Class Clown

[Skylacticon]

Hey all. I’m back with another idea that popped into my head that I may or may not continue. The premise is rather vague right now, but we’ll see what happens. Hope y’all are well ❤️ 

 

-

 

Mick could hear him clearing his throat behind him. Even that sounded asshole-ish. Like he were doing it to be heard, to get people to acknowledge his presence in the room. He heard him clear his throat again, a bit more pointedly. It sounded a bit… thick? What followed was a soft sniffle, and an exhale.

 

After a few minutes, he heard another sniffle. Soft, but more… necessary? He heard him cough softly, eliciting more quiet, damp sniffles. It sounded less like a call for attention - the sniffles coming quick, almost dismissive. There would be a long pause between, a scratching of a page turning, and a less-restrained cough or clearing of the throat amidst the sound. Then in the silence that followed, a clear, wet sniffle - followed by a sigh, casual and almost punctuating.

 

Almost - because he’d sniffle again. And again. And again. And he’d have to clear his throat, which sounded relatively phlegmy. Then Mick heard something which he probably wouldn’t have, if he wasn’t so close, or if his dickhead subconscious wouldn’t stop listening to him. A quiet, but long intake of breath - then a sigh, and a considerably wet sniffle. Then another quieter sniffle, just like the constant, never-ending ones.

 

Then another sigh - which kept going, causing Mick to lose his focus once more. Then- “‘hgGXSCHh!!mnhh… *sdrff!*” A barely swallowed, muffled sneeze, sounding like it had been pressed into the crook of his arm. Mick couldn’t help but wince a little. That sounded like a struggle.

 

He heard some snickering from the guys around him. The poor guy kept sniffling, though he seemed to be less secretive about it, a soft groan escaping his lips.

 

“Gesundheit,” one of them laughed. Mick heard the thumping of a hand against the guy’s back or shoulder.

 

“Bless you,” a girl hissed from a few desks down.

 

“Thagk you,” a low, stuffy voice huffed, sniffling liquidly. He coughed lightly, and there was a soft, wet, squishy sound, like he were rubbing his nose or his eyes. He continued to sniffle wetly. He cleared his throat again, and it sounded pointed again, the ‘okay, back to business’ clearing of the throat. The listener in front of him didn’t object this implication, returning his focus to his work. Or, you know, trying to. Another drippy sniffle begged to differ.

 

“*snrff!* huhhh….” The sighs were lengthy, the inhales mostly drenched sniffles. The guy coughed again, clearing an itchy, phlegmy throat. Mick felt for the guy, as he kept breathing, more audibly due to the fact that he seemed to be doing so through his mouth. “Huhh… *snrff, sdf* unhh…” Then he heard a choked, squeaky smothered sound, perhaps crushed by a thumb and forefinger. “gk’kxGXTCH!! - huhhh… huh *snrf, snrff!* heh *snnrk*” That seemed to set the drenched sniffling out of control, forcing him to snort and sniffle wetly.

 

“Ewww, gross.” a girl whispered.

 

“Gesundheit, brother.”

 

Mick waited for a response from the guy, but he seemed to be in the middle of something. Another long breath out. Then a short, panicked gasp, and a soaked sniffle, one that sounded so wet he may as well have had mucus dripping down his face. “*sdrff!* heh! Hehh-! hEH’GDJXSSCHH!!!hmmhh… 'Scuse be. *snrk, snrf, sdrf*”

 

Mick felt a cool mist hit his neck, despite the near-certain attempt by the guy to catch it in his sleeve. He heard the guy behind him sniffling for dear life, and a low hum of snickering and stifled laughs came from his friends. Mick, sitting stiffly in his chair, frankly felt more empathetic than disgusted. Although - it was there. He’d just been sneezed on by the most popular guy in class - perhaps the program, moreover. Germs were germs. But he was growing more aware of the lack of concern showed by the guy’s acquaintances. “Oh… *sddrff*” a quiet, breathy sigh, and a deep, wet sniffle. Although - technically, he didn't seem to be showing the most concern either, seeing as how all of this had occurred to him and he still hadn't moved a muscle.

 

“Jesus, bless you.” One of his friends chuckled.

 

“Thagk- *ahem* -thagk you.” The sound of his voice was rough, and the gentle attempt to clear his throat wouldn’t be enough. The guy sniffled harshly and coughed  softly again in vain. Mick could hear him mutter something in a quiet voice to the girl behind him, snuffling wetly.

 

“No, sorry,” the girl responded. Mick heard the chair behind his squeak as the guy turned back around.

 

He heard a few more wet sniffles. He heard short, soft gasps and hitches. “*snrk* ughh… *sdrff!* hehh… *snrf, sddrff*…” More squishy, wet rubbing.

 

“Ayo, you okay?” One of his friends asked him.

 

“Doe, I’b fuckig dyig… *sdrff!*”

 

“Bro, you need a tissue?”

 

“*sdrff* Yeah, do you have ode?" A breathy, genuine request, before- "Oh fugk, I’b godda-“ His friend laughed again as the sentence paused in its tracks. Mick braced himself. “hgK'RRUSSCHHh!!-ioo…” Another desperate, yet still restrained explosion, followed by more drenched sniffles. It sounded a bit more satisfying than the others, although the drippy situation was getting out of hand. Quite literally. "*sngk* … *snrk, snnrgk* Jeez, that’s gross. Oh god. *sdrf!* Excuse be.” Mick heard the chair behind him scrape against the floor. He quickly looked down as a lanky figure stepped past his desk into his peripheral vision and continued towards the door.

 

“You good, Harley?” The girl from a couple desks away prodded.

 

“Fabulous. *snrk!*”

 

Mick peeked up as the guy moved to leave the room. He caught a glimpse of the back of his head as he was walking away - long, chestnut brown hair ending just above his broad shoulders. The shoulders tensed as a hand came up to fuss at his sniffly, irritated, drippy nose, and made a subtle yet urgent grab for the doorknob as he exited the classroom. The door slammed shut behind him.

 

Mick blinked and let out a quiet breath, then glanced down again at his paper. It occurred to him that that couldn’t have been sanitary at all.

[secret19]

I love this more than you know! I cannot wait to see this continue :)) 

[Anonymace]

I don’t usually enjoy male sneezing, but this was nice! Very good work 😆

[Elysnzz]

Oooo could he have caught a cold?? Will mick catch his cold from that spray??

[starpollen]

Lovely! 🤩  Deliciously sneezy (and this time cold-ridden) tough guys are my favourite!! 😍 Hoping for more, but thank you for this!

[thesneezyowl]

I loooove how you spell your sneezes out! 

[Reader]

Yum! WHAT A TREAT! I would definitely enjoy more if the muse appears ~ 

[Jettous]

Wow. That was amazing!

[secret19]

This story is so short but so good!!! I need more, your a great writer!

[AutumnSneezes]

Oh my god! This was absolutely INCREDIBLE! You had me hooked from the get go, and the atmosphere just kept getting better and better. I loved the way you described his sneezes, I felt so bad for him, but it was so damn sexy too! Thanks so much for writing and sharing this!

[Skylacticon]

Hey folks. Thanks for reading! I appreciate the comments, I'm glad you like it so far.  It's been a few months, and it's been a while since I posted anything original, so... I thought I'd come back to this and continue it. There's more in the works, but for now I hope you enjoy this. xxx

-

 

“Alright. Now - we gotta consider the budget. Since this project involves a lot of different settings, I think set and props should have priority.”

 

“But what about the number of actors, I mean Shane said he wanted everyone to be matching in a particular way.”

 

“I don’t know, we can look in storage, if not then we’ll look into making them ourselves.”

 

“We don’t… exactly have the time frame,” Mick sighed.

 

He glanced over toward Harley, who seemed not to be paying attention at all. His brown hair was the same style of messy-handsome, but veered a little more towards the ‘messy’ side today. He looked… beat. The guy hadn’t seemed to be keeping up with the other members of the group. Ever since Terra dropped out, he’d taken her place as set designer, and it was obvious the role was one he didn’t prefer. But this collective creation project was worth a big portion of their grade, and he had the most experience and skills to do the job. Mick hadn’t worked with him in any previous shows, but he’d seen him act in various things, such as last year’s Bucket festival line-up and multiple social media posts promoting short films.

 

Harley’s zoned-out eyes were staring off toward the far side of the room. He seemed to sense Mick staring at him, and their eyes connected for a moment - Mick should’ve seen that coming, because according to some study he’d read somewhere, apparently humans can track someone watching them. Their eye contact was severed as Harley sniffled deeply and shifted to face the rest of the group.

 

“We dod’t- *ahem* -excuse be, *sdf!* We dod’t deed to order ady wood or tools. I got that covered. And we cad borrow paidt frob the shop.” Harley’s voice was rough and baritone. “I can split by budget if deeded.”

 

Mick raised his eyebrows. Based on what planning??

 

“You sure?” Allison was already typing away on the document.

 

“Yeah.” Harley cleared his throat again and sniffed.

 

“Great,” Allison finished typing, then her gaze landed on Mick. “Mick, have you come up with a list of props yet?”

 

“Uh,” Smooth. “I have a very basic one I shared with you including the ones that are mentioned in the script,” Mick began, switching tabs on his laptop. “And a few I added, such as-“

 

“Huh’erGXCKkt!!-hmnhh… ‘Scuse be. *sdrff!*” A harsh, but contained stifle came from Harley’s direction. He sniffled again, thickly, and cleared his throat.

 

“Bless you,” said Morgan.

 

“Thagk you," a low, breathy reply.

 

“Uh, such as some practicals that I talked about with Morgan,” Mick glanced at her, and she nodded. “Uhh, I plan to make the flowers, and there’s some potential dishware and such for the kitchen scene that may be in storage.”

 

“Amazing,” Allison seemed to be giving it a once-over. “Cool. And you’re starting the flowers tonight, right?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“And Harley - you said you wanted to make some pieces from scratch?”

 

“Yeah. The ub,” he cleared his throat and sniffled softly. “The table, and a couple of stools.”

 

“And you have all the stuff you need?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Great,” Allison’s eyes flickered over her screen. “So you two are good to be in the shop later on,” Mick glanced at Harley, whose eyes were on Allison.

 

“Yup,” Harley breathed.

 

“Yup,” Mick echoed, hoping he hadn’t sounded unsure from the delayed response. 

 

“Cool.” Allison said after a few seconds. She glanced up at the group. “Anything else we should discuss?” A pause. “No? Cool. I guess we’re good to break.”

 

Mick saw Harley get up out of the corner of his eye. A feeling in his gut told him that tonight wasn’t going to go so well. That - and the sound of faint, chesty coughing echoing down the hallway. Mick slid his laptop into his bag and zipped it shut. He lowered his arms into the sleeves of his jacket that was draped on the back of his chair and pulled it on.

 

“Hope he’s okay, the poor guy,” Morgan sighed, as they packed up their stuff. “Looks like he’s coming down with something nasty.”

 

“Yeah,” Mick agreed. “He was kind of - sneezing a lot, in our management class.”

 

“Oof,” she pouted. “I guess… try to keep an eye on him? And - be safe, when you’re together, it could be contagious.”

 

“Yeah,” Mick gave her a reassuring look, touched by her concern.

 

After Mick said his goodbyes to his friends, he headed out into the hallway. As he passed through the polished concrete walls, he heard a sound that grew louder as he kept walking. It sounded like… yelling? No, not yelling… 

 

“HURRISSCHHIEWW!! AAERRSSCHHIEWW!! *snrgk* Hihh…. HAAESSCHHIEWW!!”

 

Mick heard panting breaths coming from around the corner, where the bathrooms were. A thick, phlegmy cough echoed down the hall. Mick peeked into the Men’s room, past the propped-open door. More harsh, chesty coughing. He saw Harley’s large frame leaning over the sink, his head down and shoulders shaking. Mick stepped in slowly, wincing as the heavy coughs wracked his frame.

 

“Hey,” Mark said softly. “You okay?”

 

The itchy-sounding coughs tapered off as Harley gasped in longer breaths. He cleared his throat, looking rather pained. He blinked his watery eyes and sucked in a long, wet sniffle. Finally, he turned to Mick.

 

“I’b… *ahem, snrff!*” He shook his head slightly and glanced down. “Yeah, I’b fide.” 

 

“No… you’re not,” Mick replied nervously, but with true concern. “You sound awful.”

 

“I’b… hodestly fide, I’b just a little codgested,” Harley said casually, wiping his watery eyes. Mick felt a pang of sympathy. It sounded like a bad sinus cold, so heavy that a headache drooped his eyes.

 

“You sure?”

 

Harley paused. His tired-looking eyes fluttered, and his flushed red, sniffly nostrils flared. His nose started to twitch around, and he raised a knuckle to press underneath it. “Hihh- Ode secod- hih’xXGckk!!-chiuhh… huh’erGXCKkt!!-chiuu….” Harley’s frame heaved with those stifles, and his eyebrows furrowed with the effort to hold them in. 

 

“Bless you,” Mick said politely.

 

“Thagk you. *sdrf!*” Harley sniffled thickly and rubbed his nose roughly. “I’b fide. Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled nasally, and gave Mick an awkward smile of assurance. It made his stomach flutter a little, looking into Harley’s softened, and slightly embarrassed, brown eyes. 

 

Out of pity or panic, Mick put on a vague grin and nodded. “Okay,” he breathed. “I’ll see you later?” It was posed very much as a choice, rather than a confirmation.

 

“Yeah, see you,” Harley muttered, somewhat blankly. He snuffled wetly and turned back towards the sink. 

 

Mick exited the bathroom and turned into the hall again, letting out a sigh. He definitely should’ve told Harley to go home. Tonight’s crew call would be long and tiring, and he looked pretty sick and exhausted. But Mick was already walking down the hall towards the exit. He’d see him later.

[jellizard]

I am looking so respectfully… this is so good

[secret19]

AHHHHHHHHHH   

I am soooo happpy!!!!!!! I love this story so much, Harley is such an amazing character. Please please write more!! 

 

[AutumnSneezes]

You have NO IDEA how happy I was to see an update! And wow, what an update it is! I adoooore embarrassed sneezy cold-ridden boys who are stubborn but just need to be folded into hugs, so this hit the spot in so many ways! I can't wait to see what happens next! 

[Skylacticon]

Hey all. Thanks for the comments. Here's the next part. 

-

 

Earbuds weren’t technically banned in the carpentry shop, yet Mick made sure to take them out before slipping inside. There was a stereo in the back corner on a cart that people used from time to time, perhaps he could put something on if Harley was cool with it. The dust collector needed to be on while they were using the machines, so in any case, he’d have to live without the music while he worked.

 

As Mick walked into the coat hall, he heard Harley moving things around in the tool room. He peeked inside gingerly. He caught Harley’s eye as he was grabbing a drill bit from the shelf, and pulled a friendly grin.

 

“Hey,” Mick gave a small wave, and put his bag down on the bench under the coat hooks.

 

“Hey,” Harley replied simply, pushing a drawer back into the shelf. He turned away to grab something else, and Mick averted his gaze, wondering if he should try and spark a conversation.

 

He pulled off his baggy denim jacket and hung it on a hook, then sat down to change from his Docs into his steel toed shoes. His eyes wandered back to the door frame of the tool room, where Harley was sliding a battery into the bottom of a drill. Harley pulled the trigger, making a short buzz. Mick had subconsciously noted before, but Harley was dressed kind of nice - or as nice as grubby theatre kids do. A dark mustard yellow and black flannel, a white t-shirt, and blue jeans. As Harley’s gaze trailed over the various tools on the walls, his fingers raked through his chestnut brown hair. A voice in Mick’s head jeered that he looked like painted stripes on black asphalt, while another voice told him to stop staring.

 

As Mick was pulling on his second steel toed shoe, Harley walked out of the tool room and past Mick, into the shop. Mick let his foot fall with a clunk and got up to gather his materials. By then, the silence had gone on too long.

 

“How’re you feeling?” Mick offered sympathetically, as Harley put down his tools on one of the tables, where a pile of wood had been pre-arranged.

 

“I’b alright,” Harley huffed. Mick heard a soft sniffle as he put his stuff down on another table, and pulled a stool to sit down. Harley sniffled again, and coughed. When Mick peeked up again, Harley’s back was turned. He turned back around casually, wrinkling his nose. In his hands was a light blue handkerchief, which he folded up and swiped one last time under his nose, before stuffing it in his pocket. “How’re you?”

 

“Tired,” Mick responded, with a grin. Harley wasn’t looking, so he hoped that the grin was somewhat audible.

 

“Sabe. *ahem!*” Harley cleared his throat. He leaned both hands on the table in front of him and tucked his head into his shoulder, then made another rougher attempt to clear his throat. Then he just straightened, sniffled thickly, and gave his head a little shake as if reloading the tabs in his brain. 

 

Mick watched curiously as Harley took a tape measure and stretched it out across one of the planks of wood. A slightly shaky “Um,” escaped Mick’s lips, before he could stop himself. Harley’s brown eyes glanced up at him, pausing his inspection. Oh, what the hell. “It gets pretty dusty in here, are you sure you’re okay to be operating the saws and such?”

 

There was a rustle as the measuring tape coiled back into the round case. “I’b fide,” Harley said firmly, looking Mick in the eye, before returning to his work.

 

Okay then, Mick thought, prepping to begin his own work. He got up to grab a glue gun and scissors from the props corner, and returned to his seat.

 

“Ears,” Harley called from across the shop.

 

“Thank you,” Mick replied. He slipped on his earplugs and put his head down to work.

 

The dust collector started, a loud, all-consuming whir that filled the carpentry shop. As Harley did his thing, Mick began cutting the fabric into petal shapes. After a bit, the dust collector stopped, and the constant high-pitched whir tapered off and ended with a clunk.

 

“RRTSCHHhiuh!!” It was soft from a distance, but still discernible. “...Huh’GXSSCHHhiuu!!...”

 

“Bless you,” Mick said reflexively, without looking up. Harley didn’t respond - perhaps he didn’t hear, or…

 

Mick decided to keep on going with his flower building. He grouped together the petals from the thin fabric he’d cut out, and twisted them artfully into rose-like flowers. He’d pre-dyed the fabric so that it had a gradient from the centre outwards, a soft coral pink to cream.

 

“hg’ISSCHHhh!!”

 

“Bless you,” Mick repeated, still twisting with careful precision.

 

After a silent beat, Mick heard a low, croaky voice call out again. “Ears.”

 

The loud whirring started again. Mick let out a sigh, a sound that got swallowed up in the noise. A feeling in his gut was urging him to do something. But what? He couldn’t force him to leave. Mick didn’t entirely trust himself to approach Harley with the common sense that was, oh you know, not operating big dangerous tools while horribly sick, and also with the consideration that the next operators of those tools could very well catch his illness.

 

Mick heard what he was pretty sure was a sneeze, over the dust collector. Alarmed at the notion of Harley sneezing with his hands near a sharp, spinning saw, Mick glanced over to where Harley was. His hands were nowhere near the blade - which was a relief. Instead, he was pacing at the back of the room, holding his handkerchief over the lower half of his face. His big frame shook with another sneeze, inaudible amidst the loud noise.

 

Eventually, the dust collector shut off again, and there was silence in the shop, spare for Harley bustling around with pieces of wood and tools.

 

An hour later, Mick started to feel somewhat sleepier. He glanced back at the windows, which were dark.

 

“hhH’RRSSCHHhiuu!!” They were becoming loud, desperate, although he tried his best to muffle them in his handkerchief. “hgG’YGXSCHH!!-hunhh, *sdrf, sdf!*”

 

Mick’s eyes couldn’t help but stray over to the frame hunched over the table at the far side of the room, his shoulders shuddering with each wet explosion. There were periods of time in between the fits, in which Harley would manage to get into whatever he was tinkering with. Then, whether aware of it or not, the sniffling would start again. It sounded very congested - doubly miserable as they grew wetter - and Mick would have to shift tasks, so as to not get distracted by him too much.

 

“Hhih… fuck… *sdrff!*” Harley cursed under his breath. “err’RRESSCHHIUU!! *hsnrff* hyY’ESSSCHHIU!! -huh’ESSCHHIU!! -huh’ESSCHH-!!” 

 

Sheesh. Mick peeked up again. Harley was wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He looked significantly out of breath - one hand leaning on the table near the shelf of screws, the other clutching his handkerchief to his face.

 

“You okay, man?” Mick finally dared to ask, standing his hot glue gun on the table.

 

Turning gingerly, Harley glanced over at him, bleary-eyed, then looked down at the floor. His frame rose and fell with heavy breaths. He coughed lightly into the crook of his arm, and sniffled wetly. “Yeah,” he huffed. He looked up dazedly and sniffled hard again. “*sdrff!* I’b…” his voice cracked a little, and he glanced away timidly. “*ahem* Ibba be back id a bidute.”

 

Harley walked past Mick’s table and into the coat hall, the heavy soles of his steel-toed shoes thudding with each step. Mick heard the bathroom door click shut. He yanked his hand back as it accidentally touched the hot glue. Yikes. Luckily the flower was intact. He shook out his hand, subconsciously staring in the direction of the coat hall. Then he blinked and got back to work.

 

“EEEISSCHHIEWW!!“ A harsh, wet, unrestrained sneeze could be heard softly in the distance.

 

Mick looked down. He wondered if the cafe was still open at this hour. His last dose of caffeine had been before their last class, and he could use the boost.

 

“HyieeESSCHHIEWW!!!”

 

Although on the other hand, it could mess with his sleep schedule, and he did have another class the next morning.

 

After a while, Harley reappeared, shuffling back into the wood shop. His nose was very red, and the skin around his eyes was flushed. He didn’t make it all the way to the chop saw - Mick blinked up at him as he paused dizzily to lean on a table near the shelf. He watched as he tried to casually play it off, pushing up again and sniffling thickly.

 

“Hey,” Mick said cautiously.

 

Harley tossed a look back at him. It was a short glance, a lethargic acknowledgment before returning to the stack of wooden planks.

 

“Harley,” Mick tried again. He kept his voice steady, his eyes not leaving him.

 

“What?” Harley responded roughly.

 

“What’re you about to do?”

 

Harley, still moving around somewhat unsteadily, gave a weak cough. “Godda trib these pieces. They’re for the skirt of the… *sdrf!*” he lifted the back of his hand to rub hard at his wrinkling nose. “Of the stools.”

 

“Wait.” Mick came up to him. “Just wait, okay?” He felt stupidly courageous. He took the plank of wood from Harley gently, feeling the soft, sanded edges with his thumb. “Let me do this part.”

 

“Bick, I am fide. *sdrf!*” Harley turned away, and there was a short pause after the wet sniffle as if he were going to sneeze - or if he needed to wipe his dripping nose but didn’t want to, for fear of looking incapable. The pause ended as quickly as it came, and Harley cleared his throat sharply. He grasped the end of the wooden plank. “I cad do this byself.”

 

“Look, I know,” Mick responded calmly, though his knees seemed to be shaking. “I just don’t want you to cut yourself, alright?”

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t- I don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

There was a painful pause. Mick braced himself after saying that, not wanting at all to bruise the poor guy’s ego. He finally turned to look him in the eye - but Harley’s gaze was elsewhere. His big hands let go of the plank of wood, and his frame turned swiftly as a huge, desperate, monster of a sneeze tore from him.

 

“HURRESSCHHIOO!!!”

 

Mick jumped at the sudden noise. Fuck, that was loud. It seemed to echo off the back walls of the carpentry shop. Mick fumbled to catch the piece of wood, setting it safely back down in the pile next to the saw. Harley stumbled a couple of feet away, quickly pulling out his handkerchief. 

 

“HURRISSCHHIEWW!! -ughh…” The sneeze was so forceful, it caused him to double over. He leaned on a table to keep his balance, sniffling frustratedly. “*sdrff!* …Ugh, dabb it…”

 

“Bless you,” Mick breathed. 

 

Harley rubbed hard at his nose with the handkerchief, then eventually lowered it, sniffling wetly. He sat down on the nearest stool and ran his fingers through his brown hair. Mick felt a pang of worry, noticing the way his forehead shone with sweat. “Fide,” Harley whispered, looking down and away. “Go ahead.” 

 

Mick nodded, keeping his gaze on Harley’s droopy frame a second longer before turning back to the chop saw. He slipped on his eye protection and put one of the pieces of wood under the saw. Then he put in his earplugs. “How long?” 

 

“Ted- *ahemm*” Harley turned away to cough, and sniffled wetly. “-ted and a half idches.”

 

“Great.” Mick grabbed a tape measure and set up a clamp and a block against the fence, at ten and a half inches. “Ears,” he said softly, peeking over his shoulder at Harley, who nodded somewhat gruffly and slowly put in his earplugs. Mick started the dust collector, which began to whir loudly.

 

As he lowered the spinning blade down and across the planks of wood, Mick could hear Harley coughing harshly somewhere behind him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if he was really worrying too much and if Harley was capable of doing this in his sickly state. Still, he didn’t want to take any chances. The man could hardly walk straight, or even breathe properly at the moment, it seemed.

 

After the final cut was made, Mick let the saw rise back into the guard, then removed the last off cut piece and threw it into the bin to his left. He turned off the dust collector and removed his protective eyewear and earplugs. Then he turned back to Harley.

 

“All yours,” he said, before returning to his table.

 

Harley, still sitting on the stool, gave a small nod. Mick noticed how his dark eyes didn’t break contact for a moment. Although serious as ever, his gaze seemed a bit softer. Maybe it was just the dizziness.

 

Mick sat down again, studying the large flower he’d been trying to put together. Harley gathered the wood pieces and set them down on a table near the chop saw. All he had to do was prime and paint them, then begin assembly. Mick was sure he didn’t need supervision for that. He sure as hell wouldn’t want it, although he seemed to be gradually wearing down by the minute. Mick wondered what it was that made him so averted to just admitting he was unwell, and simultaneously why he himself wouldn’t be more proactive about it. Well, for one, he did just prevent him from what could have been a bloody accident. He couldn’t do worse than that for the rest of the night.

 

Finally, build hours came to a close. Mick began quietly cleaning up, as Harley put the pieces of wood aside to dry overnight. It was eerily silent after the radio was shut off. Mick became painfully aware again that it was just the two of them. He could be making casual banter, but he didn’t know what about.

 

When he finished tidying up the supplies for props, he went to the coat hall, where Harley sat hunched over on the bench. He wore a brown leather jacket, and had changed back into his Nike sneakers. He sniffled wetly, looking exhausted. Mick shrugged into his baggy denim jacket.

 

“You gonna be okay?” Mick asked over his shoulder.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I just deed a bidute… *sdrf!*” Harley ran his fingers over his face, and stared at the floor.

 

“How’re you getting home?” Mick asked softly, nervously crossing his feet.

 

“Uh, I drive. *sdrf!*” Harley turned away to look for something in his bag. Mick waited awkwardly. He looked nervously toward the exit, then at Harley again. “Just go, I’ll be fide.”

 

Mick’s foot crossed back over the other. He tilted his head, pausing slightly. “You could come up to my place at res,” Mick heard himself say. “Just for- I don’t want you to-“

 

“I’b fide,” Harley insisted once more. He stood with a heaving sigh, taking a couple of steps before pausing in his tracks. Mick caught him trying to hide a wince, as he raised a hand to the side of his temple.

 

“Harley. Honestly,” Mick uttered, not taking his eyes off him. It really wasn’t a big deal. Mick didn’t mind having people over. He liked the company - and even though he didn’t really know Harley that well (and maybe kinda-sorta-really felt intimidated by him), he didn’t mind letting him stay at his place.

 

Harley swallowed hard, still looking pained. He sniffled again, thickly. He stepped over to the wall and leaned on it. Feeling bold, Mick approached him slowly. Harley’s eyes watched him calmly - a little too calmly as he came closer. Mick raised a skinny hand and felt Harley’s forehead. It was clammy, and very warm.

 

“You have a fever,” Mick told him softly.

 

Harley squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Doe,” he breathed. “Just… I’b fide.”

 

“No you’re not,” Mick said pointedly. “Is there… Is there anyone you can call to come get you?”

 

Harley shook his head again. “Doe, I…” He sniffled and looked like was trying to gather some strength. “I live pretty far, I dod’t wadt…“

 

“Come on,” Mick put a hand on Harley’s shoulder. Harley seemed to be considering it. “I promise that I don’t mind. I don’t have any roommates, so if you just wanna stay for a while and rest where there’s no saw dust, it’s totally fine with me.”

 

Harley sighed, turning his head away. His frame started to shake with some heavy coughs. Mick gently rubbed his back. 

 

“Oof,” Mick breathed sympathetically.

 

“Dod’t wadda- *cough* bake you sick. *cough, wheeze*”

 

“Don’t worry about that,” Mick replied softly, concerned for his breathing. His chest seemed pretty tight. “Look, I can clean after you go, and it’s totally cool if you wanna stay, I actually just washed my sheets.” Mick froze after saying that, not wanting to come off as weird. His train of thought halted as he noticed Harley looking rather uneasy. “Hey.” Mick turned to look at him. “Still with me, set designer?”

 

Harley nodded slowly. He sniffled wetly and paused for a moment. “Ub, baybe just for a bit, if you dod’t mind.”

 

Mick gave a gentle smile. “Harley, I don’t. It’s no pressure though, if you don’t, um… But yeah, definitely.” he babbled on, relieved. After a beat- “It’s a short walk. You’ve been to residence, right?”

 

“Yeah, I’ve been to Williams, and Andersod…”

 

“I’m at Williams,” Mick replied, beaming. The tiniest of grins cracked on Harley’s face at Mick’s cheerfulness, waking up the butterflies in Mick’s stomach.

 

After they stepped out, Mick locked the doors to the carpentry shop. It was dark out - the small courtyard between the building and the one next to it lit by warm streetlights. Mick pocketed his keys and turned to Harley.

 

“I uh, might have to sneak you in, but I promise, it’ll be fine.” Mick said, returning his hand back to Harley’s shoulder. 

 

Harley seemed to swallow again, painfully. “Agaid, *srdf!* I’d feel really bad if- hih! if I w-were to- huh-! huh’EERRSSCHH!!hmmhh… ohh…” He made another harsh attempt to muffle a sneeze into his handkerchief, which had to have been soiled by now. Harley’s brow furrowed as his nostrils flared, his eyelids fluttering. “Fucksorry-“ he panted, and leaned away from Mick to release another powerful, desperate sneeze into the frigid air. “HAAESSCHHIUHHh!!! *sdrff, snnrff!*”

 

“God bless you,” Mick said softly.

 

Harley sniffled very wetly a couple of times, and rubbed at his red, runny nose with his handkerchief. He gave it a couple of blows, which sounded wet and productive. “Ugh, Jesus. Sorry, excuse be,” he huffed.

 

“You’re good,” Mick breathed. “You need a new one?”

 

“Huh?” Harley’s nose was so red. His eyes looked teary. The streetlamp above revealed a wet stream leaking from his chapped nostrils down his upper lip.

 

“I, um…” Mick zipped open the small pocket on the front of his backpack. He hadn’t expected to actually need it, but he had something on hand, a soft forest green bandana. “Here.”

 

Harley huffed an embarrassed chuckle. Mick felt a warm sensation spread in his stomach as Harley accepted the bandana, snuffling wetly. “Hih, *sdrff!* A-are you sure? *snrk* This ba’dada is so- *sddrff!* Hih! It’s so dice, a’d- hih! heH’- HRRAASSCHHIEWW!!” Harley’s deep voice trembled with hitches, until the harsh, itchy sneeze exploded from him, into his soggy light blue handkerchief.

 

“Bless you,” Mick said sympathetically. “Yes, I’m sure. Go ahead.”

 

Harley wiped his nose and sniffled wetly. “I’b so sorry. Thagk you,” he mumbled, pocketing the soiled cloth and unfolding the fresh one. His nose was twitching again, whether it was out of embarrassment or reluctance to use the bandana, he looked like he was trying not to sneeze.

 

“No worries.” Mick stared down at the tiled walkway, which led to the larger courtyard in the centre of the group of buildings. He heard a few wet sniffles from beside him, and a soft cough.

 

“‘b sorry, I- huhh…” Harley was muttering sheepishly again, finally resorting to folding the cloth over his twinging nostrils. “hrr’ESSCHHIUHHh!! Huh! Hah’KGSSCHHIUU!! Ughh, god… *snrf!*”

 

“Bless you. Whoa, are you okay?”

 

Mick stopped in his tracks as he noticed Harley reach out to grab a light post for support. The taller guy blinked, standing still for a second before snapping out of it. He blinked a couple more times. 

 

“Yeah, I’b… just a little dizzy, sorry. *sdrf!*” Harley breathed, and sniffled thickly.

 

“Did you have anything to eat?”

 

“Yeah, I did. *snrf!* Ub, I had a wrap frob Tib Hortod’s.” 

 

Mick knew that Tim’s had two types of wraps - either the flimsy, two-dimensional snack ones and the thick, burrito-esque ones. Something was better than nothing, although that didn’t stop Mick’s mind from running. Harley’s hand finally dropped from the light post.

 

“Did you?” Harley asked huskily.

 

Mick almost laughed. His eyes shifted downward. Did he? “Uh-“ No, yeah. He did. “Yeah, I had a burger.”

 

“How bady hours ago?” Harley started walking again, and Mick joined him.

 

“That… that is also a question.”

 

The two finally reached the residence building, a red brick, rectangular building with concrete steps. Mick took a quick look and spotted the security guard by the vending machines.

 

“Okay,” he breathed. He turned to Harley. “So here’s the plan. I’ll scan in and give you my card. Then I’ll pass it to you and then you’ll come in, but wait for a few minutes first.”

 

“Sure about this?” Harley rasped.

 

“Yeah. Almost certain. You up for it?”

 

Harley’s expression appeared blank at first glance, but at a longer look, Mick could see his hesitation. He didn’t have to agree. Mick just wanted to make sure he was safe.

 

Harley nodded.

 

“Cool. Ready?” 

 

“Yeah.”

 

As they entered the building, Mick heard a soft, squishy sound from behind him. There was a quiet, liquid sniffle. Mick turned to Harley again - who was pressing a knuckle under his red nostrils.

 

“You okay?” Mick breathed.

 

Harley nodded. He sniffled again, this time more wet. His eyes were narrowing slightly, his flushed nostrils flaring. There was an effort going on trying to hold back a sneeze, and it was getting tougher to maintain by the second. Mick figured that the quicker he got him up, the quicker he could deal with it.

 

“Here we go,” Mick huffed. He swiped his card on the reader, which lit up green. He quickly turned to a distracted Harley, and poked him with the card. Blinking through watery eyes, Harley took it.

 

Mick went through the doors and into the lobby, where the security guard was hovering by the vending machines. Mick smiled and waved, and the security guard returned the gesture. He hit the button for the elevator, which came down slowly. Mick bounced nervously, keeping his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. Maybe he should’ve waited. He wondered if Harley was doing okay out there.

 

The elevator arrived and he stepped in. When he reached his floor, he texted Harley to come up. 

 

Mick casually exited the elevator and walked to his dorm room, which was just around the hallway corner. He needed the key card to get in. He waited by the corner of the hall, keeping an eye on the elevator.

 

It arrived with a ding. He didn’t see Harley at first, but then he heard a heavy stumble and perked up.

 

He stepped over cautiously, in case it was someone else. But then-

 

“HRRSCHHMM!! Hh-! nxXGKK!!’chiuhh!! Hihh!! erR'ESSCHHMM!! Huhhh!!” 

 

Mick put a hand on Harley’s shoulder. He was gasping after each expulsion, painfully suppressed, the green bandana pressed to his face.

 

“RRSSCHHHiuhh!! Hihh-! HRRSSCHHMMM!!!”

 

“Come on,” Mick said softly, putting an arm around his shoulders. Harley jerked forward with another harsh, desperately muffle sneeze. “Almost there.” They stumbled over to the end of the hall. “Key card?” Mick asked in a hush tone. One of Harley’s hands dropped from his face and fumbled to get it from his jeans pocket. Mick took it and swiped them in.

 

Then in a less-than-graceful fashion, he gently pulled Harley into his room and shut the door.

 

“Hiehhyy’ESSCHHH!!-AH’CHIEWW!!-HAH’CHIEWW!!!” Mick heard him erupt with three desperate, wet sneezes as he turned to lock the door. When he turned back to Harley, he saw him hunched over the desk, leaning on the edge, with the crook of his arm up to his face. “HURRESSCHHh!! -hah’ESCHHiuu!! Hihh-! AAESSCHHhh!!”

 

“Whoa, bless you. Here,” He tried to urge Harley to sit on the bed, but it felt like he was rock solid. 

 

“URRESSCHHHIUHhh!!”

 

“Bless you. Here, sit down.”

 

Harley slowly shifted, sniffling very wetly, and sat down on the side of Mick’s bed. He quickly brought up the green bandana to wipe his face, though he looked too out of breath to blow his nose. A small cough shook his shoulders. Eyes shut, Harley bowed his head, trying to catch his breath. 

 

Mick paused, standing by the desk. “What happened? Are you okay?”

 

A weak laugh, which emerged as a cough, and a wet sniffle. “*sdrff* Was tryig to stay quiet,” Harley panted. A few harsh, chesty coughs took over him, jerking him forward. Mick stepped closer and gently ran a hand over his back.

 

He felt very warm to the touch. Mick felt Harley’s forehead again. He was burning up. Mick went over to his dresser and pulled out the top drawer. There was a Tupperware of medications, ones he took regularly and ones he kept just in case. He hadn’t had to use the Buckley’s yet, which was still sealed neatly inside the box.

 

“You still with me, Harls?” Mick thought a cute nickname might keep the mood light, and maybe cheer himself up if not them both. It didn’t exactly receive, as Harley looked up dazedly, sniffling thickly. “I’m gonna give you some medicine,” Mick explained, ripping open the box and opening the bottle of cough syrup. “It’s gonna taste disgusting, but you’ll feel better.”

 

A couple more coughs shook Harley’s big frame, as he slowly started to remove his jacket. “What’re- what’s-“

 

“It’s Buckley’s. Here.” Mick handed him the small medicine cup. Harley eyed it, his frame still slightly heaving. “Go on, take it.”

 

Harley’s eyebrows gave a ‘fuck it’ sort of raise and he downed the dosage like a shot. He then coughed again and held out the small cup, which Mick took back. “Fuckid hell,” he rasped, his face contorting with disgust.

 

“I know,” Mick sighed. “Uh,” he glanced on top of his mini fridge, where the kettle sat. “I’m gonna make you some tea.” His own voice made him contemplate whether it was coming out as a question or a statement. “I’m gonna heat the water first. Uh, meanwhile, I’m gonna go wash this, alright?” He managed to get the words out straight, turning to look at Harley for a confirmation. Something in his chest softened when his eyes connected with his - bleary, tired. It scared him for a moment. Harley nodded and rested his palms on his thighs, tucking his chin to his chest.

 

Mick nodded to himself vaguely. He was beginning to wonder how he got here and how capable he really was of taking care of another person. Maybe this was all because Harley seemed to trust him. There was nothing else to do now but deal with it head on. As Mick rinsed the medicine cup in the bathroom sink, he glanced up at his reflection. His jacket was still on. His hair looked a bit out of sorts, perhaps from the wind outside. Sometimes when he looked at himself alone in the mirror like this, it made him feel small. He couldn’t let himself feel that now. A high fever was no joke.

 

When Mick returned to the bedroom, he found Harley sitting in his desk chair, hunched over the desk with his head laid over his arms.

 

“Harley?” Mick put the medicine cup down on the dresser and wiped his hands off on his pants. He walked over and tilted his head to look at his face, which was partly covered by his dark hair - that stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Hey. Harley,” Harley raised his head slowly. “Are you okay?” Mick already knew the answer to that question. It looked like tea was out of the question for now. “You need to lie down.”

 

“Ss’fide…” Harley slurred.

 

“No, look at me,” Mick said pointedly. Harley’s eyes flickered up to his, alarmingly lethargic. “You need to lie down, okay?”

 

Harley allowed Mick to pull and turn the chair so he could help him onto the bed. He stood uneasily. Mick put his arm around his shoulder. Harley sat on the bed and lay down heavily. His eyes closed almost immediately, his face shining with sweat. Mick acted gently, helping him to lie down properly, but his heart was pounding in his chest.

 

Now is not the time to panic. Fever. What do you do for a fever? Call 911? No. No, not yet.

 

Mick got up from the bed and went to his closet. He took a small washcloth, checking that it was a good size. He looked back at Harley. “I’ll be back,” he said, pausing nervously before heading out of the room and towards the bathroom. He ran the cloth under some cold water and wrung it out, then returned to his room.

 

He walked over to the bed where Harley lay, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Was he asleep? He couldn’t tell. Mick reached out a hand hesitantly, then brushed away a few dark strands of hair from Harley’s forehead. His eyes fluttered open for a second, almost causing Mick to drop the cloth. Mick slowly laid the damp cloth across Harley’s forehead, and gently adjusted it.

 

Harley coughed again, softly. “Bick…”

 

“Just try to rest. Okay?” Mick ordered him gently.

 

Harley stared a second longer, then his eyelids slowly shut. Mick stood and pulled out his phone. It was in need of a charge, but it would survive. Mick walked to the other side of the room and tapped on one of the contacts in his recents.

 

The phone rang a couple of times. After a few seconds, there was a crackle. “Hello?”

 

“Hi Mom, how’s it going?” Mick responded quietly. He drifted further into the opposite corner of the room, watching Harley’s chest rise and fall.

 

“I’m good. I’m sitting with Pretzel.”

 

Mick let out a shaky breath, picturing their tabby cat on the couch. “Aw.”

 

“It’s late, are you okay?”

 

Mick pulled back the phone to check the time. Almost eleven. Not that late. “I’m uh… I’m good. I just had a question.”

 

“Sure, what is it?”

 

“Um… What would you do if someone had a fever?”

 

“A fever?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

There was a short pause. “Well, how bad are we talking?”

 

“Um…” Mick’s gaze drifted back over to Harley. It looked like he was sleeping. Mick sat on the floor, with his back against the closet. “Um, I have this friend who wasn’t feeling well, so I brought him over to my dorm, and he kind of passed out.”

 

“He fell?”

 

“No, like, he… he’s really warm, and he just fell asleep as soon as he laid down. I think it might be serious.”

 

“Do you have a thermometer?”

 

“No.”

 

There was another pause, in which Mick heard his mom sigh quietly. “Oh Mick, I’m sorry, honey. I should’ve checked that you had one.”

 

“No Mom, that’s okay. I uh, gave him Buckley’s, and a wet towel, so I hope that helps. I just… I don’t know if this is something you call an ambulance for, or…”

 

“Okay, that’s good. Are you alright with him staying with you?”

 

After a few seconds, Mick replied. “Yeah.”

 

“Okay. Well, I suggest you keep an eye on him. And be careful, I assume that if he’s already in your space, you’ve already been exposed.”

 

Mick’s mind flashed back to class. “Oh, yeah, definitely.”

 

“Just stay safe, honey. Monitor his fever. When he wakes up, try to give him some fluids. You can make him tea, if you still have some.”

 

“Yeah. I was going to, but… he’s asleep.”

 

“Okay.” There was a short silence. "Was sweet of you, to let him in." Mick huffed a tiny chuckle. He stared at the wall, which was lit warmly by his desk lamp. Even though he was going home this weekend, he wished he could see his mom right now. “How is school?” Mick chuckled softly and looked down at the floor.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“Are you having three meals?”

 

“Yes.” Mick was playing with one of his jacket buttons, running his thumb over the rough circle of text on it. “I had a burger for dinner.”

 

“Okay, good.”

 

“Um, I should probably go,” Mick looked up at the ceiling. “Thank you,” he said softly.

 

“No problem, honey.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

“Bye.”

 

“Bye.” A beat. “Be safe.”

 

“I am. Alright. Bye.”

 

Mick hung up, and returned his gaze to the figure lying across his twin bed. He took a deep breath and got to his feet. He cautiously approached Harley, who did appear to be sound asleep. Although - his breathing did seem to be less laboured than before. Mick pulled one of his sheets over Harley’s shoulders and turned off his desk lamp. He felt the damp cloth, gently - it was still relatively cool. Mick turned and went back to the closet. As quietly as he could, he opened it and retrieved a thicker folded blanket. He moved the desk chair to the side and laid the folded blanket on the floor next to the bed. Then he laid on his back, resting his head on the blanket.

 

There were a number of questions and thoughts running through his mind. Who would be expecting him? Was there someone expecting him? How long had it been like this? A low snore came from up on the bed. 

 

Mick was certain of one thing, though. That it was a good idea he didn’t let Harley drive off in his condition. Mick rolled over and stared at his closet. His jacket buttons pinched uncomfortably under him, so he rolled back onto his back.

 

In times like this, he could stay awake worrying. Or he could remember that he wasn’t too close with Harley anyway, and that he probably wouldn’t do something like this ever again. Mick stared across the room toward his dresser, at the empty medicine cup on top of it. It was all just worry. Harley probably didn’t think like this. Tomorrow they’d get up and go about their day.

 

Mick shut his eyes, and took a deeper breath. And he tried to fall asleep.

 

Edited March 27, 2023 by Skylacticon

[secret19]

Love love love love love love love!!!!!! 
I’m sad the embarrassed public stifling is over but I’m happy Harley is getting some help. 

[funbusej]

Wow, this most recent addition to the story, really developed the story and the characters a lot.  I am sooooooo intrigued to see where this is going to go, and how their interactions are going to change and progress!!! I really love Mick's character, he seems like such a sweetheart!! 😍

[AutumnSneezes]

Oh my god, WHAT an update!!!! This was SO GOOD! I'm so so glad that Harley *finally* started to crumble and let Mick look after him! It's so sweet and tender, and I cannot wait to see where this goes. And poor Mick panicking a little and calling his mum! This is so SWEET! I love it!!!

[Skylacticon]

Hey! I'm back again. Thanks again for the lovely comments. 🧡 Without further ado:

-

 

Mick felt a foot kick him in his back and woke up from his slumber. He rolled over from his side onto his back, and looked up to see a dark figure sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. The room was still dark, spare for the light coming from the parking lot, streaming through the window. 

 

Mick sat up. “Harley?” he muttered groggily.

 

“Sorry, I did’t- g’KGSCHH!!hmnhh… *snrk!* did’t bead to… wake you…” Harley said in a quiet, croaky voice. 

 

“It’s okay. How’re- how’re you feeling?”

 

“I…” Harley exhaled shakily, like he was still reluctant to share his burden. But soon Mick noticed that he was shaking a little, and quickly became more alert. “By head really hurts. I’b sorry.” Harley panted, his voice a pained whisper. He sniffled thickly and wiped his eyes.

 

“Hey, no, it’s okay, man,” Mick mumbled, and rose to his feet..

 

“I thigk it’s by siduses. I’b just really… *sdrf!* codgested, a’d…”

 

“Sinus pressure?”

 

“Yeah,” Harley sighed. He raised the crook of his arm and sneezed twice, harshly. “hrR’ESSCHHIEWW!!! Huh! Huh’IGXSCHHhh!!-unhh… *sdrff!* Fuck…” he groaned, and covered his face with his hands again.

 

Mick exhaled sympathetically and gently rubbed Harley’s back. “Bless you….” he murmured softly. 

 

“hg’GXSSCHH!!-iuhh… *sddrff!*”

 

“Bless you,” Mick breathed, and blinked a few more times, apparently still half asleep. “Let- let me see if I have Tylenol.”

 

Harley sucked in another drenched sniffle, sounding miserable. First, Mick opened his fridge and took out a bottle of water, which he put on the floor next to Harley’s feet. Then he went to his dresser and opened the top drawer. The pills rattled as he checked to see if one of them was acetaminophen.

 

“God, I really just kdocked out, huh? *snrk!*” Harley muttered, running his hands over his face sleepily. He sounded more awake, and notably more alert.

 

“Yup,” Mick replied with a touch of sympathy. He heard Harley sigh softly behind him. “It’s fine, I don’t blame you. You were really hot, so.”

 

Softly, without missing a beat- “Wow. I’m flattered.”

 

Huh? “I mean your fever was- When I felt your forehead-” Mick spluttered, as he registered what he just said.

 

Harley laughed - it was a breathy and genuine sound, but then he started to cough; big, heavy ones that trampled the laughter into the ground. Mick was fully awake by now, his eyes boring holes into the bottom of the clear plastic Tupperware. When he turned around, Harley’s flushed face had a smirk on it. “Jesus Christ,” Harley huffed, and cleared his throat sharply. “*snrf* God. What tibe is it?”

 

Mick turned to look at the small digital clock on his desk. “Like, almost four.” He turned back to the drawer. “I only have Advil, so,” he shook out a couple of pills and twisted the cap back on the container.

 

“Oh by god. Thagk you,” Harley stared at Mick, his unruly wavy brown hair combed back over his head. Mick tilted his palm and dropped the pills into Harley’s. There was an almost intimate sort of silence as this happened, the side of Mick’s right hand gently touching Harley’s fingertips. Harley’s eyes were blank, but in a soft kind of way. “Is this for be?” He said, touching the bottle of water at his feet.

 

“No, Harley, how dare you assume- no, I’m joking. Yes. Please drink it.” Mick’s face switched from feigning nastiness to a kind grin, and Harley grinned back slightly. He leaned on his desk, and watched as Harley cracked open the bottle of water and swallowed the two Advil in one gulp. Feeling a bit more at ease, he vouched for his next remedy. “Do you want some hot tea? It… might help. But if you wanna sleep, that’s cool too.”

 

“Oh,” Harley breathed. “I bead… okay.”

 

Mick pushed off from his desk. He poured some water from a larger bottle into the kettle. Then he flicked the switch, and left it to boil. His gaze drifted to the window as a siren sounded in the distance, filling the silence. Mick grinned suddenly.

 

Harley noticed, peeking up at him. “What?”

 

Mick glanced up, and smiled sheepishly. “I- Sorry, it’s just… This is the hour the fire alarm usually decides to randomly go off.”

 

“Oh. Right,” Harley muttered, like he knew what Mick meant. The corners of his lips tugged upward. “Sorry, I kind of ruined your ode dight, your ode quiet dight.”

 

“Oh please,” Mick chuckled softly. “I’m like a night owl, anyway.”

 

Harley was smiling faintly. “This ode tibe- *ahem!* This ode tibe I was with by ex… spendig the dight. And the fire alarb…”

 

“Oh no,” Mick breathed, a faint cringe spilling into his grin.

 

“Yeah,” Harley went on, half grinning, half cringing. “Was id adother residedce buildig. So, we’re kinda… bessig arou’d, thed the fire alarb goes off, and so he pulls on by shirt and I put on my owd padts, a’d by the tibe we get dowdstairs… *sdrf!* Ha.” Harley sniffled hard, his expression in a reminiscent state.

 

“Wow,” Mick turned and glanced out the window, trying to play it cool. The kettle clicked, and he could hear the water bubbling inside it. “What happened then?” he asked, grabbing a tea bag.

 

“I uh… let’s just say I wound up outside, ub, basically dot wearing a shirt,” he continued casually. “Which deedless to say, is a little udfortudate id the widtertibe. It was… fuckig freezig, *sdrf!*” There was a wet, squishy sound as he rubbed his nose hard. “Uh, but yeah. Was super addoyig.”

 

“Yikes,” Mick breathed, as he poured boiling water over the teabag. After steeping it, he stirred in a teaspoon of honey and put the spoon aside. Then he brought over the steaming mug of tea, and passed it to Harley. “Here. Careful, it’s hot,”

 

“Thagks.” Harley sat there for a moment, just holding the mug, staring down at it. Then he put it down on the desk, making a soft clink. His nose was twinging. “Sorry, I- huh’ESSCHH!! -oh, scuse be…” He reached for the bandana, which he’d left at the edge of Mick’s desk. “Hihh… *snrf!* HURRESCHHhh!! *snrf!* Oh, ow.”

 

“Bless you,” Mick said softly.

 

Harley sniffled thickly, rubbing at his twitchy nose with the green bandana. “Ohh, by god,” he muttered softly, sounding pained and tired. He blinked rapidly a few times and attempted to clear his throat. Then he quickly lifted up the cloth to block a sudden pair of wet sneezes. “ieEESSCHHhh!! Huh! hH’RRESSCHHhiuh!! Hih! *sdrf! Hihhh…” Harley lowered the cloth slightly, revealing red, flaring nostrils. “huH’ESSCHHIEWW!!! -ughh…” he sighed, and sniffled wetly. 

 

“Bless you,” Mick said again, gently. “I actually have different kinds, if you prefer something else,” he went on.

 

“Doe, it’s okay. *sngk*” Harley let out a soft sigh and sniffled thickly. “I thigk it’s just the steab.” He mumbled stuffily, reaching for the mug again. He took a small sip, and swallowed it, looking relatively more at ease. 

 

Harley held the mug under his nose, inhaling more of the steam. He sniffled very wetly and exhaled through his mouth. His red nostrils were flaring again, scrunching up against another sneeze. But then he’d lift his knuckle and rub hard at his nose, and return to breathing in the steam.

 

After a while of this, Harley put down the mug and hurriedly raised the bandana. “HURRUSSCHHh!!-ioo… hih! hyY’ESSCHHIOO!!! Hih’-! AACHHIEWW!! *sdrff!*” Mick heard a few heavy breaths, before Harley gave his nose a long, wet blow.

 

“Bless you,” Mick said again. “You okay?”

 

Harley nodded. “I’b sorry. *sngk!*”

 

“You don’t have to keep apologizing,” Mick said kindly.

 

Harley sniffled again, wetly. He took another sip of tea. “Thagk you for the tea. And the bedicide,” he said in a low voice.

 

“No problem. You uh… mind if I check your fever again?”

 

Harley snuffled and nodded. Mick came closer and gently put the back of his hand on Harley’s forehead. It was still quite warm. Harley must be in a lot of pain, and very drained, as well. Mick drew back quietly, wondering what else he could do. He bit his lip absently.

 

“Still there?” Harley rasped, with a touch of humour.

 

“Yeah,” Mick breathed out. 

 

Harley cleared his throat roughly. His face had gone somewhat serious again, his dark eyes gravitating towards the floor.

 

 “I’b so fuckig sorry id advadce, if you catch this,” he let out in a croaky whisper, after a moment of silence.

 

“It’s okay,” Mick said gently. “It’s cold season, right?” Harley gave a humoured exhale, and sniffled wetly. He sipped the tea again. “I mean… I sit in front of you in career management. It's probably bound to happen.”

 

“Oh by god,” Harley groaned, hiding his face again. “I’b sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Mick reassured him, putting a hand on his shoulder and stroking it with his thumb. “How-” Mick paused, his gaze shifting a little. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

 

“Uh…” Harley sniffled hard, then let out a soft sigh. “...Couple days. It’s the stupidest fuckig thig, but…” Harley paused for a few seconds. Mick kept his hand on his shoulder, waiting quietly. “I landed a role id a show at Saffron, and I basically cad’t afford to be sick.”

 

Mick stared at Harley, hunched over, resting his forearms on his thighs. “So… you came to build?” he said incredulously. “Well- Okay, firstly, congrats, but also, Harley-“

 

“I kdow. I- *sdrf!*” Harley’s chin tilted upward, and he stared at the ceiling with bleary eyes. He looked like he had considered it in full. “I just did’t… wadda do that to you guys…”

 

Mick was still processing his logic. “…Do what?”

 

Harley sniffled and swiped at his nose. “Well, I heard about the whole Terra thig. *sngk* And…” He let out a soft sigh. “A lot of people… thigk I’b just here to act. Y'kdow? And... *ahem!* …I did’t wadt to be that persod who… half-asses the requirebedt. Y'kdow, it's dot fair. It's dot professiodal.” Harley took another breath, and let it go. "I try to be equally cobitted to the things that I'b involved with. And I... I wanted this, so bad."

 

Huh. Mick’s hand drifted off of Harley’s shoulder, and he stepped over to sit down in his desk chair, across from Harley. He slowly took off his jean jacket and let it drape onto the back of the chair. As it sunk in, Mick felt a strange, genuine fondness for Harley - somewhere amongst his concerning work ethic and dumb good looks. That, and maybe it was just a hard situation, and maybe he really didn’t know anything about Harley at all.

 

“Saffron, huh?” Mick said after a while.

 

“Yup,” Harley breathed.

 

“What’s the show?”

 

“It’s called Fuzz. *snf* It’s this dew play about colodialisb and police brutality.” When Mick’s gaze found its way back up, it connected with Harley’s. Harley looked down again, and scratched the back of his neck. “I was just godda cobe id last night and take a day off afterward,” he went on, croakily.

 

Mick kept staring at him. “You are gonna do that, right? And, as many more as you need.”

 

“Ah,” Harley scoffed a chuckle at that second bit. “Yeah,” he said somewhat flakily. His shoulders raised with a big breath, and he turned away, lifting the bandana over his mouth and nose. “huh’GXSCHHh!! -RRSSCHHhiuhh!! Ow…”

 

“Bless you. Are the meds helping at all?”

 

Harley exhaled stuffily and sniffled hard. “Uh, sort of…”

 

“You don’t have to say that to be nice.”

 

“Yeah, doe, I thigk they are, s’just… *sngk!*”

 

Mick could understand. “Wanna try and get some sleep?”

 

Harley sniffled again, and exhaled, his gaze tired and droopy. “Yeah. *snrf* It’s just dot the easiest right dow.” Mick felt a streak of sympathy for him. He was breathing mostly through his mouth, and his sniffles sounded so congested.

 

“What if you lay down? Here.” Mick took one of his hoodies hung on the foot of his bed and folded it, then stuffed it under the pillow near the headboard. He adjusted it so that it was on a bit of an incline. “That might be better.” Harley laid down on his back, with his head slightly raised up by the pillow. “Yeah?” Mick asked softly. Harley nodded.

 

“Thagks,” He whispered. His sleepy eyes trailed after Mick, who turned away to turn off the lamp.

 

“It’s really great you’re getting roles,” Mick said casually, then knelt down on the floor. “But you’ve gotta watch your health. It’s your most important asset.” He sighed, as he laid down on his back on the floor, and gazed up at the ceiling.

 

“You’re right about that,” Harley replied softly, from up on the bed.

 

Mick stared at his dresser and the clutter on top of it, in the dim fluorescent light streaming in from the window. At the far end, stood the little medicine cup. They were both quiet for a bit, seeming to settle into the tangles of their own thoughts. The soft sound of Harley’s breath could be heard in the still silence.

 

“Harley?” Mick said softly, after a bit. He wasn’t sure if Harley was still awake. 

 

But then, “Yeah?”

 

There was a beat. “You do really great work.”

 

“Thagk you.”

 

“You’re a bit of a knucklehead, though.”

 

A snort. “I kdow. *snrf!*"

 

“Tell me tomorrow you’ll get an Uber if you still get dizzy spells in the morning.”

 

There was an empty silence. “...Sure.”

 

Mick peeked sideways. “‘Sure'?”

 

“I’ll get a friend to drive be,” Harley yawned softly. “Good dight.”

 

Mick paused, his open eyes still staring blankly. After a few seconds, his chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “Good night.”

Edited March 30, 2023 by Skylacticon

[EveP]

This is getting better with each part. 

[funbusej]

They are so soft, but also tense....I can't get enough of that vibe!  Love this so far and can't wait to see where it goes!!

[Privatedancer]

This is great

[Hyacinth]

oh my god i am obsessed with this. I love Mick. I love Harley. I LOVE Mick and Harley. I am absolutely living for the subtlety of their interactions and the tension that is slowly but surely building. 

[starpollen]

This is very promising.  Thank you for continuing! 🥰

[Skylacticon]

Hey! I hope everyone is doing well. I'm back with the next part. Writing these guys has been so fun. I think this might be the last part in this little series, but there's a possibility that I may revisit them in another time, another situation. Thank you for all the kind words, and I hope you enjoy. 

-

 

By the time Mick woke up to his alarm, Harley was already gone. It was a strange feeling - a familiar one, but also unfamiliar. There were bits of context that only the two of them knew, forming a sort of chemical equation that would produce some sort of outcome - or perhaps there had been no reaction at all. Maybe all that happened was that Mick had been a good Samaritan, and that was it. None of his stuff looked like it had been touched. The only evidence of last night being different was the medicine cup that sat atop his dresser. Mick stripped the sheets off his bed and tossed them into his laundry bag in the corner of the room. Then he went to the bathroom to wash up and brush his teeth.

 

The food court was out of hash browns by the time Mick came downstairs. He bought a bagel sandwich with roasted ham and egg, and sat down at a table in the dining hall.

 

He’d received an email from Allison, with some detailed notes from rehearsal. They needed the table and stools in the rehearsal hall. They still weren’t done - their pieces were stood up against the paint rail in the shop, and their builder was out of commission. It was a table and two stools - how hard was it to use objects in the studio? They had a table and chairs. Though - maybe not of the same size and proportion. 

 

His eleven-thirty class was the same as usual. An anthropology seminar, which began with his teacher stumbling through the smart board setup, then a PowerPoint and discussion on the topic of societies: what creates them, what holds them together. Then a fun meme saying that we live in them.

 

Mick found himself zoning out a little harder than usual. Perhaps it was just the lack of sleep. 

 

After class, Mick decided to go to the studio in the arts centre to get some work done. It was still chilly outside, but not too cold. In between the two buildings, he could see the apartment building with fast food restaurants on the ground floor. He decided to walk over to the Pizza Den. Inside, his eyes scanned over the different fancy types of pizza, which spanned from barbecue chicken to truffle alfredo. He ordered a plain cheese pizza, in the smallest size.

 

The walk to the studio wasn’t long, but Mick noticed himself becoming short of breath. He slowed down a little - he wasn’t in a hurry. Was he wheezing? He cleared his throat a little. It hurt a little, but made the wheezing stop for the most part.

 

He punched in the code to the studio and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. It was empty. He put his bag down on his desk and took off his jacket, then hung it on the back of his chair. His little corner in the studio had gradually been decorated over the past few months - on the large cork board to his left, he’d hung up some mood boards for a few projects he’d designed for, and his work lamp was covered in stickers, sticky notes, and little rhinestone hearts.

 

He bent down to plug his phone into the wall socket. When he came back up, his head swam for a moment - he had to take a pause, staring blankly at the surface of his paint-stained desk. He directed his focus to his breathing. His mind flashed to the inhaler that he kept in the small pocket of his bag - but he didn’t think it was that bad. He took a few steadying breaths and began to remove his laptop from his bag.

 

He decided to get started on one of his next assignments, and began to clear off his desk. He brushed off stray eraser shavings, making his palm slightly black with charcoal dust. Then he went to reach for his sketchpad - but quickly turned his head as a prickling irritation appeared in his sinuses, taking him by surprise.

 

“hd’zZSCHHh!!” Mick sneezed against the back of his forearm. He sniffled softly, and returned his gaze back to his desk for a second. Then- “huht’jsSCHhh!!” Mick sniffled again, blinking watery eyes. His nose felt rather itchy - maybe he just needed to blow his nose. He grabbed a tissue from the counter next to his desk and gave it a brief but good blow. He rubbed hard underneath his nose and glanced around absently. He pocketed the tissue, then reached out and grabbed his sketchpad from his backpack.

 

The pair of sneezes had left a lingering soreness in Mick’s nasal tract. Though he tried to brush it off, pencilling out sketches of ideas for his assignment. He drew long ovals, and small circles, interconnecting to create the form of a human body. He began lightly sketching drapery onto the limbs. Flowy fabric, rippling fabric. He sniffled sharply, and paused his drawing to press the back of his hand to his nose. The lingering soreness was turning to a buzzing itch, causing his nose to run. He sniffled twice hard and tried to get back into his work. He wiped away the watery stream of snot that leaked onto his upper lip with his wrist, and reached for another tissue. He folded it and blew his nose briefly.

 

The inevitable was happening. Mick knew how likely the contagion was, being directly sneezed on and sharing the same space with Harley all of last night. Mick wiped his runny nose and cleared his throat. The itch intensified, causing him to back up from his paper and swivel away from his paper.

 

“huh’TJDSCHhh!!” A stronger sneeze, trying to get rid of the itch. It lingered annoyingly, teasing Mick’s sinuses. Mick cleared his throat again.

 

His attention perked up as he heard the keys to the door being pressed, and the click as it unlocked.

 

Morgan stepped inside, carrying a grocery bag. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and she looked slightly out of breath, glancing around the studio. Her eyes fell on Mick. “Hey!”

 

“Hi,” Mick pressed his lips into a grin. 

 

“It’s a Mick,” Morgan said absently, shuffling over to her desk, which was in front of Mick’s. “Mickelodian,” she added for good measure, as she set down her things.

 

“Morg,” he responded in a deep voice, like some kind of troll. Something occurred to him, and he turned to unzip his backpack.

 

“How’re you doing?” she asked. “How was build?” Mick turned back to face her, pulling the straps of a disposable face mask over his ears. Morgan’s face fell slightly. There was a slight pause, and Mick smiled suddenly, his crinkled eyes the only thing visible with the mask.

 

“It… it was good.”

 

“Mick?” Morgan pressed.

 

“I’m okay,” he tried to assure her. “Just a precaution, cuz,”

 

“Oh.”

 

“You know.”

 

“Did Harley come to build last night?” Morgan questioned, shrugging out of her blue jacket.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How did- how did things go?”

 

“Things went,” Mick replied casually. “They happened. I made some flowers.”

 

“Okay. What about Harley?”

 

“Harley got some progress in with the furniture.”

 

“Ah, okay.” Morgan sat down in her desk chair, pivoting thoughtfully. “Yeah, I read in the notes that they need some stuff.”

 

Mick’s nose was running again, and felt grateful that he was wearing the mask. “Yeah.” He wrinkled his nose and sniffed quietly. “He won’t be coming in today though, so maybe I can pitch in.”

 

“Do you want any help?” Morgan offered.

 

“I mean, I- huh’USCHhhiu!! - *snrf* ‘Scuse me.” The tickle flared up out of nowhere, without time to raise an arm, but luckily he was wearing the mask. Mick pinched the top of his itchy nose through the material, sniffling softly.

 

“I knew it,” Morgan snapped. “I knew he was gonna get you sick.”

 

“*snrf!* It’s okay. I’m fine, it’s not that bad. *snf!* My nose is just a little runny.”

 

Mick could feel Morgan staring at him. He wanted to take off the mask, to blow his nose properly. His nasal passages felt hot with his own breath. He took a few breaths through slightly parted lips, his eyes on his sketch on the table.

 

“You should get some rest. You’ve been so busy lately,” Morgan said gently.

 

Mick sniffled again and sighed. “I know. But our show is next week. *snrf!* I might as well finish a couple of things while I’m here.” He couldn’t take the stuffiness anymore. Mick reached for another tissue, spun his chair around to face the back of the room, and pulled down his mask. He blew his nose softly, or tried to, and rubbed his itchy nostrils. Still vaguely itchy, Mick wrinkled his nose. 

 

“Mmh,” Morgan sighed softly and sat down. She watched as Mick spun back around in his chair, pinching the mask over his nose. “Don’t stay too long, okay?” She put a hand on the edge of Mick’s desk, and gave him a serious glance that was softened with concern. Mick nodded.

 

-

 

Breathing didn’t get any easier later. Mick walked outside across the courtyard between the arts building and the shop. Although the trek was brief, he was sniffling liquidly as he walked in, panting breaths with soft whistly sounds. After dumping his bag down on a bench in the coat hall, he paced to the bathroom and shut the door. He pulled a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser and folded it, then lowered his mask to give his nose a wet, gurgling blow. He sighed, with relief at being able to breathe again, but also in disdain at how drained he already felt. He wiped his nose and threw the paper towel in the trash, then after lifting his mask back on, went to the sink to wash his hands.

 

A light itch was lingering at the top of his nose, and he wrinkled it a little, trying to stave it off. If he sneezed, his throat would get scratched at, and his nose would get stuffy again. It was barely even a tickle. It was just the shop air. But his nose ran anyway, causing him to sniffle, causing his sore, sensitive sinuses to fight back. He sniffled wetly, eyelids blinking rapidly, and bowed his head downward.

 

“ah’kTSCHHiuu!!” he sneezed messily, into the mask. He cringed at the moist spray that coated the lower part of his face - but was too tired to cuss. 

 

Mick pinched the mask to his face and blew softly. Then he threw the mask into the trash and pulled more paper towel to blow his nose. 

 

God, that was quick, he thought, wiping his nose again. He sniffled hard, and exhaled through his mouth. Mick quickly washed his hands and went back into the shop. He grabbed a spare mask from his bag, another disposable blue on, and pulled it on.

 

He took a few steps into the shop, and paused. Mick stood there for a moment, in front of the props table, his eyes losing focus. His breathing was still kind of wheezy. Hands on his hips, he turned back toward the coat hall. He went over to his bag and took out his inhaler. He shook it a bit and took a dose - he held it for a few seconds and exhaled heavily. As his airways seemed to loosen and relax a little, Mick got to his feet and walked back slowly into the shop.

 

The painted pieces of wood stood against the paint frame rail. It was a nice shade of reddish brown, one that made Mick think of picture books and Winnie the Pooh. In a short email exchange, Mick and Harley had agreed that Mick could finish assembly with the furniture and get them into rehearsal once they were done.

 

It was doable.

 

Mick set up his Spotify and got to work. He laid the pieces of each item across the table - because each furniture piece wasn’t too big, he could fit them all onto one table. Then he grabbed a drill and some pliers and got to work. Mick twisted bolts into the legs of the stools, using all his strength to screw it in with the pliers. He paused, realizing he’d been panting through his mouth, and his upper lip felt damp again. He sniffled harshly, gripped the pliers, and gave them one more good turn before setting everything down and reaching into his sweater pocket.

 

A sore tickle lingered in the back of his nose - becoming more ticklish as his nose kept dripping. He pulled a folded tissue from his pocket and unfolded it, then pulled down his mask. He wasn’t sure if he was going to sneeze, so after a couple of seconds, he blew his nose. He emerged, sniffling softly, and rubbed his irritated nose.

 

It took a long time for Mick to complete assembly - a time period that was divided by breaks in which Mick paused to blow his nose, to cough away the whistle in his breath, and to sit down. Still he was okay - he could breathe, and he was steady enough to work. After Mick drilled the final screw into the table, he picked it up off the table. As he was lowering it onto the ground, he rotated it so the legs pointed toward the ground - mistakenly towards himself - showering himself with a puff of sawdust. He blinked frantically and coughed, putting down the stool and raising the crook of his elbow. He hastily pulled off his mask and coughed into the soft fabric of his sweater. A mean itch took over his throat, causing him to get swept into a fit of coughing. He didn’t stop until his eyes were teary and his nose was streaming. He leaned back against a table, dizzily. 

 

One breath in, one breath out. Two breaths. Three breaths.

 

The dizzying moment passed, and Mick glanced up at his work, wiping his watery eyes. There stood a fine-looking wooden table and pair of stools. Good. Great. He was done.

 

All he had to do was move them from the shop to the studio, and he could go back to his room at res and sleep. He decided to pocket his mask for now. Mick glanced at the back of the room, where the dollies were kept. His frame rose and fell with a wheezy sigh, and a soft cough. It was too soon to take another puff. He tried to take some slow, deep breaths. Then, he went to the back of the room.

 

Retrieving the empty dolly was simple enough, just pulling it over to the completed furniture pieces. So was loading the dolly, lifting the relatively light items onto it. Before leaving for the rehearsal hall, Mick checked that he had his phone with him, checking the time as well. It was later than he’d thought.

 

Heaving another sigh, Mick stalled a little, putting his hands in his pockets. Moving the dolly with the furniture on it would be an active trip, active enough to get his heart pumping. He let out another breath, whistling with a soft wheeze. Alright. Let’s do it.

 

With a big push, Mick opened the exit door to the carpentry shop, and almost jumped out of his skin.

 

“Whoa! Whoa, sorry. I didn’t bead to scare you.” 

 

Mick quickly collected himself, freezing in place so that he didn’t barrel through. Harley stood there, fingers digging into a cozy-looking maroon scarf that was wrapped around his neck. His eyes were slightly wide, partly with surprise, partly something else. Instead of wondering what it was, Mick exhaled and rubbed his cheek with his hand.

 

“It’s okay,” he breathed. “What’re you doing here?” he questioned, putting his hands on his hips.

 

“Well- I cabe to help,” Harley panted. Mick held open the door to let Harley in from the cold. In the bright light of the shop, his features became more vivid - his nose still looked sore and red, and his brown eyes, though still a bit droopy, looked alert. Harley put a hand on the dolly that Mick had just loaded. “Oh, you’re already dode? Are these ready?” he asked Mick, shrugging off his backpack and setting it on the floor to the side.

 

Mick stared at Harley, who was positioning his hands around the dolly, preparing to move it by himself. “Wh- …yeah.” Mick responded, dumbfounded.

 

“Okay. Wadda get the door?” Harley looked ready to roll, staring expectantly at Mick. Who paused - then listened to the whistling of his own breathing.

 

“Are you okay to-?” Harley nodded, serious as ever. Mick returned a faint nod, then pushed the door all the way out.  

 

The front wheels landed with a heavy jingle. Wood scraped against the door frame as the dolly slowly rolled out. Then the back wheels came down heavily. Harley inched around it and started to pull it in the direction of the arts building, leaving Mick to shut the door. 

 

Mick caught up beside him, burying his cold hands in his hoodie pocket. Harley was moving at a quick and steady pace, in full control of the dolly.

 

“Need help?” Mick panted.

 

“Doe, I got it.” Harley wrinkled his nose, and kept going, quickly reaching the arts building door. “Cad you get the-? Yeah, thagks.” Mick jogged ahead and pulled the door open, and helped Harley move it through the doorway. When they were inside, the wheels quieted down against the smooth, tiled floor, as they rolled down the hall.

 

“Wait, so-” Mick’s brow wrinkled as he glanced sideways at Harley. “Are you feeling any better?”

 

“Uh, kinda,” Harley huffed. He rubbed underneath his nose hard with the back of his wrist. “*snrf!* Sorta slept all day. Thed I had sobe soup and sobe DayQuil,” The dolly came to a stop in front of the acting studio. “And dow I’b feeling a bit better.” Harley finished his sentence, finally turning to face Mick. There was a beat as the two shared glances - then, “Do you know the code?”

 

“Uh,” Mick tried to peek in through the window on the door, standing on his tiptoes. “It’s-” he suddenly turned away to cough fiercely, a sudden itch sparked into his throat. It went away quickly, leaving Mick with bleary eyes. “Oh my god, sorry. Just knock,” he rasped, and cleared his throat.

 

Harley knocked gently on the glass. At his height, he only had to stretch his torso a little to look in through the high windows. Just as Mick caught his breath, the door clicked open. Allison’s face appeared, turning from distracted to a wide grin.

 

“Hey guys!”

 

“Hey,” Harley replied, his hands on his hips. “Furditure delivery,” he said smoothly, nodding to the loaded dolly between him and Mick.

 

“Oh, awesome! You can just leave those over there, on that side of the room. Please and thank you,” she grinned sweetly up at Harley, pushing the door open wider.

 

Harley’s features broke into a charming grin. “Oh, sure, your highdess,” he teased, grabbing the small table with one hand and a stool in the other.

 

“You know what, Harley? I am a queen. Get on my level,” Allison teased back, dramatically stroking her hair.

 

For some reason, Mick must have been standing there the whole time, because by the time he’d zoned back in, Harley was coming back to retrieve the second stool from the dolly. As he was picking it up, his gaze connected with Mick’s. Harley’s eyebrows raised slightly. “You okay?” he asked softly. Mick nodded, and watched as Harley turned away to carry the stool inside the studio. “There you go, ya filthy wench,” he growled at Allison, who giggled at the weird voice he was making.

 

“Thank you, peasant,” Allison spat. “No really, thank you,” she said more nicely.

 

“No problem,” Harley replied with a grin. He raised up his hand in a wave. “Bye guys,” Harley waved to the actors, as he left, and exchanged goodbyes.

 

The dolly’s wheels rattled noisily against the cobblestone in the courtyard, as they rolled it back toward the carpentry shop. They weren’t loud enough to cover the sound of a muffled sneeze that came from the other side of the dolly.

 

“Bless you,” Mick said softly, glancing over the top of the dolly at Harley. He sniffled and blinked a few times, then gave his head a little shake.

 

“Thagk you.”

 

Mick grabbed the door to the carpentry shop, and held it open so that Harley could lift and push the dolly inside. There was a pause after which Harley had managed to get the front wheels in - and Mick peeked around the side of the dolly. “You good?” he checked.

 

“Yeah, watch out,” Harley grunted. With another push, the dolly rolled clunkily through the doorway, and Harley pushed it all the way back to where it belonged.

 

Mick, without much left planned to do, wandered inside, pausing at one of the tables. He sat down on a stool to catch his breath. He heard the rattling wheels come to a stop, and the sound of Harley brushing his hands together. Panting slightly, he looked up as Harley was walking back from the other side of the shop.

 

“You didn’t have to come,” Mick panted.

 

“Doe. ‘s all good. I’b fide,” Harley shrugged. Mick took another look at his face. His brown eyes looked casual, a little brighter. But his voice still sounded congested.

 

“Can you like, stop saying you’re fine for like, ten minutes?” Mick said between heavy breaths.

 

Then there was a still silence. “Sorry,” a blank reply.

 

“... huh’KSCHHh!!” Mick raised the back of his forearm and sneezed - a soft one, but rough on his throat. He cleared his throat and coughed, still trying to catch his breath.

 

“Bless you,” Harley said softly.

 

Mick sighed inwardly. He couldn’t breathe properly. What he needed was another dose from his inhaler, but he didn’t want to do it here, in front of Harley. But the side effect of that, if he intended not to move, was essentially not breathing right.

 

“You okay? You need some water?” Harley offered, a mix of friendly and awkward.

 

Mick rested his palms on his knees, his head slightly bowing forward. Great. This was what he needed. To go to build against rightful advice and then start having an asthma attack. He had to get up to use his inhaler. Get up. Get up.

 

Mick got up, and cleared his throat weakly. “Um, yeah. No, I have some in my bag,” he panted, and started off in the direction of the coat hall.

 

Now, his tight chest told him. Unsure if he was being watched or followed by Harley, Mick turned and walked into the tool room, trying to find a moment of privacy. Then he realized he’d left the inhaler in his bag, and stepped back out into the coat hall.

 

“What’re you- oh.” 

 

Mick’s shoulders sank, as he turned to see Harley standing there, just as he removed the inhaler from his bag. Their eyes connected for a moment. The look was there again - the mild surprise, but this time more of the other thing. That ‘thing’ was concern.

 

“Are you okay?” Harley asked again, more slowly. Mick’s gaze disconnected. He was about to open his mouth to speak, when Harley spoke again. “Do it, go ahead,” Mick could see him turning away in the corner of his eye. “Sorry, I won’t watch.”

 

Mick sighed again, but he still couldn’t really breathe, so he finally inhaled the dosage with a soft puff. A few breaths later, his chest wasn’t as tight, and he could finally catch his breath. Sort of. After a bit, he took out his water bottle and drank a few sips. Lowering it, he peeked down the hall again, and Harley was gone. Mick tucked his water bottle back into the mesh pouch on the side of his bag and got up to go back into the shop. Harley was waiting there, sitting on top of one of the tables.

 

“Sorry, sometimes I get asthma from being in here,” Mick explained softly, his hands deep in his pockets. He rocked back and forth on his feet. “Sawdust and the workout, and…”

 

“Don’t apologize for that,” Harley said quickly, leaning forward. “How are you feeling?” he asked, and though Mick was looking away, he could feel Harley’s eyes on him.

 

“Uh, a little beat. I’m okay, though.” Mick leaned against the table, next to Harley.

 

“What else do you have left to do?” Harley asked softly.

 

“Um,” Mick shifted his weight, staring at the props table. “I planned to go home. I just wanted to get what they needed in rehearsal, and… I was gonna go home. Cuz…”

 

“Mick, you should go.” Harley said, before Mick could try to explain. “Go rest before it gets any worse.”

 

Mick sighed softly. 

 

“Dod’t be like me and say you’re fide,” Harley teased, and leaned away from Mick to cough. He turned back and sniffled. 

 

“Okay, I’m going,” Mick exhaled, pushing up from the table. He started walking toward the coat hall, when he heard Harley’s steel toes thud onto the wood floor.

 

“Wait.” Mick turned his head around to see Harley dusting off his hands. “Let be bring the car arou’d, I cad drop you off,” Harley offered, his voice kind. Mick had to hide how much he wanted that- but he didn’t want to trouble Harley, especially since he was still sick and was also in need of rest.

 

“It’s okay, it’s just a few minutes,” Mick breathed.

 

“I know,” Harley walked over to his backpack, which he’d left on the floor. He gave it a light dusting and slung it on his shoulders. He swayed a little as he did - but quickly collected himself. “It’s also cold, and dark, and we receive ebails about attacks od cabpus about twice a week.”

 

Mick was about to retaliate with the fact that the walk was something he’d done every day. But he was tired. He was tired and his nose was running again. And he didn’t want to walk in the cold, and arrive, breathless and wheezing.

 

“Let be do this for you,” Harley said gently. “I probise I wod’t say I’b fide if I’b dot. Like, I’b dot totally fide, to be hodest,” he coughed and cleared his throat, then went on. “But… I thigk… so ared’t you. And it’s by fault.”

 

There was something genuine and urgent in Harley’s voice, however calm and smooth it sounded. Mick hated how Harley could still sound so charming, all croaky and congested. It was working. It was going to work. “Fine,” Mick breathed, and nodded vaguely. His gaze connected with Harley’s as he quoted the next couple of words, teasingly. “Go ahead.” Mick gave a soft smile, then turned and walked back to the coat hall to get his stuff.

 

-

 

Harley’s minivan was nice and warm, and Mick dreaded having to get back out again in such a short time. It also smelled nice - some kind of air freshener was clipped onto the air vent. He leaned back into the cushioned seat, watching out the window as the buildings passed by. 

 

“I’m glad you showed up,” Mick admitted, after a while of comfortable silence. “But I’m also not.”

 

Harley grinned at Mick sideways. “I bother you that buch?”

 

It was Mick’s turn to glance sideways, but Harley’s soft gaze had returned to the road. “You’re… You're…” he said sleepily, too tired to make an effort to tease him.

 

“I’b what?”

 

“You’re… a knucklehead.” Mick finished softly, and turned away to yawn.

 

“We’ve established this,” Harley replied, in a cheery but calm way. Then- “Oh, shit.” Harley turned his head to look away. Mick glanced sideways again. They’d stopped at an all way stop, but no one else was there. Harley didn’t move.

 

“What?”

 

“Doe, I just-” Harley swung open his door, and leaned to his left- “HAAESSCHHIEWW!! -ahh, fuck. *sdrff!*” His door slammed shut, and he straightened, sniffling thickly. Mick stared, half-worried, half-amused. 

 

“Why did you-”

 

“Sorry, it’s a closed space, and I really had to sdeeze.” Harley whined, lifting a palm to wipe his eyes. “Plus, doe ode else is here, it’s fide.” It occurred to Mick then, that he’d abandoned the idea of wearing a mask sometime earlier.

 

“Then open the window or some shit,” Mick teased lightly. He scoffed softly, as Harley kept driving slowly through the campus roads. “Okay, how about I get comfortable with you seeing the inhaler, and you- don’t do whatever that was.” Harley coughed a small laugh, and sniffled. “Can’t have you falling out, plus I think I have to sneeze,” Mick went on, looking away as his nose wrinkled.

 

Harley peeked at him sideways. After a few seconds, Mick just wiggled his nose and sighed. 

 

“Oh, maybe not.” he relaxed, and sunk back into the seat.

 

For the next few moments, they fell into a comfortable silence again. They were pulling close to the residence parking lot. Eventually the car slowed to a stop. Mick glanced around, and realized that the car was in a parking space - not against the sidewalk, near the entrance.

 

“Mbick, ub,” Harley started to say, staring forward. He paused briefly, and turned to look at Mick. “Will you be okay?” he asked. A simple question. Mick studied Harley’s expression. He could see that the question spilled a bit beyond that - onto others, possibly wanting to come up, possibly wanting to make sure Mick was okay for the night. Or it could’ve just been a simple question.

 

“Yeah,” Mick replied, pressing his lips into a vague grin. He looked at Harley, who still seemed to be unsure. “Will you?”

 

Harley paused for a moment. He tilted his head. “Yeah. I-I will be.”

 

Mick opened the car door and stepped out. He went to close the door, then paused, his hand still on the side of it. He stared at the front doors - and down at the ground. Then he opened his mouth to speak, pausing a bit. “Hey Harley?”

 

Harley leaned forward a bit to look at Mick, under the roof of the car. “Yes, Mbick?”

 

“Why don’t you come up for some tea?” Mick turned to face Harley, leaning his arm on top of the door. The corners of his lips tugged upward into gentle grin. “I could really use some.”

 

A grin broke across Harley’s serious features. He put the car in park. “Sounds lovely.”

 

Edited April 9, 2023 by Skylacticon