(Liam's POV)
I woke up in the middle of the night, the tingling sensation of sweat clinging to my skin, a shiver crawling down my spine as the remnants of fever still buzzed within me. The room was cloaked in darkness, the glow of the TV casting flickering shadows. I turned my head, expecting to see Aaron sitting in his usual spot beside me, but instead, there was nothing but emptiness.
"Aaron?" I called out, my voice hoarse and uncertain. A small knot of panic twisted in my stomach when no one answered. A wave of anxiety washed over me as I sat up, the blankets slipping from my shoulders. My mind raced. Had he left? How could he leave without saying a word?
"Aaron!" I shouted again, louder this time, hoping for a response. But silence greeted me, thick and suffocating, making the absence of his presence feel even heavier.
Just then, I heard a soft click echo through the quiet of the house, the unmistakable sound of a door opening. Hope flared inside of me as I turned, convinced that it must be Aaron returning to check on me.
But when the silhouette stepped into the dim light, my heart sank. It was Linna, my girlfriend, looking puzzled but concerned. She paused at the doorway, her expression shifting as she took in the sight of me disheveled and soaked in my own sweat.
"Linna?" I breathed, the excitement I felt quickly waning. It shouldn't be this way. I should be thrilled to see her, but all I could think about was where Aaron had gone.
"Hey, Liam," she said softly, stepping further into the room. "I heard you calling for someone. Is everything alright?"
"Where's Aaron?" The question burst from my lips before I could catch it, the urgency underlying my tone revealing the concern I couldn't brush aside.
But she didn't answer right away, her gaze dropping slightly as if she were weighing her words carefully. Something shifted on her face, a flicker of an emotion I couldn't quite place—not jealousy, but something else entirely. It made me uneasy.
"I… I just came to check on you," Linna said, her voice steady but lacking the usual enthusiasm. "You were soaked in sweat. You need to change."
The panic I felt over Aaron's absence stilled for a moment, replaced by Linna's practicality. I opened my mouth to ask again, but the question disappeared as I met her gaze. Something told me now wasn't the right time to press her on it. The bond of concern wrapped around us; she was here to help.
"Okay," I muttered, feeling resignation seep in, and without another word, I got up from the couch, swaying slightly before finding my balance. The chill of the night air brushed against my skin, a stark reminder of how unwell I felt. Linna guided me toward the bedroom, her movements gentle as she helped me to change my clothes—holding new items for me to slip into.
"Liam, you really need to take better care of yourself," she said while I changed. "You spend too much time cooped up. You should get outside more, breathe some fresh air."
"I know," I replied, a hint of guilt gnawing at me. "It's just—things have been…different lately."
Linna didn't respond right away, and for a moment, I sensed the weight of her words lingering in the air. I turned back to her, the urge to express how I felt swirling in my chest, but she didn't seem to want to talk. Instead, she pulled me toward the small kitchen area.
"Sit down," she instructed gently, her tone softening as she prepared a small bowl of soup, nearly identical to what Aaron had given me before. The sight stirred something deep within me, but I pushed the feeling down, trying to concentrate on Linna.
"I'll get you some medicine too," she said, stirring the soup as she worked. The rhythmic sounds were calming, and for a moment, I was thankful for her presence—someone interested in my recovery, someone who cared.
As she served the soup, I couldn't shake the lingering thoughts of Aaron from my mind. Why hadn't he come back? What had happened? Was he okay?
"Linna?" I started, my heart racing again as I set my bowl down. "Do you know where Aaron went?"
She paused for a moment, looking directly into my eyes with an intense gaze. "Liam, are you really going to spend your nights fretting over him?"
The frustration bubbled up again, combining with confusion. "It's not just 'him'—he's my best friend! He was here taking care of me. I thought he'd always be here."
Linna's expression softened slightly. "I get that, but you need to focus on yourself too. I know you care about him, but right now you're the one who needs help. You're the one who is sick."
The sincerity in her eyes made me feel slightly ashamed. She was right—I wasn't taking care of myself. But despite that realization, the thoughts of Aaron being somewhere, out of reach, gnawed at me.
"Okay," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, accepting the care offered to me. "I'll try to focus on getting better."
As she helped me eat and sip on the water, I couldn't help but feel the shadow of worry hanging over me. Linna's care was undeniable, and I wanted to embrace it, but the nagging questions about Aaron lingered. I pushed the feelings aside as best as I could, forcing myself to concentrate on her words, on the warmth of the soup, and the genuine concern in Linna's voice.
Once I finished eating, Linna helped me take the medicine, guiding me through each step as if I were a child. "See? Not so bad," she said with a gentle smile after I swallowed the pill. "You'll feel better soon."
"Thanks, Linna," I said, my voice trailing off with a hint of gratitude. But even as I accepted her help, part of me still felt detached, my thoughts drifting back to the unresolved questions surrounding Aaron.
Feeling the fatigue creeping back in, I leaned back against the cushions of the chair. Linna must have sensed it too, for she glanced at me with empathy.
"Get some rest," she said quietly, placing her hand on mine. "I'll be right here if you need anything."
"Okay," I mumbled, leaning my head back. As my eyes fluttered closed, I couldn't shake the unease lingering in my heart—the blend of comfort in Linna's presence and the hollow ache of Aaron's absence.
The night carried on, filled with half-formed thoughts and hazy dreams. Yet, even in the embrace of slumber, the bond I shared with Aaron remained a flicker, threading through my subconscious—a reminder of my best friend, who I hoped would return soon.