“Sybil said you were really out of it yesterday,” he continued. “Are you feeling worse?”

“Sybil is worrying about me too much,” I replied, crossing my arms and scowling. Yesterday, her eyes lingered on me throughout our trip and even when we were home. I felt the burn of anger and humiliation in my chest, and the heavy weight of shame. A fourteen-year-old girl should be worrying about her looks, her friends, having fun. I hated to think that my sickness was causing Sybil distress that she shouldn’t have to deal with.

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Niall said, exhaling long and deep from his nose as he leaned back in his chair. His gaze stayed on me. Each word was clipped, betraying his frustration.

His tone irritated me, and I didn’t appreciate the third-degree so early in the morning—not that I would have appreciated being called out any other hour of the day either. “Can you not?” I snapped, feeling the mucus in my lungs begin to itch its way up to my throat after I spoke.

“Not what?” Niall asked. “Give a damn about your health?”

I rolled my eyes. “No. Not interrogate me about something I said don’t want to talk about right after I wake up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for asking about something important,” he replied. His cheeks were tinged pink, as were his ears. “It’s not like we care about you. It’s not like what happens to you affects the rest of us.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” I shot back, holding back a cough I felt growing in throat. “You know damn well that even if we knew what the hell this was, it wouldn’t do any good.”

“No, I don’t know that!” Niall replied, his voice raising. “Maybe if we looked at your symptoms, we could do research and find something out. See how bad it really is. Find some kind of remedy. Hell, steal medicine if we had to. Just do something.”

I let out a bitter laugh, which descended into a coughing fit that left my ribs aching. When I could finally breathe normally again, I looked back up at Niall, who watched on with an expression of concern and sadness, even in the midst of his frustration and anger.

“Or maybe, WebMD tells us it’s some incurable autoimmune disease, a rare virus, or cancer. Or maybe it gets everything wrong because my DNA is so fucked up. Maybe our ‘research’ gives us more questions than answers, and everyone just gets more anxious because there isn’t a damn thing we can do,” I replied, my own voice rising in volume until I was shouting. “Maybe Parker and Sybil have to grow up faster than they should have to because they’re so busy worrying about me. Just like we had to. Wouldn’t that be fucking great?!”

I flung out my arm in a mocking gesture, mirroring the dramatic movements Niall always made. “Yeah, Niall, let’s do research! Let’s talk to Sybil and Parker. Get them in on it. Maybe we can all look shit up. Maybe we can all be fucking terrified together. You know, because we’re a family! Because what happens to me affects everyone. Great idea, Niall!”

By the time I finished, I was breathing heavy, my chest heaving and heart was racing. I barely avoided another coughing fit.

Niall stared back at me, his eyes wide, looking surprised and hurt. I may as well have slapped him across the face. For a long time, he said nothing.

“That’s not what I want,” he finally whispered, looking down. “And that’s not what I meant.”

Guilt pricked in my chest and I felt its weight crash down on me as I watched Niall. That wasn’t fair of me to say at all. He was just trying to help. He cared about me, and was probably scared too—I thought about how I would feel if the roles were reversed and he was the sick one with some mysterious illness, and felt my heart freeze just considering the possibility. He had made me such a nice breakfast too, only for me to act like a jerk and lash out at him.

I sighed. “Shit, Niall, I’m sorry. That wasn’t right,” I began. “I’m just anxious about—hell, everything.”

Niall nodded softly, still looking down. “I know,” he said. “You don’t have to pretend everything is fine and do it all alone, though. I want to help.”

“I don’t know if you can,” I admitted, unable to stop myself from looking away too.

“I still want to try,” he replied. He looked back at me and stretched a wing across the side of the table. His feathers brushed against my arm, resting there.

I nodded. I understood it, thinking again how I might feel if the roles were reversed. I didn’t think it would do much good, though—and I was scared. Scared of the uncertainty. Or on the other hand, scared of what acknowledging my symptoms would mean, what terrors researching them could bring up.

“Is it getting worse?” Niall finally asked.

I frowned. I still didn’t want to talk about this. I barely wanted to acknowledge it myself, and I wanted to do so less when it would mean everyone watching and worrying about me. Niall and the kids worrying all the time—none of them should have to do that.

“Yes,” I finally said, running my tongue along the back of my teeth. The admission felt like acid in my mouth.

Niall’s expression grew grim and cloudy. “What changed?” he asked.

“Dizziness. Not all the time—it comes in waves, especially when I stand or move quick,” I explained, looking away and opting to study the patterns in the wood that made up the cabinets, rather than meet Niall’s gaze.

He didn’t respond for a while. “How bad are the spells?” he finally asked.

“I have to breathe deep and focus a lot, but I can still stand and walk,” I replied, my finger tapping against my folded arm. His wing still rested on my other one.

“How many times did it happen yesterday?”

I sighed. “Seven, I think.”

“Any today?”

I nodded, still looking off. Three of the knots in the cabinet wood combined to look like a dog’s face. “One when I got out of bed.”

Niall sighed, and I saw him frown out of the corner of my eye. Even as I refused to look at him, his gaze was still steady on me. “Any other new symptoms?”

“Fatigue’s worse.”

“I thought it might be,” he said quietly.

I figured that was a little more obvious, given how late I had slept.

One of the other reasons I hated talking to Niall about this was that he could gauge how big of a problem it was getting to be. These were the kinds of scenarios we talked about, and worried about happening to Parker or Sybil. There was no way we could pretend this wasn’t getting more dangerous by the day. We could see it getting worse, but even with any “research” we could do, there was nothing we could do about it without the risk of exposing our entire family, which was out of the question.

“How bad is it—all of it?” he finally asked. By the glimpse I got of his expression, I could tell it was a question he was afraid of the answer to, but still felt compelled to ask. It was also a question I was afraid to answer, but would also be compelled to. At this point, silence would speak just as loud, if not louder, than anything I said, so I may as well give Niall a straight answer.

If I was honest, it was pretty bad. I could force myself through it, sure, but the body aches were constant, having settled deep in my bones and making most movements painful. Mucus sat heavy in my chest and clogged my nose, rattling my body with coughs and suppressing my breath. Doing even the most basic of tasks was exhausting. If the dizziness persisted, driving, going out, all of that wouldn’t be safe. I felt guilty admitting it, but those things probably weren’t safe now. Had I put the kids in danger yesterday? I was working mostly on willpower at this point, but my body was not well.

I was so lost in thought, feeling dismay about the recognition, that I was quiet for a long time.

“Dee, how bad is it?” Niall repeated quietly, but firmly, breaking into my thoughts.

I shook my head, not sure what to say and not really sure how to say it, in any case. Or perhaps being unsure isn’t the right way to describe it. I could tell him how I felt in great detail, but just thinking about admitting that felt like peeling off my own skin. That I was so physically weak and probably shouldn’t do the most basic of things, help in the most ordinary ways—it was humiliating.

“I, um,” I began, clearing my throat and shifting where I sat. The seat suddenly felt very uncomfortable. “It’s, um, not good,” I admitted softly. I felt my eyes heating up and my vision was a little blurry. I blinked back my tears. I definitely didn’t want to cry on top of all this too. “Everything really hurts.” I stopped, taking as deep of breaths I could with my nose stuffed and trying to stay composed. “I’m afraid that it’s not safe for me to go out with the dizzy spells.”

I barely whispered the last sentence, and saying each word felt like someone was punching my chest. Niall heard it all the same.

“Hey,” he said softly, coming over and kneeling in front of me. He took my hand in his, his calloused palms and warm fingers pressing gently against my own. “It’s okay to be scared. We’re doing a lot on our own, and that’s scary. This is the first time any one of us has really been sick. This would be a lot less terrifying if one of us had gone through it before, especially in the lab, but we didn’t. Does that make sense?”

That actually made a lot of sense. Being this sick sucked, but the uncertainty was worse, and I definitely felt less anxious when I had a frame of reference for something. For this, I just didn’t. I nodded.

Niall held my gaze, his dark blue eyes flicking back and forth as if studying my expression

“You’ve been pushing through it without much of a break. Let’s take baby steps. How about you get rest today, and call out of work tomorrow too? Then we’ll see if you feel any better and go from there. How does that sound?” he asked.

“I can’t take tomorrow off. It would make things really hard for Katherine,” I replied. It was a small town, so while I wouldn’t quite say the florist was understaffed, we weren’t exactly comfortable in terms of the amount of employees either.

“It will. But if you run yourself into the ground, you’ll be out of work for way longer, which will be much worse for her,” Niall pointed out gently, still rubbing his fingers in circles against my hand and searching my expression. The combination was distracting, and even then, I almost lost myself in his silent, blue gaze and his warm, calloused hands. He was right, though. If the rest did help, it would be a simple trade off: a little time now to avoid a lot of time later—or vise versa, if I decided to keep pushing. That was assuming the rest would help, of course.

I nodded. “Okay,” I whispered.

Niall smiled. I could tell he was trying to be encouraging, but his smile was tight, and it didn’t reach his worried gaze.

“Now, come on. I’ll help you back upstairs and you can get some more sleep,” he said.

I nodded wordlessly and Niall stood, holding his hand out to me, which I sheepishly took. Even with his help, the room seemed to tip to the left and to the right as soon as I was on my feet. I took deep breaths until my vision was back to normal.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I replied.

I saw Niall’s lips tighten, but he he started to walk slowly toward the stairs, one hand lightly touching my side, ready to support me if necessary. I resolved that, as much as I could help it, he would not have to. My knuckles were nearly white as they gripped the banister, which was a feat I was almost impressed by, given the somewhat darker color of my skin.

By the time we reached the top of the stairs, I was fighting another wave of dizziness. Niall saw my hesitation and moved closer. I felt his hands brush underneath my arms, not yet holding any weight, but preparing to.

“I’m good,” I told him and walked the remainder of the distance to my bed.

After grabbing my phone from the nightstand and texting my boss about not being in tomorrow, I sighed.

“Hey, Niall?” I asked.

He was standing in the doorway, watching me still.

“Yeah?”

“If it’s—um—if you’re not busy, could you—uh—just stay with me for a little bit?”

I felt my cheeks heat up. I felt bad asking him. I knew he would, but I had already proved such an inconvenience for him this morning. Nevertheless, the insistent desire to not be alone combined with how much I had missed him since his job got busier, and it was enough to overpower any lingering guilt I felt.

Niall blinked, and I saw something like relief flicker across his face.

“Of course.”

I wrapped my wings around my body, and snuggled under the covers. Niall pulled the sheets up, so I didn’t have to reach my hands out again, before sitting down on next to me on the bed. He rested his hand on my knee, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb back and forth. His wings spread back behind him, feathers arching over the bed. The warmth of his body radiated even through the covers. Having him so close was nice, but I found myself wishing he was still closer. I quickly pushed the thought out of my mind—as nice as this was, no good would come from lingering on that.

As Niall studied me, the corner of his mouth tugged up in a barely suppressed smirk and he let out an airy, nasally chuckle.

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. That was his “I’m getting ready to be obnoxious” expression, so I prepared for some comment.

“Nothing,” he said, but his smirk grew into a crooked smile. “It’s just—you’ve got a lot of blankets on.”

“And?” I asked, raising an eyebrow and preparing for the obnoxious comment he had yet to deliver.

“Well, you like a giant, fluffy balloon,” he laughed. “And it’s funny, because your head is so small. And you’re so small.”

“You’re rude!” I whined. Of course his comment was about me being tiny. What low-hanging fruit.

“And you’re so small,” Niall teased back, eyes crinkling around the edges.

“Making fun of a sick person,” I huffed with feigned indignation.

“Well, I can’t discriminate,” he replied. His hand squeezed my knee gently.

I smiled. As much as I feigned offense, I enjoyed his quips and remarks. They were fun, and had I more energy, would have resulted in a verbal sparring match. I appreciated that even now, in his silly way, Niall was trying to make me laugh. More than anything, I appreciated having him there.

“Hey, Niall?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“Can you just stay with me until I fall asleep?” I blushed a little, feeling my guilt return from earlier.

“I was already planning on it,” he replied with a reassuring smile.

“Oh.” I felt my cheeks heat up a little more. “Thank you.”

Niall nodded. “Don’t mention it.”

I curled up into a comfortable sleeping position and he stayed there, a warm, comforting presence beside me. My legs rested against him, and the firm feeling of having his weight next to me was good. Even amidst the uncertainty of what was happening with my body, a calmness settled over me there. I barely noticed the drowsiness, and before long, faded to sleep, Niall still there, leaning against my legs.