Chapter 4: 4. 4: Fever
Mike barely made it to the bathroom in time. He hurriedly shut the door and threw himself in front of the toilet as his stomach decided he needed to throw everything back up. Clenching the toilet bowl with both hands, he was powerless to stop his shuddering body as he vomited up his dinner.
He knew he should've stopped eating.
The Byers, plus Hopper and El, were over for dinner and he severely regretted not telling his mom that he wasn't feeling great. His stomach had been churning all day and his head wouldn't stop pounding, but he was really looking forward to seeing these people. Everything was going fine, until his mom shoveled an insane amount of lasagna onto his plate. He didn't want to refuse, so he just sat down and attempted to eat a decent amount of what he had been given.
Which was a mistake, because after the first couple of bites, the nausea crashed into him and he knew exactly what was going to happen. He excused himself as casually as he could and ran to the bathroom upstairs.
When he sure his body was finished, he reached up to flush the toilet, his throat burning. Breathing heavily, he rolled so his back was against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut as the room began to spin. He knew he didn't have the strength to go back downstairs, so he focused on slowing his breaths and keeping his head still. The sounds of plates being cleared and lively conversation floated up from the dining room.
After a while, someone knocked on the door. He groaned in response, keeping his eyes closed as the door creaked open. "Mike?"
His lips turned upward into a smile. He never opened his eyes, but he didn't have to in order to know who it was.
"Hey beautiful" he whispered. Just her presence alone was starting to take the slightest edge off his pain.
"Are you okay?" he heard El quietly ask. He opened his eyes as she shut the door behind her, her face painted with worry. He gritted his teeth and shook his head, focusing on a spot on the ceiling. She knelt in front of him and gently pressed her cool fingers to his forehead. "You're burning!" she said with a gasp. She shot up and searched through cabinets for a washcloth. "El, you don't have to-" He was cut off by El shooting him a worried look as she ran it under the water of the sink. She got on her knees once again and wiped the damp cloth across his forehead. "Thanks" he whispered, the cold providing some relief.
"Do you want to stay in here?" she asked in reply. "No..." he admitted. El stuck out her hand, but Mike hesitated to take it. "I really don't want to get you sick." His eyes widened as he realized how long she'd been around him. "You shouldn't be here, El, I don't want you to feel like this." She didn't say anything as she kept her hand outstretched. A half smile appeared on her face and she raised her eyebrows, glancing at her hand and then back at him.
Mike sighed and slid his hand into hers, smiling at the familiar softness of it. El pulled him up, but the movement called back the sickening dizziness. Mike swayed dangerously and dropped the washcloth to grip her upper arm, keeping his other hand firmly locked in hers. Once they were both balanced, she carefully took a step forward and Mike cautiously did the same, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. "Good?" she asked, glancing at him. He nodded and she squeezed his hand. Slowly but surely, they made it to his room and he gingerly slid onto his bed, reluctant to let go of El's arm.
She propped up his pillows for him and made sure he was comfortable, aware that he was staring at her. She met his gaze when she had finished and he smiled. "You're awesome," he whispered, causing her to blush and bite her lip. He leaned back against the pillows and shut his eyes.
The last thing he remembers is El's lips pressing against his cheek before sleep overtook him.
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