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Exhausted from the waves of pain, Derick slowly packed up his backpack and tucked the bottle in the outer pocket. Zipping it up, he slung one strap over his shoulder and grabbed his coat. Carefully, he walked down the steps.

Though other students called out to him, he ignored them. Just not feeling strong enough to answer.He leaned against the front row desks. Dropping his coat on one desk, he rubbed his fingers over his head and rubbed his neck.

Dark speckles filled his vision. Then the strange burning sensation returned to his eyes.

“Do you know what is happening to you, mon chaton?” Chevalier asked in his soft French-Canadian accent.

Lifting his head, Derick tried to blink through the speckle spots and burning. “Happening? Flu. Got flu.”

Chevalier shook his head. “Not the flu. Something special. Something that I don’t think you ever learned about, but now I can see it inside you. I can help you, but you must trust me. You will need to listen to me, follow me, and I’ll get you through what is happening.” He touched his fingers against Derick’s cheek. “Can you do that for me, mon chaton?”

“Will I feel better?”

“Oh, oui, better and stronger. That I can promise.”

His knees buckled when another wave of pain and cramps roared through his body. He groaned and collapsed.

“Oh, mon chaton, we’re running out of time,” Chevalier said when he caught him. He held Derick tight against his frame.

“Feel horrible… Help me, Professor—”

“Ben. Call me Ben.”

“Scared. Feel horrible.” Derick rested his head on Chevalier—Ben’s shoulder. He breathed in the soft fragrance of Ben’s cologne. Just the touch and smell of him comforted whatever happened deep inside him. “Don’t leave me.”

“Never, mon chaton.”