Page 7 of Men in Shorts

Could he?

* * *

Brodie woke,sort of, several times that day and night. He’d had a vague vision of Duncan feeding him soup, tea, and ibuprofen—a vision that repeated itself, illuminated by different shades of sunlight through his window. Twice, maybe three times, this Duncan-vision helped him to the toilet and waited outside the door to make sure he didn’t fall asleep mid-piss.

It was morning now, judging by the toxic taste in Brodie’s parched mouth. He rolled over and found a cup of water within reach on the windowsill. Expecting it to taste stale, he sat up and took a tentative sip. It was cool and fresh.

Exhausted from this effort, Brodie sank back onto his pillow and checked his phone. He noticed a new text message from Lorna, from late last night. It simply readOhhhhhhhhhhfollowed by a see-no-evil monkey emoji. Brodie scrolled up the thread and cursed when he saw messages he barely remembered receiving and sending.

Lorna

You OK sweetie? Can I bring you anything?

Brodie

No thanks Duncan is hereditary

In what way?

Tea and soup and tycoon

I thought his parents were merchants. No idea he was a secret oil baron

Or is this some sort of kinky role play you’ve got going?

Fucking autocorrect. Duncan is HERE, with tea and soup and a TUCKING IN

Not a TUCKING IN like a big meal. A TUCKING IN like into bed

Lorna must have loved that. At least his phone hadn’t changed “tucking” to “fucking,” though it often did the opposite.

A soft knock came at his door, which slowly swung open.

“Sorry,” Duncan said as he slid inside. “I know it’s early, but you’ve slept off and on for about eighteen hours.”

Conscious of his terrible breath, Brodie took another sip of water and tried to be subtle about swishing it through his mouth.

“Micky D’s breakfast.” Duncan set a pair of drinks on the desk, then held up a white paper bag with the golden-arches logo. “Sausage-and-egg McMuffin or bacon-and-egg? I also bought an apple-and-cherry porridge, in case you were feeling poorly or had gone vegetarian or something. And hash browns, of course.” When Brodie just stared at him, stunned, Duncan took a step back. “You look about to boak. Is it the food smell?”

“No, I’m…”Amazed you’re here.“Bacon-and-egg sounds brilliant.”

“Right, here you go.” Duncan tossed him the sandwich, which Brodie fumbled but managed to grab before it bounced onto the floor. “I brewed you a cup of tea in the kitchen.” He handed over Brodie’s favorite mug, which pictured a cat reclining on a slice of pizza floating in front of the Helix Nebula.

“That’s…thank you.”

“Nae bother. McDonald’s tea is shit.” Popping the lid on his own cardboard cup, Duncan inhaled the steam as he sat at the desk. “But their coffee’s pure heaven.”

They ate in silence. The caffeine awakened Brodie’s brain, and with it, his swirling emotions. Though he appreciated Duncan’s help during his illness, he hated being weak in front of him.

Weaker than usual, that is. Duncan’s strength and grace—especially obvious when he was walking out of their flat’s shower room—only made Brodie more self-conscious about his own lack of athleticism. Though Brodie wasn’t interested in sports, he found himself annoyingly attracted to those who were. Now here he was, with the virus sapping what little strength he had, in front of the one who made him feel most inadequate—and the one he most wanted to impress.

“Library’s open now.” Brodie shifted his legs under the covers as if to get up, but in his current state, dressing in real clothes and leaving this building seemed a superhuman act. “You should go now if you want a seat.”

“Naw, I’ll work here, if it’s all right with you.” Without waiting for a response, Duncan reached into his rucksack and pulled out his tablet. “We could review for the Psych 1B exam together.”

“That’s not until a week on Wednesday. I’ve a statistics exam Monday.” He felt a flutter of panic in his chest as he realized he’d lost an entire day to sleep.

“I’ve got a chemistry one then too, but I’m in denial about it, since I’m certain to fail.” Duncan peeked into the McDonald’s bag. “You want the last hash brown?”

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