𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑡𝑐𝘩 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝐶𝑎𝑡 | rowan laslow

sick and twisted

Rowan sneezes during algebra. Fortunately, it's a dry one so a string of snot doesn't bleed out of his nose. That would have been embarrassing. For him anyway. You're not confident you would have kept a straight face. You finish the equation for him while he rubs his nose pink.

"Spring allergy?" you ask, knowing full well autumn is about to open for winter. It's fun to say an obviously wrong thing and watch the people around you morph into various stages of confusion. Rowan however, is used to it so it just flows over him like water to duck.

He sniffles. "I'm fine. I probably just inhaled some dust or something."

That proves to be false. In fact, as the day progresses, he only gets worse. During lunch he complains about the water being more bitter than usual so you went up and got him a bottled one, hoping it would taste different from tap water but he just scrunched his face and ignored it for the rest of the meal. Then his voice turns dry. Which turns to coughing. Then, eventually it gets so bad everyone starts to coddle him through you. Is Rowan okay? He doesn't look good. Has he tried warm lemonade? Honey? Did he go to the clinic yet? Rowan‐

He did, actually. After the afternoon's first period you pulled him up and whisked him away there before the next teacher could enter the classroom. Bianca had nodded at you across the room and you knew from that alone she would inform Miss Thornhill of your absence in case class started before you came back. Which you would. You're not gonna run over some plants. What are you, a tryhard?

"Ooh, that's a pretty high temp." the nurse commented. You could tell without needing that stick. "I'm gonna give you some paracetamol, okay? Take one every six hours. Do you wanna stay here or are you gonna be able to take care of yourself?"

"I'll just go back to my room, thanks" he replied, throat dry like he hasn't drank water in ages. Which may not be that untrue.

"If it doesn't get better tomorrow,"

"We'll come back." you finished.

Rowan is unsteady on his feet as you lead him to the dormitory. You can feel the heat emanating from here and you aren't glad for it.

"You think it's because of yesterday?" you ask.

His eyes are unseeing. You hover behind him, just in case. "Huh?" he replies belatedly.

Oh jeez. He's really out of it. "Maybe you should've stayed in the clinic."

"No, no. I'm fine. It's just a little cold." you don't fully believe that. Nevertheless, you don't protest. Forcing people to do what you think is best isn't really a you thing. Plus, it doesn't seem like he's dying. Yet.

So now here you are, by Rowan's bedside instead of at class, where you really should be. A glass of water lays untouched on his dresser and a basket turned trash can sits by the side, slowly getting loaded up by snot filled tissues. Rowan struggles with breathing evenly on his back and turns to his side where the room is at its darkest in an effort to get comfortable. Which just so happens to be away from you.

"I'm dying." he murmurs, barely lucid.

You check the temperature under his jaw with the back of your hand. "You're fine." you lie. He's burning up.

Rowan stirs, a foot already stepping into the dream world. He fumbles to push your hand up to his forehead as he buries himself even further into his cocoon until only a puff of hair and your own hand under it peaks out. The cold must be nice. God, he's adorable.

The position he left you in is awkward. Leaned over him and back twisted to accommodate your ass on the chair. It's uncomfortable. You attempt to iron will your way into keeping it but give up in just a manner of seconds. Your hand leaves him as you get into bed. He makes a noise between a whine and a moody groan, a wordless demand for you to keep his forehead cool. "Hold on, I'm trying to figure this out." you explain, moving around to get comfortable. Rowan huffs. You abandon whatever notion of decency you have left and squeeze into a cuddle, molding your body into his. You put your hand back. Your heart lulls into his rhythm, slow and calm. He must have fallen asleep already. You close your eyes.

Hours pass as you nap, continuing to hold Rowan like a fragile stuffed bear. The room stays submerged in darkness from afternoon to evening. Its curtains had been shut tight since early morning.

Someone turns on the light and you hide your face in the back of Rowan's neck, reflexively curling into him.

"What the hell." Xavier exclaims.

"Shhh, shut‐" you mumble. "Shut the fuck up."

"You've been here the whole time?" you hear him walk around the room.

"Mhm."

Clothing shuffles and things move. The sound of him clicking his phone on reaches your ears. It's silent even as he types. He must have changed his settings. How polite. "Everyone's been looking for you. Both of you. There's a group project due next Friday." he shuffles some more.

"Mmh,"

"You're not listening, are you?"

"Ungfh." shoes thud onto the rug. All this talking is starting to wake you up. "What time is it?"

"Twelve." he answers.

That makes you pause. Dinner starts at 6. Even the slowest of all sloths would be back by 8, not to mention the curfew. What was even keeping him up this late? Pieces of memories float into your mind, seemingly at random. But it soon starts to connect as you begin to rouse.

Rowan's sudden bouts of absence, him and Bianca's friendship that seemed to appear out of nowhere, the letter with no address, it all makes sense now. What the fuck. The principal can lie about Nightshade but not your club? What the fuck! You brood.

You beckon Xavier to come close as you blindly wave your hand into the air. Though confused, he obeys. You feel his weight dip behind you as he leans over.

"What?" he asks. You don't reply and instead, gently pull him in. Neither of you wanna disturb Rowan so he doesn't fight back too hard. His folly. "Wait- hold on," he whispers. You physically cajole him into the cuddle pile, smooshing him between the wall and Rowan so the sick one remains prioritized. He practically melts into Xavier, his body heat way too enticing for the boy with a cold. You're not jealous. You open your eyes for the first time to glare at Xavier. He glares back, as if to say, you're the one who put me here, deal with it. "All three of us are gonna get in trouble if the RA finds you."

"Wake me up in an hour then." you stubbornly force yourself back to sleep. Across from you, Xavier gives up. Peer pressured into a cuddle pile by a grumpy vampire. What else is new?

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AN: this is a pretty short chapter i know but good news! We only have a few chapters left before we get to the plot so yippee >w<!!!!!! And you know what that means.... ANGST!! No more mister nice guy [ominous author voice] jk u n row row will keep being sweet<3 or will you....? Just kidding again! Or am i? O_O dun dun