The Trials of Being Loved

Part 23 - Oh, It's My Fault, Polar Bear

Morning came... as did his hangover. Tay woke in an empty bed with the curtains drawn. He had become used to waking with sunlight streaming in, from New being an early riser. Rubbing his aching temples, "Fuck." 

He rolled off the bed, feeling how full his bladder was, wondering where in the hell Newwie was... when memories of the night flooded his mind. He sank to the floor, disgusted in himself. "Did he go home? Fuck, I wouldn't blame him..." 

Standing, he moved slowly, tripping over his jeans. He squeezed his eyes shut at the mess on the floor, not wanting to admit HE made it. Then his OCD kicked in, overriding even his need to void his bladder. Bending carefully, he picked up the clothes he wore the day before, his hand sticking in something on his tee shirt. 

"Oh, fuck! It wasn't a damn dream. I really did that..." New's words came back to haunt him just then. 

"How does it feel to be the dead fish?" 

"Seriously, what does a dead fish have anything to DO with having sex???" Tay muttered, throwing the stained tee shirt in the laundry hamper. "Fuck, I swear, I wish he came with a damn instruction book! The person who said women were complicated never tried dating New!"

He opened the bedroom door, and walked briskly to the bathroom and turned the knob. It was locked. Ah, so he was still here. Fuck knocking. He ran his hand over the top of the frame and found the key, safe where the condo manager had placed it the day he had moved in. Unlocking the door, his heart almost stopped beating. 

New was so pale, shivering, curled up on the cold tile floor. He crouched down, bladder forgotten again, and placed a hand on his face. He was burning hot. 

Now, swearing loudly, Tay picked him up gently in his arms, bridal style, a soft "Oof " escaping at the weight of his body. He carried him back to the bed and tucked him in where his body heat lingered, covering him with the blue duvet. Pressing a kiss to his hot forehead, he whispered, "Wait, I'll be back."

He ran, first to the bathroom and took care of business. Then, he made congee. So basic... at least he didn't need to shop for anything. He always had rice and eggs. He tapped a foot impatiently as he wondered if he had paracetamol or patches... had they used all the tablets already? 

New, he knew, had been the last in the bottle. He didn't use pain pills much, preferring to feel it if he was stupid enough get hurt. It reminded him that he was a wuss when it came to pain. NOTHING prepared him for the agony that seeing the person you loved in pain.

Nothing!

"Fuck!" It was the smell of rice burning that brought him out of his musings. As impossible as it was to burn congee (something he hadn't done since he was ten years old) so lost in thought, he had done so! "Fuck!" Quickly transferring it into another pot, he gave it a quick taste to see if it was edible. 

Oh thank god! Saveable. Quickly, he beat the egg and stirred it in. Making tea, and then served up the congee. He set a tray and carried it into the bedroom, glad he took the time to tidy. New had once again made a nest. 

This was HIS fault, this time. It was time to fix it. But first, he had to take care of New and nurse him back to health. He had managed to deal with his fuck ups, he lived with his issues, every day. 

So why couldn't Newwie? Sitting on the bed, he unburied his nesting polar bear, determined to turn him from a snarling cub, into a proud bear with claws. "Time to make you shine, New." He sighed softly, "But," He grunted as he hefted his dead weight to a upright, sitting postion. "Let's feed you. You need to be healthy."

He heard some muttered words and a sniffle, before a full blown coughing fit. "What was that, Newwie? Didn't quite catch it." Tay bent his head closer to the weak man.