Chapter Text
Zoe’s desk was a battlefield. Draft pages littered the floor, sticky notes clung to the lamp like ivy, and three mugs of cold coffee sat abandoned. The blinking cursor mocked her with its stillness, daring her to fill the silence with words that refused to come.
She rubbed at her aching temples, sweater sagging off her shoulder, stale coffee on her sleeve. She hadn’t slept. Couldn’t. Not when her story was stuck at the same line. At the same line, for days. Typical writer block.
The door cracked open.
“Still at it?” Mio leaned against the frame, toothbrush in hand, hair tied back loosely. Her tone was soft, but edged.
“Almost there,” Zoe croaked, voice raw. “Breakthrough’s coming.” She tried to convice herself. But the more she focused on it, the harder it got.
Mio’s eyes flicked to the clock on the green wall of Zoe’s bedroom. She frowned. “Didn’t you have that meeting at eight?”
Zoe blinked at her. Then turned.
7:45.
Her stomach dropped. “Shit. Shit!”
She lurched to her feet, chair screeching back. “No, no, no—I can’t—where’s my notebook, dammit—” Papers spilled across the floor. Her brain scrambled to remember where she put everything, until the world swam before her eyes and tilted. She had to grab the desk to stay upright.
A nasty taste filled her mouth, and she had to shut her eyes to keep from retching.
“Zoe!” Mio was suddenly there, catching her by the arm as her knees buckled
“I’m fine, I just—” The protest broke into violent coughing, her chest rattling.
“You’re not fine.” Mio’s voice left no room for argument. She pressed Zoe back into the chair and touched her forehead. Her eyes widened. “God, you’re burning.”
“It’s nothing—just a cold—I’ll be late—”
“Sit.” Mio layed her tootbrush down and rummaged in the top drawer until she found a thermometer, then held it out. “Open.”
Zoe tried to glare, but her strength wavered. She obeyed, trembling. The minute stretched long, the silence broken only by the tick of the clock.
Beep.
39.7°C.
“See?” Zoe wheezed. “Just a little warm.”
Mio’s jaw tightened. “A little? That’s a furnace.” She pulled out her phone.
“Mio, don’t—” Zoe reached weakly for it, but her arm faltered.
Too late. “Nora? It’s Mio. Zoe’s sick with a fever.” She stepped away for a moment, murmured quickly, then returned. “Your meeting is canceled. Nora wishes you well.”
Zoe sagged, frustration in every breath. “You didn’t have to—”
Mio cut her off with a look. “When did you last eat?”
“…Yesterday.”
“Water?”
“…Does coffee count?”
Mio pinched the bridge of her nose. “Unbelievable.” She opened the closet door and pulled out flannel pants and a T-shirt. “Change, you need to rest.”
She said giving Zoe the clothes.
Zoe fumbled with her sweater, arms shaking. Mio tugged it off for her, guiding her into the soft clothes. Her skin was clammy under the fever-flush, her breathing shallow.
Mio helped her the two steps across the room. Zoe collapsed into the mattress.
“Take these.”Mio pressed pills into her hand, lifting a glass to her lips. How in the world is she so fast? Zoe thought. It made her head spin even more.
Zoe swallowed the pills down, coughed hard when one of them got stuck in the back of her troat, tears springing to her eyes.
Mio rubbed her back until it passed. “Better?.” She asked softly. Zoe nodded. Mio kneeled a bit down to help Zoe fully into her bed. The matrass was cool made Zoe sign in relief.
She looked sideways seeing her laptop on het desk, still open. Mio followed her gaze. “Oh, no.”
Mio snagged the laptop off the desk, snapping it shut. “You’re not touching this until you’re better.”
Zoe muttered a weak curse, but before a full protest could be made, sleep pulled her under.
---
Snowlight spilled through the windows hours later. Mio pulled on her coat, glancing at Zoe’s restless figure in the bed. The fever had ebbed slightly, but not nearly enough. Mio’s stomach twisted. She needed more proper medicine and nutrious food.
“I’ll be an hour,” she whispered, brushing a strand of damp hair back. “Groceries, pharmacy. Please stay in bed.”
Zoe stirred faintly, eyes fluttering half-open, and gave the smallest nod before drifting again.
Mio hesitated, then kissed her temple. “Back before you notice.” The door clicked shut.
It was quiet. Very quiet. Expect for the oneven breaths of the sick patiënt in her bed.
She was restless and kicking the blankets off.
Zoe blinked awake soon after, throat raw, her head a foggy furnace. Her eyes swept the room, unseeing.
Why am I in bed? Why do I feel so heavy?
Her gaze snagged on the laundry basket, overflowing. She staggered to her feet, legs trembling. Laundry. She had to do laundry.
Her steps were slow and clumsy. She nearly tripped three times before reaching the laundry room, stuffing clothes into the dryer instead of the washer.
The sound of the dryer moving made her head throb.
The sink caught her eye next the moment she stepped into the kitchen—dishes stacked high. She shuffled to it, turned on the water. While it ran, she fumbled with the vacuum, switching it on, the noise filling her skull.
Her breath came in gasps. Sweat slicked her neck. The stove hissed steam.
Now where is that damn pot she was supposed to set on it?
Everything was loud and bright. Her mind was like a fog. She couldn't concentrate.
Her knees buckled. She clutched the counter as the world tilted. She felt nausous once more.
The door went open, but Zoe didnt notice. To lost in her own head.
“Zoe?!”
Mio froze in the entryway, groceries spilling from her arms. Water gushed from the sink, the vacuum roared uselessly, steam clouded the stove—and Zoe swayed in the center of it all, flushed crimson.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Mio’s voice cracked, fury laced with fear. She lunged forward, snapping the burners off, killing the vacuum, shutting the water. “I told you to stay in bed!”
“I… bed? Mio…” Zoe’s words broke, eyes glassy. She swayed once, twice—then collapsed.
“Zoe!”
Mio caught her just in time, slowly hauling her limp body onto the couch that was close by.
Her chest pounded. “Goddammit—I never should have left.”
Zoe’s skin was scorching, her breathing ragged. Mio sprinted to the sink, soaked a cloth in cold water, wrung it out with trembling hands, and pressed it to her forehead. Zoe signed.
That fever needs to get down. She went to pick the medicine up where she left it. Just her luck she got the sirop version of the medicine to.
She tilted two spoons in the corner of Zoe mouth. The natural reflex of her body made her swallow it.
“Good girl,” Mio murmured shakily, brushing back damp strands of hair.
Zoe stirred faintly, whispering her name and was out again.
Mio stayed rooted at her side that night.
---
Two days later, the house was quiet except for the crackle of the radiator and the occasional cough from Zoe’s room.
She sat propped up in bed, blanket draped around her shoulders, laptop balanced across her knees. Her fever had finally broken, leaving her weak and hoarse but undeniably better.
Mio appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. “Two hours,” she said firmly. “Not a minute more.”
Zoe glanced up with tired defiance. “I know.”
Mio arched a brow.
“Okay,” Zoe sighed, slumping slightly. “I’ll stop when the timer goes off. Promise.”
“Good.” Mio lingered a moment longer before disappearing into the kitchen.
When she returned with tea much later, Zoe was still typing — slower than usual, but typing. There was life in her eyes again, a faint light behind the exhaustion. Her writers block slowly lifting now she was on the mend. Still it was hard. The words didn't come spontanious like she was used to.
The timer beeped.
Zoe’s fingers hesitated on the keys.
Mio reached over and closed the laptop without a word.
“Mio—”
“Two hours.” Her tone softened but didn’t waver. “That was the agreement.”
Zoe’s shoulders sagged. She rubbed at her eyes, her throat raw. “I just… it feels like if I stop, I’ll lose it again.”
“You won’t.” Mio set the mug on the nightstand and pressed the back of her hand to Zoe’s cheek, still warm but no longer burning. “Words aren’t going anywhere. But your health will, if you keep pushing.”
Something in Zoe cracked. She turned her face away, voice thick. “I hate this. I hate being weak. I hate getting stuck”
Her eyes shimmered as tears slid free. “It feels like failing, Mio. Like I’m failing.”
Mio’s chest tightened. She sat down and pulled Zoe into her arms, blanket and all. “You’re not failing,” she whispered against her hair. “You’re healing. That’s not the same thing.” She stroked her back gently. “Everyone gets stuck. Everyone breaks a little sometimes.”
Zoe’s breath hitched, her tears dampening Mio’s shirt.
, “Focus on getting beter now and you will see the rest will to”
For a long moment, Zoe just leaned into her, letting the weight of Mio’s steadiness hold her up. Then, quietly, she whispered, “Thank you.”
Mio eased back, tucking the blanket higher around her shoulders. “Now. Tea. Toast. And rest. Doctor’s orders.”
Zoe sniffled, eyes still shining, but nodded. She took the mug with both hands, sipping carefully. Warmth spread through her chest, easing the raw ache.
Her laptop sat closed on the nightstand, untouched. And for once, Zoe didn’t argue.
---
By the afternoon, Zoe had insisted she felt well enough to move from her bed. She shuffled carefully into the living room, bundled in a blanket like a cocoon, and settled onto the couch. The cushions dipped under her weight, the snow-light from the window spilling pale and steady across her lap.
Mio hovered, reluctant. “Are you sure you’ll be alright out here?”
Zoe rolled her eyes, though the motion was softened by fatigue. “I’m not an invalid. Just a little… fragile.”
“Mmhm.” Mio adjusted the blanket around her shoulders anyway, then crouched to meet her eyes. “I’ve got to step out for a few hours. Work. Groceries. But—” She tapped the edge of the laptop that sat on the coffee table. “Two hours, Zoe. No more.”
Zoe lifted a hand, half-mock salute. “Scout’s honor.”
Mio narrowed her eyes, unconvinced, but her mouth tugged into a reluctant smile. She pressed her lips briefly to Zoe’s temple. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t make me regret this.”
Zoe smirked weakly. “I’ll try.”
---
The apartment grew quiet after the door clicked shut. Zoe pulled the laptop onto her lap, fingers hovering over the keys. For a moment, the familiar panic pressed against her chest—blankness, block, failure.
But then the words came again. Hesitant at first, then steady. The scenes she’d been chasing for weeks unspooled in her head like thread, weaving into sentences.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn’t forcing it. She was writing.
When the lock turned hours later, Mio stepped inside, juggling her bag and scarf. The apartment was dim now, the sky outside tinted with early evening.
Her eyes went straight to the couch.
Zoe was curled sideways, blanket tangled around her, the laptop balanced precariously on her knees. The screen glowed faintly, a half-finished sentence blinking where her fingers had stilled. Her breathing was slow and even—fast asleep.
Mio set her things down quietly, crossing the room with soft steps. She eased the laptop closed, sliding it safely onto the table, and tugged the blanket higher over Zoe’s shoulders.
Zoe stirred faintly at the movement, murmuring something incoherent before settling again.
Mio let her fingers linger just long enough to brush a strand of hair from Zoe’s forehead. She pulled Zoe legs onto the couch, adjusted the blanket and dimmed the light.
"Sleep wel, Zoe" was the last thing she whispered before going to bed herself.