Revisions and Decisions

[solitaire-au]

I am so looking forward to the next instalment, especially since Medan is putting the pieces together. 😍

[krazykat]

Ooh, I just found this one. Absolutely loving it!

[marzipan]

It has been another long wait - my apologies! 

@sprinkles287 - I'm so glad you're still reading and enjoying this!  It makes me so happy that this story has been a favorite of yours! 

@RipleyToo - Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the story's continuation!

@EveP - So do I! 😆 

@PrivatedancerThank you - writing Medan putting the pieces together has been a fun challenge! 

@solitaire-au I hope this instalment is worth the wait!

@krazykat I'm glad you found the story and are enjoying it! 

And, here's the penultimate piece of this story. Medan is figuring things out. 😊

 

I didn’t know how to respond to Viola’s agreement to stay here with me. It seemed selfish of me to have in any way implied that she could stay and work, but I hadn’t for a moment thought she’d take me up on it. “I don’t think I’m contagious, to be clear. It’s probably another godforsaken sinus infection - I get them all the time, particularly when I’m a little… overextended. It’s just… ” I didn’t think I could properly or accurately articulate to Viola how out-of-the-ordinary this all felt.

 I usually tried to cope with illness by retreating from other humans as much as possible, hunkering down in the privacy of my own home, and waiting it out. Letting Viola into my home while I felt - and, clearly, looked - so wretched felt oddly vulnerable and peculiarly exposed.

Viola’s interjection - “...Just what?” - let me know that I’d been lost in my thoughts too long. “Just… unseemly. And no, I haven’t had dinner.” Unseemly? What an insufficient, euphemistic adjective. “Grotesque” was more accurate. Given Viola’s silence, I briefly wondered if she was thinking the same thing, but the fleeting moment of wondering was sufficiently discomfiting that I reprimanded myself for letting my thoughts drift in that direction. Keep your mind on track. Hospitality. Right. “You’re vegetarian, right?”

She looked surprised that I remembered, which struck me as a bit funny. We’d attended the same school for years, she’d been over to our house to study with Leo, and she worked for my mother. Did she really think I wouldn’t have noticed? “Yes, but I didn’t mean - I mean, I didn’t intend to impose - I - “

Is Viola the only person on Earth who’d genuinely think she was ‘imposing’ by offering to help a disgustingly plague-ridden, hollow-eyed, zombie-adjacent PhD candidate bail out his aggressively overbearing mother’s nonprofit? Instead of posing the rhetorical question, I just interrupted her firmly. “You’re not imposing. How do you feel about broccoli cheddar soup?”

She smiled, although her eyes darted toward the floor like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with my offer. I suppose this could be considered a somewhat unconventional second date. “That sounds lovely, thank you.” 

I felt slightly better about the entire situation when I could tangibly do something for Viola. I got the impression she was accustomed to being 100% caretaker, 0% care recipient, and that was a dynamic I found simply unacceptable. “Just a second, I’ll heat up a couple bowls for us. Please, make yourself c-c-omfortable.” The resurgence of a stammer was directly correlated with the resurgence of a prickling tickle that I hoped wasn’t accompanied by an indiscreet nasal twitch. Why must it be that as soon as I regain some semblance of manners, some veneer of dignity, that my sinuses betray me? 

A retreat to the kitchen was helpful, although whatever mental block had descended to keep the urge to sneeze at bay refused to absent itself even when it was no longer needed. I scrubbed at my nose in frustration, hoping that the pressure would either quell the tickle or force it into fruition, but it instead just intensified to the point where I sucked in an involuntary deep breath, head tipping back,, jaw dropping slack fully prepared to sneeze - and then nothing. The half-strangled, frustrated cough prompted by the sensation was unbelievably pathetic.

Since my one hand was occupied with pinching my nostrils shut in an attempt to crush the seemingly untouchably deep tickle, getting soup from the fridge into bowls and then into the microwave was a more arduous process than usual.My ability to string together thoughts coherently felt foggy at best, but prior experience had at least trained me enough to know, even in an addled state - when next I sneeze, it is going to be a mess. Still, the itch reaching the pinnacle that pushed me over the edge from “annoying” to “unbearable” managed to catch me by surprise. I had barely enough time to register that I was definitely going to sneeze l before it escaped, indelicately uncovered. I clenched my jaw tightly enough that it was quieter than most, but, blinking dazedly at the slick moisture on the countertop, it occurred to me that I was probably in worse shape than I’d thought if my reflexes were so impaired I couldn’t manage to keep myself tidy.

Regardless of how you feel… get back in there. You have a responsibility to a guest. Viola was waiting for me by Ellie’s painting, looking at it with a curious smile. “I was just admiring the painting there. It’s really pretty.” 

 “I’ll pass your compliment along to Ellie, Leo’s fiancee. She painted it.” Ellie was the first nice person Leo had ever dated, as far as I was concerned. Given that he has the temperament of a doormat and all the backbone of a bivalve, he seemed to attract people who wanted a boyfriend far less than they wanted a personal valet. 

“Wow - I didn’t know she was an artist!” When Viola was impressed, she was radiant - so much so that I rambled slightly longer than intended in my reply: 

“She doesn’t paint professionally, but yes, I think she’s really very good. The painting itself was actually kind of a joke. She gave it to me when she and Leo became engaged, in place of an invite to the engagement party they threw at their house. They have two dogs and a veritable clowder of cats - she’s a vet, so I suppose that is to be expected - but obviously, I won’t be darkening their doorstep anytime soon, for reasons you can no doubt deduce. So, she painted this from a picture Leo took of her right after he proposed, so I’d sort of have a bit of the celebration with me.” 

Viola looked askance at me, letting her gaze linger, although what was behind her expression eluded me. “That’s really sweet.”

“I thought so. She and Leo are very happy, although Mum is obviously miffed that Leo has ‘settled’ for ‘just’ working as a receptionist at Ellie’s clinic.” Mum’s inability to stay out of Leo’s business was off-putting. Leo and Ellie - both absurdly optimistic and positive people - said that Mum was just concerned for their financial security, but I saw her attitude much, much differently. 

“I’m sorry to hear that - that must suck for Leo. Is she disappointed in him?” Viola’s outpouring of sympathy was immediate and transparently sincere, so much so that I instantly regretted bringing up anything that made her feel sorry - hence my outpouring of immediate and transparent sarcasm. “Of course. Still, between Leo, Hazel, and me, we try to disappoint Mum equally, but in novel and exciting ways, you know?” Never a truer word. Between Leo’s apparent lack of “ambition,” Hazel’s enthusiasm for playing the bass guitar in a punk pop band (oh, the horror!), and my general lack of enthusiasm for being told what to do, it was a wonder we hadn’t collectively given her an ulcer. 

Let’s move away from petty complaining, shall we?  “So, is this the worst second date you’ve ever had?” 

Maybe that was too blunt of a subject shift. I was relieved when Viola laughed. “Please believe me when I say it doesn’t even crack my top ten.” 

It seemed right that Viola would have a top ten. I’m sure she had more prospective dates than she knew what to do with. I, on the other hand, was experiencing both my best and my worst second date simultaneously at that very moment… because it was more or less my only second date. I figured that a three-year, casual friends-with-benefits situation in grad school - during which we both scoffed at the idea of “dating” because we didn’t have all that much in common, besides shared professional aspirations and a willingness to try anything twice - didn’t count. “That’s hard to believe. You must’ve gone on some terrible dates.  I can imagine few less appealing scenarios than being served reheated soup in preparation for a harrowing night of copy-editing grant proposals.”

Viola seemed to take my bluntness in stride, which was a true positive. I suspected I had a fever, because it was slowly dawning on me that my ability to self-edit and censor myself was much reduced  - a pretty typical side effect.

“Unfortunately, you’re right about the terrible dates, but fortunately for you, I actually quite like reheated soup. Copy-editing isn’t so bad either.” She’s too nice for her own good. I impulsively put a hand on her knee before checking myself and pulling back. In case this isn’t just a sinus infection, keep your distance. “You do know you don’t have to stay, right? You’ve probably had a long day already. Actually, I know you’ve had a long day. You work for Mum.” 

Despite my intention to keep a respectable distance between us, my heart fluttered when Viola reached for my hands, and I wasn’t about to pull away. “Medan. I want to be here. Truly. It’ll be more fun with the two of us to complain about how stupid the grant forms are, anyway.” 

The grant forms were hellacious, but less so when I contemplated being able to look up and see Viola sitting opposite me. “True. Misery does love company.” 

Viola looked like she was about to reply, and I hated myself for unwillingly interrupting her, but my sinuses weren’t willing to let the moment breathe and bloom. Pulling my hands away from hers was purely reflexive - I wasn’t sure I could survive the breach of etiquette that sneezing on her would have entailed. Still, as soon as my hands were no longer brushing hers, I felt her absence. 

Perhaps Viola intuited that I wanted her touch, although I’m sure I didn’t signal my desire with my body language. With my eyes closed and my spine rigidly frozen in place, I suspect I looked about as physically welcoming as a brick wall. Still, she lay her hand gently on my upper arm, whispering “It’s okay” with the kind of reassuring warmth I generally associated with the disembodied tranquility of a meditation app. It was a jolt to realize that such a gentle presence was actually sitting opposite me. 

What’s okay, anyway? My state of incapacitation? My delay in getting back to work? The onslaught of rapidly approaching deadlines? It seemed to me that nothing about this entire situation was really okay.

 Curiosity was the only force that could have allowed me to sufficiently ignore the looming, all-consuming need to sneeze enough to open my eyes, although I couldn’t quite manage to overcome the trembling jaw and quivering eyelids that inevitably accompanied my desperate sneeziness.

I half-expected Viola to look away when I caught her eye, but she let herself linger, eyes locked on mine. In fact, she did the precise opposite of looking away. She leaned closer, mouth slightly opened as she rolled her tongue hesitantly, slightly, over her lower lip before just slightly grazing her lip with her teeth. Oh, what I wouldn’t do if I had that privileged access to Viola’s lips.

I was a little surprised when that thought flitted across my mind - I didn’t often take notice of raw physical attraction while otherwise distracted by a pepperlike burning flickering across my nostrils and the back of my throat - but my surprise multiplied when I noticed the blush infusing Viola’s cheeks. 

Just then, a precisely-captured mental image of the first moment I’d wondered if Viola - just perhaps - found me at all attractive flashed through my mind in crystal-clear high definition. I could envision her in that moment perfectly - her enormous, dark brown eyes fixed on my face, her lips slightly parted, her stepping closer… Her response had been a tad difficult to wrap my mind around, given that I’d been a crumpled, breathless mess at the time. Unless… well… hmmm.

If there’s one thing that can immediately earn my undivided focus, it’s the emergence of an intriguing pattern. Casting back through my figurative mental file of time spent with Viola, the possibility of a rather different subtext for her quiet attentiveness during my allergic fits - other than her general patience and compassion, both of which were obvious and perennial character traits - began to dawn on me. 

. My mental puzzling was shut down by an urgently ticklish sniffle that could only mean one thing. As my eyes shut of their own accord in preparation, I acutely resented the enforced interruption in staring at Viola. “Htttxxcht! Heh…tchht! Tchttt! Heh…tsh-ahchxxt!” 

At this point, I’d almost forgotten what she’d said before I’d needed to sneeze, but was able to recollect it as I collected myself. “I’m not sure about ‘okay,’ but it certainly is unavoidable.” I tried to sniffle quietly - an impossible feat, as it turned out. Viola's eyes widened and she stiffened slightly - and despite my growing curiosity, I responded as casually as I manage. 

Viola’s flustered response - “I… um… well… whatever makes you most comfortable is good” - added further evidence to my developing line of deduction: I think… I think that she’s into this. Given everything I knew of Viola, her having a slightly unorthodox kink seemed somewhat incongruous, which made the thought even more intriguing. The thought that I could please her so easily was delicious, and my resulting impatience to know if my speculation was at all correct was consuming. As I let the silence stretch on between us, I half-hoped I wouldn’t have to be patient too long, that Viola would simply be frank and tell me what seemed increasingly clear. 

Instead, though, she broke the silence with “I - um… I… So, tell me about the budget deficit. Elisa hasn’t talked with me about it - is she trying to keep it really quiet?” Well, alright then. Patience it is. I suppose that’s a virtue I should be cultivating anyway. 

Explaining the budget deficit - a subject I’d spent more than enough time dwelling on in the last however-many hours - was a practical way to redirect my thoughts from my unfulfilled curiosity. The unsatisfied wonderings interfered more with my concentration than the residual itch from the distinctly unsatisfying stifled sneezes did. 

When I finally wrapped up my all-too-longwinded verbal treatise on bank fraud and probable graft, the sheer impropriety of the moment dawned on me. I’m sitting here on the floor, yammering on in comprehensive detail about blazingly asinine financial crises, and I haven’t even had the presence of mind or decency to offer Viola a chair? Christ, man. Pull yourself together. “I should have gotten a chair for you. I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

Viola was too sweet to agree with me, but in this particular instance, I was right. As I grabbed her a chair,  strict self-chastisement was in order. Alright, you self-centered, inconsiderate bastard. Whether or not Viola has… shall we say, unorthodox, intriguing, and exceedingly appealing interests… is not pertinent to this evening’s activities. You are going to write grant narratives. She is going to copy-edit the poorly written garbage that you’ve dredged from the mucus-drenched recesses of your fevered mind. Copy-editing is an activity that could very easily fit into the definition of the word “unerotic.” Thus: let it go. 

My sinuses, though, didn’t want to get with the program. Along with the chair for Viola, I grabbed a hand towel, in hopes of avoiding interrupting our workflow at obnoxiously regular intervals to fetch tissues. It was as though the mere presence of something to potentially sneeze into should the need arise  was sufficient to trigger a fit. “H–hheeht…hehh…” If I’d been alone, I would have resigned myself to the fit that clearly wanted to intrude on the scene, but, as it was, I pressed my fist into my nose hard enough that tears sprung to my eyes. If I’d opened my eyes post-fit to Viola watching me the way she had been, just like she wanted to devour me from head to toe, redirecting my attention to the ins and outs of spreadsheets would have been virtually impossible. Given that I wanted to gather what was left of my wits and channel them into work, it seemed safer to restrict myself to professional matters.

Still, as we got down to business (Viola tucking her legs up into my reading chair to prop her laptop on her knees, which I’m afraid I also found distractingly cute), a less businesslike and more intimate sentiment slipped from me uncensored: “Thank you for staying.”

 

 

[starpollen]

I really love the chapters from his point of view thank you!

[Privatedancer]

Thank you so much for returning but leaving us hanging before the fit???  Gahhh!!!!  Talk about a cliffhanger when we know the next part ….please don’t leave us hanging too long. - lol

[RipleyToo]

This was an amazing update! I hope the next chapter will be here soon!

[EveP]

You write beautifully. I don't mind waiting for something this good.

[RipleyToo]

Coming back to say that I re-read this again and I love it! I hope there will be another part soon and I hope all Is well @marzipan!

[sprinkles287]

How did I miss this?! Going back to re-read all of it all over again. 

[marzipan]

@sprinkles287 - how fortuitous, because your reply just popped up as I was finishing this new part. 😊

Thank you so much for the well-wishes, @RipleyToo! I FINALLY had time for an update. 😁

@EveP , thank you! I love writing so much, and it makes me happy that you enjoy it!

@Privatedancer Sorry for the lingering cliffhanger 😅 I didn't expect it would take me so long to post another part!

@starpollen I've really liked experimenting with writing from Medan's perspective - I'm glad you like reading them! I've enjoyed your stories so much, too!

And finally... the last mirroring section of the story. I think I'll switch to a different (better organized!) thread after this, but you can expect more of these characters. 😉

 

Concentration came as an irritating challenge. As I settled into work, I set myself the somewhat reasonable goal of focusing for fifty-five minutes, then letting my mind wander for five as a reward. Those precious five minute increments were not quite enough time to fully parse through all the potential nuances of Viola’s expressions, intonations, questions, gestures, and nervous tics, but they provided sufficient time to begin a systematic review of what I could recall. 

 

As I took advantage of these self-imposed windows of time to compile my mental archive, it seemed likelier and likelier that my momentary insight into Viola’s desires was accurate. When reexamining tiny moments - her quick but sharp intake of breath when she brushed my hand that first day at the office, her soft blush as I did battle with pollen allergies at our coffee date, her reflexively expressive eyes betraying her with their candor at my apartment door - it all seemed to add up. 

If so, her kink would be a bit unusual, certainly… but unwelcome? Hardly. I was more startled by how exhilarating I found the idea.

My brief interludes of curious wondering were far more pleasurable than the hours of trying to produce grant applications, which were unbelievably tedious. Since I was trying not to be distracting or annoying, I was solidly committed to not allowing myself the temporary respite of a sneezing fit, instead just letting congestion build until it slowly drained of its own accord onto the towel I was holding loosely to my face.

When static lines of text appeared to ripple across my computer screen, I should have taken it as an alert that I should consider trying to sleep. However, it seemed easier to stay in place at my desk than it did to expend the energy necessary to stand up, make polite apologies to Viola, walk to my bed, and collapse into it. 

My fingers felt heavy against the keyboard, but I simultaneously felt like I was floating, detached from space. When Viola occasionally broke the silence with questions, I struggled to respond; it was like my thoughts were shouting down a long tunnel to get to my mouth, and only emerging as a distorted echo. I was vaguely aware that it was taking me longer to speak than it usually did, and that I was stumbling over the usual suspect consonants, but I was too tired to care.

I don’t know how much time passed before Viola murmured my name. Her voice was quiet, deliberately unobtrusive, but I instinctively recoiled at her tone of concern. People worrying about me put my teeth on edge. I always leapt to the conclusion (however erroneous) that they were patronizing me, and although my suspicions were correct on a fairly regular basis, I mentally corrected myself on this occasion. There’s no way Viola would talk down to me, under any circumstance. “Yes, sorry?”

“Is your headache getting worse?” 

I genuinely wanted to be honest with her, but I couldn’t tell if it was “worse.” It was more a matter of an omnipresent ache than sharp pangs, anyway. “Not worse. It just hurts.” I sounded terser than I meant to, but short sentences felt more manageable than detailed explanations. 

Viola’s sympathy was expressed far more smoothly than I could manage in my staccato bursts of speech: “I’m sorry. Do you think it’s a sinus headache?  I imagine there’s… quite a lot of pressure up there.” Oh, God, have I been sniffling without noticing? Although I acknowledge that I myself am a congested mess 95% of the time, I know for an absolute fact that there’s nothing more annoying than a congested mess sniffling and snuffling while you’re trying to concentrate on work. Viola, true to form, responded to my silence with an abject apology. “I’m sorry! I just meant - you - it just - looked like maybe… you were a bit uncomfortable, that’s all.”

If I looked “uncomfortable,” it was well past time to make sure she knew she wasn’t obligated to stay, watching me deteriorate into an increasingly drippy, dysfunctional, and debilitated state. “Don’t apologize. If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I daresay you’re the only one here getting anything of quality done. Anyway, it’s late. I didn’t mean to keep you here this long.” 

“No, I don’t mind at all.” I scoffed, but she smiled comfortingly. “Really. You’re done for the night too, right?” 

I had no intention of stopping, but I also had no intention of telling Viola that I wasn’t even close to done. I figured that particular knowledge would only make her feel guilty, so I didn’t respond. “In that case, I’d like to stay, if you don’t mind. If you work, I work.” I was a bit taken aback by her firm declaration. From the way she squared her shoulders as she said it, it seemed that assertiveness didn’t come to her naturally, which almost made me respect the effort it took for her to say it even more - hence my immediate, uncharacteristically agreeable response. “I… okay.” 

Now that she’d stated her intention aloud, she relaxed back into her chair, tucking her legs back up under her and settling in. “Can I get you anything to make you more comfortable?” 

I briefly contemplated indulging my reflexive dark humor and answering “possibly a shroud,” but decided against it, mostly because a half-chuckle morphed into a cough that burned in my chest as I tried to quell it.

I couldn’t see Viola’s face, but her voice was shy. “Medan, may I be blunt?” 

If I denied someone permission to be blunt, I’d be such a hypocrite. Grudgingly accepting that fact, I nodded. 

“I’m worried about you. You really don’t look well. Perhaps it would be better to take a night off and get some rest?” 

Glancing at her earnest face, I wondered what I’d done to deserve such tenderness. I certainly felt I had little to recommend myself this evening. I had managed to add to Viola’s litany of things to be anxious about - a list I gathered was extensive enough already. I had pulled her away from whatever her evening plans might have been because I had thoughtlessly abandoned work in the office. However, my worst offense was that I didn’t have the self-discipline to keep my mind on task, even when Viola was industriously typing away on projects that were my problem. I’m not accustomed to guilt, precisely, but recognizing and reproaching myself for my own shortcomings was a different matter. 

“No, don’t. Please, for heaven’s sake,  don’t waste your worrying on… this. I’m just going to take a moment. I’ll… I’ll be just a second.” I was unsteady on my feet, but grateful that I at least managed to get from the front room to my bedroom without toppling over. I briefly contemplated locking the door behind me, but felt it would be a gesture of mistrust that Viola certainly hadn’t deserved. Instead, I stumbled to the bathroom, getting another door as a barrier between us.

Glancing at myself in the bathroom mirror, it was almost funny how absurdly pallid I looked. If anyone was casting for a flick about the undead, I’d fit right in as an extra.  I pulled off my glasses and splashed cool water against my face, hoping for a restorative effect. However, it just made me more aware of how tender my eyes and forehead were. The dull ache felt more acute when I let myself think about it instead of the endless parade of funding agents I needed to appease. 

Trying to rescue my rational, pragmatic brain from the haze generated by feverish congestion, I slipped down to the floor and let my head rest against the cool tile wall. What will restore me to some semblance of functionality, convincing enough that Viola won’t fret about me? How can I scrape myself into decent enough shape that I can hold it together?

Clearing my sinuses out was a must. Blowing my nose guaranteed an arduous but thorough fit - but the mere thought of trying to stay relatively quiet and then waltz out of my bedroom like nothing had happened seemed forbiddingly difficult. The prospect was enough to make me want to slither down to the floor face-first and spend the night pretending the rest of the world simply didn’t exist.

However, the world did exist and I did have a mountain of paperwork to get through. More importantly, a sweet and beautiful woman was sitting in my front room doing work that, by all rights, I should be doing, and worrying about things that, by all rights, shouldn’t be her concern. With that said, the decision was clear. 

As soon as I touched my oversensitive nostrils with a tissue, I could feel them flare with an urgency my souplike brain wasn’t prepared for. A sneeze slipped out before I had the presence of mind to stifle it. “EHhh-erRSH!” I managed to muffle the sound by instinctively clapping both hands over my nose, but I still froze for a second, listening for any indication that Viola had heard me. Now that I’d sneezed once, I was in for a beaut of an attack. As soon as the relentless, clogged pressure of mucus shifted ever so slightly, my sinuses decided they’d had enough of this nonsense and were resolved to expel all unwelcome congestion, with or without my conscious aid. 

Usually I could take a hands-free approach to stifling sneezes, relying purely on my well-trained chest and throat control, but, given my apparent inability to do just about anything right this evening, it seemed appropriate to pinch my nose shut, although I cursed how absurdly inflamed my quivering nose both looked and felt. Clenching my jaw as tightly as I could, I stiffened,  my body locked into as still a pose as possible. There’s no way I’m going to let a single iota of sound escape  - but oh, God, it tickles so much. Why can’t I just hold this off for one more minute - I can just wait this out - or not. Yep, I’m going to sneeze.

The first stifle was successfully soundless, but my indiscreet hiss in pain as my headache sharpened canceled out its quietness. “Hhh-chK-uuhh!...Uh’hcht’eeh! Tsch-eeh!” Trying to balance being muted enough that Viola couldn’t hear how wretched I sounded but uninhibited enough that I wasn’t in danger of rupturing an eardrum was a challenge I, in my current state, was woefully unprepared for. “Hh–gch! Heeeh-tchuuh! Acht-eh-huuuh! Eeeg’shuuh!” 

Shut up, shut up, shut up. Internally, I was screaming at my body to be quiet and restrained, but my sinuses had a different notion. Now that I had tentatively opened the floodgates a crack, I felt as though the tidal wave of sneezes would never stop. Ironically, stifling just made the fit more intense, and I wondered if my panting breaths in between each stifle were louder than a wholly unrestrained sneeze would be. 

“Tshuuhh! Heeh…tch’ssst!” Oh, that’s revolting. I struggled to my feet for a tissue. When the floor seemed to lurch underneath me, I instinctively reached out to grab something - anything - to keep myself upright. Unfortunately, that “something” was my shower curtain, which clattered to the floor with enough noise to awaken the dead, smashing a mirror along with it. I recoiled away from the shattered glass, letting my back rest against the wall to hold myself up. 

I suppose it’s too much to ask that Viola didn’t hear that… and indeed,  a split-second later, she called out to me, sounding panicked. Congratulations, good sir. You’ve fucked this up royally. Truly, you couldn’t have managed a more anxiety-inducing situation for Viola if you tried. Well done. I sank back down to the floor, drawing my knees up against my chest to make myself as small as possible to avoid the glass strewn across the floor. 

When my door flew open with a bang, I wasn’t exactly surprised, although I did startle at the noise. Viola took a step back when she realized I was hiding out in my bathroom. I suspect she was more embarrassed by her intrusion than I was. I didn’t have time to be embarrassed anyway - the tickle surged again, resulting in an unfettered “Htttshhuuuuh!” 

Viola scanned me from head to toe, clearly ready to spring into action to care for me. I was confident she’d rise to any occasion and any eventuality, from being brought low by a sinus infection to falling apart after a disastrous budget review.  But… what can I do for her? This balance doesn’t seem quite fair. 

 “Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?” I managed to shake my head in reassurance before gasping in a deep breath to fuel another explosive sneeze. “Tshuuuuh! Hrrshuuuuuhh! Hhuuuhh…." Hallelujah. A chance to breathe. "I'm fine, I just got a little dizzy, but - Heehhhh…hrsh! Hrrshh! Httxcht-uhh! Httcxht! Tshcht! ” My face was burning, but more in frustration with myself than anything else. I wanted to open my eyes and assess Viola’s reaction without any distraction, but that didn’t seem likely to happen anytime soon. 

When she sat down next to me and began to rub my shoulders - at first tentatively, then firmly - I realized I was shaking like a leaf.. I tried to stop trembling, tightening my shoulders and neck as much as I could and steadying my quivering hands against my face. I couldn’t stop the fit if I tried, but I could at least keep it a bit under wraps - although the bright punctuation of visual snow fluttering at the edges of my sightline suggested perhaps my efforts to be quiet would ultimately prove counterproductive in the “producing less anxiety for Viola” department. 

Still gently rubbing circles into my shoulders with her thumbs, Viola murmured,  “It’s okay. You’re going to make your headache worse if you hold them back like that. I don’t mind.” 

Well, that’s good, because there’s only one direction this fit is going in, and that direction is “worse.” “Ehhhhrshuuuuh! Tshhuuuh-hrshh! Hrrshhhuuuuh!” I almost couldn’t believe my body was capable of such brute force, particularly with no conscious effort on my part. As I snapped forward in modest and unsuccessful efforts to preserve my abdominal muscles from wear and tear, I felt sure that the combination of exertion and fever meant I was probably soaked with sweat. And Viola is touching me when I’m like this? The patience of a saint, clearly. 

“Tshhuuuh! Errrshuuuuuh! Achhuuuuh! Eeeerrshuuuh!” The split-second where I didn’t immediately sneeze was a temporary relief, but short-lived. The prickling itch flared so intensely I couldn’t breathe, suspended between dulled need and the satisfaction of relief. Come on, get this over with. Please. Please. I looked toward the flickering fluorescent light, hoping my usually-obnoxious photic reflex would do me a solid and let me sneeze, but it just magnified the intensity of the shuddering, hitching breaths that would eventually tip me over the edge.  

“...Can I bring you anything that would help?” Viola’s voice was shaky and pitched a little higher than was usual for her. Curious. 

I shook my head. “This is – heehh… this is all totally normal. D-d- heeehhh… don’t worry about it.” I finally managed to meet her eyes, and although she dropped her gaze quickly, I realized she was watching me without apparent anxiety. Instead, she was… rapt. 

No one has ever looked at me like that before. “Hrrrushuh! Heett-chuuh!! Hrrruuuush! Tsh-uhh! Hrrruuuuush! Hehh, heehh…” Each sneeze was getting messier, which was difficult to manage, given that I was afraid of moving to get a tissue  in case of intensifying dizziness. Tilting my head back to keep the rapidly migrating contents of my nose in place helped only so much. 

With my eyes still closed, when I felt a soft touch brushing my throat, and then the gentle pressure of a hand against my cheek, I almost wondered if I was conjuring an illusion based on my wishful thinking. Alright. You might not want to disengage from your hopes, but you need a reality check. I dropped my arm from its defensive position, sniffling and wiping my eyes before regrouping enough to glance at Viola. I was encouraged that she hadn’t pulled away. “Medan, you’re burning up.”  

Well… yes. I already know that. The chills, headache, sweating, and general dizziness are all dead giveaways, so that’s wholly uninteresting to me. What’s actually intriguing is you. My awareness of the tickle pulsing in idiosyncratic waves through my sinuses was dampened by the considerable shield of congestion blocking all airways, so the gasp preceding a six-sneeze fit left me shaken.

Viola’s hand was still resting against my neck when I was able to respond. “You’re blushing. It suits you.” 

She laughed and tossed off a slightly embarrassed “thanks?”, but the tension in her hands and face belied her nonchalance. She started speaking so quickly I could barely catch each word. 

“You must be exhausted after - well - you know, everything. You’re very close to the end of the proposal you’re working on - how about I take it home with me? I could wrap it up in probably under an hour, and then I could show it to your mum tomorrow and get her feedback. I imagine you probably don’t especially want her… um, her critical oversight right now. I could just drop you a text if she has edits, and maybe we could work on them together tomorrow night, since the proposal deadline isn’t until midnight. What do you think?”

Let’s slow this moment down. “I think…” I paused, deliberating about how to ask the question that had been solidifying in my mind all night. “I think you’re anxious right now. Are you?” Her already enormous eyes widened, making her look even more endearingly doe-eyed than usual as she made a couple noises that approached human speech, but stopped short of it. As I was intimately familiar with the trials and tribulations associated with mouths not cooperating with brains, I waited for her instead of filling in what I thought was increasingly clear. 

“Um… yes?”

I don’t think she was aware that she was uneasily wringing her hands, but the gesture affirmed every impulse I had to tread carefully. “I feel fairly confident that the reason you’re anxious is unnecessary, if my speculation is remotely accurate - which, of course, it may not be.” I hoped my slight hedging was enough to put her at ease. “You’re worrying… about what I’m thinking of you?” I paused again as she stared at her hands and gathered herself. She managed a nod so slight if I had blinked, I would have missed it. 

Frankness comes easily to me. Fingers crossed that my bluntness now will save Viola anxiety later. “Right. Well, I don’t believe in beating around bushes. I know I’ve already said that I find you very attractive. Is the feeling mutual?” When she nodded, I had to take a beat to absorb the tidal wave of relief washing over me. I hadn’t even realized I was insecure about her answer until then. 

“Do you find me attractive right now?” One corner of her mouth curved up in a smile, and although the glint in her eye as she glanced up at my face and nodded was merely a suggestive flicker, it was beguiling. It gave me the determination to ask the clearest version of the question coalescing in my fever-addled mind. “You like all this? All the incessant -”

My abrupt pause wasn’t due to my stammer this time, but, rather, a response to half-choking on the surging tickle walloping my sinuses. Given that it felt oddly out of place - perhaps even rude - to sneeze at this very moment, I pressed my tongue against the roof of my mouth as hard as I could and brought the side of my hand up to the bridge of my nose - but there was no way I could hold them back. I could only stutter out a half-apologetic, half-exasperated “oh, god, what– heeehhh….- t…t….timing -  htttshuuuhh! Tttshh! Tshuuuuh!” My unsuccessful effort to hold the sneezes back made them more dizzyingly violent. If I hadn’t known Viola was waiting next to me, I would have eased down to lie on the floor and collect myself - but she was waiting, and, regardless of whether my read of the situation was accurate, I suspected she’d want to respond. 

Her third nod - so minuscule as to be more a twitch than a gesture - was accompanied by her curling into what I instantly recognized as the defensive posture of a person expecting ridicule or rebuke: head down, arms crossed protectively across her chest, back curled to make herself small. The responding pressure in my chest had nothing to do with the congestion seeping through my head. 

Right. How do I convey reassurance, pleasure, relief, interest, and attraction in equal measure in an appropriately concise manner? What came out of my mouth was less-than-perfect, but did the job: “Well, Viola, I fail to see how that could be anything but good news for me. I - tsh! Tsh-uuuh! -  Christ, what a mess - I am frankly in a kind of joyous awe that you could want me in any situation, least of all while I'm sitting on a bathroom floor, drowning in my own fluids - which, indeed, is a condition in which I spend approximately 25% of my waking hours.” 

When I reached for her hand, she took it without a moment’s hesitation.

[Catsgotyourtounge]

OMG YESSSS I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH! OMG IN LOVEEE!!

[Privatedancer]

Yes!!!!!  I have been waiting for this wonderful update of Medan’s perspective and it gives insight into how caring and sweet he is as well !!!

[sprinkles287]

Omg omg omg. I’m straight up melting. It’s lovely they’re lovely you’re lovely. Lovely lovey love.

[EveP]

So worth the wait. Thank you!

[Catsgotyourtounge]

I have said this once I'll say it again omg I am absolutely in love with this story! It's always worth the wait!!

[RipleyToo]

Well worth the wait! I’m excited for what will be next!! 

[funbusej]

There is nothing better than a wonderfully long, descriptive, eloquent, story about allergic boys, and the people that love them! This is truly a masterpiece, and I am so invested in these characters.  I can't wait to see what happens next!!!!

[glitter_]

Oh. My. God. Medan's insights... So detailed, so complex, so everything. His quirky personality, his stammer. The way he is a total mess and still is able to comfort Viola. I can't wait for your continuation of this story. You are a truly talented writer @marzipan

[Catsgotyourtounge]

Love this one so much!

[Privatedancer]

Certainly hope this returns to see Medain finally feel love and acceptance and the same for Viola.

[marzipan]

@Privatedancer very kindly suggested that I update the title for the most recent part of Medan and Viola's story to reflect that it's a continuation of this story! I'm not sure I have the ability to edit titles yet, but I thought I'd give it a little bump here - I hope that's okay! It is titled "Role Reversals."  I hope folks enjoy reading it - I really enjoyed writing it! 😁

[Lunaconner]

omg i love this story!!! and having both perspectives!!!

[2SHY222]

I just found this thread and binged it. You're writing is amazing and I am in love with these two. I have melted on more than one occasion while reading 🥰