Pest Control, page 8
Thankfully, the blizzard had calmed relatively, though it was still just as cold. The wind made Rhys shiver violently, combined with the dark sky. He stared up toward the endless expanse of stars, eyes following each constellation easily with muscle memory.
There’d been times when Rhys had considered giving up this life, forcing him to think about moving back to civilization to battle his mental illnesses. But there was just something about the night sky out here that reeled him back every single time. In the city, with all of its bright, unnatural lights, there wasn’t much to see. Here, he could see everything, as if he could reach out and swirl up the galaxies with his index finger, like stirring the contents of his soup bowl. His troubles seemed nonexistent and trivial when he was reminded of just how small he was in comparison to space itself. He was just another lump of stardust floating aimlessly.
To others, the thought might’ve been frightening or saddening, but to Rhys, it was the opposite—there was no need to worry nor to stress when the weight of the world rested in the balance of space rather than on his own shoulders.
Hours ticked by until the sun began to rise over the horizon, bathing Rhys with a slight tingling warmth and light that brought him back down to Earth, back into the fight for survival. In the distance, storm clouds rolled closer, so he knew it was time to go back home, lest he confirm Everett’s fears and get lost out here.
When he arrived, it was to Everett throwing open the door and running out into the snow with nothing but his pajamas on. He hugged Rhys so tightly he knocked the breath out of him.
“You’re back! Oh my god, I was so worried!” Everett exclaimed, his smile so bright it rivaled the rising sun. “Did you catch anything?”
“Yeah, I did, actually,” Rhys said as they walked back into the warm cabin, fire perfectly tended. He shrugged off his winter clothing before opening up his backpack to reveal his bounty.
Everett gasped. “Whoa, Rhys— There’s so many of them! Like…hundreds of them!”
Rhys chuckled. “Nah, more like twenty or so, and they’re not all that big, but it’s still a pretty good haul. Might even last us a month if we pace ourselves right. Here, how about I cook one up for us right now, yeah? We can even break out some of the special seasonings to celebrate.”
Everett seemed unable to contain his excitement, nearly tripping as he ran over to the kitchen to pull out the little baggie of dried herbs. Together, they gutted, deboned, seasoned, and grilled the fish, filling the cabin with a savory scent that had both of them drooling. It had been a long time only eating rabbit stew, so fish was a welcome change to their bland diet. As always, they scarfed down their dinners—barely making time to savor the taste—before lounging in front of the fire with happy stomachs.
“I was so worried about you,” Everett said as he cuddled into Rhys’s side. “I don’t think I blinked even once staring out the window watching for you.”
“You looked out the window for me the entire time?” Rhys laughed, ruffling Everett’s hair. “What dedication. Now you know how I felt when you ran out into the storm.”
Everett didn’t hesitate to lean into Rhys’s touch. “That was one time. And I’ve already apologized for it. I know that wasn’t smart of me, and I’ll never do it again.”
Rhys hummed but didn’t answer in words, much too tired from staying up the entire night fishing and already blinking back sleep from heavy eyelids. When his hand went limp atop Everett’s head, it was his turn to card through Rhys’s hair. But Rhys didn’t mind one single bit, falling asleep peacefully in his arms.
★
The next time Rhys awoke, instead of being cold, he was warm—more like burning hot, scorching to the touch like the fireplace was roaring inside his very body. Combined with the wicked throbbing in his head, he felt like absolute garbage lit on fire.
Everett was leaning over the fireplace ladling something from the kettle into a mug and whirled around at Rhys’s low groan. He set down the mug and rushed over to Rhys’s side to help him sit up with a steady hand on his back.
“Finally, you’re awake! How are you feeling, Rhys?”
“Not good,” Rhys slurred. He sighed at the pleasant coolness of Everett’s palm pushing his greasy fringe out of his eyes.
Worry was evident on Everett’s face in the form of furrowed eyebrows and a deep-set frown. “Yup, you’re still very warm. At least you’re awake now though. I was really worried. Still am, to be honest. But I think I have something that can help you feel a bit better.”
Everett stood back up, grabbed the mug, and headed over to the kitchen. He rustled through the cabinets for a moment, mumbling something under his breath before he pulled out the jar of honey and scooped a spoonful into the mug.
“How…long was I out?” Rhys asked.
“A day or so. Thought you were just really tired, but then I felt how warm you were, and I knew you were getting really sick— Here, take a sip of this.”
Rhys complied, again letting Everett hold him up as he tipped the mug against his lips. His senses were overwhelmed by the taste, warmth, and scent of chamomile tea mixed with a generous amount of honey that coated and soothed his scratchy throat. Though the tea was a bit too hot, it was a welcome sensation after feeling so incredibly parched, as if he had eaten handfuls of sand.
“Is it good? I wasn’t sure if I made it right,” Everett said quietly, biting his bottom lip.
“’S good. Really good.” Rhys smiled weakly. “Thank you, Everett.”
“Nah, nah, no need to thank me, silly!” Everett waved one hand dismissively while the other scratched at his nape. The motion dragged Rhys’s attention over to the table behind Everett, its wooden surface strewn with that seemed to be Rhys’s entire collection of cups and mugs. Rhys assumed they were most likely taste tests of failed batches of tea—he had to hold back a fond giggle at the sight.
“Enough about me though,” Everett continued. “I know you feel like shit right now, but is there anything I can get or do for you at all? Another pillow? Blanket? Food? You must be starving! I tried to force you to drink some broth, but I think I mostly just dumped it all onto you by accident.”
At that, Rhys actually let out a laugh that had him coughing in only a matter of seconds.
“N-no wonder I smell like fish,” he managed to say through the fit.
“Don’t make fun of me. I’m trying my best. It’s the thought that counts, right?” Everett whined, pulling his signature pout.
“Yes, it was a sweet gesture. Thank you.” Rhys pinched Everett’s pink, embarrassed cheeks. “Anyway, I actually am quite hungry. I wouldn’t mind a bit of soup right now.”
Everett nodded, taking Rhys’s mug and refilling it with more tea before he turned his attention to the pot simmering next to the kettle. When he removed the cast iron lid, the cabin was flooded with the familiar scent of the fish Rhys had caught, causing his mouth to water despite the dryness of his throat. Carefully, Everett ladled scoop after scoop into a bowl, seemingly taking extra care to grab as many chunks of meat that he could.
“Hey, uh, Everett,” Rhys spoke up, brows furrowed. Everett turned to him with a hum and a cocked head. “Isn’t that way too big of a portion you’re making for me? Like, almost triple the rationed amount?”
Everett’s cheeks colored pink again. “Uh, yeah…”
He cleared his throat and averted his gaze, looking down at the heaping serving of soup as if surprised he had filled the bowl that much. “Yeah, I’ve kind of been…not eating while you were out.”
“And why the fuck would you do that?”
“Been much too worried to eat, I guess,” Everett said with a sheepish shrug. “I tried, but worrying makes me nauseous. Besides, I thought I should save my portions for you. You’re sick. You need to eat as much as you can to get better. I can go a few days without.”
Rhys wanted to be, and should’ve been, upset at Everett for denying himself his deserved meals—for Rhys’s sake of all things—but with him looking as if he might cry if scolded, Rhys didn’t have the heart to do so over something so kind and selfless. For him of all people.
“Well, thank you, but at least give yourself a little something to eat, okay? Even if you’re not hungry. You can’t help me get better if you’re dying from malnutrition yourself.”
“Hmph. Fine, but let me feed you first.” Everett shuffled over on his knees across the furs to hold out a heaping spoonful to Rhys. “Okay, here you go! Open up now; I promise I won’t spill it on you this time!”
As he fed Rhys, Everett made sure to keep a hand under the spoon so as to not let it drip. The soup was just as soothing to the sickness brewing in Rhys as the tea was, if not more. With his nose so congested, he couldn’t enjoy the rich taste as much as he normally would’ve, much to his annoyance. When he did finally persuade Everett that he’d had his fill after swallowing down over half of the obscenely large portion, Everett did keep his other promise as well, finishing off what was left in the bowl—with the same spoon.
Rhys wasn’t sure whether he should’ve felt utterly revolted or flustered as all hell at the sight. Everett licked the soup residue off of the spoon like it was a lollipop, his long tongue curling around it, dipping in to lap against the curvature, even letting out a small, pleased moan at the savory taste. Yup, flustered, Rhys was definitely flustered. His entire face burned a deep scarlet, hotter than his fever. How could he not be flustered, when that spoon had just been in his own mouth? In a way, it was pretty much an indirect kiss, one Everett appeared to be enjoying. For a split second, Rhys wished the spoon was him.
He panicked for a moment, remembering how he hadn’t brushed his teeth for at least two days, so there was no way Everett should’ve been remotely enjoying this. And what the fuck, neither should’ve Rhys because there was absolutely nothing attractive about this situation at all, not in the slightest. What was wrong with him? It had to be his fever turning him delirious or something.
And there was no time to think on that either, since Rhys should’ve been way more worried about Everett catching his sickness from swapping spit with him. Had he never learned about contagious viruses before? Who shared food with a sick person?
“Everett, no! Go get your own. You’re gonna get your dumb ass sick as well if you do that,” Rhys squawked in renewed disgust and panic, lunging forward to snatch the utensil. But Everett leaned back away from him too quickly.
“But that means even more dishes that I don’t wanna wash,” Everett protested, holding the spoon out as far away from Rhys as he could reach. “Besides, you don’t have to worry about me getting sick. I never get sick.”
Rhys couldn’t keep up his disbelieving glare when he was forced to cough violently again.
“Bullshit,” he said once it calmed down. “Everyone gets sick at least once in their lives. What, are you telling me you have a magically strong immune system too?”
“Mm-hmm. Never gotten sick, not even when I was young.” Everett beamed proudly when he stuck the spoon back into his mouth, the utensil bobbing up and down as he spoke, clinking against his teeth. “Well, now that I think about it, I have had an upset stomach a few times, like, from eating things I wasn’t supposed to, but not like you have. And I was weak for a winter when we didn’t have enough food. What did you call it again, by the way? The sickness you have? My family just called it winter sickness.”
Rhys wasn’t too convinced, though he was much too tired and loopy to argue that Everett probably had been sick before but just didn’t remember it.
“The flu,” he answered with a yawn. “It’s actually been a while since I’ve had it, even though I haven’t been vaccinated since I moved out here—and no, before you ask, I’m not like those weird-ass antivax suburban white moms named Karen who think vaccines cause autism. I just don’t have the time or energy to make an appointment and drive all of the way down there.”
Everett blinked rapidly. “Wait, wait, wait, slow down. Uh, what’s a vaccine? Antivax? And who the fuck is Karen?”
For a moment, the room was silent, and then Rhys broke into a flurry of laughter at the sight of poor Everett’s utterly confused face. It wasn’t so much laughter as coughing once again, so hard that Everett put aside being annoyed at being left out of the joke to help Rhys sit up to clear his cough more effectively. His entire body shook, and his throat burned for what felt like hours of mind-numbing, awful pain—he really regretted not getting his vaccinations now. Clearly, even hundreds of miles away from proper civilization, he could still somehow catch the dreaded flu.
“Maybe you should be going to sleep again,” Everett said, brows furrowed in concern as he patted Rhys’s back and supported him in drinking another warm cup of honeyed tea.
Rhys nodded weakly, unable to speak, trying his best to make his appreciation known with a smile as Everett gently tucked him back into the piles of blankets. He then blew out all of the candles, leaving the fire hot and lit—though Rhys felt much warmer when Everett settled down next to him and wrapped his arms tightly around him, holding him close.
Chapter Nine
Naturally, like any other person, Rhys had never enjoyed being sick. Back when he lived in the big city, it felt as if he was sick all day every day, whether from his allergies to dust and smoke that would make his eyes water and nose run or from catching yet another cold from touching the snot-slicked handles on the bus. Medicine had become his best friend—he bought so much of the stuff he swore the old lady who ran his local pharmacy was beginning to think he was running an underground drug ring.
Even as a young child, he was forced to fend for himself during his constant bouts of illness, with his parents working too many long hours to be able to stay home to care for him, when he’d spend weeks on end coughing his lungs out like some sort of child smoker.
And unfortunately, when Rhys was older, it hadn’t been much better. His two short-term boyfriends hadn’t seen taking care of him as important enough to call out of their own jobs or even come over to check on him after their shifts. Neither had his handful of friends. To be fair, Rhys never explicitly asked anyone to help him out, but he’d thought taking care of one another was something family, friends, and partners should be happy to do without being asked—which turned out, time and time again, to have been another one of Rhys’s unreachable dreams.
It sucked majorly, though he’d gotten used to taking care of himself, even coming to enjoy it in a weird way, as he’d never been one to be a burden to others. He could handle himself just fine, thank you very much. He didn’t need anybody.
Yet, no matter how many times he insisted he could do so, Everett wouldn’t take no for an answer, persisting in doing everything and anything he could to assist Rhys. Over the next week, as the flu held his body captive, it was as if their roles had completely switched, with Everett now the caretaker and Rhys the one in need.
As the days ticked by with no sign of Everett backing down, Rhys eventually realized that, deep down, maybe, he secretly reveled in being cared for so attentively for the first time in his life. Never would he ever admit it aloud, but there was no way in hell he could’ve found it in himself to be upset at Everett’s genuine expressions of kindness. Rhys couldn’t be, not when Everett looked so happy in everything he did, like cooking all of their meals.
But there were still many instances where Rhys desperately wished he didn’t need the help. The sickness was so harrowing that he was unable to hobble to the outhouse by himself without losing his balance from the dizziness, forcing him to be carried to and from instead, which was so incredibly embarrassing.
It was even worse when Rhys found himself unable to wash his body. He tried valiantly at first, but quickly realized there was no way his weak noodle-arms could repeatedly lift and tip the buckets full of warm water to rinse the soap off, as well as scrub his skin with the loofa. He was forced to call in Everett, who’d been waiting right outside the door to the bathing room, to do those things for him. It was nothing short of extremely humiliating having been unable to do such a simple task, especially since he had to be naked in front of Everett.
“D-don’t look,” Rhys mumbled.
As Everett stood in the doorway, still as a statue with his jaw clenched, Rhys shrank in on himself, feeling very small and vulnerable in the big tub and under Everett’s heavy gaze. There was nowhere to hide his body. He must’ve looked a strange sight with his wavy hair now straight and flattened against his head and his body all sudsed up, shivering and cowering like a terrified Chihuahua.
The air was tense and silent for a moment before Everett seemingly came to his senses, snapping out of his reverie to blush scarlet and slap his palms over his eyes.
“I-I’m so sorry, oh my god.” Everett exclaimed, shaking his head. “I really didn’t mean to—shit—um, are you sure you want me to do this? I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”
“Just shut up, don’t look, and dump that water on me, okay? I’m freezing in here, and I just want to get this over with already. The water’s gonna get cold.”
“R-right, got it…”
Looking anywhere but at Rhys, Everett grabbed one of the buckets filled with now lukewarm water and slowly let it cascade upon Rhys’s head. As it trickled down to pool at the bottom of the tub, Rhys was mortified that he was beginning to get hard. Quickly, before Everett could notice, he covered his nether regions with his hands. He couldn’t believe his annoying body. Only seconds ago, he was completely soft from the cold and embarrassment, and now that there was a man—an attractive man—looming over him, his dick decided to get riled up.
What was wrong with him? Had the last few tiny shreds of his dignity just gotten washed away with the soap? There was nothing arousing about this scenario in the slightest, yet again! He thought he’d gotten some control over his attraction to Everett during the last week, but it must have been the illness suppressing it. And now that he was feeling slightly better, his traitorous brain decided to make the situation even more awkward.
