It was the bathroom window. He was sure of it. He’d left it open again, and with the bathroom door ajar to let out the steam, the cold had crept into every nook and cranny of the apartment.

Settia’s lips moved; they were chapped and dry, and almost as pale as his face.

“Mi..zuk..i?”

Settia opened his eyes slowly, as if he was struggling to do so. Beneath heavy lids, his emerald eyes appeared to be swimming.

“Hey,” Mizuki swallowed, reaching out, but not quite daring to touch him. “What happened..? Are you sick?”

Settia smiled faintly. He looked so faint.

“It’s because of the cold, isn’t it? Why didn’t you close the window?”

No response. It seemed like Settia had drifted off again. Mizuki rushed to his feet, bolting to the bathroom, shutting the window and slamming the door. At least the room wouldn’t get colder.

His gut churned with worry. Should he call a doctor? Apprehension tore through him. It was a preposterous thought, but…what if Settia did tell the truth? What good would a doctor be then?

Resolutely, he grabbed the book his professor had recommended, frantically searching the pages.

From what he could deduce in his stressed out state, Settia was probably suffering from some sort of hypothermia, or the floral version of it anyway. It seemed like Poinsettias were sensitive to temperature changes, but that heat and moisture could counter the damage.

“Settia?” he whispered, leaning in towards him, compendium still resting in his lap. “I’m gonna run out and pick something up for you. Come…”

He didn’t think it would be good for him to stay on the futon on the cold floor, so he hoisted Settia’s limp body into his arms and somehow managed to maneuver him onto the bed. He swaddled him tightly in the duvet, placing the blankets on top for good measure, and got him a glass of water.

“Here,” he fought to keep the tremble in his voice and hand alike under control as he supported the other man’s head and held the glass to his lips. “Drink.”

Without opening his eyes, Settia drank a couple sips, then fell back on the pillow.

“Stay there okay? I’ll be right back!”

Mizuki threw on his coat and boots, grabbing his keys and wallet in one swift motion, and hasting out, skidding down the walkway as he went.

                                                    ❋❋❋❋

When he returned, as quickly as he could muster, it was with a big package under one arm, and a small plastic bag in the other. After picking up supplies at the pharmacy, he’d rushed to the nearest flower shop, asking for advice. The florist had sent him home with what she called “A cold remedy for plants”, to be mixed into the water. Mizuki chose to trust her.

The package contained a space heater, which he immediately plugged in, placing it by the bedside.

He mixed some of the powder into the glass already on the table, and shook the redhead gently.

“Sorry to wake you,” he smiled apologetically. “How do you feel?”

Settia’s head shook listlessly. He didn’t seem feverish, just cold, and wan. It was like he was…wilting.

“Drink this, it should help. I also bought a space heater, but let me know if it gets too hot. I don’t want to make you feel worse…” he swallowed hard, sitting on the bedside and helping Settia with the glass.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, brushing his fingers absentmindedly through Settia’s hair. It too felt different from before. “I didn’t mean to forget about the window… And you were so cold before too…”

“Don’t…feel bad…” Settia’s voice was a strained whisper. He gazed dully up at Mizuki.

“It’s just…” fear gripped him before he’d even said the words out loud; “Cold can…kill plants, can’t it?”

“You’re good to me,” Settia replied quietly. “It’ll be fine, Mizuki.”

Weakly, he patted the mattress next to himself. “Come. Don’t be afraid.”

Mizuki lay down next to him. He allowed Settia to nuzzle close, desperate to share some of his own heat, perhaps to quench his guilt. Or..?

Somehow it felt like he was the one being comforted again. Settia’s breath was still irregular, and his body still felt cold, despite how the two of them were snugly enveloped beneath the covers.

“Did you…really buy me a gingerbread house?” Settia asked, his voice was strained and somewhat muffled by Mizuki’s shoulder.

“Ssh, you should rest.” Mizuki whispered back. “But yeah, I did. Now get well, so we can build it together.”

“Thank you…” Setta mumbled, his chapped lips brushing against Mizuki’s cheek, making him flush with surprise.

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They stay much in the same position until nightfall. Mizuki only got up briefly to lock the door and change into pajamas before slipping back under the covers. It all seemed so natural somehow. Necessary. Relieved, he noted that Settia’s temperature seemed to be rising.

While the other man dozed next to him, he reflected on how he’d dealt with the situation, and Settia’s condition. Didn’t that mean that he believed him, no matter how crazy it seemed? Truth be told, he’d gone with his gut feeling.

Maybe he was going crazy.

You need to get well, he thought. Get well, so you can tell me everything.

He reached out, gently running his fingers over Settia’s cheek. The other male stirred slightly. He mumbled something in his sleep. It sounded suspiciously like “I love you Mizuki.”

“Silly,” he whispered, instinctively draping his arm over Settia’s chest, pulling him even closer.

                                                            ❋❋❋❋