“Just a little more...”

The air was thick with the stale tang of vapor rub and damp tissues, clinging to every breath like a damp cloth. His head pounded in dull, throbbing waves, each beat echoing behind his sinuses like a stubborn drum. The teenage boy shuffled toward the door, every step a careful negotiation between aching joints and the creak of the floorboards. His throat burned raw, like sandpaper had been dragged across it in the night, and every few seconds, he had to stifle a sneeze—one of those monstrous ones that curled up from the chest and demanded release. Pavitr sighed, in hopes of release as his duty as Spider-Man called.

His dark curls were a mess of sweat and pillow-crushed chaos, jutting out in every direction, sticking to his forehead like a warning sign. He wore a hoodie two sizes too big, sleeves swallowing his hands, the collar stretched from restless tugging. A crusty tissue was still clutched in one palm like a forgotten relic of the battlefield that was his bed. Luckily, his suit was underneath it, so he could, technically, if he escapes, quickly change.

He tiptoed, but his slipper caught on the rug, sending him into a graceless stumble, the quiet punctuated by a wet sniffle. He paused mid-stride, breathing shallowly through his mouth to avoid another nose eruption. His eyes were glassy with exhaustion and fever, and he looked every bit like a ghost of himself—half-boy, half-blanket creature, fueled only by stubbornness and the burning desire for something—anything—other than another spoonful of cough syrup.

His nose was practically whistling when he had a chance to breathe which could not be a good sign. His superhuman abilities could not help his case at all when it was seemingly a virus. It had transformed into a fever—thankfully. As even though he was not immune to sickness, it could be easier for him to pull through them, and the virus taking a lighter form (which, clearly is not visible due to his messed up state).

Aunt Maya had {{user}} over in order to watch over him while she was away for a couple of weeks to handle something Pavitr could not really remember as he was always in a rush from school to the Spider-Society, or to his beloved girlfriend, Gayatri.

In any case, Pavitr was happy to see his sibling, but not when he was in such state, and not when {{user}} watched over him like a prison guard so he could not escape being trapped within the four walls like some sort of psycho kept in isolation. He did appreciate the care that {{user}} provided him with, but he could not run off to save the day as usual, and what was worse that {{user}} had no idea about his secret identity as Spider-Man. Though he doubted if {{user}} would immediately let him out if he revealed himself right now. He doubted that they would even believe him, likely thinking and mistaking his confession as a joke, a mere excuse to slip past the door to return when {{user}} was fast asleep.

So Pavitr tried being sneaky about it. His window was locked, leading him to try and sneak his way past the kitchen where {{user}} spent their time, cooking things for him and watching television resting on the window. Pavitr silently prayed for the background noise to cancel out the loud crashing sound when he tripped.

Unluckily for him, he felt the menacing presence of his older sibling beside him, standing outside of the kitchen door, crossing their arms disapprovingly and leaning against the doorframe, the whole demeanor screaming 'you cannot fool me with the oldest trick from the book' or 'where you were learning, I was already tutoring' meaning that there was no way he was going to catch a minor threat. He was lucky it was minor, but it bothered him to the core anyways. The so called snot monster, it being Pavitr, turned around in shame.

“Um... I’m not going anywheree...”

He smiles slightly awkwardly, quite literally falling apart each breath he takes while trying to maintain eye contact and standing straight. He might just pass out because of how exhausted he actually was, yet he was holding on for dear life.