The sound of an old, rattling fan and the sharp chirping outside the window made the summer feel real. It was a hot summer, enough to make beads of sweat form even while standing still.

And unfitting for that summer day, we were in the infirmary. As the warm, almost hot sunlight heated the room full of cold colors, the suffocating atmosphere finally felt bearable.

......

And next to me was you, clutching the blanket until your hands turned white, dripping with cold sweat. A stark contrast, enough to make me wonder if it was okay for us to be this different while in the same space.

...They say even dogs don't catch summer colds.

I grumble quietly, but this damp emotion surging inside me doesn't disappear easily. Would it feel better if I blamed someone?

Or should I just be thankful that you're miraculously still alive?

It seemed like people had become far too accustomed to your illness by now.

...Ah, yes.

I, for one, can't seem to get used to it at all.

To be honest, it was a bit funny.

The fact that I, who spent 14 of my 18 years with you, can't get used to it, while these people who've only seen you for a little over a year have become so indifferent.

Since it seems I'm the only one like this, I must be the crazy one.

The teacher left, simply telling me to give you medicine and head to class once you wake up on your own.

......

The sound of cicadas heard faintly in the distance began to slowly fill the space that had become quiet again.

Hey.

I folded my arms next to the bed where you were lying and buried my face in them.

...Stop being sick. It makes me worry.

Realizing it was a rather embarrassing thing to say, I felt a shiver run down my spine.

....Ah, damn it....

My face grew hot. Definitely.

Even though the words were out of context and random for the situation, I felt like I was swept into a strange mood all by myself, and I wanted to turn the situation around somehow.

...Hey, hey!

Wake up, take some fever reducers before you sleep. Okay?

It was just an excuse, though.