My knock echoed through the hallway. "Neil? It's me Chris. Open up."

I stood still and listened for his approach, but it didn't come. I knocked again, louder. "Neil?"

Still there was no answer. I took out my phone and tried to call. I heard his phone ringing from inside, but he didn't pick up. The sound of my blood rushing drowned out the ringing after a while. Where WAS he? The door was locked, so hurried back to the lobby, ran to the clerk. "Excuse me. I'm worried about one of your tenants, Neil Kaiser? He's not answering the door or picking up his phone... is there a spare key to his apartment?"

The man looked me over. "Can I ask who you are, ma'am?"

"She's his girlfriend," Manny said from behind me, making me jump. "I'm worried about him too. Give her the key, you can trust her. She's not one of his crazy exes."

The man hesitated, but gave me the key. Manny nodded at my thanks, and I took the elevator back to Neil's floor. Upon entering, I didn't notice anything terrible right off. No alcohol bottles or drugs. Everything was neat and clean, like it hadn't been moved since the last time I'd been there. I called for Neil, but got no answer.

The kitchen was empty but for a carton of Chinese takeout on the table. I sniffed it; old. I ran to the bedroom, and found him there in bed. But I couldn't relax yet, as his skin was flushed, burning hot to the touch, and sweat soaked his clothing. I pulled the blankets off him and turned the fan on high before trying to wake him.

"Neil? Neil, wake up..."

He stirred with a jolt, a sudden gasp of breath. He fell beck to the bed when he saw it was me, closed his eyes. "God, Chris," he rasped. I felt his rapid heartbeat under the heat of his skin when I touched his neck. I'd scared him to death.

"I'm sorry. Neil, do you have any fever medicine?"

He pointed towards the bathroom without opening his eyes, and I hurried to find it, checked the expiration date, and got a spoon before running back. "Sit up so you can take this," I ordered, and helped him. He didn't resist, but couldn't do much to help me. I wondered how long it'd been since he'd eaten; judging by the old Chinese, it had been a while. "Do you want some water?"

He nodded, and I got him a glass with a straw. He drank the whole thing, and passed out again. I sat next to him and smoothed his hair from his sweaty forehead, dabbed his face with a towel. My heart was still working overtime, as I thought of what could've happened had I not shown up. Could he have died? Why hadn't I come sooner? He'd been there all alone... Why hadn't someone else come to check on him?

The fear, pain, and anger that grabbed my chest banished any doubt I'd had to that point. I loved Neil, wanted to be with him. Wanting to kill over him being sick and alone? I didn't think that was normal.

An hour and a half later his fever had receded. I called James and told him he'd been more than upset, but not as upset as I was. I told him I'd stay to make sure Neil was okay before leaving, though James wanted me to come home. Nothing was going to pull me away again. I scoured his fridge for soup ingredients. He would be starving, sooner or later.

For a sick man, his footsteps were just as quiet as when he wasn't, and I shrieked when his arms went around me from behind, and he rested most of his weight on me.

"Don't scare me like that!"

He sniffed. "I'm sorry... had to make sure I hadn't dreamed you up."

He was heavy, and I struggled not to tip over. "You really shouldn't be out of bed, you know. Come on, let's go back." With my help, we made it to the living room, but he swerved to fall on the couch, and pulled me down over him.

"Neil!"

"Stay," he murmured, arms locked around me, face buried itself in my neck. He sounded as weak as he was. I did my best to arrange myself to a comfortable position, as he didn't want to let me up.

"Thank you... for coming."

"Why didn't you call me? I would've come sooner."

"Though it was just a cold..."

"Just a cold? You were boiling in your own sweat when I got here."

He released a weak chuckle. "Obviously it progressed further than I expected. How did you get in?"

"Spare key from the from desk. Manny vouched for me."

"Mmm..." He sounded ready to fall asleep again, and I lifted off of him, sat on the edge of the couch. I put my hands on his face.

"Neil?"

His eye opened a crack. "Mmm?"

"I'm sorry."

His other eye opened. "What?"

"For everything I've done. For pushing you away, and making you wait for an answer. I'm sorry I never told you I loved you... I do love you."

He didn't answer, blue eyes boring into me, and I got nervous. Had he moved on already? Gotten tired of my games? The never-ending waiting-

"I knew it," he said instead, lips stretching into a sleepy smile. I tapped his chest with my palm instead of the indignant hit I wanted to land on him.

"That's not what you're supposed to say!"

"What should I say, my queen?"

"I'll talk to you when you're lucid," I muttered, and started to stand. He wrapped a hand around my wrist, and I lowered again. He continued to tug at my hand until I was stretched out beside him, tucked into his chest.

"I love you too."

"I'm glad... You had me worried."

He didn't respond for a while, and I thought he'd fallen asleep. But when I started to sit up, his arms tightened. "You've 'found yourself' then?"

I slid up until I could look him in the eyes. "I've found enough, I think. Doesn't mean I can't find the rest with you."

His eyes sparkled for the first time, and he grinned. "I'd love to find the rest of you. Too bad I'm so sick..."

I rolled my eyes, and he chuckled. "Go to sleep."

"Don't leave."

"Neil, you can trust me. I'm not going anywhere."

He inhaled. "I smell soup."

"Mom's recipe."

"You have to get her to invite me over for dinner. I've heard the woman can cook."

I closed his eyes with my fingertips. "Sleep. There will be plenty of time for that when you're better."

"I'm already better... Have to tell Manny..." he drifted off before he finished, and I stayed wrapped in his arms.

There would be plenty of time for me to find the rest of myself. But I wanted a good portion to go to Neil. He'd caused the changes to begin with, he'd helped me find the first bits of myself under all the fat, and given me the push to continue on my own. The months without him had done me well, but the years yet future would be better. I knew no matter what I did, whether I grew or shrunk, he'd stick with me every step of the way; the weight of love, cheesy as it sounded, wasn't a set number. It wasn't a look, it was an attitude.

The weight of love is determined by each couple that experiences it. I hoped ours would never reach it's limit.

THE END