He was almost sick of it, and he never would have thought that was possible, but he was. His head ached, his mouth felt raw, the sheets under him had been sweated through, then dried out and sweated through again. He was too hot for a blanket but when he lifted his hand up he could see it shake.
He thought he might have finally broken something in his brain because he couldn't seem to put a coherent thought together. His mind felt swampy and sore somehow, as dim and ragged as the light that filtered through the half-drawn blinds. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and go to sleep, until Justin brushed up against his side and then all he wanted was never to sleep again and he knew he never would.
"You're going to kill me," he breathed into Justin's ear, and Justin laughed but he sounded a little unsteady himself.
"I think I'm trying," Justin said.