Fevered

The door opened, a small cough announcing his presence. “May? Are, ah, are you still awake?”

Under the blanket, the Hunter smiled slightly. “Yeah,” she answered, sitting up and turning her head in his direction. It was a habit really, just to tell him he had her attention; she’d been full-on blind for almost a day now. “You’re still here?”

“Of course!” She chuckled at the indignation in his voice, honest offense at the idea he would abandon her. There was a small pause before he continued. “How’re you holding up?”

“I’ll survive. It’s not as bad as the first time, that’s for sure.”

He made his way over to the bed, feet shuffling weeks’ worth of dirty clothes out of the way, not to mention giving her a pretty good idea of his location. When he was within reach, the Hunter reached out with one hand, lightly gripping the front of his shirt. He sighed, smiling to himself no doubt, and reached up, wrapping his own hands around hers…and gasped in shock.

“You’re burning up!”

“It’s just a little fever, beanpole. Everyone gets it.”

“You should at least take something to bring it down; I’ll go get–”

“It’ll just make me worse.” She sighed, lightly tugging her hand away. He refused to let go, taking another step closer instead. “I lived three years with the fever, I’ll be fine.”

“You lost your memory…” he whispered. There was real fear in the Smoker’s voice, something she was not used to hearing. “W-what if that hap-appens again…?”

She snorted. “I’m not going to forget you, idiot. It’s just a week; besides, I don’t think it’s possible to get rid of you.”

Jonah sniffled, working very hard to be subtle about it. The Hunter sighed again, expression softening.

“You’re really worried about it, aren’t you? What’s the matter beanpole, losing your nerve?”

“Just…deja vu.” He shook his head, shirt and hair rustling at the movement.  The girl considered for a moment, then pulled her knees up to her stomach, clearing a space at the foot of the bed.

“Sit.”

The boy blinked. “Wha–”

“I said sit, Jo.”

He complied, still confused (and more than a little uncomfortable.) May rolled forwards onto her knees and crawled over to him, practically climbing into his lap. He pulled back slightly when she did, not entirely sure what was happening. The Hunter placed her hands on her friend’s shoulders, finally getting high enough to lightly press her face into his hair. She inhaled, quietly memorizing every aspect of his scent, from the oily sweet smell of the spores that still lingered around him, to the strong coffee/vanilla/cinnamon mixture leftover from the last drink his sister had delivered, to the strawberry shampoo he’d somehow managed to confuse with his own the last time he took a shower. There was the soap brand he preferred, everything he’d cooked in the last two days, a bit of the weather (cold and damp,) and a heavy dose of something completely original that was just simply and purely him.
Everyone had one, but it wasn’t something she normally bothered to take note of; today, she would. Right now, it was important.


Pulling back again, she gave him a quick smile. “There. A Hunter never forgets a scent, and I swear I won’t forget the person it belongs to. Nothing to worry about, beanpole.”
There was a brief pause before what she’d said fully registered. When it did, Jonah leaned forwards and wrapped his arms around the girl in one of the tightest hugs he’d ever given.
Changing position wasn’t actually the best of ideas, as it turned out; overbalanced on the side, they both fell over, flopping down onto the bed. There was another moment as this change registered, and then he was pulling away, stammering out apologies and explanations.  May sighed, and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

“Oh, shut up and hold still, won’t you? All this flailing about is disorienting me.” The Smoker stopped. She smiled, hauling him back down beside her and nuzzled up against him again, rather like a cat. “Better. Now pull the blanket over here, won’t you? I’m freezing.”