Ki had the flu. Not the kind that has one doubled over the toilet barfing up intestines but the kind of feverish aches, coughing, feel like death knocking at the door kind of flu. He called his secretary and canceled all appointments for the next three days. This was not some twenty-four-hour bug that he’d be as good as new the next day. In his mind, he was sure he was would be dead by breakfast.

Ki wanted to give up the ghost right there on the couch. He hurt everywhere, even his toes.

The television was playing an old spaghetti western while he contemplated texting Charlie to bring him chicken soup. A half-eaten package of saltines just wasn’t cutting it.

Would it be outside his comfort zone to deliver chicken soup to a dying neighbor.

Ki cursed. Even if he could, there was no way the introvert could get up the cesspool of a driveway unless he had a four-wheel-drive vehicle. Mud was killing the mood and killing him at the same time.

He never hated his driveway more than he did at that moment. Just when he thought he couldn’t be in greater despair, he heard the squawk of a chicken.

Great. Ten seconds of thinking about the fascinating neighbor next-door, and he hallucinates.

Moments later, he heard the rustle of feathers and more bird cackling. With all the energy he possessed, Ki dragged himself to the front door. Sure enough, at the bottom of his porch, were two of Charlie’s flock.

Curios.

KI:                   Hey neighbor. I think two of your chickens are in my yard.

Peering out, he saw the two black birds had moved from the steps and made their way onto the porch, suspiciously eyeing his window boxes. Still no response.

KI:                   R U okay?

KI:                   If I don’t hear from you, I’ll come over.

JUST CUTE:  Busy. Fox troubles. I’ll get them later. Sorry.

Fox troubles? He imagined Charlie chasing a fox around with a broom. The visual was partially funny but mainly alarming.

Don’t foxes bite?

Pulling on a heavy jacket and muck boots, Ki grabbed the sad package of crackers and staggered out of the house. Breaking a saltine into pieces and dropping it at his feet, he felt a bit of satisfaction as the chickens jumped down from their high perch and nibbled. With such minor success, he walked into the forest that separated his property from Charlie’s.

Step by tortuous step, he led the birds along with the crackers. Luckily, it wasn’t summer. The charcoal shingles of Charlie’s roof stood out like a dark beacon. A feverish Ki focused on the dark roof, needing a guide through the woods. Every five minutes or so, he would stop and rest, battling the urge to faint, while the chickens jabbed and poked around his feet.

It felt like hours as he worked his way through the densely packed trees but was probably much less when he broke through the tree line into Charlie’s backyard. The two hens spotted their owner and sprinted towards him.

Not even a thank you cackle….the ingrates.

Unable to hold his head up any longer, Ki dropped to the low rock wall that separated the properties. Weak and helpless, he trembled on his perch. Body aches turned into shards of pain all over. His head felt two minutes past the point of implosion and, to top it all off, chills shook his body like an earthquake. There wasn’t much hope that he’d be in any condition to walk back home.

Where was Charlie? Shouldn’t he be running towards him in gratitude?

A smile bloomed on Charlie’s face as he saw the chicken’s mad dash towards him. The fox had zeroed on the flock and picked them off one by one. He lost a rooster and two hens. The joy of seeing two additional hens returning home after a frantic escape rang in his heart.

During winter, he didn’t keep the electric fence charged. Most animals were in hibernation and left the flock alone. But the cold spring led a fox on a desperate search for breakfast. Herding the two remaining birds back into the enclosure, Charlie secured the gate and turned on the electricity.

No animals in and no animals out, equal peace of mind, at least until the hens complain.

Gratitude swelled in his chest as Charlie thought of the city-boy neighbor leading the birds across the forested property. The man deserved a home cooked meal or at least some tea and cookies for his effort.

Looking around, he saw no sign of Ki. After circling the yard, he found a human lump on the old rock wall.

Charlie made his way towards the man slumped over in an odd c-shape, arms wrapped around his torso. As he neared, Charlie heard moaning and a strange clicking sound.

It was teeth. Ki was shivering.

Reaching out an intrepid hand, Charlie felt the other man’s forehead.

Hot!

And not in the healthy sign of life way.

“You’re sick.” Charlie accused with his gravelly voice.

“So cold.” The words were barely a mumble.

Thinking of the hideous driveway, it wasn’t possible to bring Ki home. Besides, the fever seemed pretty bad, probably worsened by the trek through the forest. Only an ingrate would send Ki away at such a moment.

Why did it just feel……right to bring Ki home?

Grabbing one of his arms, Charlie draped it across his shoulders.

“Come on.” Charlie groaned under the almost dead weight. “You must walk, move those feet. I can’t do this alone.”

Ki mumbled into Charlie’s neck. Strange…it sounded like he said, “just cute.”

“What did you say?”

The ticklish sensation almost made Charlie giggle.

Was he nuzzling his neck?

“Aiya. You’re just cute.” Another shudder racked his body. “So cold.”

With a pinch of giddiness in his heart, Charlie half dragged, half staggered his way into the house with the feverish lump glued to his side.

“We’re almost there.” Charlie maneuvered the half-conscious baggage into the only bed in the house, his.

“Hold on a little longer.” He tried for soothing but the best that could come from his voice box was a whispered croak.

Once he settled the patient onto the bed, he removed his boots and jacket, then promptly smothered him with quilts. “I’ll be back with some tea and analgesics.”

After a few minutes, Charlie returned to force hot liquid and pills down Ki’s throat, then used a cool washcloth hoping to bring the fever down faster. As he drew near the patient, he could smell damp pine and spice. Ki’s scent was comforting.

“Why does your voice always sound like you’ve got a cold?” Ki’s fever-burned eyes singed a hole through Charlie.

“Permanent damage to my voice box.” Charlie brushed a stray lock of hair away from Ki’s flushed face.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? Its not your fault.” Charlie flipped over the cloth to the cooler side.

“I hurt so much.” Ki’s voice became a whine.

Rubbing Ki’s hand soothingly, Charlie whispered. “Relax, the meds should kick in soon.”

It wasn’t long before Ki fell into a fevered sleep.

Charlie’s active brain spent the remains of the day alternating between worrying about the chickens, keeping the ill man in his bed hydrated, and stifling any thoughts or feelings he had about the entire situation. As evening approached, he stole a peek at the comatose patient. Messy hair poked up like a little ebony hedgehog. Wrapped taco-style, the beautiful man’s breathing was slow and calm.

Charlie touched his chest as he felt a gentle scratch against his heart.

A soft flow…..almost an emotion…..something warm rubbed against his nerve endings and muddled his thoughts.

Leaving the darkened room, Charlie made his way to the kitchen, where he pulled out a crock-pot. The act of making the steel-cut oats with sweet milk and spices distracted him. The serenity lasted all the way through the evening until the moment he crawled into the nest of sleeping bags and quilts on his office floor.

He would be lying to himself if he did not admit there was an attraction with his neighbor. Admitting that seemed to open a floodgate of emotion.

Charlie looked for the panic amongst those boiling feelings, but it did not appear.

When did it cease to be fan-boying a fictional Chen Zhen and become something less superficial?

Into the wee hours of the morning, Charlie tossed and turned, telling himself that the lack of sleep was because of the bed on the floor rather than his conflicted emotions.

The next morning, the barely rested Charlie fed a not quite recovered Ki. The patient could barely keep his eyes open during the healthy breakfast. After more tea and meds, Charlie promptly taco-wrapped him back in the soft gray comforter and put him back to bed.

In his lucid moments, Ki remembered the pet turtle his parents gave him as a child. The creature was shy and often hid in his shell. When he thought no one was looking, he kept busy finding food and making a nest, industrious but alone. Charlie, very much, reminded him of his beloved pet turtle.

Two days after doctoring the sick patient, Charlie kicked him out on the grounds that Ki’s fever had abated, and Charlie had work to do.

Ki found it adorable that the introvert sent him home with two days’ worth of food and an extra warm quilt the color of marigolds. Keeping the fact that he had a closet full of blankets a secret, Ki decided there was no more precious blanket in his vast collection. After all, blankets were easy to get in this world, but genuine care and concern were not.

Ki insisted on doing the dishes before he left.