Unconditional Love

72. What You Don't Say

Virat shifted a little as he got comfortable on the couch, his body slowly melting into the cushions. He exhaled a heavy breath, his eyes fluttering shut.

A few moments later, Rohit brushed his fingers gently through Virat's hair.

"We should go lie down in the room," Rohit whispered.

Virat opened his eyes just enough to look at him, exhaustion clouding the warm brown.

But he nodded wordlessly, too tired to argue. Rohit helped him up, one hand on his back, steady as always.

Once they reached the bedroom, Virat kicked off his slippers and climbed into bed.

Rohit followed right after, tugging the comforter over them both.

As soon as Rohit slipped closer, Virat shifted instinctively, his head resting on Rohit's chest, and Rohit's arm curled securely around his waist.

"Comfortable?" Rohit murmured.

Virat hummed softly, his fingers brushing lazily along Rohit's side,"Yeah... better."

They both drifted off within minutes, their breathing falling into sync as the room fell quiet except for the faint ticking of the wall clock.

A few hours later...

Virat stirred, his brow furrowing in his sleep.

A dull, heavy throb was pressing at his temples, slowly sharpening into a pounding migraine.

He shifted again, uncomfortably, as heat prickled at his skin.

His mouth was dry. His stomach turned uneasily.

By the time he cracked his eyes open, he realized his head was killing him, "Shit..." he whispered under his breath.

He sat up slowly. His breathing was shallow; his heart thumped in his chest like it was working too hard.

The nausea was rising with the pain, and his body felt feverish.

He tried to get up quietly, but the mattress shifted and Rohit stirred.

"Virat?" Rohit's voice was groggy but concerned, already reaching for him.

Virat winced, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. "Migraine," he said softly, his voice tight. "Bad one."

Rohit was wide awake in an instant,"Stay here. I'll get your meds and some water." He was already out of bed, feet padding fast across the floor.

Virat closed his eyes, one hand pressing to his forehead as he fought the wave of pain.

He hated this.

Hated Rohit seeing him like this. But a moment later, there was a cool hand on his back.

"Here," Rohit murmured, kneeling in front of him. He handed Virat his meds and the glass of water.

"Slow sips," Rohit instructed gently.

Virat took the medicine and drank as Rohit guided his hand, steadying him.

Once done, Rohit helped him lay back down, adjusting the pillows behind him.

He brought a cool cloth and pressed it gently to Virat's forehead.

"Better?" Rohit asked softly, his fingers running through Virat's hair again.

"Little bit," Virat mumbled, his voice hoarse.

Rohit kissed his temple, lingering for a moment.
"I'm right here," he promised.