The Spare To The Throne

Chapter 37: Unsalvaged Heart

An unrelenting cough constricts my throat. Instantly, my slumber wears off. The cough comes again, this time accompanied with sneezing too. This forms into a pattern and I shiver, trying my best to sit up in bed. My room's frosty air pricks me. Slowly, my nasal passage closes and I'm left with only my mouth as a way to breath.

"Oh no." I whimper as I feel my throat prepare itself for the next series of uncontrollable coughs.

THUD! THUD! THUD! CRACK!

My head throbs at this. I turn to my window, where the sounds managed to penetrate through. The persistent thuds and clacks expounds my edgy nerves. My hands fumble with the duvet as I try to get up. Pulling back my window curtain, I see a wide awake Xavier with his back facing me. I watch amused, as he draws his arms back, the muscles beneath his shirt flexing unintentionally. Then with all his might he plunges the axe down splitting a bulky log of firewood straight in two. His cuts are clean and from my viewpoint, effortless. I take in his plain t-shirt. The white thin fabric looked paper thin. Its costly yet flimsy textile is without a doubt in my mind ineffectual in providing warmth. Not in such wintry weather. Just watching him makes me shiver. I glance at the clock. 9:00am.

Closing back the curtain, I leave to find a decent sweater. Briskly, I make my way to Xavier's room. His drawers and closet could start up a shopping mall alone and the abundance of clothing made my head spin. After digging for several minutes, I come across a black sweater. It's thick cotton fabric is enough padding to keep anyone warm. A pair of matching gloves is nestled deep between a few of his dress shirts. I grab it and exit the room.

The faster I walk, the harsher the air aerates my skin. The thought is puzzling. How can anyone live in such jarring temperature? Talklesss of performing a strenuous task outside where the weather is far more incongruous than it is in the house. I could faint. Descending the stairs, I stop midway to sneeze. Before my feet touch the last step, I'm a full on sneezing coughing mess. My lungs wheeze at every inhale, imbuing my sickly feeling.

I sigh. This happens every year. There's a long history of fevers and flu's following my reputation. It's almost tradition. And I hate it. Then there's the phase when my body can't make up its mind if it's hot or cold. I'm left indecisive and in between.

"Good morning," I sniff at the guards barricading the door. The sound of my own congested voice makes me cringe. They don't respond, unsurprisingly. "I just want to-"

Before I could even finish, they move aside, opening the door, granting me permission. This unforeseen moment astonishes me. Glad, yet taken aback from this reaction, I ponder if they're letting me go outside because they want me to get out their faces and hopefully not contaminate them, or its now suddenly okay to do as I please. I don't get a chance to finalize an answer because a flurry gust of wind fans me mercilessly. I close my eyes then open them again. My face goes numb and I contemplate going back to my room to snuggle under the covers.

As I walk outside, the sound of chopping wood grows louder. Slowly I tread towards Xavier. His back, almost bare and still towards me, doesn't pause to stop. I know he's oblivious to my presence and for a mere second, I find myself enjoying it that way. Just watching him in his natural state. I want to trace his back with my fingers. Feel every ridge and depth of muscle that makes him, him. But I refrain myself.

Suddenly my nose twinges, and I feel a sneeze building up. I close my eyes and nude my face into my elbow, sneezing wildly.

The thudding of wood ceases as Xavier turns around. Perplexity masks his face as he takes in my appearance from head to toe. His heavy breathing steadies. "Bless you." he says in the from of a question rather than a statement.