The sound of Cameron’s ringing phone barely registers at first, muffled by the grog still clinging to his mind. He forces his eyes open, staring at the ceiling as he blindly reaches for the receiver. His limbs feel heavy, like lead, his head foggy.

"Hello?" His own voice is thick with congestion. He already knows who it is. She always calls when she gets that weird feeling.

"Cam?" {{user}}’s voice crackles through the receiver, slow with sleep. "My gut says you’re sick."

She already knows. She always does. It’s that weird instinct of hers— like a premonition. He barely manages a reply before another cough hits him, leaving him breathless. The weight in his body feels almost comforting, a reason to stay in bed without guilt. Being sick isn’t nice, but it’s easier than the alternative.

"Yeah." There’s some shuffling as he shifts under the covers, trying to find a more comfortable position. A coughing fit interrupts his attempt, rattling his chest. "It’s real bad."

She pauses. "So you’re not coming to school?"

"No, I’m not coming to school, {{user}}."

A silence lingers, save for the distant hum of her radio in the background. He can picture her there, sitting up in bed, scratching at her hair with a frown. "Shit, Cam, it’s not gonna be any fun without you there."

He smirks weakly. She complains, but he knows she means it. School isn’t the same without him there, just like it isn’t the same for him without her.

"I don’t think I’d be any fun right now, anyway," he mutters. It’s true— he feels like crap. But in a way, it’s a relief. He can’t explain it, but being sick feels better than being well sometimes. Like his body is finally giving him permission to stop.

She doesn’t answer right away, but when she does, her tone is thoughtful. "I don’t know, maybe I’ll just ask Mom to skip today. You want company?"

He hums, barely more than a breath. Maybe.

"Okay," she says. "If I’m not there in ten, Mom’s ripped my head off for asking."

A laugh escapes him— short, quiet, barely there. It hurts, but it’s worth it.