Chapter Text
Ben’s sleep was extremely light, especially that night. There was no way to drift off properly. The slightest sound was enough to wake him, and even his own movements felt uncomfortable and difficult to control. Sadly, Ben was slowly losing his mind. Literally.
It was 11 in the morning. Ben woke up with a troublesome, uncomfortable fever. It was nearly uncontrollable and affected every limb of his frail body. If he was already mentally unstable, his body simply mirrored his thoughts—which was far from ideal. With every erratic (or not-so-erratic) thought, a slight spasm would ripple through Ben’s literally burning head.
"I don't think I'm feeling well," said Ben, summoning all his strength to string the words together. Gwen walked into the room to gather the dirty laundry and turned her head slightly to look at her cousin's pale, weak face. "Some way to get ready to meet the love of your life," Gwen remarked with obvious irony, eliciting a silent, unspoken annoyance from Ben, who couldn't even properly express his irritation because the very act of doing so caused pain in his limbs.
"I'll bring you some medicine, if you'd like." Gwen sat on the edge of the bed, far enough away from Ben to avoid the risk of the fever spreading. "And I’d advise you not to go out. At least not today." Ben was so weak that he could barely respond to Gwen’s words. He just wanted to rest and not think about anything, though thoughts of Rex kept swirling in his mind.
As the door closed, Ben was left in a near-silence, broken only by the sound of the wind against his window and his own slow, painful breathing. Today was the day he might have gotten to know Rex a little better, but the fever struck too quickly and ruined his plans. It was the worst day of his life.
His room filled with a stifling, dangerous silence, mirroring the absence of sound throughout the rest of the house. That void was shattered when the doorbell rings—a sharp, strident sound, alarming enough to command attention. Ben lacked the energy to consider who might be standing on the other side of the door; nor did he have the strength to even care.
After that, all that could be heard were footsteps, growing louder with every passing second. Each step echoed inside Ben’s head, causing an intense, painful pressure in the most sensitive part of his skull—a sensation that drew nothing more than soft, pained moans from him—until the door opened.
"Ben..." A jovial yet deep voice rang out. It was a voice that spoke of shared understanding, reflecting concern, attentiveness, warmth, and an almost romantic undertone. Ben turned his head slowly and carefully to see who was standing before him, avoiding any undue physical strain. His eyes widened in surprise and his heart raced with an almost erratic rhythm when he realized it was Rex who had entered the room.
"Rex! What are you doing here?" Ben suddenly hoisted his torso up from the bed, fixing his gaze on his friend. The movement was so impulsive (and painful) that Ben couldn't support himself; he slumped back against the headboard, groaning as he felt a sharp, visible ache throughout his limbs. Rex simply moved to make him more comfortable, reaching out to help his friend settle into a better position.
"Gwen told me you were feeling under the weather and, well, I got worried because we were supposed to meet up today and you didn't show, and... well, I thought it was the right thing to do to come over, you know?" Ben just nervously shifted his shoulders as Rex finished his sentence. He never thought Rex would be that considerate of him; he hadn't even thought Gwen would be capable of mentioning his condition without making fun of him, though she probably had.
"This fever is killing me," Ben said, his face pale as he touched his forehead with his right palm, feeling the heat rise with every slow, painful breath, while his cough sounded increasingly dry. "It’s not normal for it to hurt this much, right?" Ben knew full well that anxiety was playing tricks on him this time, but he didn't want to overthink it, fearing it would only make him weaker.
"You just need to rest. You don't look all that weak, just a bit pale." Rex stroked Ben’s hair, feeling the sticky sweat on his friend’s head, brought on by the heat of his fever. With every brush of Rex’s hand against his skin, Ben felt a sense of comfort—a shared warmth that no longer stemmed from his illness, but from the simple act of human contact.
"Did you take your medication?" Rex asked.
"Yes, Mom," Ben joked.
They both laughed in unison. It was an effort that took a significant toll on Ben, who remained weak; yet, Rex’s arrival made him feel all the better. His friend’s presence made the heat radiating from his own body feel more comfortable and less painful. Ben concluded that the very thing that had triggered the anxiety behind his fever might, ironically, be the reason he was now feeling better.
"This is going to sound ridiculous, but... I missed you," Rex confessed with a soft chuckle, causing Ben to blush and feel his hands tremble at the remark. It felt so intimate, unique, and warm—yet, given his fever, he could hardly believe it was actually happening. "I only disappeared today," Ben replied, his voice flat, feigning complete ignorance of his own emotions.
"So? That’s more than enough." Rex blushed, brushing his fingertips against Ben’s forearm, which sent a distinct shiver through the latter. Slowly, their gazes locked in an intense, sustained look that revealed nothing but desire, a shared secret understanding, and a fiery friendship—one in which, perhaps, both had been concealing their true intentions.
"You can leave if you want. Spending too much time with me might rub off on you," Ben said.
"I don't care," Rex replied, impulsively.
At that moment, it was no longer just his fingertips making contact with Ben; his palm moved in, slowly drawing closer to his friend’s face—all while maintaining the intense eye contact they had already established—as he parted his lips, offering a unique and special invitation.
The two closed the distance, their lips meeting—gentle, with slow and careful movements. With every kiss they shared, Ben felt a strange sensation; it was a feeling of emptiness, yet one that was pleasurable—as if this mutual connection had always existed, and as if they had never needed to hide from the public eye. For Ben, this was perfection.
Rex slowly pulled away without saying a word, offering only a tender smile that put the final touch on this captivating and unexpected interaction. In that moment, the only sound was Ben’s slow, feverish breathing—the sole witness to this intimate exchange between the two friends, a moment that might well mark a turning point in their friendship.
The ambient sound in the room slowly faded away, giving rise to an intensifying, unbearable high-pitched ringing. It was a deafening sound that caused nothing but needless pain for Ben. Groaning in annoyance and discomfort, he squeezed his eyelids shut with such excessive force that it seemed to make the irritating ringing grow even louder.
As he snapped his eyes open, he saw only darkness. There wasn’t a shred of jarring noise, just a song, likely playing from Gwen’s room. It felt strange; his sweat was no longer warm, but cold, and the pressure in his head had vanished. "Shit." Ben simply covered his face, overcome with a sense of embarrassment.
Dreaming about Rex was the official confirmation of his feelings for him. It wasn’t an ordinary dream, but rather a feverish one—the kind that makes you delirious, makes you feel intensely, and leaves you drenched in sweat. It felt so real and unique that Ben could only smack himself on the head, struck by the sheer stupidity of it all.
Ben was in love, and this was only the beginning to realize it.