Fic: Incomplete Erasure 4: Daybreak

[bookishwench]

Steve was sick. He remembers that happened a lot. Steve’s health was like paper, torn apart or crumbled up by the least little thing, making him have more days out of school than should have been allowed by the state, but he always came by and told Steve what had happened, what they’d covered, and they read the textbook and studied while he sneezed and coughed. When he was well enough to go back, the teachers would give him tests to see if he was up to snuff. He passed everything. Steve was tiny, but he was smart. Plus, the nuns loved him.

This time was different. Mrs. Rogers had told him to go away, that Steve was too sick for visitors and he might be catchy. Steve was the good boy, but he was the rebel, and he waited until after sunset to sneak in the window. What he saw scared him.

He was used to Steve being pale, but he looked almost grey. He was shivering in spite of the patchwork quilt tucked around him, but when he touched his forehead, he was burning up. He didn’t wake at all, not even when he whispered Steve’s name. Diphtheria, his mother had said. Steve suddenly coughed so hard that it sounded like his head was going to pop right off, and it was raspy and viscous and disgusting, his breath rattling. Steve wasn’t just sick again. This was the kind of thing that killed people.

He heard Steve’s mother coming, so he hid in the closet and peeked through a crack in the door. She gave him medicine, but he didn’t say anything, only coughed again, the noise making him shake with worry. He wrapped his arms around himself and sat silently on the floor of the closet, leaning up against the wall, but he didn’t sleep. He couldn’t. Instead, he kept watch.

Steve’s mother came and went more times than he could count that night. Eventually, he saw the slightest trace of light starting to come through the window. Mrs. Rogers had just left the room, so he thought he probably had a minute or two at least. He needed to leave before his own mother found his bed empty. He crept out of the closet, but he found himself walking closer to Steve instead of towards the window.

“You’re not going anywhere, understand?” he said. “If an angel shows up, you tell her to scram. You stay right here where you belong, you hear me?”

Steve didn’t move, but he could tell he was still breathing.

He didn’t know what made him do it, but he bent down and gently kissed Steve’s forehead.

“Get better,” he ordered, choosing not to think about it right now, and climbed out the window as dawn spread across the sky.