Fever Dreams

Chapter 1

Day 1

Nico was starting to think something was wrong with the apartment. Through the haze of fever he thought he heard his door, thought he heard the key in the lock when the key should be unique to him. But the fever was bad again and he couldn't see or move very well, so he closed his eyes and drifted back into his feverish dreams.

When he woke next he felt a little better, so he walked the apartment and inspected the door. It looked normal, and it was latched like usual. But there were boxes, tons of them around the bare furniture he had had for years. Maybe the landlady brought them in; she did like to bring in little boxes and rugs she needed to store. But this was excessive.

Nico wrapped his arms around himself at the familiar chill he had had since he first gotten sick and started to look them over. The box closest to him was labeled Junk Drawer with a permanent marker in handwriting that didn't look much like the landlady's. Maybe her son's? He'd have to ask her or Hazel about it when he could. For now, he crept around it and back to the couch, where he collapsed back into the spot he had been laying in for far too long.

How long was Covid supposed to last? Damn, had it felt like forever...

Day 2

Potatoe skins were covering the kitchen floor.

It was domestic in an odd way that made him feel a little at home before he thought too deeply about it. But he hadn't bought potatoes in forever, let alone peeled them and left such a fucking mess. Maybe the fever got him cooking shit like that? He could admit he wasn't hungry, so he had to have eaten something in the past day or so.

Nico got on his knees and began to pick them up, struggling to get his hands around a few of them. He was so tired...

Did fevers make it hard to grip? His equilibrium was sure thrown off, but he didn't remember reading that in the packet the hospital sent home with him. Maybe it went into some other sickness. That was possible, right? Or maybe he wasn't getting enough oxygen.

It took an hour but he got the potato peels into a pile on the counter. His trashcan was gone. The last time he used it... Right, he had thrown up in it. Maybe Hazel was working to replace it.

On the cold tile of the kitchen, he huddled in on himself and shivered in the spot where the trashcan once was. So tired...

Day 5

His fever dreams lasted for days. When Nico finally woke the sun was shining through the blinds, and in the sun rays he knew there should have been warmth. But his bones hurt from the cold and the sun provided nothing but light.

Nico pulled his sweater close and tried to get it together. He needed to start doing things, walking, get used to living again. He couldn't let himself waste away because of a little virus, and he sure as hell couldn't just get up one day and assume it'd all be fine. He'd work toward it, little by little, step by step-

The boxes were gone with no explanation, and there were items in the living room that weren't his. On the couch he had been sleeping on there was a yellow blanket, and even though he couldn't see why Hazel chose that color, he laid on it and relaxed into the soft surface. In seconds he deemed it His Blanket™ and fell asleep without a second thought.

Day 10

Nico was starting to think his apartment was haunted.

He had been there for almost a year now but the signs were just starting to show. The talking in the spare bedroom, sometimes in the bathroom, the random books and cups of water that showed up out of nowhere. One night he heard the sink running in the bathroom, and it lasted long enough to wake him from his fever dreams. He crept to the door and tried to open it, but he could barely grasp the knob and when he could, he found the door to be locked.

"Hello?" Nico called hopefully. "Hazel?"

There was no answer. Nico tried the door again but couldn't grasp it anymore. His lungs hurt, and as he struggled for breath he was reminded once again of the sickness taking over his body.

And fuck, now he had a ghost. Was it coming to warn him of his death? Fuck, he wanted Hazel.

"Hazel?" he tried again. Pleaded. "Haz, is that you?"

No answer. Nico ran to the couch and buried his head in the yellow blanket, trying to will the sounds and the sickness away.

He was scared, he'd admit it to himself. He was scared and he wanted Hazel.

The bathroom door opened and even the comfort of His Blanket™ couldn't stop him from freaking out. Something was there, something was in his home, and if he looked at it it'd only be more true.

So he buried his face and prayed to something he hadn't quite believed in before. His body felt too light when he was doing so.

Day 11

With the sunlight came the bravery he had missed in the moonlight. Nico peeled himself off the couch and crept to the bathroom in hopes of discovering something that would explain the night before. There were no traces of Hazel, not of her hair products nor her toothbrush. There was no water in the sink and no signs of anyone else besides himself, and part of his brain told him he had imagined the whole thing.

(it was always easier to believe this the day after)

Day 15

Things were getting worse.

It had been ages since Nico had seen Hazel and his sickness hadn't let up. His chest ached and he lacked any real energy, and any time he wasn't awake he had dreams that scared him more than the sounds at night. In them, he got too light, too far gone. It felt like something beyond was pulling him, pulling him from the couch and His Blanket™ and the small apartment. It was hard to fight when it felt so peaceful yet so strange. Something in him wanted to submit quickly and fully. Another part of him wanted to fight with whatever energy he had left, fight like hell and go out kicking.

Maybe that was why he woke with no energy.

Maybe it was just his subconscious.

Maybe he just needed some company.

~

~

Nico was laying on his couch and staring at the static-filled TV when he heard shuffling from the guest bedroom again. This time, he jumped to his feet and ran to the door to press his ear against it. It was the first time he heard the ghost's voice.

"I'm tired," it was saying. "I'm so tired."

Nico couldn't agree more, but something was in his apartment and it hadn't come through the door. It was the ghoul he heard at night, the wind rattling the cold window panes. It was phantom and wraith and everything from his mama's old ghost stories.

What did you do to banish unwanted spirits? How the hell had it even gotten in? No Ouiji boards, no summoning that he knew of. Maybe something was attached to something in one of those boxes the landlady left?

The others would think he was crazy if he told them. Maybe he was. Fevers caused hallucinations and he had had this fever for who knows how long now. It was just a hallucination, nothing to fear. Maybe if he-

The bedroom door opened before him, and his vision went black.

Day 16

When Nico woke up the world was bright again. He was laying on His Blanket™ on the couch, facedown to shield his eyes from the sun. It felt normal and the couch was normal, everything was fine, but his lungs hurt and he wondered if he was just getting closer to death.

What would death be like? Would he even know...?

No. He wasn't thinking about that today. Today he was just...just existing, if he couldn't do anything else. Hopefully that'd be enough for the world to leave him alone, at least for a little bit.