They were eyes on him, following his every move as he tended his son. His little boy, coughing with a mask covering his mouth and nose. His eyes droopy and cheeks and ears tinted red from the fever. Elijah tucked Matteo with the blanket, making sure that the edges dig under his son and refill the empty glass with water from the pitcher.

His hands shakes as he did, completely aware at the people behind him, lacking any sort of sound to accompany their presence. Elijah was used to being watched; his shop left him exposed by customers who were curious at the process of his job. But, something’s different, at least that’s what he thinks – in a way that he wasn’t evaluated by his performance but rather learning by how he does things.

He sighed. Elijah furrowed his brows, concentrating at his little boy once more. He puts a hand on Matteo’s forehead, frowning at the heat coming from his son’s skin. Worrying, that’s what he concludes and the thermometer he had read before confirms it.

“Still hot, papa?” Matteo asked him, looking up to Elijah. His voice was hoarse, drawling his words far longer than he does normally, even when exhausted.

“Yeah,” Elijah answered the obvious and took out Matteo’s facemask, letting his son breathe better and sees the yawn when it was taken out. “Sleep, my love. I’ll pray that you’ll get better in the morning.”

“And if I don’t, papa?” Then, Elijah would cry. He’d think it’s his fault for being soft on his little boy concerning his evasion towards vegetables. He could hardly get Matteo to eat anything that wasn’t put in a can. He failed, Elijah thinks, agreeing at the sentiment about his shitty parenting skills.

If his son has been eating right then his immune system could deflect the small epidemic spreading around his classmates. Matteo wouldn’t have to be bedridden and could play with Christian tomorrow at school.

“We’ll have to go to a doctor either in the afternoon or the day after tomorrow,” Elijah tells his son, hearing a whine as a reply. Matteo pouted afterwards, pressing his cheek on his pillow and sighed.

“Good night, papa,” Matteo said to Elijah, closing his eyes and murmur the rest of his talk before another yawn interrupts it. Elijah smiled and quietly placed a peck on Matteo’s forehead.

Soon, snores occupied the silence in the room and Elijah stayed put on the edge of the bed, reluctant at the talk he’ll have with his guests. However, the peace didn’t last long and a hand placed on his shoulder made him lose focus at the sight of his son, sleeping peacefully despite the pain he’s in.

He looks away then faced his ex-wife from behind. She points the door with her chin, eyeing at the hallway visible from their side of the room. Adam was nowhere to be seen but the string floating around signifies the short distance between the soulmates.

Elijah’s lips thinned; his butt completely glued to the bed. And so were his slippers on the floor. He wanted to be an immovable object, a stubborn little thing that interrupted the plans his ex-wife has with him. But, with a single push, no more than a gentle motion for him to stand, and he did what was told. His body move on its own, letting himself be guided away from the bed and into the hallway.

Their footsteps were nothing more than soft padded sounds that were overwhelmed by the snores and mewls from Matteo’s sleep. For some reason, the floor has not creaked as they exit the room. Even as Elijah had intended to break the silence with the places he memorized.

Now, he faced the couple.

“Eli,” Lisa said his name, bringing his attention onto her and shows off a small smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Are you going to be fine?”

“I guess,” Elijah answers, despite the uncertainty of the context.

“No, I mean, are you going to be alright taking care of Matteo alone?” Lisa expanded the subject. “The Flower Bee might not function without you.”

Throughout the early stages of his business, Elijah could barely take care of the shop himself. Flowers were living beings, they needed maintenance beyond a simple drizzle of water every few hours and all of it were an expense he had taken out through loans mostly. All of his actions were a gamble and he knows that despite garnering a small but reassuring flow of income from his shop. There always be the chance that he’d have to close the doors to his dream.

The flower-related industry is competitive. A small-owned shop can’t stand against the companies that flourish from abundant resources and experience. But he’s optimistic, to say the very least, grasping on the metaphorical string of success for his shop.

“Oak is a full-time employee who I trust to take care of the shop while I’m taking care of Matteo,” Elijah reassured his ex-wife, “also Iris is there, if ever Oak need some help with rowdy, and sometimes rude, customers.”

Her smile widens, losing the forced stretch it had a while ago and there, in front of him, was an expression done of genuine amusement. Elijah felt relaxed at the sight of it and his solemn expression softens.  

He glances to the side, curious to how Adam felt about the interaction. Elijah wasn’t expecting a frown nor a loud enthusiasm for him and his ex-wife getting along. Adam just sighed, either by relief or any other emotion, Elijah wasn’t sure. But the man’s shoulders didn’t seem to look stiff as it did when they came inside his apartment with Matteo in his ex-wife’s arms.

So, relief, right?

“I know, I know – but let’s not forget that Matteo has another parent too,” Lisa reminded him, “if there’s anything you can’t handle then call me, okay? I want to help you, Eli.”

“I know,” Elijah acknowledged her efforts, “and thank you, I don’t think I’d be this calm if it weren’t for you.”

She wants to hug him. It was clear from her hands that she extended. However, she instantly retracts it back with a chuckle, hiding the need behind the fiddles of her fingers on the bottom hem of her scrub. She bit her lip, glancing at Adam with raised brows and shrug. Her soulmate simply did the same as a reply.

Elijah didn’t point out her attempt nor tried to initiate the hug either.

-

The added heat from his son have lessen the cool he receives from the air conditioning. He didn’t even tuck his feet inside his blanket to garner the breeze he needs throughout the humid night but nothing could be done by the warmth that passes through his thin curtains. The morning light have shined his face, leaving him disturbed and annoyed at his dream interrupted by the day.

Elijah groans, shutting his eyes tight and rolled to his side. His son’s warm breath heats up his face and the odor that accompanied it was anything but pleasant. He breathes out and rolled to the other side, aware at the light that greets him without shame. He opens his eyes, slowly, experiencing the blurry view of his room and blinks again to clear it all out.

He sees himself on the long mirror, hair unkempt and bags that decorated his eyes. There was an obvious trail of drool underneath his mouth and his shirt had rolled up to his chest, wrinkled but overall neat from any sort of stain.

He raised a hand over his head and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He had set it to mute, leaving his morning quiet and undisturbed by the vibrations of his alarms and notifications from customers. Right now, he checks, trying to stay informed by everything concerning his shop and sighs at the requests and orders he received from the night. Some were clarifications and confirmations for certain orders.

“Fucking hell,” Elijah whispered and dialed a number.

It didn’t take long for the caller to answer and Elijah placed his phone near his ear, listening to the chipper of a ‘Good Morning, Boss!’. Elijah flinched at the volume but did nothing else at the screech of a greeting.

“Can you handle all of the messages for today and maybe even tomorrow as well?” Elijah requested, his voice hoarse and rough. He cleared his throat afterwards and sit up from the bed, waiting for Iris’s reply.

“Honestly, boss. I kinda thought you’d be stubborn and attempt to handle it all by yourself,” Iris tells him and Elijah couldn’t deny it.

“I could’ve but…” He looks to his little boy with his hand placed on top of Matteo’s forehead. Right now, the fever wasn’t as hot as last night but it could’ve been the air conditioning that’s temporarily cooling his son.

“Don’t change your mind now!” Iris exclaimed and Elijah immediately placed a distance between him and the phone. Her voice was boisterous even in the morning, which Elijah wasn’t surprise to know about. “I’m honored, boss. Really, I am – despite the stressful and time-consuming task you sent me. I’m glad you’re relying on me more.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Iris chirps, “anyways, I better get going. Oak is already at the shop, doing some clean-up and he wanted me to be there to assist him.”

“But what about school?” Elijah questions, worried at the time she’s entering for her shift. She usually comes around lunch time, even in the middle of the afternoon, and leaves the same time as the rest of them.

“Nah, we’re only have exams to worry about and I’m done with my clearance signing bullshit so I’m basically free,” she explained, “and I study at home, boss. So, I’m glad for a free day of not studying at all.”

Elijah sighed, not yet convinced at the responsibilities he’s putting on her but he doesn’t have any choice. Lisa is busy with her work at the hospital and Adam isn’t someone Matteo is comfortable to be around. They have relatives but Elijah and Lisa have become pariahs to their families, estranged by their failed marriage and the son they have made from it.

Friends were the usual second choice but Elijah doesn’t have anyone beyond his employees and his ex-wife. Lisa doesn’t have a coworker she can talk to outside of her work either.

Matteo whined, tossing and turning around the bed with his hands pushing the duvet away from him. His brows furrowed; his nose scrunched. He was muttering under his breath, “Hot. So hot, papa. It’s hot.”

“Tell me if there’s a problem at the shop and I’ll be there,” Elijah quickly said to Iris before ending the call to assist his son. The duvet was pulled out of Matteo, thrown to the headboard without a care. Matteo’s whines die down immediately, leaving a sigh to express his relief and opens his eyes, slowly. Elijah looks at his little boy, caressing a portion of his cheek and frowns at the heat from the skin.

It was hotter than before.

“Honey, papa’s here,” Elijah calls out to his son, noticing the daze look on Matteo’s face. His little boy was breathing heavily, inhaling and exhaling as much as he can with his chest noticeably rising and falling.

“Papa?” Matteo’s voice was worse than Elijah’s. He could barely say the word perfectly, his pitch raised and dipped.

“Do you want some water?” Elijah asked and Matteo nodded. His son has woken up a couple of times throughout the night, waking Elijah along with him for bathroom breaks and drinking his fill of water.

Elijah filled the glass with the remaining cup of water from the pitcher and made sure to tilt the glass carefully as Matteo drank from it. He listens to the large gulps, observing the droopy eyes and the loose clenched fist that holds Elijah on the wrist.

“If you’re not well by lunch time, we’ll go to the doctor’s, okay?” Elijah didn’t need a response and Matteo didn’t offer any. His little boy merely closed his eyes, snuggled at the hand Elijah used to cup his son’s cheek.

“I will wake you up when it’s time for breakfast, alright?” Elijah added, trying to occupy the room with his own voice. “And once you’re done with breakfast, you’re gonna take your medicine, alright Matteo? It’s good for you, makes you strong and healthy.”

He laid his son back to the bed, fluffing his pillow and leaves the duvet beside Matteo. If his son ever needed the extra heat to combat the sudden cold his body feels then it wouldn’t be struggle to get it. Elijah even took out a pair of socks from the drawer and placed it by the edge of the bed. Matteo is already wearing a jacket with a thick pajama but he couldn’t come unprepared. Elijah made sure to lower the temperature of the air conditioning, hoping to achieve a temperate state for the room.

Then, he stares back to his son, clutching the doorknob in a tight grip. His heart clenched at the sight, heavy by the burden Matteo is going through. There was constant tug of battle between his guilt and the hope that shine around the dark room, symbolizing the disasters imagined in his head. It was disgusting, he thinks, the imagery that showcases his son in pain and vulnerable by whatever he got.

But Elijah can’t help but be drawn by suffering, stabbing himself by his own failures as a parent and the peeves he could never get away from. He inhales and exhaled, his breath shaky and his throat constricts.

He leaves in a haste, rushing down the stairs with tears unshed in his eyes. The sounds coming from the kitchen was loud, but slamming down the can of food to the counter relieves him. Right now, cooking was the only thing he has control over.