Resisting Fate

Chapter 6

Carmelo was sick.

Well, he didn't start off sick. Werewolves could smell sickness and sense physical ailments in the body. He could fake illness for schools and human requirements, but he couldn't really do the same for pack issues.

His anxiety, however, seemed to actually materialize into some sort of malaise that made him physically ill. It also probably had something to do with accidentally leaving his window open on a cold night. He spent the last few hours puking, and as shitty as he felt, Carmelo couldn't help but be relieved that he didn't have to show the witch, who he learned was named Daniera, around.

Earlier that morning, Carmelo texted Alpha Jamie to let him know that he was unwell. He asked Carmelo if he wanted to be accompanied to Raven's office, but Carmelo turned him down. He didn't want to inconvenience the Alpha, nor did he want to move out of his bed.

No, he would suffer in the comfort of being surrounded by blankets and pillows.

After stumbling back to his bed, Carmelo had the foresight to grab a trashcan and placed it on the floor close to where he would be laying. His nose only ran right after he puked, so it served not only as a tissue collector, but also as a puke holder in case he couldn't make it to the toilet in time.

He laid on the bed and stared aimlessly at the ceiling. For once, his mind was blank and he felt as comfortable as a sick person could feel as he dissociated. Unfortunately, the smooth ceiling with the stain on it that he never could remove didn't hold his attention for long. Though he tried, he couldn't summon his laptop to him, and instead rolled over and stretched as much as he could. His breathing was short, but at least he finally had his laptop, and therefore, entertainment.

As he scrolled through Netflix, nothing seemed appealing, so he played one of his comfort shows Carmelo put it on a random season and episode, and was soon distracted by pranks, office work, and beet farming.

Something that he didn't have to pay attention to, but still kept him occupied.

His phone went off a few times, but there were two reasons he didn't check it. One, it was too far away. And two, he couldn't be bothered.

Looking and moving required energy that he couldn't muster up.

Still, if he had bothered to check his phone, Carmelo could have prepared himself for the arrival of a certain pair of mates.

At some point, he ended up dozing off, and he awoke to someone brushing his hair out of his face.

"Huh?"

Someone shushed him, and for a moment, he settled back down. He wanted to go back to the peaceful, dark, dreamless sleep he was just in. At least, until Carmelo realized he didn't shush himself.

"What the fuck?" His voice cracked at least twice on each word, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he tried to sit up.

Instead, all he could focus on was the drool that inevitably dried on his chin, and the tissues that covered the floor by the trashcan. Carmelo's eyes watered, his nose ran, his head pounded. He looked (and felt) like shit. He didn't want anyone to see him, but especially not Vincent or Sebastian.

He refused to think about why that was.

"Don't sit up," Sebastian said, pushing Carmelo back lightly. "You need to rest."

"We wanted to make sure you were okay," Vincent said. He sat on the edge of Carmelo's bed, leaning towards him. "You were burning up though, so we grabbed some medicine from Raven, and Bash got a cold towel for your head."

Carmelo didn't even realize he had a damp towel resting on his forehead. Normally, he was very observant, and prided himself on noticing things that not everyone else did. He felt caught off guard that he was so out of it.