The first thing he notices is that Leo is missing. He comes in ready to work and after thirty minutes of the man not appearing, he asks around.
“No clue,” Lina says, frowning. “I hope it’s not the flu.”
“If it is, he’d better not get me sick,” Rowan murmurs, scrolling through a file on his computer.
Austin has to battle for a moment with the idea of asking Katie or Dean. He knows he shouldn’t—it’s really none of his business. Still, they’re partners, and he feels like he has a good reason.
“Hey, Katie. Is Leo out for the day?”
“Yeah—I got a call from him a few minutes ago. Think he’s home with the flu,” she says, sounding sorry. “I hope he gets better. This year’s supposed to be one of the worst.”
“Yeah. I hope he gets better, too,” Austin agrees.
He knows now, at least, what it is. He can’t do much about it, though—at least not during the day. While he feels a tiny bit of disappointment at not being able to call the man, he’s more worried about his health. He decides to text him, hoping Leo is at least conscious enough to answer messages on his phone.
How r u feeling? Katie says ur sick.
He sets his phone aside, fingers tapping on his desk. He desperately wants to call but he knows better. Calling would just make things intimate, he thinks. He tells himself that his worry is warranted—after all, he’s a decent human being. He just wants to know if his friend is okay. We’re together a lot, he thinks. Besides, I have to know what he has just in case I get it.
He realizes after a while that he’s staring at his phone between jobs, willing it to move. He tries to consciously ignore it but it doesn’t work. The second it buzzes, the screen coming to life, he grabs it.
Think I have the flu or a bad cold. Just sleeping a lot.
Austin sighs, relieved that he at least has an answer. It’s better than nothing, he tells himself. Even if it is worrying. He ponders his options, looking at the clock. One in the afternoon.
Is ur roommate helping u out?
R u kidding? Only thing I can count on him for is rent.
Austin pauses, thinking. He knows he can’t do much in the office without Leo. He hasn’t taken any time off, either, and he’s ahead. Maybe I can go, he thinks, already planning his escape. He quickly heads to the front desk, phone in hand.
“Hey, Katie?”
“Austin. What’s up?”
“I was thinking of leaving early, to bring Leo some things and help him out. I’m ahead at the moment, so it shouldn’t cause any issues with the schedule.”
“Of course,” she smiles, making a note on the side of her computer. “Tell him I hope he gets better, and don’t go getting sick yourself, okay?”
“Definitely,” Austin smiles, slapping his hand against the desk before leaving.
He gets his things together in quick order, letting Lina and Rowan know he’ll be gone. They send him on his way with well-wishes, and Lina reminds him, Get vitamin C supplements and orange juice, Austin, they’ll help a lot. He stops at the store once he gets out of work, basket on his arm as he considers how to text Leo.
Where’s ur apartment
He leaves punctuation out of the picture, hoping it will seem casual enough to put the man at ease. He’s not entirely optimistic, but he hopes that in his weakened state, Leo will be more comfortable with giving the information away.
He gets the answer, an address underlined in blue, as he’s throwing orange juice into his hand basket. He pays in self-checkout, moving as quickly as possible and mapping the way to Leo’s apartment as he gets the car turned on and his seatbelt buckled.
Somehow, he doesn’t think to question what he’s doing. All he knows is that Leo is sick and needs help; he wants the man back at work as soon as possible, so he’s going to help. Nothing about it is strange to him. His past reservations are put on hold as he focuses his determination on helping.
When he finally gets to the apartments, his first impression is surprise. He said he was broke, but I still didn’t expect this, he thinks. Not that it’s a terrible place—it’s just old and dirty. Even the elevator is creepy—it looks like it’s never been cleaned, and he can smell the dumpster when he gets into the elevator. He feels almost guilty for coming—he knows Leo is a private person and doesn’t like broadcasting things about himself. I hope he doesn’t hate me when he gets better.
He knocks on the right door, tense, and waits. There’s shuffling from behind the door and then it opens. Leo is standing there, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders pitifully. His blond hair is a tangled mess, eyes red and bleary. He’s still in pajamas; his pants are a deep blue cotton and his shirt is cheap and white, clinging to his sweaty body.
“Hey. You look...bad,” Austin says, wincing. “Sorry. I—”
“’S fine,” Leo says, sniffling as he lets Austin in. “I can’t believe you came. You could get sick, you know.”
“I could get sick anywhere in the world,” Austin reminds him, unloading his bags onto the kitchen table. “Anyway, you need to get better. I brought a few things—juice and soup. Lina says to eat garlic and vitamin C. Oh, everyone says to get better.”
He’s rambling, he knows. Leo doesn’t seem to care, though—either because he’s sick or because he’s grateful. Probably both. Austin rummages in the kitchen, looking for a pot as Leo pours himself a glass of juice.
“You didn’t have to come,” Leo says, voice rough. “It’s not fun being around a sick person. And isn’t it work hours? Did you just—”
“I’m ahead,” Austin says, smirking when Leo rolls his eyes. “Figured it would make sense to drop by. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is,” Leo sighs, shuffling back to the couch in the tiny living space. He curls up at one end, studiously keeping himself to two cushions.
“It really isn’t. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Leo says, blinking sleepily even as he continues. “I hate being sick. Can’t deal with sick people, either. I always feel like I can’t do much, and I can’t afford to be away from work. So I try and avoid sickness as much as humanly possible...”
The man falls asleep while the soup warms up, and Austin watches him, thinking. He feels like he’s catching a glimpse of something secret. A private face that Leo keeps locked away from the world. It’s vulnerable and quiet, so far away from his usually charismatic persona. It’s almost as if Austin has peeled back all of the layers, getting down to the bone of what Leo is.
Which, apparently, is self-isolating. Reserved. Sure of what he wants but not sure that anyone wants to give it. Austin is reluctant to recognize similarities they share; he can’t ignore them, though, however much he tries. We really do fit together, somehow.
He wakes Leo up after fifteen minutes with a hot bowl, somewhat cooled down by that time.
“Thanks.”
“No problem,” Austin repeats quietly. He watches Leo finish, letting him fall back asleep and curl into his space on the couch.
He spends most of the afternoon on his phone, relaxing and forgetting about what he has to go back to the next morning. Work is the furthest thing from his mind. Leo wakes up to drink water and juice every so often but he mostly sleeps, breathing heavily as he sweats out the sickness. Austin wonders how long it will take him to get back on his feet and decides it doesn’t matter. Just as long as he gets better.
Austin leaves sometime in the evening, hungry, waking up after an indeterminate amount of time. He’s shocked that he was able to fall asleep in a strange place, especially since he’s sleeping next to a sick man. Somehow, though, he did. He puts the rest of the soup in a bowl and puts it in the microwave, setting the timer and leaving it there. He sends Leo a message with the details about his medicine, making sure to keep the phone off the table so it doesn’t buzz and wake him up.
Somehow, he feels better, much better—about everything, really. When he drives home, he thinks about how simple it was. How nonthreatening it felt just to be there, lending a helping hand. It almost felt too good.
His phone buzzes when he’s making dinner.
Thanks for coming. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate that you did.
Austin smiles, considering how to answer. He isn’t sure what to say in response. Everything he wants to say seems so trite—it’s fine, I just want you to be better, it was the least I could do. He decides on something anyway, typing out his response after wiping his hands on a towel.
It’s fine. I’m glad I could help.
He spends the rest of the day thinking about it—the way he lost track of time and felt so at home, sleeping beside Leo while waiting for him to get better. No pressure or judgement. Just Austin supporting Leo, being there to help him without any outside judgment.
I could get used to that.