Klance - Beat Drop (Complete)

Chapter 17 Dry Throat

Keith woke with a start, his heart pounding. The space behind his eyes throbbed as he looked to his window, the sun shining dully back at him from behind cloud cover. Keith turned to his alarm clock. 7:16. His first lecture started at 7:30... he could make it... That option was immediately shut down as Keith tried to stand. His knees felt like Jello and he nearly fell over. His throat tickled so he coughed, but the pain from the action made his head spin; his throat was raw, rough, and dry like he had been coughing all night. He probably had.

Keith breathed shallowly through his mouth because his nose was too stuffy to breathe through. He walked silently into the bathroom and rummaged through his drawers for a thermometer. Finding the simple white stick, cluttered among old toothbrushes and bracelets and eye makeup, Keith shoved it under his sand-papery dry tongue and shuffled into the kitchen, finding (and immediately swallowing) two Advil caplets. He was still naked, he realized, his hipbones forming small shallows in his skin.

The thermometer beeped after a few seconds and Keith looked down at it, frowning. '99.6'. That counted as sick, right? Keith sighed, which lead to a violent coughing attack, and moved around the kitchen, flipping on the electric kettle and opening the fridge to look for something to eat. He closed it when he saw how bare it was. Go shopping, he mentally noted and pulled a mug from the cabinet.

The hot tea cleared his sinuses and sore throat, but Keith still felt clammy and gross with sweat, so he padded to the bathroom. A mirror was stationed above the pedestal sink and Keith looked at himself doubtfully. His hair was poofy and messy, what always happened when he went to bed with wet hair. The pads beneath his eyes were creased into dark semi-circles and his irises looked dull. Keith thought he looked a little paler than usual too, but he felt hot and clammy.

Keith licked his lips, trying to taste any trace of Lance, any comfort, but came up with nothing. Lance's sunny smile was hard to bring to mind in such a state of sickness and sadness. Keith rested his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror and gripped the sides of the sink until his knuckles turned white. He needed someone right now. Anyone.

Keith turned away from the sink and yanked the shower control into a hot stream of water, checking for his bathrobe that hung on a hook behind the door. Stepping under the hot stream, he closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. Keith scrubbed at his skin with a dense sponge, then shampooed his hair twice. Facial scrub spattered on the bottom of the tub as he messily poured some into his hand, rubbing his palms against his face, washing away the grimy feeling.

When he was done, Keith stepped out of the shower, wrapped in steam and his robe, and he felt much better. He walked to his bedroom, then his small closet, and picked out the softest, comfiest sweater (light pink with a rose on the upper left, where a breast pocket would be) and black joggers. He blow-dried his hair, tied on his converse, and picked up his keys, en route to Hunk's cafe.

...

Inside Hunk's warm arms, everything smelled like espresso and chocolate and good things. Hunk's hugs were heaven. He didn't even have to say anything, he knew Shiro had told Hunk about Acxa by the way he had come around the counter without saying a word as soon as Keith walked into the shop, brushing the flour from the pie dough he was making off his big hands. Keith sunk into Hunk's sweatshirt and his worries sunk down into his converse. Hink gave him a mug of coffee and sat with Keith at a table, just talking.

"Does Pidge know?" Keith asked, drawing absentminded circles on the dark, wooden table with his fingertips.

"I haven't told him," Hunk said, "But Shiro might have."

Keith nodded, "I just wanted to know. Pidge hasn't texted me but it might just be because he's bad with emotions," he mused.

Hunk rubbed Keith's shoulder across the table, "You okay? You don't sound too good."