, as always, to fall into the flow of it. Heâs a little more tired than usualâhe finds himself stifling a yawn into one hand during the morning team meetingâbut not quite tired enough to be nodding off, at the very least.
Work always feels longer when heâs tired, though itâs never too long of a stretch until lunch. As a general rule, he likes to tackle the more difficult work in the morning, after heâs had his morning coffee, and save the more structured, less demanding busywork for after lunch. Itâs interesting, but itâs work nonetheless, and all in all, it goes by especially slowly. He very pointedly does not allow his mind to wander. Halfway through his morning, Laurent shows him some of the ridiculous emails heâs gotten from a particularly standoffish client, and Cara comes over to peek over his shoulder and laugh with him about Laurentâs businesslike, unwavering civility, and the morning goes by faster after that.
Itâs only when heâs a few steps away from the break room that he hearsâor, rather, overhearsâ
âIâm sorry,â someone says, from the other side of the door. It takes him a moment to recognize the voice for who it isâthe new hire. Angelie. Right. Itâs not that he means to eavesdrop, but he thinks itâs strange that she feels the need to apologize at all. It sounds like the kind of apology that she really, sincerely meansânot one given out of thinly-veiled obligation, not one exchanged only as a business courtesy, and that makes him pause.
He wonders what it is that she thinks sheâs done wrong. Maybe if he sticks around, he can reassure her afterwardsâhe knows how intimidating it can be to be new. âWhen I asked you for help, I didnât realize how much work itâd be.â
âItâsâ itâs ndo problem, snf-!â Whoever sheâs talking to says. As if Yves doesnât know immediately; as if Yves hasnât been thinkingâor rather, trying not to thinkâabout said person all morning. âIâm used to it.â
âStill, if I had known how long itâd takeââ
âItâs really okay, Angelie.âÂ
âYouâve been such a big help to me. I didnât know until Charlotte told me youâve been here all morning trying toââ
âItâs fine. This isnât any sort of special circumstance. Iâmb - snf-! - frequently here early. J-just a secondââ For a moment, Yves wonders if theyâve lowered their voices to speak more quietly, but then the reason for the lull in the conversation becomes evident. Vincent coughsâharshly enough that, even through the wall, it sounds almost certainly painful. When he speaks up again, his voice sounds noticeably hoarser than before. âSorry. Iâ coughcough - Iâm happy to be - snf-! - of assistance, really.â
âThank you,â Angelie says. âI honestly donât know what I would do without you. I think Iâm good from hereâbut um, if you donât mind me askingâŠâ
She hesitates. For some reason Yves canât quite parse, she sounds uncertain.
âWhat is it?â Vincent says.
âUm, are you okay?â
All of a sudden, the apology makes sense.
âWhat?â
âYouâ seemââ
âIâm fine,â Vincent says.Â
âOkay.â A beat. âDo you need cough drops? I have a whole bag at my desk. I always get sick when Iâm in new places, soâit hasnât happened yet, I mean, but I wanted to be prepared in case it does. If you want any, I have a ton to spare.â
Yves hears the static whir of the coffee machine as it comes to life.Â
âI appreciate the offer, but Iâm okay,â Vincent says. âThough, you should - hH⊠hh⊠hH-hihâGKT-! snf-!â The sneeze doesnât sound relieving in the least, and the sniffle which follows seems as good as useless. âYou should keep your distance.â
âWell, the offer still stands if you end up needing them later,â Angelie says, sounding uncertain. âThanks again for all the help.â
âItâs no problem. If you run into any issues later, donât be afraid to reach out.â
He hears footsteps, recedingâAngelie is going back to work, he realizes. And, judging by the sound of the coffee machine, Vincent is still here, making his usual morning espresso.
Yves really shouldnât interrupt. He should turn around and head back to his office desk. Really, itâs none of his business if Vincent is okay. Itâs none of his business whether or not Vincent got to the office early today, as usual, despite working so late last night. Itâs none of his business whether or not Vincent is feeling well enough to be here in the first place. Perhaps he should go back to his deskâperhaps he doesnât need coffee as imminently as heâd thought.
Against all logic, he finds himself on the other side of the break room door.
At the sound of the door opening, Vincent looks up. Yves catalogs his appearance in silence. His hair is as neat as usual, his jacket ironed, his tie perfectly straight, but thereâs an unusual flush high on his cheekbones, a paleness to his complexion.
âYves,â Vincent says.
His voice practically cracks on the syllable, as if heâs just a few conversations away from losing his voice. He sounds so distinctly unwell, Yves realizes.
And he looks exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes are even more prominent than before, and when he lifts his elbow to his face to muffle a few harsh, breathless coughs into his sleeve, thereâs an uncharacteristic sluggishness to the motion of it. When he lowers his arm, thereâs a thin sheen of water to his eyesâfrom the sheer force of the coughing fit, perhaps. His eyes are a little red-rimmed.
Vincent sniffles, though the sound is so congested that Yves isnât sure itâs made any difference at all. Past them, the coffee machine beeps to signal that itâs done.
Yves pushes the door shut behind him. His mouth feels dry.
âI wadted to - snf-! - properly thank you for last ndight,â Vincent starts. âI realize thatââ His eyes water, and he blinks, reaching up with one hand to rub his nose. âThat you - hH-hHihâŠâ He veers away from Yves, steepling both his hands over his face as his shoulders jerk forward with a forceful, âhihHâGKTâShhuH!â And then, just a few moments later, another - âhH⊠hiIH⊠HIIhâNGKTshHh!-!â The sneezesâeven stifledâsound loud enough to grate on his throat. Itâs no wonder his voice sounds off. âI realize that you ended up staying a lot later than you planned to.â
Yves stares at him. Is this really what Vincent thinks he wants to hear?
âAnd I apologize if I came across asâŠâ Yves sees the moment Vincentâs gaze unfocuses. He sees the way Vincent tenses, cupping a hand over his face for another, âHIhâGktt! Hh⊠hHh⊠hiihâ!â
The look of ticklish desperationâhis eyebrows creased, his expression slackâdoesnât let up, even as his breath settles. Vincent rubs his nose with the bridge of his index finger, sniffling again, as if to coax out the sneeze that his body seems so adamant on denying himâ
âhiHH-âIksSHuhh! ⊠hHIH⊠Hh⊠hh-hIihâHIih-TSCHhuuh! snf-!â A soft, almost imperceptible exhale. âExcuse mbe, I...â His voice practically gives out on that note, and he takes a halting step back, veering aside with another fit of coughs.
âYou said you were feeling better,â Yves all but snaps, when heâs done.
Vincent looks off to the side. âIâm not as tired as I was yesterday,â he says. âSo, in that regard.â
He turns aside to lift the coffee mug from where it sits on the machine. Thereâs a slight tremor to his hand when he picks it up, before he steadies itâindicative of one too many cups of coffee, perhapsâor, knowing Vincent, probably a lot more than that.
âIn that regard?â Yves repeats. âSo youâre feeling worse off in every other regard?âÂ
He doesnât mean for it to come out so accusatory, but a part of him feelsâbetrayed, maybe. By the dishonesty of Vincentâs response, by the intensity of his own worry.
âThatâs not what I meant.â
Vincent looks like heâs about to say something more, but then heâs hurriedly setting his coffee down, raising both hands to his face, again, forâ
âhiIH⊠HIIHâGK-t! Hh! Hih⊠HIihâIZSCHhuh!â A single, breathless, âSorry,â and then - âhhH-! snf-âŠ!â Yves watches his expression crumple as he jerks forward, his eyes watering. âhiIH-NGkt-! HhâŠ. HHh⊠hiIH-!... HHâIIKTCHhuhH-!â
The sneezing fit is punctuated by another round of coughing, which all but confirms that all this sneezing is making Vincent lose his voice faster.Â
Yves passes him a coffee napkin. Vincent eyes it for a moment before taking it, gingerly.
âYou shouldnât be here,â Yves says. âYouâre clearly unwell.â
âIâm fine. I had a couple calls this morning.â
âYou didnât think to cancel?â
âThey were urgent.â
âAnd what do you think our clients would think if they see that youâre clearly coming down with something?âÂ
âI took medicine to suppress the symptoms,â Vincent says, glancing off to the side. âA few hours ago. Itâs - coughcough - just starting to wear off.â
âI donât get it,â Yves says, feeling the frustration build in his chest. âYouâre not going to recover quickly if you keep pushing yourself.â
âItâs just a cold. Thereâs nothing I can do but wait it out.â
âThere are plenty of things you could do. You could take a sick day, for one. You could head home early. You could even get more than a few hours of sleep, instead ofââ Yves looks toward the coffee mug in his hands. ââinsisting on taking cold medicine and keeping yourself awake with caffeine. Just how many cups of coffee have you already had this morning?â
âIâm fine, Yves.Â
âAs youâve said,â Yves says, a little bitterly. âThough, even if you insist on lying to everyone else, at least you should be honest to yourself.âÂ
Vincent is quiet for a moment.
When he speaks, his voice is carefully even. âIs that why youâre so upset?â
âWhat?â
âItâs because I told you I was feeling better.â
Yves supposes thatâs part of it. But another part of him is frustratedâwith himself, first and foremost, for putting Vincent in this situation in the first place, for inconveniencing someone heâs already indebted to, only to have to watch from the sidelines, guiltily, with no way to help. Back thenâwith Erika, with crew, with university; with the cheating, and the aftermath; with the apartment hunting, with the start of his job, with everything elseâYves has always disliked the revelation that thereâs nothing he can do.
âYouâre free to lie to me,â he says. âI know weâre not close. But I care about you, which is why I asked.âÂ
âI donât think you understand.â Vincent takes a measured sip from his coffee. His hand trembles slightly when he lifts the cup, and Yves has the sudden urge to take it from his hands. Vincent sighs. âDo you know why I told you I was feeling better?â
That seems obvious enough. âBecause you wanted me to stop asking.â
âBecause I donât want it to be anyone elseâs problem,â Vincent snaps. âEspecially not yours.â
Before Yves has the time to fully process that statement, Vincent continues. âI donât want my assignments to be work on someone elseâs plate. I donât want my health to be someone elseâs problem. You already stayed so late last nightâyou went out of your way to get me dinner. How could I possibly ask any more of you?â
The sentence seems to grate unpleasantly against his throat for the way that he winces a little, turning aside to cough harshly into his fist. âIâm not feeling well today, but I knew youâd be worried if I told you. And how could I knowingly take up more of your time? After everything youâve done for me already?âÂ
His sentence tapers off into another coughing fit, which he emerges from with another wince. It must hurt his throat to speak.
âI wasnât being honest when you asked me how I was feeling,â Vincent saysâfinally an admission, but hearing it now doesnât make Yves feel better at all. âBut it would be selfish of me to make this any more of your problem than it already is.â
In lieu of responding, Yves takes the coffee cup from his hands and sets it down, gingerly, on the countertop. He takes another mugâunwraps an herbal tea bag from the cabinets, while heâs at itâand fills it to the brim with warm water, for the tea to steep. He stirs in a spoonful of honey. Steam rises from the cup in white wisps, and with it, the faint smell of chamomile.
When the tea is ready, he holds the cup by the rims, turning the handle outwards for Vincent to take. Vincent regards it with confusion, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, and for a moment, Yves wonders if he should clarify that itâs meant for him.
But then he takes it. Watching him lift the cup to take a sipâseeing the brief, miniscule flash of relief as his throat dips with a swallowâmakes something tighten in Yvesâs chest.
It takes everything in him not to cross his arms outright.Â
âYou are really a hypocrite,â he says.Â
âWhat?â
âYou helped Angelie, just yesterday. You helped me when I was just starting out. Both of us made our workâand our training, and our inexperienceâyour problem.â For all the things Yves has asked of himâfor all the things heâs seen others ask of him, however inordinateâVincent has never once complained.Â
âYouâre always taking on things for other people, because you know youâre capable of doing them,â Yves says. âHow is it any different if itâs you?â
Vincent doesnât say anything, to that.
âYouâre harder on yourself than you are on anyone else,â Yves says, with a sigh. âEven if you tell me not to worry, Iâm still going to worry about you. But itâs not a burden to me.â
Something in Vincentâs expression stills.Â
âI know I canât change your mind,â Yves says. âBut you should get some restâwhenever you can. Youâve already done more than enough, I promise. Iâor anyone else on the teamâcan take up anything that canât wait until youâre feeling better.â
Vincent turns away, his shoulders trembling on an inhale, and Yves barely squeezes in a preemptive âBless you,â beforeâ
âHh⊠hiIHâEKkTSHuhH! Hh⊠hh⊠HiIHâIIKKtsCHuhH! snf-! â
He lifts his free hand up to cover, his eyes squeezing shut as he muffles the sneezes into his wrist. Itâs a miracle that the tea doesnât spill, Yves thinks.
When he emerges, a little teary-eyed, sniffling, he really does look tired. He says, âI donât understand why you care so much.â
Isnât it obvious? Yves opens his mouth to say just as much, onlyâŠ
âŠOnly, Vincent looks genuinely stricken.
âI like you,â Yves says, because itâs the truth. Because he wants, suddenly, for Vincent to know it. âDo I need any other reason?â
âThat seems⊠impossibly simple.â
âIt is,â Yves says. For a moment, he wants to tell Vincent just exactly how simple it is, just how easy Vincent is to like.
âI didnât intend to worry you,â Vincent says, looking off to the side. âI didnât expect for anyone to be worried in the first place.â
Yvesâwho frequently worries about people, whether they want him to or notâlaughs. âIf you donât want me to worry about you, you should hurry up and get better.â
At this, Vincent nods, contemplative. âDuly noted.â
âWhich means getting some proper rest.â
âIâll consider it.â
(Yves half expects that to be a lie. But when he gets to work the next morning, Vincentâs desk is unoccupied, for once, and thereâs a small packet of cough drops leaned up against his desktop monitorâso he had asked Angelie for them yesterday, after allâand a stack of files set off neatly to the side, marked For Later.
Yves supposes he can deal with that.)
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