Act 1: The Feverish Wake-up

A faint glow filtered through the narrow gap in the blackout curtains, softening the sharp lines of the dark furniture. Tissues were scattered across the otherwise pristine nightstands alongside untouched glasses of water. The low hum of the city outside underscored the quiet, broken only by the occasional rustle of sheets and a muffled cough.

Sean stirred, his temples throbbing with a dull ache as he drifted into consciousness. The room felt stifling, almost like a furnace. In his dazed state, he shifted slightly, his foggy mind registering Jay curled up beside him, radiating such intense heat that it felt suffocating.

"Too hot," Sean grumbled, his voice a gravelly rasp, as he gingerly nudged Jay towards the far side of the bed. "Move over, would you?"

"Leave me the fuck alone," Jay mumbled incoherently and defensively pulled a pillow over his head.

Sean rolled his eyes. Even when sick, Jay was a menace to deal with in the morning. With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself out of bed, his movements slow and unsteady. Using the wall for support, Sean made his way towards the utility space near the kitchen. By the time he reached the living room, his head throbbed so intensely it felt on the verge of splitting open.

He opened the cabinet and cursed under his breath. Only one flavour of flu medicine remained – the one Jay couldn't stand. Sean had learned that the hard way yesterday when they had both started feeling under the weather. Apparently, Jay had a preference even for flu medicine: blackcurrant or nothing. The thought felt absurd given their current state, yet somehow, it was perfectly in character for him.

Finally, Sean managed to heat some water and prepare two steaming cups of medicine. Getting them back to the bedroom was another challenge, but at last, he was in bed again, leaning against the headboard as he nudged Jay awake. Predictably, all Sean got was another death threat.

"Jay!"

Still cocooned in a duvet, Jay peeked out from under the pillow with a groggy yet suspicious gaze. His hair was tousled, and his cheeks were flushed from the fever, accentuating the fatigue in his eyes.

"But... I don't like this one. It tastes like death warmed up," Jay complained, pulling the pillow back over his face.

"Tough luck," Sean retorted, managing a weak smirk despite feeling terrible. He leaned in, lifted the pillow, and gently kissed Jay's temple. The touch of his lips against Jay's feverish skin offered a momentary comfort. "Just drink it."

"I'm definitely not drinking this."

Sean rolled his eyes. "Quit being a drama queen and take your meds. Besides, I'm sure it's your fault we are sick."

His eyebrow quirked questioningly. "Mine? You were the one who complained about a sore throat two days ago."

"My sore throat had nothing to do with this," Sean retorted, giving him a knowing look. "And that was definitely your fault."

"Oh please," Jay said with exaggeration. "I was busy with work when you decided to get your hands and mouth into my trousers to see how long I can last."

"Drink your medicine, you bloody bastard."

Glaring at him, Jay finally relented, begrudgingly sipping the medicinal concoction. He grimaced at the unpleasant taste that lingered long after swallowing it. Finally, with a dramatic shudder, Jay set the empty mug aside and dragged himself to their walk-in wardrobe. Moments later, he returned, clutching two hoodies. Jay tossed one to Sean and pulled the other over his head, hoping it might ease their feverish chills.

Once dressed, Sean extended his arm with a faint smile, inviting Jay to return to bed and snuggle together. All he needed right now was comfort only Jay's closeness could give him, even if the latter was in a rather bad mood.

"Urgh, this sucks," Jay moaned, sinking into Sean's arms.

"I know," he muttered, kissing his dark brown hair. "And I'm still convinced it's your fault."

Jay shifted to make himself more comfortable and pulled the duvet to his chin. "No, it's not and fuck you."

"Sure, but neither of us is in shape to actually do it."

"Use your imagination...," Jay muttered, drifting back to sleep.

"I can't." Sean pulled him closer, leaning his cheek on Jay's hair. "Too tired... and... it doesn't compare..."

The restless silence fell over the bedroom as they finally fell asleep if constantly waking each other up with persistent coughs could be counted as one. Still, neither wanted to entertain the idea of sleeping in separate beds.

Act 2: Congee Debacle

Jay shuffled into the kitchen, feeling like he had been hit by a truck. Every fibre in his body seemed to scream misery, while his joints felt as if he had aged about sixty years in the last couple of hours.

The room spun dizzily as he leaned heavily against the cold marble worktop. Every movement felt like an uphill battle, but they couldn't go on with taking so many meds without eating anything. Not to mention, Sean was coughing and sniffling so much he couldn't sleep anyway.

Jay filled a pot with water and set it on the hob, then retrieved a small bundle of chicken bones from the fridge. He added them to the water with slices of fresh ginger and a couple of crushed garlic cloves. Soon, the gentle aroma filled the kitchen as the broth began to simmer. Leaning against the counter for support, Jay sluggishly skimmed the froth from the surface with a slotted spoon. Once the broth was clear, he rinsed a cup of rice and tipped it into the pot.

While waiting for the congee to cook, Jay settled at the kitchen island, sipping tea with honey and lemon, his laptop open in front of him. He scrolled slowly through work emails, sniffling occasionally, the stubborn threat of a sneeze lingering just out of reach. His head throbbed relentlessly, and the weight of fatigue pressed down on him like a heavy blanket. Before long, his eyelids drooped, and he drifted into a fitful doze, head resting on one arm.

The timer startled him awake, and Jay staggered to the stove. He ladled smooth and creamy congee into two bowls, topping each with a handful of tender, pulled chicken and finely chopped spring onions. Simple and comforting.

Jay steadied himself before picking up the tray and slowly walked back to the bedroom, his feverish body protesting the effort. By the time he reached the door, he was exhausted, moving on sheer willpower alone. Jay looked as if he was done with life, yet as soon as his gaze landed on Sean buried under the duvet, his expression softened and he smiled faintly.

He set the tray on the bedside table, slipped under the covers, and gently nudged Sean awake, offering him a bowl. "Lunch time."

Sean groggily sat up, eyeing the congee sceptically. "This looks so bland... I would rather have khao tom..."

"Tough luck."

"Easy for you to say," Sean grumbled, taking a hesitant spoonful and wrinkling his nose in disdain. "I always had khao tom with minced pork, herbs and chilli flakes when I'm sick... and this... this is just sad..."

Jay sighed, his patience worn thin by the combination of sickness and Sean's complaints. "It's a fucking congee, not a Thai street food market. So quit whining."

Sean shot him a playful glare. "Says the guy who makes a fuss over medicine flavour."

"Medicine flavour actually makes a difference, you ungrateful bastard."

"Damn, I could die for khao tom," Sean commented, ignoring Jay's faux annoyance. "Shame my supposedly loving boyfriend doesn't give a shit about my taste preferences."

"I will fucking kill you myself if you won't stop complaining," Jay said between spoonfuls of congee. "And would you stop sniffling already?!"

"I'm too tired to come up with a witty comeback, so feel free to imagine it yourself," Sean huffed, secretly enjoying his meal.

The truth was that Sean absolutely loved Jay's congee. It literally tasted like comfort in a bowl, but he would never openly admit it. Especially now, when they both were cranky and blamed each other for their current situation.

"Now to think, this is definitely your fault," Jay concluded, vaguely waving his hand at them. "You always complain how cold you are, and your weak ass immune system couldn't even resist bloody flu."

Sean froze with the spoon halfway to his mouth and glared at him. "No fucking way, you are the one who carries a coat instead of wearing it. I'm sure your negligence in dressing properly brought this on us."

Jay shot him a look that could only be interpreted as: 'Are you out of your mind?!' and reined in a sudden urge to suffocate Sean with a pillow. "It was a ridiculously warm week. Not to mention, I can't even remember when I had actual flu, so it's clearly your fault."

"Funny enough, I could say the same thing."

"It doesn't count," Jay argued, drinking a spoon of broth. "You were living in a literal oven that killed most germs before they could even reach you."

Sean scoffed, almost choking on his congee. "Literal oven? Please, it was paradise."

"Hell, Sean, it was pure hell."

Sean grinned teasingly. "Oh, yes, I remember when we went to the market, and you were convinced we were going to die. I swear, you practically hissed at every ray of sunshine that dared to touch your skin," he laughed, the memory clearly amusing him. "And yet, somehow, you managed to stay perfectly sweat-free, like even the heat didn't dare to mess with you."

Jay's exasperated expression was almost worth the relentless teasing. "At least I didn't infect you with flu," he groaned after another coughing fit.

Sean took the empty bowl from his utterly exhausted-looking boyfriend and set them on the bedside table. "I agree to disagree," he muttered, burying himself in Jay's sturdy chest. "Thanks for congee, but try to get more sleep now."

"I will make you something nice once we are over whatever this shit is," Jay replied, kissing the top of his head. "Or you could finally learn to cook without burning the kitchen."

"I would if you would let me touch the hob."

Jay slightly shook his head, trying not to worsen his headache. "I'm too young to die."

"I feel like I should be offended and never speak to you again, but then I would probably starve. Not to mention, I fell in love with your cooking on our first date-not-date."

"In hindsight, it felt like it... and you know, if you didn't run away, I would probably kiss you back then," Jay chuckled as his fingers slipped into messy black hair, gently massaging Sean's scalp and lulling him back to sleep with the tenderness they both craved now.

Sean remembered this brief moment in front of the stove, the first time he had noticed this unspoken tension between them. "I didn't run... it was a strategic step back."

"Oh?"

"Mhm," Sean hummed sleepily. "We weren't close enough for you to stick around, plus I would definitely freak out, and we would miss out on something incredibly important."

Jay didn't say anything but pulled him closer as if he never wanted to let him go. Sean was right. It had started something far more meaningful than neither had ever anticipated.

Act 3: Gone in Flames

The sharp blare of the fire alarm jolted Jay awake, cutting through the fog of sleep. Disoriented and still bleary-eyed, he reached out instinctively, only to find the space beside him cold and empty. A flicker of worry pushed him upright, and he stumbled out of the bedroom, expecting the worst.

The acrid smell of burnt food clung to the air, choking his already sensitive lungs. Jay squinted only to find Sean in the kitchen, frantically waving a dishtowel to dispel the lingering smoke. He looked half-asleep and utterly miserable.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Jay rasped, the irritation evident in his hoarse voice as he pressed a button on the extractor. Then, he nearly doubled over with an intense cough.

Sean turned towards him with a guilty expression. "You okay?"

Jay shot him a 'are you fucking kidding me' glare and sighed. "Do I want to know what happened?"

"I... uh... wanted to reheat the congee," Sean admitted sheepishly, gesturing to the charred remnants of their meal, now smoking on the hob in what had once been Jay's favourite enamelled cast iron Dutch oven. "But I kind of... fell asleep on the sofa."

"Of course you did," he deadpanned. "You know this could be easily avoided by uncovering the pot and setting the timer, right?"

"Oh, I didn't think about it."

Jay sighed heavily. "Of course you didn't."

"I have the impression you are being needlessly condescending about it," Sean grumbled, leaning against the kitchen island for support.

Brown eyes shifted from his boyfriend to blackened pot and back. "Needlessly, huh?"

Sean rolled his eyes playfully, reaching for tissues. "You're enjoying this way too much, aren't you?"

"I would rather enjoy the dinner, but that clearly is not going to happen."

"I'm genuinely sorry about it," Sean offered, his voice muffled by another sneeze into the tissue. "It must have been hard to make it."

Jay's shoulders slumped with a mixture of exhaustion and resignation. He leaned on the kitchen island, running one hand through his tousled hair. "It's fine, Sean. Don't worry about it."

"No, really. I should have been more careful," Sean insisted, stepping closer. He tried to hug Jay but managed only a weak pat on his shoulder before succumbing to another coughing fit.

"Do we still have cou–" Jay's words were cut off mid-sentence as a sharp spasm wracked his chest, leaving him momentarily breathless.

Sean shook his head. Then, with all the speed he could muster, he prepared a cup of warm water with honey. "Here. We are running low on meds in general."

"A bit of a pickle, eh?"

Sean looked at him, confused. "I would say we are royalty fucked, but it's great you are so optimistic about it."

"Huh?" Jay's eyebrow shot up questioningly as he sipped his water. "Which part of me looks optimistic? I literally just said that this is horrible, and we are going to die."

Sean groaned, burying his face in the crook of Jay's neck. "Sometimes I forget how messed up British logic is. Only you guys can call a minor inconvenience a bloody nightmare and a catastrophically bad situation with potentially fatal consequences a bit of a pickle. What the hell is wrong with you guys?"

Jay chuckled, wrapping his arm around Sean's waist and pulling him closer. "Oh, you poor little thing."

"I hate you."

"I figured, after all, you incinerated my congee," he quipped back at him. "You dispose of this. And I will order groceries with a borderline illegal amount of meds."

"Cleaning it will be a nightmare," Sean commented, glancing at the pot with a sense of dread. "I assume it doesn't go into the dishwasher?"

Jay shook his head. "Not unless you want to ruin the pot... and there's the issue of the charred remnants of congee to deal with first."

Sean looked at him in disbelief, then muttered under his breath, "Is it even possible to ruin it more than it already is?"

"Do you have a death wish?"

"I'm already dead... courtesy of you infecting me with flu."

Not having the energy to argue anymore, Jay took a slow, deep breath and threw a dish towel in Sean's face before walking away and leaving him to deal with the mess.

Act 4: Buried Hatchet

The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the view in a soft, grey haze. The city sprawled below, but its usual vibrant energy was dulled by a heavy fog. Streetlights bled into the mist, casting a faint orange glow over the wet pavement, while the distant hum of traffic seemed muffled, swallowed up by the damp air. It was the kind of evening that made the world feel far away, as if it had taken a slow, tired breath, waiting for the night to fall.

Jay barely glanced at the view before sinking into the outrageously colourful cushions, pulling the cosy blanket over himself. Sean's faint warmth still lingered on it, mingling with his spicy and smoky scent with fresh notes, offering an unexpected comfort. It was funny that it had taken him nearly twenty-five years and one person to start noticing things like this.

He smiled, hearing Sean from the kitchen, grumbling about 'stupid pot', and turned his attention to their groceries. Soon, the order was completed with delivery scheduled in a little over an hour. They should survive this much.

"The pot is beyond salvation."

Jay didn't even look up from his phone as if he already knew it and wordlessly lifted the blanket, inviting him to join in. Sean settled beside him and stretched his legs over Jay's lap, resting his head on his shoulder. Instantly, Jay's free hand treaded black hair, gently petting him.

"You look miserable."

Sean tilted his head to look at him. "You don't look any better. Do you want to order your favourite pho?"

"Since we are ordering dinner anyway, we can go with Thai."

Without hesitation, Sean snatched his phone, swiped away Jay's work email and opened the food delivery app. "I would rather have Pho."

"Oh? No longer dying for khao tom?" Jay teased, his hand still buried in Sean's hair as his fingers traced soothing patterns against his scalp.

"Fuck you," Sean quipped back, enjoying his comforting touch. "I'm trying to be nice here."

"Fine, fine," Jay chuckled, as always, letting him do whatever he wanted.

The warmth of Sean's body against him and the rhythmic sound of his breathing soon lulled him to sleep, and Jay's head slowly dropped to the side, coming to rest against Sean's hair. Peace settled over them like the blanket they shared, unspoken but deeply felt.

However, the tranquillity was abruptly shattered by the melodic sound of the doorbell announcing the food delivery. Jay stirred first, blinking awake as he realised the source of the noise. But Sean only shifted slightly, mumbling incoherently against Jay's shoulder.

"Sean?" he said softly, trying to rouse him. "The food is here."

Sean groaned in response, rubbing his eyes before straightening up slowly, blinking away the remnants of sleep. "Do you want me to get it?"

"I got this."

Jay untangled himself from the blanket and moved to answer the door. Soon, the unmistakable scent of pho filled the room – rich, fragrant broth layered with notes of star anise, cinnamon, and roasted onions, mingling with the fresh, bright hints of lime and herbs. Tender slices of beef floated among soft, delicate rice noodles, and the subtle warmth of chilli teased at the edge of the senses. It was the kind of meal that promised comfort with every bite. Just what they needed.

"I feel like shit," Sean groaned, pushing the empty bowl away. "And I'm pretty sure we are going to die."

"You are cute when you are so dramatic."

Sean blew his red-ish nose and tossed tissue into a strategically placed bin. "Not so sure about this... I probably look pretty much how I feel."

Jay sniffled. "Our groceries will be here soon, then we could take a bath. It should make you feel better."

"Sounds nice," Sean replied, passing him a box of tissues.

Not much later, the hot water enveloped them, offering a soothing embrace as they settled into the spacious bathtub. Jay nestled comfortably between Sean's legs, leaning against his chest, while Sean wrapped his arms around him. The faint scent of eucalyptus from the bath salts filled the air, providing some relief. The heat from the water worked its magic, calming their aching muscles and offering a brief reprieve from the persistent fatigue.

Feeling refreshed but none less tired, they sunk into their bed and snuggled close together... their arguments about the origins of their flu were long forgotten, replaced by tender kisses and comforting touch.