Chapter 8 Taking Care
Soup and Silence
Jamie knew something was wrong the moment Alex walked through the apartment door.
Normally, even after a difficult day, Alex greeted him with a tired smile and a quiet, "I'm home."
That evening, he simply dropped his laptop bag beside the entryway and leaned one hand against the wall as though standing upright required more effort than usual.
Jamie looked up from the kitchen.
"You look exhausted."
"I'm fine."
The answer came automatically.
Too automatically.
Jamie frowned.
"You don't sound fine."
Alex loosened his tie before rubbing the back of his neck.
"Long week."
"You've said that every day this week."
"I know."
Jamie walked closer.
Only then did he notice how pale Alex looked. The healthy color had disappeared from his face, replaced by an unnatural flush across his cheeks. Even his normally steady posture seemed slightly unbalanced.
Without thinking, Jamie rested the back of his hand against Alex's forehead.
The heat startled him.
"Alex."
"I'm okay."
"No, you're not."
Alex smiled weakly.
"It's probably just stress."
Jamie shook his head.
"You're burning up."
"It's nothing."
Jamie looked at him with gentle determination.
"When was the last time you slept more than five hours?"
Alex thought for a moment.
"I..."
He sighed.
"I don't remember."
"And you've still been going to work."
"I had deadlines."
Jamie already knew the answer.
The Riverside Development had entered another demanding phase, and Alex had spent nearly two weeks leaving before sunrise and returning long after dinner.
Jamie had watched him push himself harder every day.
Now his body had finally decided enough was enough.
"Sit down."
Alex looked as though he wanted to argue.
Instead, he quietly obeyed.
Jamie disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a digital thermometer.
Alex gave him an amused look.
"You've become very bossy."
"You can complain after I know your temperature."
"I wasn't complaining."
Jamie smiled.
"Good."
A few seconds later, the thermometer beeped.
Jamie looked at the screen.
One hundred and three degrees.
His heart sank.
"You're not going anywhere tomorrow."
Alex immediately shook his head.
"I have three meetings."
"You have influenza."
"I probably don't."
"You definitely have a high fever."
Alex reached for his phone.
"I'll just send a few emails."
Jamie gently took the phone from his hand.
"You need rest."
"They're expecting me."
"They'll survive."
Alex looked frustrated.
"I can't stop everything."
Jamie knelt beside the chair until they were at eye level.
"You always tell everyone else that safety comes first."
Alex remained silent.
"So why doesn't that apply to you?"
Alex didn't have an answer.
His shoulders slowly relaxed.
"I'm tired."
The quiet admission broke Jamie's heart more than anything else.
"I know."
Jamie helped him stand.
"Come on."
He guided Alex toward the bedroom, where fresh sheets already waited.
"You planned this?" Alex asked sleepily.
"I changed the bedding this morning."
"You always think ahead."
Jamie smiled.
"I try."
Alex sat on the edge of the bed while Jamie helped him out of his suit jacket.
It wasn't an intimate moment.
It simply felt practical.
Caring.
The way someone helped another person who was too exhausted to do everything alone.
"I can manage," Alex murmured.
"I know you can."
Jamie carefully folded the jacket over the chair.
"But you don't have to tonight."
Alex changed into comfortable clothes while Jamie gathered medicine, bottled water, tissues, and extra blankets.
Within twenty minutes, the bedroom looked more like a recovery room than a guest bedroom.
Jamie returned carrying a steaming mug.
"Tea."
Alex accepted it gratefully.
"It smells good."
"Ginger, lemon, and honey."
"My grandmother's recipe?"
Jamie smiled.
"The first one she ever made whenever anyone got sick."
Alex took a careful sip.
"It tastes better than medicine."
"That's the goal."
An hour later, Alex's fever climbed even higher.
His forehead glistened with sweat despite the cool room.
Jamie placed another damp cloth across his forehead before checking the thermometer again.
Still too high.
He quietly called the medical clinic's after-hours line.
The nurse listened carefully before reassuring him.
"It sounds like influenza. Keep him hydrated, monitor the fever, and bring him in immediately if his breathing changes or he becomes difficult to wake."
Jamie thanked her before hanging up.
The next three days blurred together.
Alex barely left the bed except when Jamie insisted he drink water or walk carefully to the bathroom.
The confident businessman who could manage million-dollar projects without hesitation suddenly struggled to finish a bowl of soup.
Jamie never complained.
Every morning began the same way.
Check Alex's temperature.
Replace the cool cloth.
Prepare fresh tea.
Write down medicine times.
Open the curtains just enough to let gentle sunlight into the room.
Then came the soup.
Always the soup.
On the second morning, Jamie carried a steaming bowl into the bedroom.
Alex opened one eye.
"It smells familiar."
"It should."
Jamie smiled.
"My grandmother believed chicken soup solved at least half of life's problems."
Alex accepted the bowl carefully.
"What about the other half?"
"Fresh bread."
Alex laughed weakly.
"I like your grandmother."
"You would've loved her."
Alex managed a few spoonfuls before setting the bowl aside.
"I'm sorry."
Jamie looked up.
"For what?"
"I've completely ruined your week."
Jamie frowned.
"You caught the flu."
"I've made you play nurse."
Jamie gently shook his head.
"You're my friend."
"I know."
"And friends take care of each other."
Alex looked down.
"I'm not very good at needing people."
Jamie understood.
More than Alex realized.
He pulled the chair a little closer.
"Can I tell you something?"
Alex nodded.
"My grandmother used to say strength wasn't measured by how much you could carry."
Jamie smiled softly.
"It was measured by whether you trusted someone enough to help when the load became too heavy."
Alex quietly listened.
"You've spent your whole life believing you have to do everything alone."
Jamie folded his hands in his lap.
"You don't."
Alex stared at the blanket covering his knees.
"I don't know how."
"I know."
Jamie smiled gently.
"But you're learning."
Alex looked up.
"Am I?"
"You let me help."
A small silence settled between them.
Then Alex smiled.
"I guess I did."
"That's enough for today."
On the third evening, Jamie found Alex standing in the kitchen.
He looked exhausted, wrapped in one of Jamie's oversized sweaters.
"What are you doing?"
Alex blinked.
"I wanted water."
Jamie immediately guided him toward a chair.
"I would've brought it."
"I know."
"I told you to rest."
"I was trying."
Jamie filled a glass before setting it in front of him.
Alex watched him quietly.
"You've barely slept."
Jamie shrugged.
"I've taken naps."
"You've been checking on me every few hours."
"I wanted to make sure your fever stayed down."
Alex looked guilty.
"You shouldn't have to do all this."
Jamie smiled warmly.
"I wanted to."
Alex looked away.
"No one's ever taken care of me like this."
The sentence came out so quietly Jamie almost missed it.
"What about when you were a kid?"
Alex gave a tired smile.
"My parents hired nurses."
Jamie felt something ache inside him.
"They loved me."
He spoke carefully.
"They just..."
"...didn't know how to show it."
Jamie reached across the table and gently squeezed Alex's hand once.
"I'm sorry."
Alex smiled.
"I'm starting to think I missed out on something."
Jamie tilted his head.
"What?"
"This."
He looked around the apartment.
"The soup."
"The reminders."
"The way you keep making sure I drink water."
Jamie smiled.
"My grandmother would've said I'm only doing what anyone should."
Alex looked at him with quiet affection.
"I don't think everyone would."
That night, the fever finally began to break.
Jamie checked the thermometer one last time before allowing himself to relax.
Much better.
He quietly switched off the bedside lamp, leaving only the soft glow from the hallway.
As he turned to leave the room, a warm hand gently wrapped around his wrist.
Jamie looked back.
Alex was only half-awake, his eyes barely open.
"Jamie?"
"I'm here."
Alex's grip tightened slightly.
"Don't go."
Jamie smiled softly.
"I was only going to my room."
Alex slowly shook his head.
"Stay."
His voice was rough with sleep and lingering fever.
"I don't..."
He swallowed.
"...want to be alone."
Jamie's heart melted.
Without saying another word, he sat back down in the chair beside the bed.
Alex's hand found his again almost immediately.
Their fingers settled together naturally.
Within moments, Alex drifted back to sleep.
Even then, he didn't let go.
Jamie looked down at their joined hands resting against the blanket.
A few months ago, this simple gesture would've felt impossible.
Now it felt heartbreakingly natural.
He leaned back in the chair, listening to Alex's breathing grow slow and steady.
The apartment remained silent except for the quiet rain tapping against the windows.
Jamie knew his arm would eventually grow stiff from sitting there all night.
He knew tomorrow would probably bring another long day of medicine, soup, and gentle reminders to rest.
He also knew he wouldn't change places with anyone.
Because the man sleeping peacefully beside him trusted him enough to reach out in his most vulnerable moment.
And Jamie wasn't going anywhere until Alex was well enough to let go.
What Home Feels Like
By the fourth morning, the fever had finally broken.
Jamie knew it before he even checked the thermometer.
The deep flush had faded from Alex's face, replaced by his normal complexion. His breathing was steadier, and when Jamie quietly opened the bedroom door with a fresh mug of tea, he found Alex sitting against the headboard instead of lying flat beneath the blankets.
It was a small improvement.
To Jamie, it felt enormous.
"Good morning," Jamie said softly.
Alex looked up from the book resting in his lap.
"Morning."
"You look better."