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Ryland woke to the embrace of a kind arm wrapped around his torso and a warm breath on the back of his neck. Well, not really; he woke to his blaring alarm and an awful pain settled deep in hip joints, but he tried to focus more on his husband. Simon stirred beside him, woken by Ryland’s alarm and pained groaning. Simon reached over, shutting the alarm off.
“Goodmorning, angel.” Simon whispered, cupping his partner’s face in his hands.
Ryland smiled at the petname, “Hey sweetheart—” his smile faltered for a moment as he let out a small whine at the ache in his joints, “how did you sleep?”
Simon frowned, “I slept alright,” he rubbed his thumb back and forth on Ryland’s cheek, “are you alright?”
“Yeah—just a little pain in my joints, must’ve slept in a bad position.” Ryland sat up to get ready for the day—he got up much earlier than he had to, insuring he had more than enough time to get ready, stop by his favorite cafe, and get to school long before anyone else to make sure he was all prepared for the day—just as Simon lightly grabbed at his wrist.
“Why don't you rest for a little while longer? I’ll make you some breakfast and drive you today.”
“Simon, you don't have to do that—I can just bike.”
“You really wanna bike with your legs like that?”
Ryland smiled and suppressed a small chuckle, “No, not really.”
“Then let me drive you, I like taking care of you.”
Ryland blushed, slowly nodding as he settled back into bed.
Simon planted a kiss on his forehead before getting up, stretching his arms far above his head and walking off into the kitchen. He fell into a familiar rhythm of cooking the same meal he usually did for Ryland—he couldn’t stomach much that early in the morning, so he often just wanted the same thing. As the eggs sizzled in their frying pan, Simon checked the weather on his phone. There was a heat wave; temperatures as high as the nineties all week. Simon could handle it fine, but he knew Ryland was a much different story.
He finished up cooking the eggs just as a piece of bread nearly flew out of the toaster. Plating the contents, he returned to his partner.
“Hey angel,” Simon smiled at how Ryland practically beamed at him, “here’s your food.”
“Thank you. What would I ever do without you?”
Simon gave a short laugh before shifting to a more concerned look. “Ryland—the heat is gonna be pretty bad today, you should call off.”
Ryland seemed to consider it for a moment until he shook his head, “I’m sure I’ll be fine! We’re already half way through September, and I hate calling off at the beginning of the school year. Plus, you know how easily I get sick, what if I need sick days another time?” He attempted to reassure his worried husband.
“It’s going to be in the high nineties for the majority of the day, I really don’t see that going well; and you’re already not feeling great.” Simon’s face twisted more into one of deep concern.
“I’ll make sure to stay cool, I promise.”
Ryland was stubborn, usually Simon even more so, but he can’t argue with the person who loves his job much more than most.
“Alright, fine, but I’m going to text you a lot to make sure you’re alright—"
“I know, sweetheart.” Ryland smiled, standing even as his joints cracked in protest. He dressed in his work uniform, replacing his usual warmer outfit for a much more temperature appropriate short sleeved button up and khaki shorts; plus his signature converse, of course.
He grabbed his cane from its spot beside the closet door, intricately decorated with small stickers his students have given him over the years.
He followed Simon to the front door, a small wobble to his steps as he tried to find the most comfortable position to gently twist his right foot in an attempt to avoid as much pain as possible.
The heat hit him like a concrete wall as soon as he stepped outside. He silenced his groan as to not alert Simon, but he seemed to sense it as he immediately checked on Ryland. The heat made him miserable, truly miserable—it settled deep in his body and wrung it of all its energy. Gosh, he could barely stand—but he couldn’t help but smile and nod at his husband's concerns.
Rather than being hit with the scorching, dizzying heat one would expect from a car that's been sitting in the sun, Ryland found it to be rather cool, like the AC had been on for a while now. When did Simon do that? Ryland never heard him leave. Nonetheless, his heart warmed at the gesture. He leaned over his husband, gently kissing his cheek before whispering, “Thank you.”
Simon returned the kiss, smiling ear to ear.
The two spoke the entire ride, Simon’s non-occupied hand slowly drifting towards Ryland’s before the latter just grabbed it, smiling at Simon’s feigned ignorance. Ryland watched the city fly past them, looking farther out as everything in the distance began to warp and bend under the heat. Heat waves have been getting more and more common in the past few years; but at least the previous months stayed foggy and chilly, Ryland liked it the best then.
Simon pulled into the teachers parking lot, reaching into the backseat to hand Ryland his bag.
“I’ll be back later to pick you up—” Simon gave Ryland one last kiss on the cheek, “make sure to text me how you’re feeling!”
“I will, I’ll see you later. Love you!”
“I love you too.” Simon replied, worry engrained in his small smile as he watched Ryland wobble off.
Ryland groaned as he entered his classroom, the stagnant air only making it feel hotter than it was outside. He immediately turned on the air conditioners as cool as they’d go and every box fan he’d been given by the concerned custodian who once found him face first on the ground. He walked behind his desk, wiping off the whiteboard from the previous week's lesson, the sterile smell of the spray not helping with his already apparent dizziness.
He hasn’t felt this bad in a long time. Not since those awful summers in Florida, pressed against the weight of the heat while his brothers surrounded him, trying to figure out what was happening. He remembers avoiding going outside as much as possible on those particularly hot weeks, his father later dragging him out yelling about how he wasn’t raising some little bitch who was scared of some hot weather. He tried not to think about it, but it was hard when it felt all too familiar. At least his adoptive parents took his health problems seriously.
He pushed the thought down—he didn’t need to be thinking about any of that right now.
He sat at his desk, slouching in his chair in an attempt to find the most comfortable position. Eventually, his students began to filter in and he had to straighten up.
“Mr. Grace!” One of his students, Justin, approached him, “I was worried you wouldn’t be here today, I didn’t see your bike!”
Ryland smiled, “No worries, it’s just a little too hot to bike right now.”
Another student approached him, they must’ve noticed how breathy he sounded. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it Olivia.”
As the rest of his class came in and settled down, Ryland got their attention. “Alright, good morning class! Now, as you guys know, I don’t do all that well in the heat,” He took a moment to breathe, his words coming out slower and less articulate, “so I ask that we keep it calm today.”
His students looked around at each other, worry etched into their faces, agreeing.
It didn’t take very long for Ryland to run out of water. Thankfully, it was his lunch break, and the teachers lounge had plenty of cold drinks. Some of his colleagues turned to look at him, concerned.
“Are you feeling alright? I know it’s pretty hot today.” Mrs. Brown, one of the English teachers, approached him.
Ryland, completely unaware of how pale he was, nodded, smiling back at her. Mrs. Brown didn’t really seem to buy it, but she turned back to what she had been previously doing, telling Ryland to let her know if he needed anything. He returned to his room just in time for his next class.
He gave the same spiel he gave the rest of his classes; too hot, don’t feel great, let’s keep it calm. It didn’t help that he was feeling worse now—leaving his classroom to go through the much warmer hallways to the much warmer teachers lounge—and he had a particularly longer lesson today. He was starting a new topic on the solar system, it was one of his favorites to teach, and his students were extra excited to learn about it with how much he hypes it up.
He stood from his chair, almost falling over at the buckle of his knees. He tried again, standing straight and giving himself a moment before continuing to the board behind him. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest. The students looked around at each other.
He only managed to get so far into the lesson before the warning signs he’d been painfully ignoring began to become less and less of a warning. He turned around to look at his students—he had just asked them if they had any questions, at least, he thinks he did. His words were shaky and his own voice felt foreign to him. His body leans backwards, his back harshly colliding with the whiteboard behind him as his knees finally give out after practically begging all day. Ryland tries to fight it, but he only manages to sway back and forth before crashing against the floor, just barely missing smashing his head against his desk.
His students began to freak out, some standing up and running over to check on him. Their yelling turned into arguing on who would be the one to honorably save their favorite teacher. Ryland would be flattered if he wasn’t on the ground struggling to hold onto consciousness. Eventually, one of his students—he couldn’t tell who from his lack of being able to see or hear anything around him—got sick of the arguing and ran out to grab the nurse.
By the time she arrived, Ryland had already fallen unconscious. His students helped the nurse to move his desk out of the way so he had enough room to lay down. The nurse propped his legs up on his chair and moved one of the box fans to face him. She tried to help everyone relax, sending one of the more calm students to the office to inform them of what had happened.
Ryland was up as quick as he had been down. He looked around, taking in each concerned face of his students as the nurse shooed them off.
“‘m sorry…” He muttered to no one in particular.
The nurse suppressed a smile, even like this—having just woken up, completely lethargic and unaware—he managed to be apologetic.
“No worries, Dr. Grace. Just doing my job.”
Simon’s stomach dropped when he received a call from the school. He rarely ever got calls—he was Ryland’s first emergency contact listed, so it was always some sort of an emergency. He knew Ryland was going to have problems today and he held back an audible “I told you so!” before answering the phone.
Simon was incredibly glad they didn’t live very far from the school, he couldn’t manage trying to rush to Ryland in the midday traffic.
When he arrived, he found his partner slumped in one of the nurse’s wheelchairs in the front office, accompanied by said nurse and an incredibly proud student who got tasked with carrying Mr. Grace’s stuff. When Ryland saw his husband, he gave him a shaky thumbs up and half a smile. Simon gently helped him out of the chair, careful to go slow so as to not raise Ryland’s heart rate more than it probably already was.
Ryland was doing great supporting himself against Simon’s body until they got back outside into the heat, only managing to last a good minute before he was slumping against Simon. He was still conscious, yes, but his body was slowly giving up on him again. Simon switched to practically carrying Ryland until they reached the car in which Simon had to pick him up to get him in the passenger seat. He buckled him up, put his stuff in the backseat, and profusely thanked the nurse for all her help.
Ryland muttered a few words—all of them breathy and inaudible—and Simon could only rub his leg and reassure him they’d be home soon. Trying to get Ryland inside was a whole other story, a very long one, but his color seemed to return as soon as they got into the much colder home. Simon gently guided Ryland to their bedroom, unarguably the coldest room at all times, helping to get him into some more comfortable clothes with his permission. As soon as he was lying in bed, safe and comfortable, Simon got him everything he might need: some small packs of saltines from his medical bag—which Ryland had seemed to forget today—plenty of water, a bottle of his favorite gatorade flavor in case the saltines weren’t enough electrolytes, and some juice. Was it a bit much? Maybe, but Ryland always knew exactly what he needed and Simon didn’t want to leave him alone for any longer than he had to if he forgot something.
Cooling blanket! He did forget something. He opened their closet to find one for Ryland to swaddle himself in before he pulled Simon out of his head.
“Simon?”
The man turned around to find Ryland sitting up, seeming to be having an internal battle with himself on whether or not he wants to reach out to Simon. Instead, Simon walks over to him and wraps his arms around him.
“I’m here, Angel.”
They held each other for a moment before Simon backed up to gesture towards the different things he got for Ryland.
“I have some stuff for you here—I wasn’t sure what you would need so I got a few differe—”
Simon was interrupted by Ryland pulling him into the bed and dragging him to lie beside him, it honestly reminded him just how strong Ryland actually was.
“Just you.” Ryland mumbled.
“Huh?”
“Just you, that’s all I need.”
Simon smiled ear to ear, his heart melting right there in his chest. Well, if that’s what Ryland wanted, who was Simon to deny his angel? He would stay here beside him all day if that's what he needed.