Thomas's POV:

I was awoken last night to Alex ripping himself out of my arms and running to the bathroom. The next sound I heard was him violently throwing up into the toilet. I rushed out of bed to go help him, and even though he insists I'll get sick, I refuse to leave his side.

"Thomas," he mutters, eyes tightly closed. "Get away from me, you're going to catch it."

I tighten my arm around him. "Nope," I say simply. "I'm staying with you."

Alex struggles to push me away but he's so weak he can barely lift my arm. I feel terrible for him. "Thomas, go, keep yourself healthy! This is ridiculous!"

"Yes," I agree, "it is. It is absolutely ridiculous to think that I'm going to leave my suffering husband on his own right now. In sickness and in health and all that Jazz."

Alex shakes his head. "No," he says insistently. "I don't want you to get sick. You can't get sick. Just leave me alone, I'll... I'll be fine."

"Alex," I mutter, "are you always this afraid to have people near you when you're sick?"

He shrugs, trying to lean away from me but I pull him back. "I- I just don't want people to get sick because of me. I... I don't want to loose another person I love."

Until this moment, I'd almost forgotten he lost his mother to illness. I kiss the side of his head reassuringly. "You won't loose me," I assure him. "It'd take more than a little stomach bug to get rid of me. Now calm down and let me comfort you."

He sighs, begrudgingly cuddling up to me. I grab a blanket and wrap it around us, making a blanket burrito. Whether or not I get sick, I'm not leaving his side.