It was instantaneous, though, Lovrenco supposed, all werewolf love is instantaneous. He had no way of knowing; he had never been in love. But that night, his body reacted physically, and his fever rose. He tossed and turned in bed, murmuring things, perhaps Neizan's name, until the boy approached him, his face veiled with worry, lamp lit, kneeling. He placed his hand on Lovrenco's forehead.
"Lovrenco... you're burning up," he whispered. It was the first time, Lovrenco thought, that Neizan had called him by the name the werewolf had used that day they met, almost a week ago now, two weeks since Lovrenco had been wounded in the side.
Lovrenco murmured:
"Don't... go."
"I have to go make sure it's not serious, I have to get the first-aid kit..." Neizan started to get up, but Lovrenco pulled him along with his superhuman strength, which was already returning. Neizan stumbled and fell on top of him. Lovrenco felt that just the touch lowered his body temperature.
"When is... the moon... how's the... the moon?"
"Well, it's there," said Neizan. "Small. Waxing."
At least it wasn't a transformation, or Lovrenco could breathe easy.
"Neizan..."
"Yes?"
"Neizan..." he said again, because his feverish brain only wanted to know how his name, repeated so many times, tasted on his palate. Part of him was satisfied that he had fallen ill again, that he could receive the human's care.
But Neizan got up. He went to get the first-aid kit, properly checked his temperature, and decreed:
"If it hasn't gone down in a few hours, we're going to the ER."
"No... not hospitals..."
Neizan shook his head.
"Not death, Lovrenco. I'm not going to let you go."
Lovrenco burst into tears, and felt useless, and clumsy, for doing so. He was the lone wolf. He was the alpha. He was the...
Suddenly, lips, cold and dry, on his forehead. A small kiss near the crown of his head, which Neizan then pulled away from.
"I'll sleep on the rug," he said.
"N... no..." Lovrenco tried to get up.
Neizan urged him to stay in bed.
"Will you listen to me?"
"No... I'm not going to let you... sleep... on the carpet..."
"Fine," Neizan gave up and went for the chair, but Lovrenco tried to sit up again and didn't stop until Neizan lay down with him on the bed.
Neizan, completely rigid, stood in a corner, watching him with concern.
"You're delirious..."
If delirium could bring Neizan this close, Lovrenco thought, then he didn't care.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
"Thank you," Lovrenco insisted. He slept feeling Neizan's human warmth, radiating his own. He chuckled softly, realizing that werewolves were warmer than usual. And now, on top of everything, with the fever... It was no wonder, he thought, that the next day he found Neizan shirtless, his bare torso exposed, freckled and covered in moles, with a necklace dangling from his collarbone.
It was no wonder, Lovrenco thought, that his body reacted unconsciously, uncontrollably, to that sight.
He thought it was under control. That the other hadn't noticed. But the human opened his eyes and said:
"Um... Lovrenco?"
Lovrenco turned so red, so incredibly red, that he thought he was going to faint from the heat.
"Sorry," he said. "It happens sometimes when I wake up. Morning things."
"It's okay," said Neizan. He touched his head. "You seem to still be hot."
Too hot, Lovrenco laughed to himself, but not for the reason Neizan thought.
"Sorry," he said again.
Neizan was still half asleep, but he shrugged.
"I wake up with a hard-on sometimes too, it's not unusual."
Lovrenco almost died just imagining it. He was so red, so burning hot, that he thought he was in hell, but it was a peaceful, lustful hell.
Neizan sat up.
"Go on, go and get relief," he said simply, smiling, tenderly.
Lovrenco went to do so, but the fever prevented him. He collapsed onto the pillow, his whole body aching. Damn psychosomatic symptoms.
Neizan paused.
Lovrenco felt useless, pathetic, and...
Neizan said:
"If you want, I'll help you."
Lovrenco's nose started bleeding.