Asher

It isn't that he cannot cook, but in the distraction of his thoughts, Asher is making a mess of the kitchen. He wasn't sure of what he should make for Sarah, so he settled for spaghetti, mostly because he thought it was a fool-proof meal. As it happens, it is quite possible to burn tomato sauce. Keegan would be so upset if he was able to see the mess sticking to the stovetop.

The pot of water boils over for the second time as Sarah comes into the house, dragging Asher from his thoughts with the sound of the door clicking shut. Keegan's mom steps into the kitchen wearing her disheveled scrubs, pausing to look around as she pushes her short hair out of her face. "Hey, Asher," She greets, finding him with her eyes. "Is everything alright? Your bike was on the ground," She wipes a palm on her sky blue bottoms, leaving a trail of dirt on them. Unlike her son, Sarah has no issue with germs or stains. In fact, she can be quite messy and disorganized. "And there's mud on the door handle."

Asher had cleaned up the dirt he tracked in at the door but forgot to wipe it off of the handle on the outside. The grimy key remains in his pocket, which he is reminded of with the topic of discussion. He draws it out and gives a sheepish smile, walking it over to the sink wash it off. "I'm sorry, I was in a hurry," Asher shuts off the faucet and dries his hands, setting the clean key on the counter. He looks over his shoulder, voice softening as he adds, "Keegan's sick."

Sarah had sat down on the white bench beside the door to slip her shoes off when she stops and looks up. "Where is he?" She stands abruptly, stepping on her heels to remove her footwear more quickly. "How bad is it?" She trips on one of her white trainers in her hurry across the room but catches herself in stride.

Asher abandons the stove to follow her hurried steps, heading to her son's room before Asher can provide an answer. "He's asleep now," he explains, waiting outside of the door as Sarah creeps to Keegan's bedside, fully illuminated by the light of the kitchen.

Sarah carefully crouches by the bed to feel his forehead without waking him. After a moment of comparing her temperature to his, she sighs and adjusts the covers over his shoulders, smoothing them over with a hand before standing up. "He has a fever," She whispers, shaking her head and backing out of the room, drawing the door closed quietly behind her. She massages a point above her left eyebrow, closing her eyes for a moment. "Did he faint this time?"

Asher shakes his head, glancing at the floorboards when she opens her eyes to look at him. "I don't think so. He was asleep when I left for practice and I left him on the couch. I went home to grab some things and was on my way back when he texted me. He was in the shower when I got home... He had the water on cold and his clothes on. He must have been trying to cool off."

Sarah nods and slowly walks back to the kitchen, sinking onto one of the stools, looking even more tired than she did when she walked through the door. "Alright, it's not as bad as it could be, at least. Hey, you're burning my stove."

Asher hadn't noticed the smoke plumbing from the pot and hurries to shut the burners off, dragging the smoking pans from the heat. He leaps back as some of the boiling water jumps out of one of them. "Shoot, I'm sorry. Keegan would kill me."

Sarah waves a hand in dismissal, seemingly amused that Asher is more concerned over her son's reaction to the mess than her own. "It's alright, you know how he'd clean it up. Do you know what could have gotten him sick?" She asks, turning the conversation back to Keegan.

Asher grabs a sponge and begins to soak up some of the mess he made, keeping his back to her, hoping that she won't be able to read his expression and the lie that creases his forehead. "No."

"Asher," Sarah's voice is a warning, her eyes burning into his back. "Don't lie to me. We both know how he is."

Asher sighs, giving in. He really didn't want to lie to her, anyway. Keegan was always better at it than he was. "Okay. He snuck out last night."

Sarah raises an eyebrow, piecing together what he means. "To the school?"

"Yes." Asher keeps his head low, focusing on cleaning the mess he made, picking at the hardened bits with his fingernail.

Keegan's mother runs a hand through her bobbed hair, closing her eyes. "Is something bothering him lately?" She sighs, sounding defeated. "He never tells me anything anymore."

"He just doesn't want to cause you trouble," Asher tries to make her feel better with his hurried response. "Do you remember Michael Bailey?"

Sarah squints at the ceiling, trying to recall the name. She rubs the dark circles beneath her eyes. "Maybe. Wasn't it that one boy from middle school?"

Asher nods, draining the steaming water from the pot into the sink. "You don't want this, do you?"

"Is it edible?"

"I wouldn't place it in that category." He admits, eyeing the overcooked pasta noodles.

"Then no, thank you for the thought, though. You're a very considerate kid. So what of Michael?"

Asher proceeds to dump the soggy pasta into the garbage can and does the same to the tomato sauce. The bottom of the second pan is crusted with charred food that will be difficult to scrub off. "We have a meet with his new team on Wednesday. I think he's excited about it."

Sarah is quiet for a moment, so Asher glances back at her to see if she'd fallen asleep. Instead, she has her head turned, gazing out the window above the sink into the darkness. Since she can't see anything outside, Asher can tell that she is deep in thought. "So, that's what it is. Is he going to be able to swim if he doesn't go to school tomorrow?"

Asher fills the burnt pot with hot water and soap and pauses as he reaches for the baking soda in one of the cabinets beneath the sink. "I'm not sure. In usual circumstances, he wouldn't be allowed to swim just for missing practice tonight, but Coach knows as well as the rest of us that we won't be able to win if Kee doesn't swim. Especially with Michael on the other team. You saw how they were in middle school," Asher resumes his cleaning. "I'll talk to Coach about it tomorrow. Even he won't want to miss this reunion."

Keegan

When Keegan opens his eyes the next morning, the first thing that he notices is that his headache is gone. The second thing he finds when he eases himself upright is that Asher is on his bedroom floor, still dressed in yesterday's clothes.

He has his arms and heads resting on Keegan's comforter, with his long legs tucked up beneath him on the floor. Elizabeth is curled up against one of his arms, purring contently in her sleep. Keegan drowsily watches them for a few minutes before reaching over the sleeping pair for his glasses.

As soon as he moves, Asher stirs and sits up, immediately blanching at his stiff muscles.

"You shouldn't have slept that way," Keegan comments matter-of-factly, placing his glasses on his face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave you, in case you needed something," Asher rubs his sore neck, fighting a yawn. "How are you feeling?"

Keegan pushes the blanket back and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He sits like that for a moment beside Asher, testing his dizziness. He feels much better, though he is still light-headed. He assumes it's from barely eating the day before, and that it will fade once he has breakfast. "I'm fine."

Asher rubs his eyes with his palms and slowly stands up, stretching his arms above his head. "Are you hungry? I'll make you something. You should stay in bed."

Keegan looks up at him as Elizabeth comes to sleepily sit in his lap. "I'm fine," his jaw sets definitively. "I'm going to school."

Asher's expression softens as he looks at his friend. It is true that he looks better than he did yesterday, but his cheeks are still flushed with a fever. "Sarah told me not to let you go."

Keegan's head spins as he stands up, but he manages to keep his balance. He focuses on the weight of Elizabeth in his arms, using it to ground him like an anchor. "You can't stop me."

"I know," Asher admits, keeping a careful watch on Keegan as he starts for the living room, following in his shadow. "Are you worried about the meet? I'm going to talk to Coach today, so don't worry about it. You should really stay home," Asher continues to speak as he heads to the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee, raising his voice a little so he can still be heard clearly. "Just stay and sleep until practice. I'll even pick you up so you don't miss it again."

Keegan sits on the couch, releasing Elizabeth. She stays beside him and lays down on his lap, pressing her small head into his hand as she dozes back off. He is a little taken aback by Asher's response, so his words are delayed for a few beats while he processes his friend's words. "You aren't going to try to talk me out of it?"

Asher comes to stand behind the couch, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms. "I didn't say you were going to swim, just that you should come. Coach won't like it if you miss two practices in a row."

Keegan looks away from him with a slight pout, softly stroking Elizabeth behind one of her ears. He knows that Asher is right. Even if he does try to swim, he knows quite well that both Asher and their Coach will dive in to retrieve him from the water by force. He wants more than anything to participate in the competition against Christian Academy; He can't miss the opportunity to race Michael again, but to do that, he has to get better to even stand a chance.

"What, no argument?" Asher teases, catching himself reaching out to smooth his friend's sleep disheveled curls. He retracts his hand and his fingers around the fabric of the couch, instead, as he realizes what he'd almost done. Keegan would have reacted badly to the sudden touch of his friend's hand and startled like a rabbit. Asher does not want to jeopardize the progression he and Keegan have established over the past few years, especially over a compulsive desire.

Keegan shrugs a shoulder and looks out the living room window, oblivious to Asher's restraint as he reluctantly accepts the reality of his situation. Asher realizes that Keegan and his mother share the same thoughtful habit and sees her strong resemblance in Keegan's profile. Though Keegan has his father's eyes and hair texture, everything else about his face is shared with Sarah, right down to the long, dark eyelashes.

"I'll get you some medicine, then I'm taking a shower. Don't move around too much, okay? I'll make something to eat once I get out."

Keegan nods in compliance and listens to Asher walks back towards the kitchen without turning his head. There is some noise as cupboards are opened and closed, and a lid is screwed off of a container. The floorboards groan in protest beneath Asher as he walks back to the living room, presenting a glass of water and medicine to Keegan. He watches him gulp down the pills before exchanging the water glass for a navy blue coffee mug.

Keegan mutters his thanks before pulling his feet up onto the couch, carefully trying to avoid disrupting the sleeping cat in his lap. He sips the steaming, black liquid before reaching for the book on the end table that he'd forgotten about last night.

Asher watches him for a moment before walking back to the kitchen to clean and rinse the glass. So far, Keegan hasn't been exhibiting any signs of his illness worsening, so he may not have been lying about feeling better. It wouldn't be the first time that he's covered up the truth to protect Asher, though.

Asher arches his back to look through the dividing archway from the kitchen to the living room, observing the familiar tilt of Keegan's curly head as he reads. He catches himself smiling as he reaches to turn the tap water off, and runs a damp hand through his own tousled hair.

"I'm going to take a shower. Think about what you want to eat, okay? And don't say "nothing", because you need to eat something." Asher says as he makes his way to the laundry room to grab some clothes that Keegan had washed, as well as a clean towel.

Keegan nods, not looking up from his literature. It isn't until the door of the bathroom opens again that he glances up, setting his empty coffee cup on the table beside him.

Asher emerges in a cloud of pleasantly scented steam, with a dark gray towel wrapped around his waist. Upon noticing Keegan's attention, his ears redden and he adjusts his garment in embarrassment. "Sorry, I forgot boxers." He ducks his head as he disappears back into the laundry room for a moment, only to head back to the bathroom again.

Asher has a pair of dark washed jeans around his waist in place of the towel when he reappears a moment later. He places the dirty clothes in the laundry room before pulling the white v-neck that he wore around his neck down to wear it properly. "So, have you decided what you want to eat?"

Keegan runs his tongue over the dryness of his lower lip, glancing back down to his book. "No. I'll eat whatever you eat." He glances up as Asher pauses to take the dirty cup from the table beside him, noticing as he reaches to rub the back of his neck again. He must be sore from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position all night.

"Asher," Keegan releases an inaudible sigh and beckons him over with a hand, pausing his friend in his steps.

Asher looks back at his name, raised brows showing that he is surprised to hear it. "What is it?"

Keegan marks his place in the book before setting it aside, and he gestures to the floor in front of him. "Come and sit here."

Confused, Asher slowly turns around and replaces the mug beside the book. He hesitates before lowering himself to a crouch in front of Keegan, hyperaware of the knees that push gently against his back. "What's wrong?" He asks, trying to turn his head to look at his friend.

He pauses when he feels cool hands on the bare skin of his neck. Asher can't recall a time where Keegan has ever touched him like this before, so freely and unhesitatingly. Aside from the occasional brushing of shoulders or taking his hand to be helped from the pool, their skinship has always been limited. This is an abrupt step forward and though it may be caused by Keegan's unwellness, Asher can't help the pleased smile on his face.

A small moan of discomfort escapes Asher's lips as Keegan presses his thumbs against irritated muscles, though his smooth hands provide a cooling effect to the warm skin. Keegan is no masseur, but he seems to be trying his best to soothe Asher's sore muscles.

"What are you doing?" Asher asks, swallowing as Keegan massages his hands over his tender neck and shoulders, still in shock at the feeling of the contact. "Do you still feel sick?"

Keegan fights the urge to press harder at the assumption, annoyed by it. "I told you, you shouldn't have slept like this. You won't be able to swim properly if you're in pain, so just come up next time."

Asher sucks in a breath when he realizes what Keegan is saying. He didn't tell Asher to go to the living room couch to sleep; he offered to share his bed, with an outsider, a foreign contagion. He has never done such a thing before, as he hasn't even slept in the same bed as his mother since he was four. Is it because they've spent so much time together in their lives? Is this Keegan's way of letting him closer to him? Or, perhaps he just isn't thinking straight because of his sickness. Perhaps he really is unwell.

Keegan sighs, his breath tickling Asher's bare skin as his fingers comb through his friend's wet locks. "Your hair is soaked. You're going to get your shirt wet; then you'll be sick, too."

"... Sorry," Asher mutters, closing his eyes and leaning into the massage. He had never realized how comforting Keegan's hands are, or how soft and dry his skin is from being exposed to so much chlorine. They're very cool and soothing, like a pediatric nurse's.

"Stop apologizing," there is a pause, in which Keegan considers continuing his sentence carefully. Usually, he would stop there, but he has a feeling that his friend could use a bit of encouragement and feels guilty for being a burden to him. Asher seems stressed with the excitement and pressure of the swim meet taking place in a few days, and Keegan is aware of how much worry his current state is causing his friend on top of it all. "The team needs you at your best for the next few days, at least. The coach may tell them what to do, but you are who they really listen to."

Asher is quiet for a moment, soaking in his friend's statement. It is rare for Keegan to speak so much, or to offer such encouragement. Words form on his lips, but they catch in his throat as Keegan gives Asher's shoulder a soft pat, signaling that he has had enough contact for one day.

Asher swallows and makes to stand, not turning to face his friend as he does so. "I'll make you some breakfast," He says, voice gentle in the small living room. "You should rest while you wait."