Under the Weather

Elanor's days had settled into a comfortable rhythm, one that balanced the intensity of his work with the tentative reconnection he was building with Raya. The previous weekend's trip to the kitten playground still lingered in his mind, a rare moment of peace in a life otherwise dominated by astrophysics and the mysteries of the universe. But today was different. As soon as Elanor woke up, he felt the faint stirrings of fatigue, a dull ache in his head that he chalked up to a poor night's sleep. He ignored it, as he often did with minor discomforts, and pushed himself to get ready for the day.

The lab was abuzz with activity when he arrived, the early morning sun streaming through the large windows and casting a warm glow over the whiteboards, computers, and stacks of papers that lined the room. His colleagues were already at their workstations, deeply immersed in their tasks. The project on dark matter interactions had gained momentum, and Elanor knew they were on the verge of a significant breakthrough.

"Morning, Elanor," Dr. Margaret Lin greeted him as he walked in, her eyes scanning a complex diagram on the whiteboard. "I was just going over the latest data from the simulations we ran overnight. It looks like we're starting to see some consistent patterns in the way dark matter interacts with low-density baryonic regions."

Elanor nodded, trying to muster up his usual enthusiasm. "That's great news, Dr. Lin. Let's take a look at the data and see if we can refine the model further."

He moved to his workstation, bringing up the latest results on the large central monitor. The screen filled with graphs, charts, and tables of data, all representing the rotational velocities, dark matter densities, and baryonic matter distributions in various simulated galaxies. The results were promising—there were clear deviations in the expected rotational curves that could be explained by the dark matter interactions they had been hypothesizing.

But as he began to dive into the analysis, the headache he had woken up with began to intensify. It was a dull, persistent throb at the back of his skull, growing more insistent with each passing minute. He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the numbers and the patterns emerging on the screen, but his concentration kept slipping, his thoughts muddling together.

"Are you alright, Elanor?" Dr. David Healy's voice cut through the fog in his mind. Elanor looked up to see Dr. Healy watching him with a concerned expression.

"I'm fine," Elanor replied, though his voice lacked its usual firmness. "Just a bit of a headache. It'll pass."

Dr. Healy raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Maybe you should take it easy today. We've got a lot of work ahead of us, and you're not going to be much help if you're not feeling well."

"I'll be alright," Elanor insisted, though even as he said it, a wave of dizziness washed over him. He gripped the edge of the desk, trying to steady himself. "I just need to focus."

Dr. Lin glanced over, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took in Elanor's pale complexion and the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Elanor, you don't look well. You might be coming down with something."

"I'll be fine," Elanor repeated, though even he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. "Let's just get through this data."

They spent the next few hours working through the latest results, their conversation filled with technical jargon and detailed discussions of gravitational interactions, dark matter distribution, and the implications for galaxy formation theories. Normally, Elanor would have thrived in such an environment, his mind sharp and engaged as he delved into the complexities of astrophysics. But today, every word felt like a struggle, every thought mired in a thick fog that refused to lift.

As the day wore on, Elanor's condition worsened. The headache had spread, a dull, throbbing pain that now radiated down his neck and shoulders. His throat felt scratchy, his muscles ached, and a deep fatigue settled into his bones, making it difficult to focus on anything for more than a few seconds at a time. He found himself making more mistakes than usual—misreading data, overlooking important details, even struggling to keep up with the conversation.

By mid-afternoon, it was clear that he wasn't going to be able to push through. His vision blurred, and another wave of dizziness nearly sent him toppling over. He had to grip the edge of his desk to keep from swaying.

"Elanor, you need to go home," Dr. Lin said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You're clearly not well, and you're not doing yourself any favors by staying here. We can manage without you for a day."

Elanor opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. He knew she was right. He was barely functioning, let alone contributing meaningfully to the work at hand. "Yeah... you're right. I'll head out."

"Get some rest," Dr. Healy added, his voice softer now. "We'll pick this up tomorrow or whenever you're feeling better."

Elanor nodded, too exhausted to argue further. He gathered his things, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated, and made his way to the door. The walk to his apartment felt like an eternity. Each step was an effort, and the world around him seemed to tilt and spin. By the time he reached his building, he was sweating profusely despite the cool air, and his breath came in shallow, uneven gasps.

Once inside his apartment, Elanor collapsed onto the couch, too tired to even think about eating. He lay there for a few minutes, trying to gather the energy to get up and do something—anything—that might make him feel better. But his body refused to cooperate, the exhaustion too deep, the sickness too overwhelming.

Eventually, he forced himself to get up and prepare a simple meal—just some soup and toast, something he could manage without much effort. He barely tasted it as he ate, his mind too foggy, his body too focused on fighting off whatever illness had taken hold of him.

Afterward, he lay back down on the couch, pulling a blanket over himself and closing his eyes. But sleep wouldn't come. His head pounded, his throat burned, and his body ached in ways he hadn't felt in years. Every time he tried to drift off, another wave of discomfort would pull him back to wakefulness.

It was in this state—half-asleep, half-aware—that his phone buzzed on the coffee table. The sound cut through the haze in his mind, and he reached for it, blinking blearily at the screen. It was Raya, calling him.

For a moment, he considered letting it go to voicemail. He wasn't sure he had the energy to hold a conversation, especially not with Raya, who always seemed to bring out a mix of emotions he wasn't equipped to handle on a good day, let alone when he was sick. But something made him answer, perhaps the need to hear a familiar voice, something to ground him in the midst of the sickness.

"Hello?" Elanor's voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

"Elanor?" Raya's voice was clear, concerned. "Are you okay? You sound terrible."

Elanor tried to muster up a reassuring tone, but it came out weak and unconvincing. "I'm fine. Just... a little under the weather."

"A little?" Raya echoed, disbelief evident in her voice. "You sound like you've been run over by a truck. Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

"I didn't want to worry you," Elanor said, though even as he said it, he knew it sounded ridiculous. "I'm sure it's nothing. Just a cold."

"Just a cold?" Raya repeated, clearly unimpressed. "Elanor, you're burning out your batteries again. You need to take better care of yourself. Have you seen a doctor?"

"No," Elanor admitted, wincing as another wave of pain throbbed through his head. "I'm just going to rest. It'll pass."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Elanor could almost hear the gears turning in Raya's mind. "Where are you right now?"

"At home," Elanor replied, his voice barely more than a croak. "On the couch."

"Okay," Raya said, her tone decisive. "I'm coming over."

Elanor blinked, struggling to process what she had just said. "Raya, you don't have to—"

"Yes, I do," Raya interrupted, her voice firm. "You're sick, and you shouldn't be alone. I'll be there as soon as I can. Just hang in there."

Before Elanor could protest further, the line went dead. He stared at his phone, feeling a mix of confusion and gratitude. He hadn't expected her to drop everything and rush over, but then again, that was just like Raya—always caring, always ready to help, even when he didn't think he needed it.

Too tired to think much more about it, Elanor set the phone down and closed his eyes, the exhaustion pulling him into a restless, feverish sleep. As his thoughts grew fuzzy and his body gave in to the fatigue, he let himself rest, trusting that everything would be alright—at least for now.