Prompt: Could you please write a prompt about Ray who gets sick for the first time since he brought Silas home? Like, Silas is worried about his uncle and wants to take care of him but he's too shy or scared to do that. But in the end, he just does it anyway?
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Silas went downstairs and frowned, sniffing the air. He'd been living with Ray for a little over a year now, and one thing that was constant was breakfast.
Ray insisted on always eating a good breakfast unless they were in a rush. He liked to have it ready when Silas woke up.
But instead of smelling breakfast, Silas just smelled the cinnamon candle Ray often burned in the laundry room. He entered the kitchen, but there was no sign Ray had been in here this morning.
Ray rarely slept in, and even when he did, his idea of sleeping in still had him up at least an hour or two before Silas. Silas went upstairs cautiously, wary of the spots where the floorboards would creak.
He entered Ray's room and saw his uncle lying in bed, his face flushed and sweat gathered at his hairline. There was a bottle of pills on the dresser next to him, and Silas vaguely wondered if Ray had overdosed.
"Ray?" Silas said. He couldn't remember what to do if someone overdosed other than to call 911. But ambulances were expensive.
Ray stirred a little and opened his eyes. He rubbed at them and checked the time, cursing softly and pressing a hand to his forehead.
"Shit. Sorry, kid. I fell back asleep," he muttered. He sat up and let out a hacking cough, burying his face against his elbow as he did so. "Something's been going around. Guess I finally caught it."
Silas didn't say anything to that. He'd been sick two weeks ago with whatever was going around, but Ray had noticed the symptoms early and got him on medication right away, keeping his illness more of an annoyance than a serious issue.
Ray reached out and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. He dialed and held it to his ear, pressing his hand to his forehead again and swaying a bit.
"Hey, not coming in today," he said as someone on the other end picked up. "Yea, I caught whatever's going around and I'm feeling pretty shitty. Alright, thanks. I appreciate it." He hung up the phone and tossed it back on the nightstand, closing his eyes for a few moments before opening them and looking over to Silas. "I'm feeling pretty rough, Si. I'll give you money tonight to order dinner. Don't think I'm getting out of bed today."
Silas shrugged but didn't move. He had never seen Ray sick before. Ray looked absolutely awful; his hair was messy and plastered to his forehead, there were dark bags under his eyes, and he could barely hold his head up.
Ray noticed him looking and Silas tensed up, ready to be yelled at for staring. Instead, Ray just said, "Did you need something? I'm not much help today but I'll do what I can."
Silas shook his head. "Nah. You just look like shit."
"Punk ass kid," Ray said, and pushed his blankets off. "I'm going to shower and crawl right back into bed."
He swayed dangerously as he got to his feet, and Silas had the impulse to go steady him. He resisted the urge, letting Ray take care of himself. Ray wasn't his job.
Ray walked unsteadily to the bathroom and shut the door. The shower started up a moment later, and Silas returned to his bedroom. He should go down and eat breakfast. He should let Ray take care of himself.
