You can learn to love• Kyman love story•(completed)

Post Sepsis Syndrome

I was finally admitted from the hospital and could go back to my normal life. Well, not exactly. Everyone at school heard I get sepsis and I have to take antibiotics everyday before school. According to Stan, everyone thinks I got sepsis because I used to have HIV, which I guess is better than them saying it's cause I cut myself and it got infected. Kyle requested he has his schedule changed to match mine so he can 'keep an eye on me'. I assume it's cause I'm apparently in the middle of a post sepsis depression. I didn't think anything was wrong at first, until the guys pointed out how sad I was acting. I brushed it off, but Kyle butted in and my mom told them that I might be suffering from Post Sepsis Depression, and they just need to make sure I don't do anything dumb until this passes. Well mom, it's been two days since I recovered, and I'm still sad. Kyle took it upon himself to try and 'help' me. He thinks his efforts aren't working, but him just being near me is actually helping a little. I can tell he's stressed, but I don't have the physical effort to do anything about it, making it worse for him. The teachers don't expect me to work this week, so I'm getting off pretty easy. 

I'm sitting in class, with my head down as the teacher blabs away about whatever subject this is. I haven't really been too alert this week, just walking from class to class like a brainless zombie. Sometimes someone will come up to me and try to make conversation, but since my responses are limited to "mhm","mmm" and, my personal favorite, "uhhhh huhhh", nobody really bothers talking to me anymore. I feel like shit, and I probably look like shit too. 

I feel a small hand shake me a bit, and look up to see who it was. It was Kyle. Right, we have a project together. For some weird reason, he's been much more lax with me. We still fight, but it's little bitchy fights. Nothing too big. He seems to have gotten a little nicer towards me. I really hope it's not pity nice. I'd hate if the only reason Kyle's nice to me now is cause he thinks if he says something wrong, I'm gonna fall back into my habit. Speaking of that, he still has my pocket knife. I've been meaning to ask for it back, but I never got around to it.

"Hey dude. We gotta do this project." He says softly. I grunt and sit up, wiping my face.

"How've you been feeling lately?"

I leaned forward on the table, and hung my head low.

"I dunno. Tired. I feel like I want to just lie in my bed, but I can't sleep. Ever."

"Have you tried melatonin gummies?"

"Yeah, they don't really help. I just wake up a few hours later."

Kyle takes his papers, and straightens them out before speaking again.

"If you want, I can arrange a sleepover for us."

"Why would you do that?"

Why would he do that? I get he cares about me or whatever, but why does he think that me sleeping at his house will solve this problem? If anything, it'll just add to it.

"I think it'll help you get to sleep knowing there's someone who l-"

He pauses, and I look at him. His face is so red, it's almost funny.  I don't laugh, but instead, I keep a blank stare and keep my eyes on him. He seems to get more embarrassed the longer I look. 

"Who what?" I asked, hopefully pushing the conversation forward.

"Nothing. I just think it'll really help."

"Ok." I didn't put much of a mocking tone in that as I intended. I don't have much energy. Kyle sighed and started writing on his paper.  He looked pretty upset, and I really wanted to find out why, but know Kyle, he won't tell me directly. Still...

"What's up Kahl?"

"Hm?"

He looked up from his paper, trying to plaster a small smile over his sadness, but I've known him too long. I can see right through him, and he knows it.