My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 67: To Kiss A Nurse (BC)

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3rd Person’s POV

As the sky began to turn shades of orange and violet, Adrien realized he had lost track of how many hours he’d spent at Noah’s bedside. What started as a quick check-in had turned into an entire day where he felt like a nervous parent, and honestly, it struck him as pretty absurd.

Adrien wasn’t the type to play nurse, he usually didn’t fuss over anyone and didn’t have the patience for it. But for some reason, every time he thought about leaving Noah alone, something inside him just wouldn’t let him go.

His fever had only gotten worse throughout the afternoon. He felt hot and clammy, and his once steady breathing had become shallow and uneven. He had to help Noah sit up against him just so he could drink a little water, his hand holding the back of his head while he murmured, "Take it slow, idiot. You don’t want to choke."

Noah was barely registering anything, her eyes half-open and unfocused, and the dazed look he gave him twisted something sharp in his gut.

He had made soup, his mom’s spicy chicken soup recipe, the one he hadn’t touched since she passed away. He couldn’t even say why he was compelled to do it. Maybe it was just habit or muscle memory, or that small part of him that still remembered her saying it could fix anything. He spoon-fed Noah small bites, blowing on each one to cool it down before bringing it to his lips.

"Come on," he said softly when he turned her head away. "Don’t make me force it down your throat. It’s not even poisoned and it’s good for you."

Noah mumbled something that sounded like ’you’re mean,’ but he ate anyway. That was enough for him.

Then there was the medicine, Noah’s least favorite part. His groaned and scrunched his nose at the bitter taste, making a face that made Adrien chuckle despite himself.

"You’re such a baby," he teased, handing Noah a glass of water. "I should’ve filmed that face to use it against you."

"Jerk," Noah rasped, his voice barely a whisper before he slumped back against the pillows.

And the tissues... God, the tissues. If someone had told him a year ago that he’d be standing over his bully victim, Noah, handing him Kleenex and helping him blow his nose, he would’ve laughed. But there he was, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose while he sniffled miserably.

"You’re a mess," Adrien muttered, though it was said without any real harshness. "You’re lucky I have a strong stomach."

Noah’s lips curved a little at that, and for a moment, he thought he might actually be teasing him back. But Noah’s eyes drooped shut again, fatigue winning out.

As the light waned and shadows stretched across the room, Adrien slumped in the chair next to his bed, elbows resting on his knees. His back ached, and his eyes felt heavy from being open too long, but he didn’t move. Watching Noah sleep, his chest rising and falling gently, felt oddly grounding.

He wasn’t sure why he was putting himself through all this. Maybe it was seeing him like this that reminded him just how fragile he was. Or maybe it was the closeness, a reason to be near Noah without feeling guilty.

But then Noah’s face tightened up, his brows furrowing and lips parting as he whispered, and he felt his body tense.

"Please don’t..." he murmured, trembling. "Please no... dad..."

Adrien froze.

At first, he thought Noah was just rambling, caught in fever dreams. But the way his body jerked slightly, fear written all over his face, it wasn’t random. He looked genuinely terrified even in slumber.

"Noah," he said quietly, leaning in closer. Noah’s head swayed slightly, breaths quickening.

"Please... stop..."

That made his heart lurch. He reached out and gently shook his shoulder. "Hey, Noah," he called softly. "Wake up. It’s just a dream, okay? You’re fine."

Noah didn’t respond. He shook him again, a bit more insistently this time, worry creeping into his voice. "Noah, come on, wake up."

His eyes snapped open, wide and glassy, his chest rising sharply as if he had been drowning and finally broke the surface. For a brief second, Noah looked completely lost, disoriented and scared—and when him gaze finally locked onto him, she blinked in confusion.

"It’s okay," he said quietly, his voice softer than he’d intended. "You were just having a nightmare."

Noah swallowed hard, still panting. "I... I’m sorry," he whispered hoarsely, brushing at his forehead. "I didn’t mean to—"

"Don’t," Adrien interrupted, shaking his head. "You don’t need to apologize for having a nightmare."

He hesitated, watching her face closely. Noah still looked pale and worn out, but there was something else lurking there too, a shadow of pain that had nothing to do with the fever. Something deeper.

He wanted to ask about the dream, about the ’dad’ Noah had mentioned, but the look in her eyes stopped him. It wasn’t the right moment. Not when he was still trembling. Not when the air felt so delicate between them.

Instead, he just adjusted the blanket around Noah’s shoulders and said, "Get some more sleep, hamster. I’m not going anywhere."

Noah gave a weak, half-asleep smile, and Adrien stayed by his side until his breathing evened out again.

As night enveloped the room and rain began to tap lightly against the window, Adrien realized that caring for Noah, truly caring—scared him more than anything ever had.

Noah stirred again, his lashes fluttering against warm skin as a soft groan escaped his lips. Adrien leaned closer, ready to check his temperature again, but Noah blinked his hazy eyes open, pupils unfocused and heavy with fever. For a moment, he looked right through Adrien...until his gaze softened in recognition.

"Thank you for being here, Ethan," Noah whispered, his voice small and raw as if it had been dragged over gravel.

...Ethan?

Adrien froze, every muscle in his body tensing. The name echoed in his mind like a cruel reminder of everything he wasn’t. He opened his mouth to set Noah straight, but the words stuck in his throat.

Noah smiled slightly, weak but heartbreakingly tender, his hand searching for Adrien’s as he mumbled, "I’m sorry... for keeping secrets. F–for always ruining things."

"Yeah...Noah, I’m not exactly—" he started, his voice rougher than he meant, but before he could say anything more, Noah’s trembling fingers found his cheek. They felt warm and he gently tugged at Adrien’s jaw, guiding him down until he felt Noah’s soft lips against his.

The world went silent.

His kiss wasn’t desperate or feverish; it was hesitant and soft, lingering like a secret. He kissed Adrien with this innocent yearning, his hand cradling Adrien’s face as if he were afraid Adrien shatter if he let go. And for one terrible heartbeat, Adrien forgot to breathe.

He’d imagined kissing Noah before, in fleeting, shameful fantasies he’d buried under nights with Vanessa. But this? This felt worse. Because Noah wasn’t really kissing him, not fully.

He could feel the fever burning in Noah’s skin, the confusion in his touch, and it snapped Adrien out of the trance like a bucket of cold water. Noah wasn’t thinking clearly. He didn’t even know who he was kissing.

Yet, a selfish part of him wanted to linger there a moment longer. To just... feel what it might’ve been like if things were different. If Noah had really meant it.

But he couldn’t.

Breaking the kiss, Adrien gently pulled back, ignoring the tiny protest that slipped from Noah’s lips. "You need to rest," he said quietly, his voice barely steady. "You’re exhausted."

Noah blinked at him, confusion flickering across his fever-glazed eyes before he nodded sleepily. Within seconds, his breathing steadied again as he drifted back into sleep.

Adrien sat there, motionless, his strange apology and that accidental kiss replaying in his mind like a song he couldn’t turn off. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at Noah’s peaceful face...soft, innocent, completely unaware of the turmoil he’d left behind in his chest.

What the hell just happened? he thought, leaning back in the chair with a shaky exhale.

For the first time in ages, Adrien Fell didn’t have a witty remark, no smirk to shield himself. Just the quiet, confusing ache of wanting something he could never have.