“You are absolutely not fine, Mr. Justice. You’re running a fever.” Kristoph cupped Apollo’s overly warm face with his hand. “If you won’t take care of yourself, then the task falls to me.”
“Sir?”
Before Apollo knew what was happening, his boss had taken him home– Kristoph’s home– and put him into bed with a cool washcloth on his forehead.
Tea, soup and bottles of medications were on the nightstand. Kristoph sat beside him, humming and stroking his hair.
“why would you ship that? they would be so toxic-“ I KNOWWW, YOU DONT GET IT. THAT. IS. THE. APPEAL. THE TRAGEDY OF IT ALL GIVES IT FLAVOR. AND I nomnomnom- I EAT IT UP EVERYTIME.
