Chapter 19: FEVER DREAM

Noah’s head hurts so much by the time they arrive at the hospital he collapses on the wall in the reception. 

Thief, his mind repeats in a never-ending cycle. He doesn’t understand why. 

Warm hands hold him by the shoulders, propping him up, and his cheek suddenly leans on something soft. 

Muffled voices, someone mutters with urgency. But darkness hovers over him, and Noah is too tired to deny it of its right. Blood rushes to his ears, filling everything with the sound of static, and suddenly the connection to the world is severed, and Noah can’t feel anything, but fear.

Because fear is always there. Waiting.

A blow connects to his head, bringing his body forward with the impact. When he reaches up, he feels the warm liquid seeping through his fingers. He staggers backwards, shock freezing his expression in a surprised mask. 

He doesn’t understand.

A mirror reflects Noah’s face. It’s not Noah, he has to remind himself. Riley is staring back at him, his skin is battered and bruised, his neck is bleeding. And he speaks, even though Noah is remaining silent. “This is my body, give it back.”

Noah frowns.

Riley reaches, and Noah realizes it’s not a reflection, when a hand closes in his neck.

“Give it back. I want to live.” His words are angry.

Noah can’t breathe.

“Give it back.” He repeats.

“I don’t know how to give it back,” Noah responds, trying to release the pressure in his neck. But there’s nothing in there. He coughs, clawing at his neck, kneeling, fighting the force that pins his arms down. 

“Then remember,” Riley commands, taking a fistful of hair and dragging him through the floor. Noah kicks, and twists. 

Darkness embraces him, and he can’t move.

But its hug is soft, and warm. 

He opens his droopy eyes.

Light hurts, so he closes them again.

“Stay still,” Rune whispers in his ear.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks to the darkness.

A pause. 

“You say sorry too much.” His words are quiet, a little more than a breeze, so much so that Noah thinks he imagined it.

Maybe he’s still dreaming.

But he doesn’t mind.

A shiver runs down his back, and cold sweat prickles in his brow. He’s trembling, trying to get closer to the warmth, squeezing in, trying to blend in, to become one. 

“I’m cold.”

“You have a fever, it’ll be over soon.” Again, Rune’s voice. It’s a caress against his forehead, a night in the beach, a shared bottle of wine.

The body against his is strong, it anchors his being. Noah is barely aware of his returning the embrace, of his hold on someone’s neck, his cheek resting in someone else’s cheek. Darkness cradles Noah, and their bodies fuse, and Noah’s tears are not important anymore, because he belongs.

It’s a dream, Noah thinks. 

So he can enjoy it.

Nobody will know.

“Thief,” Riley reminds him in the back of his mind. 

“I’ll return it to you,” Noah promises.

“I’ll be waiting,” Riley responds.

Sleep claims him, sloping in and out of consciousness. Every time he wakes up, gasping for air, terror filling his eyes with tears of a dream he doesn’t quite remember, Rune is there. Even if Noah doubts, even with the fear of opening his eyes, and finding himself alone, the boy’s presence is constant. For now, Rune is there. And it’s enough. 

For now.

Days and nights don’t matter in Noah’s mind. He doesn’t count. But he slowly begins to spend more time awake, until he’s able to eat. His arm is in a plaster cast, his pinky finger strapped in a sling. At some point, Dr. Corrales explains he fractured a metacarpal. It’s a minor injury, he says. But he has to be careful, he can’t keep getting hurt.

Noah nods at every advice. 

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Rune takes care of Noah’s discharge, he takes his prescription, holds the messenger bag, and he talks to the doctor. 

Eve and Duncan are waiting in the parking lot, the sun glistens, and the paint of the Toyota shines with hundreds of violet stars. It’s hot outside. 

“Are you trying to set a tradition here?” Eve asks with a mocking smile.

Noah laughs.

“It’s an ice cream type of day,” he mutters as a response, taking off his hoodie. It smells of sweat and blood. Probably, Noah smells just like that, and he winces, remembering Rune near him. His cheeks burn. He hasn’t seen himself in a mirror, and with the nightmare fresh in his mind he doesn’t really want to, but he’s utterly conscious about his matted hair, glued with sweat, and his dirty T-shirt, and the urgent need for a shower. He considers, adding, “But first, I need a shower.”

Eve snorts, while Duncan’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Okay, you go shower, we’ll bring ice cream and,” he points to the file in Rune’s hand, “we’ll talk about that.”

Noah nods, “I’ll call Rose.”

They part ways on the exit to the parking lot. The Toyota to the right, and the Corvette to the left, heading to the apartment building. He misses Rune’s bike, the air deafening the sound of the city, the urge to hold tight to avoid slipping back and falling. He looks at the cast. It’s probably for the better that Rune uses the car now.

The ride home is peaceful and silent. But he remembers Riley’s words, and his accusation bounces back and forth, mixing with the feeling of something just out of the tip of his tongue. Just there. Close, but not enough to remember. He brings the folder to his chest, like a makeshift shield which will protect him from the ugly truth.

 Noah grabs the messenger bag by his feet, fishing the phone. 

He calls Rose a few times, and she finally picks up.

“Riley! I was so worried! What happened?” Her high pitched voice murders Noah’s eardrums.

“I had a fever. I spent some time in the hospital.”

“Are you okay?” She screeches, reaching an even higher tone.

“Yes. Where are you?”

“At Millie’s.” Her words are uncertain.

“I have Natalie’s history records, do you want to take a look?”

A pause.

“Are you sure you want to continue?” Her voice sounds serious and, even if he can’t see her, Noah knows her usual smile is gone.

“Yeah.” He stretches a loose thread on the bag. “Do you?”

Another pause. This time, Noah is convinced Rose will hang up. After all she’s been through, she has enough reasons to abandon this nonsense. After all, she’s not obliged to it as Noah is.

“Of course, silly.” She answers after a while, her cheering tone is back.

Noah smiles. “What flavor ice cream?”

She laughs, “Chocolate mint.”

“Deal.” He hangs up.

Rune drops Noah off before searching for a parking spot. Noah takes that time to run up the stairs. He tries to ignore the lingering fear which echoes the last time he climbed up, shouting Rose’s name, expecting the worst. Now, everything is silent, the urgency is gone, but he’s somewhat adamant to reach the door. Like the attackers aren’t gone, like Rose is still there, terror sticking in her trembling words. 

Apartment 805. The door looks untouched. The silver numbers are worn-out, with specks of black and grey, and scratches. When Noah comes inside, he discovers the place is the same as he left it. Without a trembling Rose on the sofa, it’s a messy apartment. The lively decorations of his roomie make a contrast to the many unnamed boxes full of notebooks, and papers. To that, Noah has added a small rack to order the books he bought at The Old Bookhouse, as well as some anatomy posters. Three separate people have lived there, and it shows. Even so, the disparity creates cozy ambiance, a home. Where diversity is not a bad thing, but a sign of life.

Nothing is out of place, not more than usual. 

The only warning is the sound of his boots. Rune comes inside, closing the door, and leaning against it. Noah brings him a glass of water.

Noah has to adopt an awkward position to keep the cast dry. The scalding water pushes his hair against his scalp, it washes over him in a wave that relaxes his muscles, taking away the weight of his worries. He leans his forehead in the tiles, and lets the hot liquid run the lines of his back. Water droplets meet in his lashes, falling in his cheeks in rivers of warm that erase the sadness which had made way earlier.

He dresses in his blue pajamas. The fabric is soft. Through the sound of the drier, he hears the doorbell.

He leaves the dirty clothing in the laundry basket, changes his bandages, and heads out. 

Eve and Duncan carry white plastic bags with containers, and Noah’s tastebuds respond to the thought instantly.  

“Delivery’s here.”

They set the table, and Noah brings his desk chair, and Rose’s vanity stool. Noah settles on the sofa, Rune by his side. 

Rose arrives some time later, and she grabs a cushion to sit on the floor.

Duncan gives her the pint of mint chocolate ice cream, he’s smiling sideways, and Noah can see sadness. But before he can ask, Duncan turns to Noah, his eyebrows up, “Shall we?”

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