The apartment door clicked shut behind her.
Celeste stepped inside quietly, arms full of a convenience store bag stuffed with medicine, water, and snacks. She'd run through the rain for this, soaked halfway to the knees—but she didn't care. The moment Ash collapsed on her shoulder in the lobby, everything else stopped mattering.
She tossed her hoodie on the rack and tiptoed toward the bedroom.
Ash lay curled under a blanket, lips pale, face flushed, shaking despite the aircon being off. The room was still, the only sound his uneven, fevered breathing.
Celeste knelt beside him and gently touched his forehead.
Burning.
She winced.
"Okay. This is bad."
She reached into the bag, pulled out a blister pack of tablets, and popped one out into her palm. She poured a bit of water into a cup and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Alright, mister hero complex. Med time."
She nudged his shoulder.
"Ash. Hey. Sit up."
He cracked one eye open, barely conscious.
"Tablet," she said, holding it up. "Come on."
Ash groaned and turned his face away.
"Oh no, we're not doing this," she muttered. "Don't be stubborn."
He gave a faint shake of his head.
Celeste stared at him, then at the tablet in her hand.
Then sighed, loud and dramatic.
"You leave me no choice."
She popped the tablet into her own mouth, took a small sip of water just enough to soften it and leaned down.
Her hand cupped his cheek, turning his face toward her.
Ash blinked, dazed.
Celeste kissed him to pass the tablet just a quick press of lips, a warm coaxing gesture, nothing more.
…At least, that's what she told herself it would be.
But Ash's mouth opened faintly under hers. His breath hitched. His lips responded, soft and slow, not pulling away.
And that's when she got carried away.
She deepened the kiss.
Her tongue brushed his.
A slow swirl.
She tilted her head, her hand still cupping his cheek as her mouth moved against his—hesitant at first, then bolder when he didn't resist. Her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt.
He tasted like fever and warmth and something heartbreakingly familiar.
His breathing was ragged.
But his lips… moved with hers.
For a second, just a second…she let herself pretend he was hers.
That he wanted this just as badly.
That he wasn't sick. That they weren't full of unsaid things.
Then—
Reality slammed back in.
Celeste blinked.
Pulled back—just a little.
She looked down at him—his face flushed, eyelids fluttering, lips parted and dazed.
Her own face was burning. Her breath was shallow.
"…Crap," she muttered, blinking fast.
She pushed herself off him gently, sitting back on her knees, one hand over her mouth.
"Stupid, Cel. He's sick. This is not the time to get horny over a dying man."
Ash let out a small noise, barely coherent.
Celeste grabbed a pillow and lightly whacked her own head with it.
"Focus. He needs meds and rest. Not whatever your brain is fantasizing."
She stood abruptly and marched to the kitchen to cool herself down.
But her fingers were still trembling from the way his tongue had moved with hers.
She muttered under her breath,
"…We are never speaking of this again."
.
.
.
Celeste crouched near the foot of Ash's bed, glancing at him to make sure he was still asleep. He was. Barely responsive. Still burning up.
She pulled out her phone and quickly typed out a message to Rowan.
[Celeste]: Staying at Lyka's tonight. Don't wait up.
A pause.
[Celeste]: Don't ask questions either.
She locked her phone, shoved it back into her hoodie pocket, and muttered,
"There. Alibi secured."
Then she turned back to Ash—and froze.
He was shaking. Again.
Despite the blanket wrapped tight around him, his arms trembled like his body couldn't decide if it was on fire or freezing.
Celeste bit her lip, stood up slowly, and approached the bed.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered, already pulling the blanket aside. "I said I wasn't gonna do anything. I meant it. But if you freeze to death now, it's on me."
She climbed into bed carefully, shifting the blanket and making room for herself beside him. Her body was still warm from the rush of running through the rain, and now Ash's fevered heat soaked into her skin like fire.
Celeste hesitated, her heart pounding.
"I'm doing this for survival," she whispered, as if saying it out loud made it more scientific.
She slipped under the blanket—the same way he did, mirroring the way his body curled beneath the covers, like he was trying to shrink into the smallest space possible. The fabric was heavy and warm from his body heat, and the moment she got under, it clung to her skin like steam rising in a kettle.
Ash shivered again.
Without thinking, Celeste inched closer. Then closer still.
She didn't want to touch him at first—just share the heat. Just give enough of her warmth so his shaking would stop.
But Ash' body moved on its own.
Instinctively, he turned toward her—the heat, the comfort and curled slightly, his forehead brushing her collarbone.
Celeste froze.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"You're not making this easy," she muttered, more to herself than him.
His body was burning. Every shallow breath he took stirred heat across her skin.
Slowly, she wrapped one arm around him. Then another. Her hand rested gently on his back, fingers pressing against the soaked fabric of his undershirt.
And finally—because he was still trembling, she curled her leg over his.
Now she was holding him.
Now she was in trouble.
Because this wasn't just heat-sharing. This was everything she'd secretly wanted.
Celeste groaned softly.
"You're going to owe me so hard for this."
But Ash relaxed. The tension in his limbs eased. His breathing evened out, still heavy but no longer gasping. His fingers curled slightly into the blanket near her waist.
She closed her eyes and sighed.
This was… intimate.
Too intimate for two people who weren't even speaking last week.
But also exactly what she'd been aching for.
To touch him again.
To feel needed by him—even if he wasn't awake enough to realize it.
Her body calmed, but her thoughts didn't.
Celeste buried her face in the crook of his neck and whispered,
"Just until the fever breaks. Just tonight."
His skin was damp with sweat, but she didn't pull away.
His scent wrapped around her—shampoo and warm cotton and something unmistakably Ash.
And she just stayed there, holding him.
Not kissing. Not teasing.
Just breathing beside him.
Her leg over his like she'd claimed him.
Like her body knew what her heart wouldn't dare admit.
"I miss you," she whispered, so softly it barely counted as words. "You idiot."
The silence stretched, only broken by Ash's steady breathing and the occasional creak of the bed as they shifted slightly together.
And then… her eyes slipped shut.
The exhaustion hit her all at once, and before she realized it, she was asleep.
__________
Morning light filtered through the curtains.
Ash stirred, blinking slowly against the soft glow.
His head throbbed, his throat felt raw, and his body was still weak but there was something warm.
Something soft.
His brow furrowed as he glanced down—and froze.
Celeste was wrapped around him.
One leg thrown over his hip.
Her arm across his chest.
Her cheek resting on his shoulder, her breath warm against his skin.
Ash's eyes widened.
His hand twitched.
His throat made a sound that wasn't quite a word.
She was clinging to him like a human blanket.
And he… was completely still.
Not moving.
Not breathing.
Because if he did, he might ruin the moment.
_____________