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Cael honestly could not remember the last time he had felt so miserable. He had the flu once when he was younger, but at this point that felt like nothing more than a minor cold in comparison to what he was going through. On top of feeling physically unwell, he also felt a pang of guilt due to the fact that he knew that Cecilia wasn’t used to having to take care of anyone. For most of her life she hadn’t even needed to take care of herself because she had other people doing that for her. She had her parents who gave her anything she ever wanted and/or needed, but now that she didn’t have them, she had no choice but to learn how to fend for herself. Of course she had him to help her out (when she needed him), but right now he was barely capable of standing. This was the first time he had to completely depend on her, and he imagined she was just as terrified at the concept as he was.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, because he did, completely…but he was pretty sure she had let a plant die within a week the last time he had to go on a business trip. He just hoped she didn’t get too overwhelmed taking care of another person who had a constant fever and spent more time writhing in bed than anything else for the last couple of days.

Cael was currently curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed that was usually shared with Cecilia, though the aforementioned writhing and sweating kind of made it impossible for her to be close to him. He also didn’t want her catching whatever the hell it was he had gotten sick with, and was certain that in his current state, she had no desire to be near to him anyway. Not that he could blame her. He probably radiated more heat than a furnace these days. When he heard her voice from the doorway, he lifted his head as much as he could, one blue eye opening to try and focus on her. He dropped his head back down to the pillow with a groan, a non-verbal way of answering her question.

“I’ll be ready to run a marathon any day now…”

Even in his weakened condition, he hadn’t completely lost his sense of humor. He’d probably go completely crazy if he kept whining about how miserable he felt. Wasn’t like that’d help anything anyway. He lifted a hand to rake his fingers back through his hair, which was sweat soaked than it had been a few hours ago. He watched her as she set down the tray beside the bed, letting out a light sigh before he tried to push himself up so he was resting his back against the board of the bed, wincing as he did so due to the body aches. He coughed a little into the crook of his elbow before he looked over at the tray. He definitely would have made note of how it had been presented to him while he wasn’t delirious, so he didn’t make a comment about it. Instead he just looked over at her.

“How are you holding up…?”