(Untitled)

[teenagerenegade]

Charlie's not sure he's ever felt this sick. It's been days and he's still getting new blisters, and his head's swimming, and he's having a hard time swallow. At least the puking's stopped. He's alternately hot and cold, kicking the sheets off as quickly as Edmund can pull them back up over him. He's trying not to scratch because he's a grown-

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[giftless]

It really wasn't fair. Edmund was an adult, not a nursemaid, and yet it seemed as though Charlie was as determined as physically possible to be as much of a childish pain as he could. It had been a long few days. Edmund understood that Charlie was miserable, and ached, and that being sick and stuck in bed really was the worst place for a young man to be, but he was also sadly grateful for those hours of school when he could get away. And when he was sufficiently distracted from worrying about Charlie, because that was a horrible part of this, too.

He came back with a few books and paracetamol from the clinic, anything that might help a bit. He'd left the door open, so that a breeze could flow through and Charlie wasn't entirely shut in, and Edmund wasn't entirely surprised to see Honour sprawled across the doorway to his bedroom, standing guard over Charlie but trying to look surly about it. "You're just a great softie. Don't lie about it," Edmund informed the direwolf as he stepped over the great, hulking mass of fur.

[teenagerenegade]

Honour's been there all day. When Charlie did throw up, he lifted his head to Honour staring at him and then the wolf had actually licked his hand. He'd then looked at Charlie like he'd eat his head if he told anyone. Charlie hadn't even considered mentioning it to Edmund.

Still, he's pleased to see his boyfriend, and he actually manages a smile.

"I'm still not entirely sure that he likes me."

[giftless]

"Oh he likes you," Edmund assured him, assured all of them, wolf included. "He just likes acting a big bad wolf better." Honour rolled his eyes in Edmund's direction, a silly, scathing look that wouldn't be amiss on Ed's face during a particularly nasty temper, but the boy ignored it.

"I brought you some comics," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Figured they'd be better than trying to dig through a novel right now."

[teenagerenegade]

"You're my favourite," says Charlie, reaching out and twining their fingers together, his own hand feeling hot and sticky.

"My head feels like it's slowly filling up with something. And I'm still fucking itchy."

[dreamily_luna]

"You're so spotted," Luna says, from where she's come to inspect him. In her arms is the most valuable commodity the island has offered her: Quibblers from the bookshelf. "It looks like you've been hexed. Has anyone connected your dots yet?"

There is a marker behind her ear just in case, though she supposes that it's another one of those "things people don't want you to do to them because it's bizarre."

[teenagerenegade]

Honour lifts his head and watches Luna walk into the room and Charlie groans softly and buries his face, spots and all, in the pillow.

"Please don't draw on me, Luna."

[dreamily_luna]

Luna's never really seen anyone this ill without a trip to St. Mungo's, and it's probably more fascinating than it should be. "Not even a bit?" She sits down beside him, though. "I brought you a present."

[teenagerenegade]

He thinks about it for a moment and then lifts his head, licking his lips, fingers unconsciously fisting in the sheets with the desire to scratch.

"I'll let you draw on my hand or something if it makes you happy," he concedes as he drags himself up into a sitting position, drawing his knees against his chest. "What did you bring me?"