An entire week had passed since Warren had told you about his condition. An entire week of doubt, concern and fear as you saw him get gradually sicker. At first, it was just an ache in his back when he was moving, but it quickly became more as it started to prevent him from spreading his wings, walking, and finally moving at all. And it all happened in a few days. The worst days of your life. Or so you thought. But the past three days had beaten that.

At least before, he had still been able to talk and laugh and get a semblance of normal life but then when his state made him unable to move and he had to be confined to bed, he seemed to lose what little energy he had left. Lying on his stomach, he could barely stand the pain in his back. He would groan and sweat as a fever was talking hold of him. He would pass out too when the pain was too unbearable to handle, which was more often than not.

But the worst was not seeing him suffer like that, even if you could feel your heart shatter in pieces in your chest every time you would hear him groan in pain. No, the worst was the uncertainty of the future.

No one could figure out what was wrong with his wings. Not the Professor Xavier or the professor McCoy or even the new student, the healer. Neither power nor science could give you answers and it was slowly driving you nuts. The others were trying their best to help you: they would come to cheer you up every day, bringing you food and books and staying to chat with Warren and you. But the chatter quickly stopped as Warren became sicker and you more and more depressed. And even if you loved them, you could not stand the pity in their eyes every time they would look at you. You knew Warren's condition was worrying. Many in the school believed he would not survive, but still you hoped for the better, every single day. But even as you tried not to think of it, a voice in your head was constantly reminding you that it could happen. He could die. And that's what made you stay by his side.

For the three days he had been in bed, you had lay down next to him and tried your best to ease his pain. The Professor had tried to convince you many times to go back to your room to sleep or to go outside to take your mind off it but you had systematically refused to leave Warren's side. You knew your presence was good for him.

Most of the time, you would lay down by his side and keep an eye on him. You would put wet towel on his head to lower his temperature, make him drink and eat when he could, but mostly you would talk to him. It was not much but you had noticed how hearing your voice seemed to make him feel instantly better.

At first, it was news of what was happening in the school: the stories the others would tell you when they would come to see Warren and find him passed out. Then, you would tell him about funny stories you heard years ago or ramble on. When you would not find anything else to say, you would read him the latest news from the newspapers or just read out loud from a book Jean would bring you. And he would listen to you attentively, a slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth when you would start to rant about some of the news you would read. At some time, when he would find the strength, he would answer to you, always in a tired almost inaudible voice that would make tears build up in your eyes.

But for him, you had tried to stay strong. Still, every day seemed to be harder than the one before. And every night too.

Last night had been the worst so far as Warren had been screaming and groaning in pain for the most part of the night. The Professor had tried to lower his pain, to get inside his head, but he was only able to ease Warren for a few hours before he could not do it anymore, the pain being so strong even him could not handle it. So they gave Warren medicines, a lot. But it did not prevent him from suffering. So you did your best to soothe him.

Lying in front of him, you had stroked his hair for the major part of the night, talking to him smoothly every time he would wake up in agonizing pain. You had changed the wet towel for fresh ones on his back and head more times than you could remember. His skin burning up despite him only wearing sweatpants and the window staying open. It was only toward four in the morning that Warren fell completely asleep. You remembered letting out a deep sight as you felt a heavy weight being lifted from your shoulders. You did not want to but you fall asleep soon after, too exhausted to even try to stay awake.

The morning came too fast.

When you opened your eyes, Warren was still sleeping. But as you studied him, you noticed how his shoulders were tense and his forehead covered in sweat. Even his expression was far from the peaceful one he had the week before, when he had spend the night with you.

Even in his sleep, pain was never far behind. This thought hit you hard and with that you could not contain the tears anymore. Sadness was overcoming you as the tears you had so long tried to conceal were streaming down your face. Hiding it in your hands, you tried not to wake him up. In a few seconds, you found yourself crying uncontrollably. It was too hard to see him like that. Hadn't he endure enough already?

You sniffed loudly, too loudly as you realized too late.

Warren had called your name. It had only been a faint whisper, one that you had barely heard under your sobs, but when you removed your hands from your face, you found him looking at you. His tired blue eyes growing wide in sadness as he met your teary eyes. In a faint groan, he raised his hand to your cheek before saying, his voice barely audible:

"Don't cry. You know I can't handle seeing you like that."

"I'm sorry." You managed to mutter between sobs.

Tears were still falling down your cheeks, blurring your vision and your voice was so shaky you were not even sure he had understood you.

"Stop worrying about me. I'll be okay." He whispered, his thumb trying to dry the numerous tears streaming down your cheeks.

"How can you say that? You're not getting any better."

"I know I will. And as long as you're there with me, I can endure everything."

You shook your head. Even in his state, he was still trying to reassure you.

"Warren, you don't have to pretend to be tough for me."

"I'm not. I really think so. You're the only medicine I need, angel." He stopped, his eyes scanning your face, taking in every detail. After a few seconds, he locked eyes with you again. "Seeing you by my side every time I wake up is enough to make me feel better."

His words warmed your heart, making the tears slowing down. Raising your hands, you took his hand in yours and kissed his knuckles. His skin was so warm. A faint smile hovered on his lips before he closed his eyes, too tired to keep talking. You felt the tears starting to build up again in your eyes and pushed them away. You would not cry again. You squeezed his hand in yours and closed your eyes; hoping sleep would wash everything away, that when you would wake up Warren would be fine and you would learn that everything had just been a long and terrible nightmare.