Carry her

Sighing, Ethan digs deep, gathering the last of his strength. Returning to the couch, he stiffly bends over, slipping his hands under Charlie's prone, sticky body, and taking in a deep breath.

Charlie, not understanding what he's doing, gives Ethan a confused look. "Wha are yo-OOOO!"

Scooping her up, Ethan lets out a strained grunt, hoisting Charlie up into a princess carry. "Just. Helping." He strains to say, his muscles screaming at him as he secures his hold.

Charlie's face flushes again, her jaw waggling as all she can do is stammer in response. After a few seconds, she wraps her arms around Ethan's shoulders, holding on snuggly.

Carefully, Ethan puts one foot in front of the other, slowly making toward the stairs. The trip is hard, bordering on brutal, but short. Charlie is light, thankfully, and Ethan has a pretty good hold on her, as if she was built to be carried like this. He also thanks whoever built the house the stairs are not narrow, not needing to adjust much to avoid banging Charlie's head on the way up. Reaching the top, he considers briefly where he should bring her, but opts to just take her to bed with him. He doesn't think he can do any extra walking based on how he's feeling.

Getting her into the room, he tries his bed to place her on the bed gently, but ends up dropping her at the last second, his knee almost giving out. After she hits the bed, she half rolls away, giving Ethan just enough space to crawl up beside her. Pulling himself up, he feels the last of his strength fade just as he makes it into the bed.

Eyes heavy, he lets out a haggard sigh. Charlie is next to him, her back touching his arm. As sleep takes him, he twists his wrist, placing a hand against her, feeling her properly. She says something to him he can't quite make out, something important.

Then all is black.