“Jesus. You still here?” “Yep. You’re stuck with me for now.” He blinks up at me. “Am I hallucinating? Is this a fever dream?” he asks. “No,” I say, pressing the cool washrag to his cheeks again, and his eyelids flutter shut once more. “You’re being too nice. I hate it.” “Nah, Theo. You love it. Being taken care of.” “Argh. Stop it. Stop being so nice and….and hot.”
