My Life is Not a Manga, or maybe...

Harem Scarem: 019

There are two actions a manga character can take to ensure they catch a cold: sleep with their stomach exposed or get soaked in the rain. Exposure to someone who's infected? Nah, that's not necessary at all. It's called a "cold" because you catch it when you're cold, right?

For a self-proclaimed manga expert, I sure seem to stumble into a lot of easily avoidable situations.

That's right: the morning after I arrived back home sopping wet and sans-umbrella I woke up with an absolutely vicious cold. Fever, sinuses full of nastiness, the works.

Mom took one look at me when I stumbled downstairs after waking up and sent me right back to bed. Guess I looked as bad as I felt.

# # #

I spent the rest of the morning and into early afternoon alternately dozing, popping acetaminophen, and re-watching classic movies.

"Well it just so happens that your friend here is only mostly dead. There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead—is slightly alive."

Yep, that pretty much summed up my existence. To anyone who believes there was some sort of intelligence involved in the design of humans, I offer Exhibit A: sinuses. QED.

By mid-afternoon it was obvious that I was trending towards another nap, but I'd woken up from my morning's nap with that horrible, grimy feeling of having sweated a bunch in my sleep so before stumbling off to bed, I opted to take a raging hot shower. Best decision I ever made; I could practically feel the gunk in my sinuses melting down my throat.

On second thought, I guess the shower was kind of a mixed bag.

In any case, I emerged from the steam, wrapped a towel around my waist, and headed for my bedroom.

And of course Rachel had just come up the stairs when I exited the bathroom.

She turned slightly pink around the ears and looked away, which I pointedly ignored, opting instead for obtaining a death grip on my towel to ensure no ill-timed manga-triggered full-frontals and heading straight for my room. I was absolutely not in the mood for raising flags or awkward ecchi situations, thank you very much.

She evidently wasn't willing to just let me go, though. "How are you doing, Xavier?"

"I'm sick as a dog and wearing nothing but a towel; I've been better."

"Right, I'll let you get dressed. Just, um—you've got visitors downstairs."

"Visi—" Oh. Right. Sick man with a harem here. Manga protagonists always get visited by their love interest when they're home ill. I was lucky none of them had ambushed me in my room. Accidental sexy hijinks with feverish people were a manga mainstay. Odds are Jill dropped by on her way home from school or something.

Wait, though. She said "visitors," plural. How many of them could possibly be down there?

"I'll be down in a bit, then," I said. "Don't let anyone come upstairs, would you?"

Rachel smiled wryly and shrugged. "Okay."

# # #

Trekking downstairs after throwing on some clothes, I discovered Paula and Samantha bemusedly ensconced at the kitchen table while my mother gradually increased the number of snacks arranged in front of them. Rachel had disappeared off somewhere; maybe she'd retreated to her room to avoid getting fed, as well.

"Ah, Xavier," said Mom when I entered the kitchen. "Some friends are here to check up on you."

"Like I said, I'm just here to drop off his Japanese assignment and to visit Vickie," protested Samantha.