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'...Once, there was a prince who mourned over his beloved. His bride fell to the curse of a bitter witch who envied her beauty. Cursed to be beautiful until death, his beloved fell into a bewitched slumber to last for a hundred years. It is said the prince became so distraught that he sacrificed a part of himself to see her once again.

His humanity.'

"Good lord!"

I groan. The only thing distracting me from pain is this book. The gloved hand pressed against my forehead is a sharp chill against my burning skin. I'm annoyed, but the cold feels nice.

Julian tuts as he checks his doctor's bag. "A hundred degrees! Thirty-eight in Celsius. And you say you've been feeling this way for a few days?"

I feel guilty as Julian flicks off his gloves with a dramatic air. He must have been swamped today to be in his full doctor's garb.

He didn't need to be here. But at the slightest mention of me being ill, Julian dropped all his morning appointments and hurried to the shop. I'm not sure why. But it was a lovely gesture.

Or so I thought.

Imagine our surprise when he showed up head to toe in black leather and a ghostly plague mask. Suddenly it's as if the ultimate bearer of bad news is monitoring my last days rather than a friend simply checking my slightly higher-than-average temperature today.

"Is it bad?"

Another face hovers next to Julian. The one with the stubbled jaw and furrowed brows is my Muriel. The shadow deepening his brow makes him look more worried than he actually is. His large, scowling presence is a natural fright. But not to me. His being here by my side is a constant anchor keeping me grounded. I know I can rely on him. Despite his dislike for the dramatic doctor, he was the one who told Julian about my fever.

"Quite. I had a feeling she had been feeling under the weather since yesterday. But really, you two should have told me days ago." Julian says, "Though no need to worry, big guy. With plenty of bed rest, she'll be fine once the cold virus leaves her system. Which should be about a week or so."

I whimper. A week? Will the shop survive without me for a week? And the bills?

Julian hovers over me, and Muriel instinctively follows. Their dark silhouettes peer down at me, like two eager medical students examining their newest specimen under a blinding light. They become human again once they remove their gear. Julian's eyes are sad and sympathetic. He gently pats my arm as he brightens up with a warm smile.

"Sorry. That means no working, alright? Doctor's orders. And look, this time it's me!"

Muriel rolls his eyes. The doctor is left to laugh at his own joke as he moves to pack up his medical equipment. Muriel leans in to whisper into my ear.

"Don't worry, I already told Asra. He said that he'll manage the shop while you recover."

A gentle kiss graces my forehead, and I deflate with a relieved sigh. I'm so glad he's here.

"Right, I'm off. Still have that one appointment to get to." Julian's gaggle of red hair disappears into the staircase. "I'll tell our dear friend to bring you some fresh ginger this afternoon. Tell him I said hi!"

Muriel accompanies him. "But you and Asra see each other everyday." And they live together.

"I know!"

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With one last laugh, the front door of the shop slams shut. Though his peppy energy was a welcome one, all is quiet and peaceful once again.

The bed creaks as Muriel slowly settles down next to me. Even when I'm sick, he runs warmer than my burning fever. It's almost too much, but the weight of him next to me and the steady beat of his heart bring a familiar comfort. The earthy herbs he works with daily linger in his clothes and it quiets the ache in my head.

"This sucks." I wheeze with a hoarse throat and stuffy nose, like a dying animal. Ugh.

"Sorry." Muriel's deep chuckle is a soothing thrum, "I guess the raw salmon in the city isn't as fresh as it is in the forest."

"I wouldn't know if that's true." I whisper to avoid wheezing.

"Yeah. Anyway, how are you feeling?"

He wraps my shoulder with his arm, bringing me into his loving warmth. His hands have rough callouses built over years of hard labor, yet his touch is gentle as he rubs slow circles on my skin. I may be dying over this biting fever. But it'll take me losing an arm or shattering my femur before I fall into despair while my Muriel is here.

I open my mouth to tell him as much, but all comes out is a pained whimper. 

Muriel snorts a quiet laugh. "Mm, that checks out."

Sorry, Muriel...

"And that's okay." A sudden chill returns to the bed as Muriel gets up, "Here. Let's try this."

He grabs hold of my person. I'm no different than a raggedy girl doll in his powerful grip. Compared to his massive frame, I may as well look like one too. But Muriel is careful as he rearranges my body between the mountain of furs, blankets, and books. 

Until he wraps me into the blanket like how one wraps a burrito. 

"I know what this looks like." he hides the tiny smile on his face, "But it's supposed to make you feel better... somehow. Asra said something about warmth and hugs."

The burrito blanket is adorable on fussy babies and feisty kittens. But I look like a brown cocoon with a human face. 

But he's right. The blanket acts as a warm hug on every part of my body. The sudden chill is gone. And I am strangely soothed. Is this how those babies and kittens feel?

"From the look on your face, I'm going to assume it's working."

I nod. "But I look silly," I say, whispering to save my voice. 

Honestly, who cares though? The only person whose opinion I care about the most is Muriel. And he can deal with it. We're already dating. Plus, it was his idea. 

He chuckles. "Yeah."

"Also Inanna said she'll come by later. Someone you know is coming by to say hi."

I tilt my head at him. Who could that be? 

I get that I'm sick. And Muriel is naturally caring and generous. But today feels different. As if him asking Julian to help me was strange enough.

"Okay. I know that look. And I know what you're thinking..." 

Muriel climbs back into the bed with me, his weight against the mattress oddly brings me at ease.  

I'm not complaining in the slightest. I remember when I had to do this all by myself. It wasn't hard. But it was lonely. Asra had no idea, and I hope he never does. It is strange to go from having no one care to a lot of people caring. But now Muriel is here too, with enough love and warmth that I'm no longer afraid to fall asleep on my own. 

I look forward to his sudden weight next to me on our mattress. For his arm to hug my waist as he occasionally comments about his day out in the forest. And when he smiles, as he rarely does, I'm filled with sweetness.

Just like how we are now. I smile back at him. 

"...You're going to think I'm being silly. So..."

I shake my head with the few energy I have left.

"...Alright. Last night, I had this dream." he whispers as if sharing a secret, "At first I thought it was you, then Khamgalai, but it was actually my mom. I guess. She had my eyes and my nose. Anyway, she was also sick like how you are now. Since I was a kid at that time, I guess I thought offering her favorite things would make her feel better. And it did. The next day, she got better.  And she seemed...happy."

Muriel smiles to himself, lost in thought. "I don't think it was a dream. I think it was actually a memory. It felt... real. And that was the first time I've ever really seen her like that, much less that happy."

"...So yeah. That's all."

He shrugs it off as if it was a trivial thing.

But it's not. I look up at him and he shyly avoids my gaze. Or he is staring off into space. Either way, he doesn't hide the sorrow in his eyes. It must mean a lot to him to see his mother so clearly that night.

"That's wonderful." I whisper in turn.

I rest my head on his chest. The quiet symphony of his heartbeat and slow breathing play in my ear.

"And she's right. I do feel better already-"

But a cough escapes me. My throat aches with a sharp pain with each cough. Muriel gently pats my back as he chuckles. 

"Mm, I guess a little is better than nothing."

We stay like that for the whole day. The day bleeds into a few more days. And those days bleed into a week. Aside from a few visits from our friends, everyday was pretty much like this. But I wouldn't have it any other way. 

The night before my fever left me was the coldest night of the year. It was freezing and I couldn't sleep. So I got up and placed socks on our feet. Muriel isn't fond of socks but the poor man was tired and freezing. 

The following morning, I woke up to his arm around my waist and his stubble tickling my face. He had taken off his socks, as they lie on the floor. But there was a tiny smile on his face. He somehow managed to stay warm all the same.

And the warmth was a relief from the biting cold. As I leaned into his side, I realized that I really wouldn't have it any other way. 

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