Danna glanced at Garson . His eyes looked dull, unfocused — the usual spark completely gone.
"Are you alright, Mr. Whatever?" she asked, brows furrowing with concern.
"I'm fine," Garson muttered, lowering his head. "Just a little headache and body pain."
Danna didn't buy it.
"Listen… show me your face," she said, her voice firmer now.
Garson hesitated, then slowly looked up, leaning in just slightly. His face was pale, lips dry, and there was something fragile in his expression he didn't usually show.
Danna paused, heart thumping, then hesitantly lifted her hand and pressed it gently against his forehead.
The moment her skin touched his… her eyes widened.
"You're burning up," she whispered, shocked. "Mr whatever, you have a fever."
He blinked, trying to hold himself together — but his body was already giving away the truth he didn't want to admit.
"Hey—wake up," Danna said, tapping Garson's face gently but firmly as he slumped forward on the library table.
His head had nearly dropped onto his arms, eyes barely open.
"You're not sleeping here," she added, voice sharp with worry.
Garson groaned lowly, his voice raspy. "Just five minutes…"
"No," Danna snapped, tugging his sleeve. "This isn't funny anymore. You're sick, and you're acting like you're made of stone."
He lifted his head slowly, blinking up at her with heavy eyes. "You're dramatic."
"And you're burning with fever on a public table," she fired back. "So get up. Now."
There was a pause—then Garson finally pushed himself up, swaying just slightly. Danna caught his arm without hesitation.
"I'm taking you to the clinic," she said.
"Listen, Miss Coffee…" Garson muttered, trying to steady himself as he stood. "I don't need to go to the clinic. I'm fine… so you just go home."
His voice was weak — weaker than he realized — and before he could take another step, his legs gave out beneath him.
"Garson!" Danna gasped, rushing toward him as he collapsed to the ground.
She dropped to her knees beside him, panic flashing in her eyes as she gently lifted his head. He was burning — his skin hot, his breath shallow.
"We're going to the clinic," she said, her voice trembling but steady. "Only then I'll leave you alone. I promise."
Garson parted his lips, about to say something — maybe one last protest, maybe something he'd regret — but the words never came.
Instead, his body swayed toward her, and before Danna could react, his head dropped forward, collapsing gently against her shoulder.
Her breath caught. "Garson?" she whispered, panic rising in her chest. "Hey—no, no, no—wake up!"
He didn't respond.
His full weight now rested against her, burning hot with fever, his breathing shallow and uneven. Danna froze for a second, heart racing — then wrapped her arms around him, holding him steady.
"Help!" she shouted toward the hallway, her voice shaking. "Someone, please—he passed out!"
Two students nearby heard her shout and rushed over instantly.
"Whoa—what happened?" one of them asked, already kneeling beside Garson.
"He just—he passed out!" Danna said, trying to keep her voice steady. "He's burning with fever. Please help me get him to the clinic."
Without hesitation, they lifted Garson carefully, one of them supporting his back while the other held his legs. Danna grabbed his bag and ran alongside them as they moved quickly down the hallway.
Garson's head lolled to the side, resting lightly against one guy's shoulder, his eyes half-closed.
"Please… keep yourself awake," she whispered, eyes stinging. "Don't fall asleep, Garson… just hold on a little longer."
His eyes barely opened at her voice — unfocused, distant — but something in her tone seemed to reach him. He gave the faintest nod, almost instinctively, like her words anchored him to consciousness.
Danna swallowed hard, walking with them, matching their pace as if letting go of his presence for even a second would let him slip away completely.
She didn't care that her voice cracked. She didn't care who heard.
She just needed him to stay awake.
Garson slowly blinked his eyes open. The world around him was quiet — too quiet.
Dim afternoon light filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes across the white walls of the clinic. The buzz of the ceiling fan hummed faintly above him. He moved slightly and felt a tug at his hand.
A drip.
A thin tube was taped to the back of his hand, connected to the IV stand beside the bed. His head throbbed faintly, but it wasn't the fever-hot ache from earlier — more like the aftershock.
He looked around, confused for a second, trying to remember where he was… why he was here.
Then it came back.
The library. Danna's voice. Her panic. Her hands on his shoulders. The way she shouted for help.
He closed his eyes for a second — not from pain, but from the weight of it all.
Danna walked in alongside the nurse, who spoke in a calm but serious tone.
"Please be careful. The patient hasn't eaten anything, it seems. His condition worsened because of dehydration, and his fever was dangerously high. If we hadn't gotten here in time, things could have been much worse."
Danna nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Okay, I'll talk to him, miss."
The nurse gave a small, reassuring smile and left the room.
Garson heard everything but kept his eyes closed, his breathing steady but weak.
Danna moved quietly to the chair beside him and sat down, her gaze fixed on his still face.
Garson slowly opened his eyes. Danna immediately leaned closer, her voice full of concern.
"Listen, are you feeling better?"
He stared at her for a moment, then muttered, "Why are you still here?"
Danna looked away, cheeks flushing slightly. "I can't just leave you like this and go home."
A faint, almost bitter smile curved Garson's lips. "People help people they hate."
She met his gaze, steady. "You helped me too the other day."
Garson tried to push himself up, but a sharp groan escaped him as his body protested the movement.
"Could you please stay still?" Danna said firmly, her eyes locked on him.
He smirked weakly, trying again. "You can't guide me, Miss Coffee."
As he moved again, Danna didn't hesitate—she slapped his hand where the drip was attached.
A louder groan ripped from Garson's throat as pain shot through him.
"Ahhh! Crazy girl, you want to kill me with pain?" he yelled, voice rough but edged with a teasing bitterness.
Danna just rolled her eyes, but there was a softness hidden behind her scolding glare.
"Just rest, Mr. Macho-man," she said, settling back into her chair with a smirk.
Danna reached into her bag and pulled out a couple of juices and a croissant.
"Here," she said, handing them over from her chair with a small smile. "Have these. You need to eat something."
Garson glanced at the snacks, then back at her, a flicker of gratitude hidden in his tired eyes.
"Miss Coffee, you really don't quit, huh?" he murmured, cracking the smallest of smiles.
"The nurse told me you, stupid guy, haven't eaten since morning—or maybe even yesterday," Danna said flatly, her arms crossed, voice sharp like a knife.
Garson blinked at her, caught off guard by her tone.
"She said that's why your fever got worse," she added, no softness in her face this time—just pure frustration wrapped around concern.
Garson raised an eyebrow at her tone, but before he could speak, Danna cut in, voice low and frustrated:
"Next time you try to collapse in front of me, I'll punch you, Mr. Whatever."
He blinked at her, half amused, half stunned. "You'd punch a sick guy?"
"Yup. Right in the face," she said, standing up and glaring down at him. "Because apparently, pain is the only language you understand."
A crooked smile tugged at Garson's lips. "You care too much, Miss Coffee."
"I don't," she snapped, turning her face away to hide the heat in her cheeks.
"You do," he whispered,
"You know," Danna said, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, "you overthink a lot."
Garson raised an eyebrow, still watching her.
"Anyway," she added, brushing her hair back and keeping her tone cool, "I called Aiden. He'll be here in a few minutes. You can go home then."
She was almost at the door when his voice stopped her.
"Thank you, Miss Coffee," Garson said, his tone gentler than usual.
Danna paused and glanced back over her shoulder. He was smiling — faint, genuine, and just a little smug.
She rolled her eyes, hiding the flicker of warmth in her chest. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered, then turned and walked out before he could see her cheeks getting red.
Behind her, Garson leaned back against the pillow, still smiling to himself.