It was still raining when Aden woke, and he was still freezing, this time from a cold sweat. His night had been spent in the waves: flipped upside down and drowning. It left him feeling dizzy and nauseous in consciousness. He groaned as he tried to sit up, his vertebrae grinding together in protest.

Corey, who had already been up and sitting at her desk painting, abandoned her brush the moment she heard him. She crossed the room, climbing over her bed and dropping down to the floor next to him on the side.

“How are you? Are you ok?” She had moved to reach for him, but hesitated a little, obviously unsure if she should touch him or not.

“I’ve been better.” Aden was too tired to even think about objecting to her comfort any longer. In fact, he found himself leaning into her unsure touch, begging for a bit of relief for the spinning in his head.

Her fingers brushed back a bit of his hair and rested on his temple, her face contorting in further concern. “You’ve got a fever. You should have come in sooner, you spent way too long out in that storm.” Her words were more doting than they were any sort of scold, gentle and crooning. Even so, Aden lowered his head with his shame.

“Sorry,” he offered, his eyes falling shut as her cold fingers swiped across his forehead. They were a relief against his warm face, but they triggered a chill under his skin and he wrapped himself up further in the blanket she had given him the night before. His vision spotted with black when he opened his eyes again.

She moved away for a second, to retrieve her jar of painting rain water, wetting the corner of the towel from the night before and tending gently to the cold sweat at his hairline and collar. The attention was alleviating him of a bit of the discomfort, but his head was still spinning terribly and keeping himself upright was making him ill. Without thinking, Aden had let his eyes fall shut and practically collapsed into her.

Corey froze, surprised with his closeness, but Aden was too delirious to move away again. His forehead had fallen to the crook of her neck, seeking grounding for the swaying in his skull. Her skin was like ice against his temple, and he sighed with relief. With the exhale, Corey also loosened, returning to dabbing the wet cloth over the back of his neck, running her palm back and forth across his back through the blanket with her other hand.

Aden wasn’t really sure how long they had sat like that, with him not entirely out of the tossing and turning waves in his head, and her, trying to anchor him back in reality with her comfort. He couldn’t quite tell when he felt like he kept falling in and out of consciousness. However long it was, hadn’t been long enough before they were interrupted.

Her bedroom door opened, and Corey turned to look. He lifted his head a little to peek over the edge of the bed also, seeing Corey’s mother in the doorway and instantly forcing himself to sit up even though it made his vision swim with black.

Corey swore under her breath and rose, hurrying out of the room and pulling her mother with her as the woman erupted into an angry scold.

Aden groaned, embarrassed and frustrated that he had gotten her in trouble for being there. His presence was probably bad enough, and how he had to have snuck in to get there, but he doubted it helped that she had walked in while he was, out of context, inappropriately close to her daughter.

He leaned his head against her mattress and tried to listen, the two women bickering in angry whispers to each other just outside in the hall. It took a long time for Aden realize that it wasn’t his fever making their words incoherent, but rather the fact that they were speaking a different language entirely.

Aden didn’t have to know what they were saying to hear that Corey was pleading and her mother was scolding. English expressions of exasperation leaked into Corey’s speech, until she finally abandoned the whispering to speak over her mother’s ramblings. “He has a fever, anam. I was just trying to help.”

Tatti paused, then a few more words were exchanged, and they were re-entering the room. Aden sat up again, to try and be as polite as possible while wrapped up shivering and pathetic on her daughter’s bedroom floor. He could tell his swaying was giving away his true condition though.

Corey’s mother circled around and sat on the bed, her expression stoney, and Aden tried to offer an apology, or an excuse, but his tongue was tied. She interrupted his attempts, pressing her palm across his forehead, cupping it over his cheek, and her expression softened. She tsked her tongue against her teeth, then got up again, more words to Corey as she left the room.

Aden gave a questioning look and Corey shook her head, also confused, but came to help him to his feet and head into the kitchen where her mother had retreated.