Lily clenches her jaw, throat tightening and heat creeping up behind her eyes as she rushes into the corridor. She beelines to the restroom a few doors down, slamming into an empty stall just before the burning tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. She caves in on herself, chest heaving in a silent sob as she replays the moment of her public humiliation and flounders in the shame building inside her.
She is overreacting, truly, nearly bent in half at the weight of her emotions because of one stupid question. She thought taking a film class would be a fun addition to her rigorous pre-med schedule for her final year: light workload, exercising her creative brain, and getting to watch movies for class. And it was, for the most part. But she had failed to consider that the class would cater to, well, film students. Lily knew absolutely nothing about film, and certainly couldn’t hold a candle to the obsessions these other students had for obscure directors whose names she could never remember. But she knew how to handle herself, even completely out of her depth. Sit in the back, write down everything the professor said, research it all at home, go to office hours to ask questions.
But today–she tastes salt on the back of her tongue as a fresh wave of tears springs at the thought–today had bested her. She doesn’t know why she was so affected, years of essentially forcing people to like and respect her has toughened her skin. She had simply raised her hand and asked what a term the professor used meant. But the muffled giggles of the girls sitting behind her, the judging glances from across the room, and the sympathetic sigh the professor had released before answering had seared themselves into her brain. Lily had wanted to curl into a ball, disappear completely in that moment and now the hot grip of embarrassment that slithered up her spine was refusing to let go.
She’s shaking now, breath coming in gasps as she tries to wipe the image from her mind and pull herself together. Desperate, she presses her forehead into the stall door, letting the sharp cold of the metal bring her a step back into her body. It feels good against her burning face as she sucks in another shuddering breath. “It was nothing,” she tells herself, “doesn’t even matter.”
—
By the afternoon, the tears dried up and left a pounding headache in their place. Lily drifted through her bio lecture barely aware, sinking into a spiral of shame and self-hatred that left her feeling less than human by the time it was dismissed. She usually meets a few of her friends for lunch after class, but honestly can’t stomach putting on a decent face or facing their inevitable questions at the moment. Her head throbs and she suddenly realizes how exhausted she is, needing all her focus to keep putting each foot in front of the other as she heads for the library.
Class ending reminded her how much of the afternoon had already passed, and just how much work she has to finish today. No matter how badly she wants a nap. She trudges into the musty old building, the harsh fluorescent lights forcing her to squint as they try to pierce her brain. Her favorite table in the corner is empty, a small blessing for what’s shaping up to be an awful day, and she collapses into the seat, relishing in the quiet. It’s tucked in a corner, far enough from others to feel out of sight, and next to a window so the sun can breathe some life back into her before it dips below the horizon.
She sets up shop, ready to muddle through the afternoon, or really as long as it takes so she can at least go home feeling somewhat accomplished. But her hopes quickly wane as text starts to blur together on her screen. The emotional energy she’d expended that morning seems to have sapped her attention span and Lily can barely get her eyes to focus long enough to read a single question, let alone process what it said. She rubs her temples, eyes boring into the screen hoping the letters will start to make sense if she simply looks at them long enough.
The thud of a backpack dropping onto the table next to her laptop jolts her from her stupor and Lily glances up quickly to see a familiar grin and shock of black hair staring down at her behind round glasses.
“Whatcha workin’ on, Lils?” Her boyfriend asks, as he leans over the table to stare at her screen, blocking her view with his unruly mane.
She grumbles, pushing his head out of the way “ M’just studying…” She’s relieved to see him, of course, and wants nothing more than curl into his side and breathe him in, but she knows he would break through her hastily constructed facade in 5 seconds if she let him. And she can’t afford to lose the rest of her day weeping into her boyfriend’s shoulder and absorbing the comfort he radiates like the sun. No, she has to keep him at an arm’s length today, or she’ll never get anything done.
She and James have been together for almost a year now, after torturing each other all through their childhood, mellowing into passive co-existence as teenagers, and finally growing to be friends in their early adulthood. Their chemistry had been undeniable when they’d run into each other at university orientation, and she’d been grateful enough to see any familiar face in this strange new place that she didn’t care if it was James’. And after 2 and a half years of her own stubborn denial and their friends wanting to smack them both, Lily had gotten over herself and kissed him. She’d surprised the hell out of him, but they’ve been together ever since.
“...earth to Lily,” James waves a hand in front of her screen and Lily realizes he had been saying something to her.
“Mm?” Her tongue feels heavy and words are far more effort than she wants to expend right now.
“I asked what you were studying for?” A cute little crease appears between his eyebrows, hinting at his concern, “You okay, love?” He places a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Lily almost leans into him at how nice it feels… before jolting back to her senses and shrugging his hand off. She can’t go there now, she has too much to do.
“M’ fine.” It comes out harsher than she means, but James doesn’t look too torn up as he moves around the table and takes the seat across from her.
“Marls said they missed you at lunch today,” Lily stares at her screen, unblinking. “Have you eaten?”
The words are swimming on the screen and her mouth feels dry. She grunts noncommittally in response, tugging on her hair with one hand. James looks unsatisfied from the corner of her eye, but seems to give up this avenue of questioning and fishes a notebook and pen from his cluttered backpack, kicking his feet up on the empty chair next to her.
He’s often restless, fidgeting with anything he can find, and today he clicks his pen over and over again, the sound drilling its way into her skull. She tugs harder at her hair, trying to force the words in front of her to make sense. He bumps his knee against hers under the table, a gesture of affection, but she pulls her leg back sharply, nerves wearing thin. Her sweatshirt starts to feel overly warm, a bead of sweat dripping down her back. James is tapping his pen against the table now, staring off into space out the window. Her fingers twist into the red strands, yanking on her scalp as each tap threatens to tip her over the edge. Tap. Tap. Tap–
“Would you stop?!” She hisses, vitriol fed by the boiling frustration in her gut bursting through, finally free. James’ gaze snaps to her, startled and questioning.
“Lily, what–”
“Just fucking stop, I can’t–” words are scrambling in her brain now, and shame crawls up her neck, hot and familiar as she breaks his gaze. “I need–” She tugs at her hair, “I can’t focus like this,” she gets out.
Lily stares down at the table, not wanting to look at him.
“Do you want me to go?” He says it softly. Lily can’t tell if it’s disguising hurt or compassion, but she needs him not to see her right now. She nods, throat tight.
James gets his backpack and walks around the table, pausing beside her for a second before walking away.
Lily is, frankly, disgusted with herself. She lets a tear drop down onto her keyboard, but keeps her jaw clenched, refusing to let her emotions get the better of her again. She was awful to James and her stomach turns now at the thought. She has to get a handle on herself and get this done so she can apologize and make it up to him.
She moves her hands back to the keyboard and realizes they are shaking again. Her whole body is actually, a chill settling in her core as the moment sinks in. She burrows further into her sweatshirt, searching for every last drop of warmth and longing for James to wrap his arms around her and pull her into his chest.
—
Lily makes very little progress over the next two hours and the pounding in her head only gets worse. The frigid air of the library is starting to get to her, and her fingers are practically blue when she finally decides to give up and head home. She needs to eat, though her stomach turns at the thought, as her vision goes dark for a minute when she stands and she has to grip the table for support so she doesn’t tip over entirely.
Her fingers brush against her phone as she packs up, tucked into her bag’s pocket. She hasn’t looked at it all afternoon, distracted by the work and her own mind and feeling scattered, but also fearing the disappointment from James, from her friends. She doesn’t have it in her to handle it all right now, so she’d rather pretend it doesn’t exist. The phone stays tucked away.
Her legs feel like jello as she makes the trek back to her room and she’s ashamed to admit she has to stop to catch her breath a few times. The bag feels 10x heavier than it did that morning and it takes her almost twice as long as it should to get home. Her roommates are nowhere to be seen and the place is dark. And freezing. It takes her several moments to recall that Marlene was spending the night with her girlfriend and Mary worked late on tuesdays. Why did she feel disappointed at the thought? It saved her the effort of trying to explain her mood and dodge questions about where she’d been during lunch. God, she hoped James hadn’t talked to them after her outburst.
Lily shivers again as she trudges to her room and the floor feels like ice through her socks. The sun has mostly set and there’s only just enough light to see by in her room but she doesn’t want to make her headache any worse, and honestly it feels like too much effort to flick on the lights. She wants nothing more than to climb into her bed and stay there til morning, but Lily knows she has to eat something. As much as she doesn’t want to.
The walk to the small kitchen seems unbearable, so Lily scrounges her desk for some kind of snack. She finds half a bag of slightly stale granola and doesn’t care remotely enough to look for something else, so she slips under her covers, granola in hand and still in her jeans from the day. She’s so cold it hurts, her body aching as she shivers harder and pulls the blankets around her. She shovels a handful of granola in her mouth and it tastes like cardboard but she chews anyway and swallows it with a grimace. That’ll have to be enough. The blankets are starting to warm from her body heat and Lily lets her eyes fall shut, ready to forget the day. She misses James.
—
Lily jolts awake, sitting upright. Something is wrong. Her back is damp with sweat and her heart is pounding. It’s pitch black in her room and she has no idea how long she’d slept for. Something twists uncomfortably in her gut and her mouth starts to fill with saliva. Oh.
Lily kicks off the covers and crashes toward the bathroom on trembling legs as fast as she can, hand clamping over her mouth. She has never been more grateful to have a bathroom connected to her room. She falls to her knees in front of the toilet, struggling to lift the lid on numb fingers. She hovers there for a moment, every muscle locking as she swallows the nausea back. She wants James. She has to apologize to James.
Her stomach turns and she gags over the bowl, eyes watering at the force. She gags again, and then a third time, chest and throat aching from the effort. She wants to sob as her muscles start to contract again, but this time the meager contents of her stomach rise up and she heaves, releasing them into the bowl. She keeps retching and can’t keep her hair from hanging in her face and getting in the way. Tears leak from the corners of her eyes as she retches again, bringing up nothing but bile at this point. She feels awful and doesn’t want to be alone. She needs James. Her muscles keep contracting in fruitless gags, but her body has nothing left to give. Her breath comes in short gasps between gags and she realizes she’s sobbing at this point. Her body is drained and what she can now recognize as a raging fever has turned her emotions on high.
She grips the edge of the toilet and clambers to her feet, legs wobbling beneath her. She’s unbearably hot and the jeans are making her legs burn so she strips them off clumsily, one leg at a time, before flushing the toilet. Her mouth tastes awful and her throat is scraped completely raw but there’s only one thing she can think of as she stumbles past the sink and back into her room.
Her hands meet the rough fabric of her bag as Lily tries to get the zipper open. When it finally gives, she grasps for her phone and pulls it out on fumbling fingers, sitting down hard on the cold ground and letting it leech some of her radiating heat as she hits call.
The phone rings once before he picks up.
“Hullo, love!” Lily is sitting in the middle of her hard floor in her underwear and a sweatshirt, vomit in her hair, shaking like a leaf and clinging to her phone like a life line and she nearly shatters at the sound of his voice. She lets out a sob.
“Lily? What’s wrong?” James' voice comes through, sobered by her distress. She hiccups, trying to get enough breath to get words out.
“I… need… you” She cries harder at her confession, hating that she snapped at him to leave earlier and is now crying for him to come back.
“What’s going on? Where are you?” He sounds urgent now, concern bleeding through the device.
“Home,” she gasps out, "Need you.”
“I’m coming, Lils.” She hears him moving around and then a door slamming shut. The sobs don’t stop. “Deep breaths love, I’m gonna stay on the phone, okay?”
She whines in response, not really able to dictate what sounds come out of her mouth at this point.
“Breathe with me love, you’re okay” He breathes in, the phone picking up the rustling and she tries to match him. He holds the breath for a second, but Lily breaks, sobs ripping through her body again. She leans forward as it triggers a deep cough, trying to suck in air but her breath catching. The coughs rattle through her chest and she can barely hear James talking her through it as she sets the phone aside to press a hand into her chest. The cough quickly turns into another gag and Lily scrambles to her feet, grabbing the phone and nearly tipping over as she stumbles back into the bathroom.
She spits up more bile, getting it on her sweatshirt sleeve in her haste to make it back over the toilet. Her knees are definitely going to bruise from the way she slammed to the floor. Lily holds herself over the bowl on shaking arms as she gags again and again. Tears keep streaming down her cheeks and the redhead can hardly see through them. Her head is going tingly from the lack of breath and dark is creeping into her vision. Panic swells as she tries to keep her muscles from contracting but the fear makes her sob harder, triggering more gagging.
Her hearing is muffled from the lack of oxygen but at a certain point James' voice starts to sound louder and clearer, despite the phone lying several feet away, accidentally kicked across the floor. Her ears ring.
Suddenly, Lily feels a warm hand on her back start to rub soothing circles as she hacks away. Her hair is pulled back from her face into a loose ponytail and the body belonging to that warm hand, James her heart cries, kneels beside her, pressing himself against her side.
Her gags start to slow, sobs petering out as James grounds her, whispering comforts as he keeps rubbing circles in her back. She leans into him, breath coming slower and slower as silent tears drip slowly down her face. She lets her face fall into his shoulder as he pulls her into him, arms encasing her trembling form.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmurs into her hair. And he does.
After she’s calmed down completely, his arms loosen and she lifts her head to squint up at him, trying to block out the sharp prick of the lights he must’ve turned on when he came in.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” James stands up to grab a washcloth and wets it in the sink before crouching back down in front of her and gently wiping her face. He can’t help but boop her on the nose with the washcloth. Lily blinks at him, which is all she can really muster.
“Wanna take this off?” He glances at her sweatshirt. “It’s a little…” he wrinkles his nose, “gross.”
She gives a half-hearted nod, conceding that the vomit covered sweatshirt was definitely gross, and lifts her arms limply. He shoots her a look, snorting, “Oh, you want me to do all the heavy lifting here?”
Lily just nods. James tugs the sweatshirt off her head and gives her a soft kiss on the forehead, frowning slightly as he pulls away before grabbing her jeans from where she discarded them earlier and moving to stand up. Lily grabs his hand, stopping him from standing up all the way, furrowing her brows. “Don’t… go…” she rasps out, grimacing at her throat, completely shredded at this point.
Her sweet, lovely boyfriend drops the clothing and cups her face with his free hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I’m not going anywhere, love.” She nestles her cheek into his hand, closing her eyes and relishing in lessening pain in her skull. James pats her cheek.
“You feel pretty warm Lils, d’you have a thermometer somewhere?” She tips her chin up toward the medicine cabinet and her heart warms as James keeps hold of her hand, even as he stands half-hunched and reaching awkwardly to locate the device. She drops her mouth open, ready for him to sit back down and is greeted by a snort as he takes her in before the cool metal bumps against her lip.
It beeps and she cracks her lids, taking in James’ displeased expression as he reads the tiny screen.
“102.” He murmurs, lips pursing in thought. That’s higher than she’d expected. No wonder she’s felt so horrible today.
“Think ‘m sick…” She grinds out painfully.
“You know, you might just be onto something there Lils,” he teases back. She shivers, the cool tile seeping into her bare legs and James seems to recall that she’s only in her underwear.
He helps lift to her feet and wraps an arm around her waist, supporting her trembling frame as they move slowly toward her bed. She grits her teeth as she drops down onto the mattress hard, aches rocking through her feverish body. The sound of fabric rustling draws her gaze up to where James is stripping off his own sweatshirt to pull it over her head. It’s utterly perfect, warm from his own heat and large enough to tuck her hands into the sleeves. She feels tears threatening behind her eyes at the sheer thoughtfulness.
“Love you,” she mumbles, overwhelmed with the care he shows her.
“I love you too, Lils,” he responds easily, pulling the covers over her and patting her leg. “I’m just gonna go grab a few things, but I’ll be right back, okay?” He starts to move away, calling over his shoulder “You haven’t taken any meds, have you?”
Lily shakes her in confirmation, mumbling “mm-mm” as she processes that he couldn’t see her. She curls into the covers, searching for every last bit of warmth to drive away the aching cold eating into her very bones.
When James comes back, he holds a glass of water in one hand and a few pills in his open palm. “Take small sips, okay? The pills should help with fever.” She sits up slowly and nods, taking the glass from him as he sets the pills onto her nightstand before moving away again. The nausea had abated somewhat after her earlier bout, but she’s wary as she brings the glass to her lips and takes a tiny sip.
She didn’t realize how dry and awful her mouth tasted until the trickle of cool water starts to wash it away and she takes another larger sip, letting it soothe her sore throat. She downs nearly a third of the glass before stopping to take a breath and reaching for the pills next to her.
“Wait, don’t take those yet!” She freezes at the frantic call as James rushes in with a small trash can from her bathroom. He sets it down next to her bed, “I forgot, you should eat something first or they could really hurt your stomach.”
“My stomach already hurts.”
“All the more reason,” James perches on the edge of her bed, “What do you want? Crackers? Toast? Applesauce?”
Lily wrinkles her nose, stomach gurgling at the thought. “Nothing,” she says, shaking her head.
“Not an option,” he counters, tone firm.
“It’s gonna make me sick again,” she mumbles, trepidation creeping into her voice. James leans over to rub her arm.
“You gotta eat something, Lils. Your fever is too high.” Lily slouches back into the pillows, fight waning out of her as exhaustion takes over. James stands up.
“Crackers sound okay?” She hums noncommittally in response. It doesn’t take long before James is back and encouraging her to sit up, a sleeve of saltines she didn’t know they had in the house in hand.
He hands her a cracker. She holds it up reluctantly, throat tightening at the thought of food passing through in either direction. She nibbles at a corner of it, pausing to make sure her body accepts it before continuing on.
She manages four crackers before it all starts to get a bit much and she can feel a gag threatening the back of her throat. She turns her head away, reaching for a sip of water to wash it down. James puts the sleeve down and hands her the pills from the nightstand so Lily throws them back quickly, eager to clamp her mouth shut and not let anything in or out again.
She lays back down gingerly, trying to avoid upsetting her overfull and now whirling stomach. James kicks off his shoes (which she would have sniped at him for wearing into the apartment had she been willing to open her mouth) and climbs over her, jostling her a little before sliding under the covers on her other side. He tucks himself against her and she huffs air out her nose in appreciation as his warmth seeps into her and his finger starts tracing lazy circles on her open palm.
They lay like that for a while, Lily desperate to drift off and forget the roiling sensation building in her gut but unable to find relief. She just lays, eyes closed and breathing through her nose, fending off the nausea as best she can as she waits for the medication to kick in. At a certain point, the feeling changes. The nausea is still present, but less recognizable as a shock of dread runs through her. Saliva starts to flood her mouth and she swallows, hard, breath quickening.
James must pick up on the change to her breathing as the tracing stops, “You okay, love?”
She sits up in response, James quick to follow. “You gonna get sick?” She nods slightly in response, afraid to move as she hovers just over the edge of the bed. James shifts around her, long arm reaching down to grab the plastic lined bin and place it in her lap.
Lily grips it tightly, knuckles whitening as she closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing, throat tightening against a building gag. A hand meets her back again, rubbing soothingly as he murmurs, “You’re okay, love, just breathe.”
She tries desperately to clamp down on the liquid rising up her esophagus and chokes on a breath, gagging hard before sending it all splattering into the bin below. Lily heaves again, mostly water and bile and pants, hovering mouth open over the small trash can. Spit dangles, clinging to her chapped lips as she holds, frozen in place and hoping for it all to be over. She gags again, and spits into the bin, swiping a few tears from the corners of her eyes before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“All done?” James asks as she leans back, grip loosening on the used bin. She nods limply. He reaches past her to grab the half full glass of water.
“Rinse and spit,” he instructs, helping her bring the glass to her lips when her shaking hand threatens to spill it all over herself. Lily obliges, grimacing as she catches a glimpse of the bin’s contents before he takes it from her.
Lily collapses back onto her pillows, exhausted, as James clambers out of the bed to empty the bin. She’s only half-aware when he climbs back into bed beside her, and sleep claims her not long after.
—
Muffled voices slowly filter in as Lily slips back into vague consciousness. It seems a small animal must’ve died at the back of her throat as her mouth tastes positively foul. She cracks her eyes slightly, puffy from emotion and exertion, and registers the streak of yellow leaking in from underneath her door. That’s when it hits her, the blankets on her other side are rumpled and cold in James’ absence.
Lily sits up, thoughts dragging in a thick sludge as she tries to connect the dots. The blankets are suffocating her and she kicks them off, heat settling on her like second skin. What time is it? She can’t find her phone anywhere in the mess of a bed and the claws of heat sink in further as she roots around frantically. She can’t think like this, her head is spinning and the room blurs in and out of focus around her.
She grasps blindly toward her nightstand for the glass of water from earlier, longing for cool relief from the furnace inside her and the awful taste clinging to her tongue. The back of her hand collides with the smooth surface, tipping it over with a resounding clink as water spills across the small stand and splashes onto the floor.
Lily stares at it, unmoving as the steady drip of water hitting the floor rings in her ears. She feels untethered, not quite inside her body, the dark shapes of her room almost cartoon like and far away. She should find James.
It’s unclear how much time has passed when she finally manages to make her feet touch the floor and it surprises her that her socks quickly soak through with water. Right, she spilled the glass.
Lily doesn’t bother trying to take them off, her standing position weak enough on two legs, and she makes her way to the door utterly outside her own body.
She blinks, the voices louder and more distinguishable down the hall as she stands in her doorway, not quite remembering how she got there. James says something, low and soft, and she can almost feel the vibrations of his throat rumbling against her lips. A high, tinkling laugh springs out in response–Mary, she’s sure. It must be late, she often doesn’t get home until past midnight when she works the closing shift.
Lily shuffles down the hallway on damp socks, fingers brushing the wall for support until James’ tall figure comes into view, leaning against the small section of counter furthest from her with a glass in hand. Mary stands across the kitchen from him, tucked out of view until Lily comes all the way down the hallway into their shared living space. He sees her first, pushing off the counter towards her as Mary breaks off whatever she was saying and turns to take Lily in.
“How you feelin’ love?” He murmurs, fingertips meeting her wrist and he closes the gap and pulls her into him.
“Hot.” She mumbles into his chest, face squished against his thin t-shirt. “Dizzy.”
He pulls back to look at her, brows furrowed with concern as he presses a hand to her forehead. “I think your fever went up.”
“Can I get you anything?” Mary’s voice draws Lily’s attention from her position next to the fridge, setting her bowl of food aside. “Maybe pants?” Right, Lily is in her underwear. She swallows drily, mind foggy.
“Spilled m’water.” Full sentences are out of reach in her current state. Mary moves to grab a glass from the cabinet.
James turns her to look at him. “I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna go clean up and grab the thermometer, okay?” Guilt crawls up her neck, hot and sticky, making her already flushed face burn. She couldn’t even manage to clean up her own messes.
“M’sorry.” She mumbles, ducking to avoid his eyes.
“It’s okay,” he says softly, before shifting away, “I’ll be right back.”
Mary hands her a full glass, breaking her gaze from the spot she’d locked to on the floor. “Here.”
Lily nods gratefully, glass heavy in her hands.
“Sit, Lils. You look about ready to pass out.” Lily obliges, making her way slowly to the small round table separating the kitchen from the living room. Mary follows behind her carefully, staying within reach in case her legs spontaneously decide to stop holding her weight.
She sits down heavily, dimly aware of her bare legs on the hard plastic of the seat, glass thunking as it hits the scuffed wooden surface of the table. Mary sits across from her.
“You got that boy really worried, you know.” Mary has always been blunt, a fact Lily had come to admire since they were placed on the same hall their first year. “He told me you were in a right state when he got here. Almost had to take you to the hospital.”
The shame is bitter on the back of her tongue. She takes a small sip, letting her gaze sit on the glass between her hands. “Is he mad?”
“What?” She can feel Mary’s sharp gaze on her, “Of course not, Lily, why would he be mad?”
She shrugs, a myriad of explanations on the tip of her tongue. But she doesn’t want to tell Mary those. She’d acted childishly, selfishly all day and doesn’t think she could bear Mary telling her so right now.
Mary reaches across the table and grasps her hand. “Lily, look at me.” She does, reluctantly. Mary's eyes are clear, determined as she meets her gaze. “That boy loves you more than anything. Hell, he’d bury a body for you if you asked. A little vomit isn’t gonna scare him off.”
Tears prick the corner of her eyes for the hundredth time that day. “It’s…” she struggles, words like syrup on her tongue and throat tight with emotion, “I snapped…” she swallows against the sob building in her throat, “at him. Earlier.”
Mary sits patiently, waiting for her to finish the thought. “Made him leave.” She pauses, the torrent of guilt threatening to overtake her. “Made him co–come here.”
The tears spill over, leaking down her burning cheeks. “I didn’t mean to,” she sobs fully now, shuddering as her body fights against the motion and tries to keep quiet.
“Oh, love,” Mary gets up and moves beside her, wrapping an arm across her shoulders and squeezing. “You’re sick, he understands. He just wants you to feel better.”
Lily sniffles, wiping the tears away with James’ ginormous sweatshirt sleeve as they come. She huffs a big breath, hiccuping on her words “S’ stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.”
“I’m–” her breath hitches, “being dramatic.”
“No, you’re being sick. It’s just the fever.” Lily opens her mouth to protest, but James comes around the corner, thermometer in hand, and startles a little at the sight of her.
“Oh no, love, what happened?” Lily shuts her mouth, a fresh wave of tears welling in her eyes. James looks to Mary, eyes wide with concern.
Mary mouths something to him that Lily doesn’t catch and gives her a last squeeze before getting up to let James take her place.
“I’m gonna take a shower and head to bed. Shout if you need me.” Mary shoots Lily a look before disappearing down the hallway.
James lifts the thermometer toward her mouth, “Can I?” She opens her mouth in response, letting him place it under her tongue like her mother would when she was a child.
The silence eats at her for a moment.
“M’sorry.” She mumbles, words garbling around the device.
“What for?” He looks at her gently, confusion dusting his expression.
“Being mean. Before.” It’s hard to make certain sounds with her tongue, but he seems to get the gist.
“You mean at the library?” She nods, glancing at his hands, unmoving on the table top. “It startled me a little, to be completely honest.”
The thermometer beeps before he can continue, and she takes it out of her mouth, not looking at the numbers. Or him.
He reaches out to rub her shoulder. “But I could tell you got very overwhelmed, Lils, and maybe weren’t feeling the best. Burnt out, at least.”
She sniffles quietly, looking up at his warm, familiar eyes behind those stupid, adorable wire frames. His lips curve up in a small smile.
“I’m sorry for scaring you.”
He leans in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I forgive you.” The thermometer slides out of her grasp, and she turns her head to see him bringing it up to inspect.
“Now, let’s see.” He squints at the tiny screen for a second. “103,” he says, glancing her up and down, “You’ve gotten hotter my darling.”
She giggles a little at that, his knee brushing hers under the table. His presence seems to sap the discomfort out of her, make the sickness that much more tolerable whenever he’s around.
He stands, grabbing her glass and putting a hand out to help her up. “Wanna go back to your room?”
Lily nods, taking his hand and letting him pull her to shaky feet. “Need my help, or can I grab a few things and join you in a second?”
She takes a step, wobbling a little but brushing him off. “I got it.”
He watches her for a moment, making sure she really does have it, before ducking into the kitchen as she makes her way.
She’s not sure she’ll make it by the time she gets into her room, and leans heavily on her desk for a second, trying to stop everything from spinning. She hears James sliding quickly down the hall in socks before he trips through her doorway, ice pack hitting the floor with a smack.
Lily takes him in, slightly out of breath, three more ice packs tucked under his arms, glass of water in one hand, and a clump of towels in the other. “Hang on,” he rushes over to the bed, dumping the ice packs and towels unceremoniously, and sets the glass on her nightstand before rushing back to her.
James wraps his arm around her waist, taking some of her weight, “Okay, c’mon.” They make their way back to her bed, only a few steps from where she’d had to stop. Lily sits slowly, the tipping of the room starting to spark nausea again.
James grabs the hem of her sweatshirt, well, his sweatshirt, “Arms.” She lifts her arms and he strips the heavy fabric off, her ponytail loosened from sleep nearly coming undone. She shivers, sitting in still-damp socks, underwear, and a bra. Goosebumps prick her skin, the ferocious heat from before leaching out of her now that her skin is exposed to the air.
James tosses the bundle of fabric somewhere on the floor behind him and shoves the scattered ice packs and towels to the end of the bed, clearing a space for her to lie down. She eyes him suspiciously as she shifts herself into a horizontal position.
“Okay, so I texted my mom while you were asleep, and she said we could use ice packs to bring your fever down if the meds don’t work. So…” He grabs an ice pack and wraps the towel around it dramatically, using his arms to flourish when it's done.
“We put one of these bad boys under your neck,” he gestures for her to lift up her head and shoves it where her neck had just been resting when she obliges.
He wraps two more, continuing, “In your armpits,” and waiting for her to lift up her arms and clamp the packs in place. The harsh cold on her bare skin makes her shiver, even with the towels covering them.
“And… on your groin.” She lifts her head, shooting him a dirty look.
He raises his hands in mock surrender, “That’s what she said! It’s a pulse point so it cools you down faster.” He places it gently right on her groin, ignoring her grimace as the cold quickly slices through the thin cotton of her underwear. “Or something like that,” he mutters to himself.
Lily’s jaw visibly shakes, teeth clacking together as the shivers rip through her whole body. The packs feel like needles piercing into her most vulnerable places, injecting a cold so deep she’s sure her very bone marrow has turned to ice.
“H-how long?” She grits out, teeth chattering so hard it’s difficult to talk.
“Just til your fever goes down.” He looks a little pained, like it hurts him to watch her suffer.
She hisses through clamped teeth, not sure how much of this she could take before turning into a literal icicle.
“Okay,” he concedes, “10 minutes.” She nods gratefully, her eyes watering from the pain this time.
“But if your fever keeps going up, we have to go to the hospital.” She groans in response, desperate for everything to stop, for her body to stop betraying, for her to get a second to breathe without something else going wrong.
“10 m-minutes.” She parrots back at him, she can handle 10 minutes.
—
It might be the longest 10 minutes of her life, and when James finally pulls the last pack from under her neck, Lily feels like the cold might never leave her. Her body still shakes vigorously, and she looks at James, pleading “B-b-blank-ket.”
He pulls the top sheet over her, but much to her dismay, leaves the duvet at the end of the bed. A thermometer pokes between her lips for the third time that night, and Lily prays to a God she doesn’t believe in that it’s lower this time.
“Just for now,” James pats her knee comfortingly as they wait, “If it’s under 102 you can have the duvet back.”
The thermometer beeps and Lily squeezes her eyes tight, terrified of the night that awaits based on one tiny number.
“101.9” She inhales sharply, eyes popping open as her hands scramble out from under the thin sheet to try and grab the plush comforter just below her feet.
“Duvet,” she manages, desperation lacing the word.
James is quick to respond, pulling the thick blanket all the way to her chin and tucking it tightly over her shoulders. She still shakes, but it dulls the sharpness of the air on her sensitive skin and she breathes in deeply at the relief.
James moves to leave, but Lily hand shoots out from underneath the safety of her cocoon to grab his wrist.
He huffs a quiet laugh, removing her hand and tucking it back into the slowly warming blanket. “I just have to pee and brush my teeth. I’ll be back.”
She waits, listening to him move around the bathroom, as the shaking slowly gives way to a light tremble and warmth starts to permeate her outermost layer of skin.
It might’ve been seconds, or hours by the time he comes back, time feels nonexistent in the static darkness of her room. He kicks off his own jeans and climbs over her once again, sliding under the covers and letting a gust of cold air wash down her spine. She shivers in response, but he curls against her quickly, arm and leg tucking over her chilled body and pulling her close to him. His breath tickles her cheek, but the heat of his body defrosts her quickly and she finds herself slipping easily into the softness of sleep.
—
When Lily wakes, bright beams are streaming through her window and piercing right through her eyelids. She blinks heavily, adjusting to the new state of being. A dull ache lingers across her body and there’s a pit in her stomach, the awful taste in her mouth an unhelpful reminder of her state the night before. And she’s damp with sweat. The sheets below her are too, she realizes, but she’s cool. Clammy, perhaps, but reasonably comfortable.
No fever, she thinks tentatively, not wanting to jump the gun but feeling better than she had the entire last 24 hours as she sits up slowly.
The soft rumble of a snore brings her to James, stretched out beside her–as well as one can be while sharing a twin bed–his glasses somehow still perched precariously on his face. He looks peaceful, sun dappling his jaw with gold light and she could drink in the image of him for hours. She shifts to reach the glass of water beside her and feels him move, arm searching for where she’d just been lying next to him.
Lily takes a measured sip, watching his face scrunch up at her absence in the corner of her eye as he lets out a low groan. She feels the coolness slither down her esophagus and pool in her stomach and waits, cautiously, for any kind of reaction as she watches her boyfriend wake up. He blinks groggily, eyes flicking til they catch hers and he opens them fully, taking her in.
“Hi,” he rasps, voice thick with sleep.
“Hi,” Lily murmurs back. She lifts the glass to her lips as he sits up, grunting, and takes a larger gulp.
“How are you feeling?” He runs his hand over her bare calf, leg freed from the cage of blankets at some point in the night.
She swallows, “Decent, I think.” He runs his thumb over her ankle, “Not entirely sure yet.”
“Good,” He feels her cheek, then her forehead, “You feel much cooler.”
Lily nods, taking another swig. “Yeah,” James presses a kiss into her shoulder. “I think I need a shower.”
He chuckles, the vibrations tingling pleasantly where his lips brush her skin, “It’s possible.”
She flops her head back with a groan, setting the glass aside. “I’m so sweaty,” she whines.
“That’s a good thing,” he parries back quickly, “Means your fever broke.”
Lily grumbles, tossing the tangled sheets aside and reaching one foot to the floor.
“Go shower, stinky. I’ll make some breakfast.” He gives her a light smack on the butt as she stands, then reaches a hand out to steady as her vision goes fuzzy for a minute. “Shout if you need anything,” he gives her a wary look, barely concealed concern bleeding through his warm eyes.
Lily leaves the bathroom door cracked, still somewhat unsteady on her feet, and takes in her gaunt face. The night had left her pale, face wan and purple smudged deeply beneath her eyes. Small red dots pepper her under eyes, she notices as she leans into the mirror, perhaps from the force of her heaving. Or sobbing.
The water sloshes a little in her stomach as she moves around, but Lily feels ten times better after brushing her teeth. She spies her phone after she turns on the shower, discarded on the floor from when she’d called James. It’s not quite dead, as she’d expected but only has 7% battery so she does a quick scan for important messages and turns it off. She’ll plug it in when she gets out.
The hot water soothes her aching muscles and washes away the sweat, grime, and memories of the strenuous night. But the heat quickly proves too much and Lily has to sit until the water turns cool, her head swimming. She still feels faint when she gets out, wrapping a towel around herself, but emerges into her room a new person. Clean.
James is gone when she enters, but there’s a clattering from the kitchen that alerts her to his presence. She dresses carefully, her stomach still sloshing, in one of James softened t-shirts and a pair of pajama bottoms. She won’t be going anywhere today, James will make sure of that.
—
He has two pieces of toast, lightly buttered waiting for her when she joins him, and offers some scrambled eggs if she’s feeling up to it.
Lily manages one slice, and takes a bite of the other before she’s had it. Her stomach feels tight, and the contents gurgle uncertainly–she doesn’t want to risk anything more.
She watches James clean up, feeling guilty despite his insistence on her staying seated. He moves lithely, years of sport obvious in his figure as he navigates the kitchen, putting dishes away with ease.
He catches her staring at one point, teasing, “Enjoying the view?” She simply bites her lip and nods, smirk lifting the corner of her mouth.
James tries to kiss her silly when he comes back to the table, though she pushes him back, insisting she was probably still contagious with whatever bug.
“If it’s contagious, I’ve already caught it by now, love,” he says, tipping her chin up and pressing his lips hers softly before.
He’s bound to regret it, she thinks 20 minutes later, as she loses her breakfast. The solid food had been too much for her, but the fever hadn’t made a reappearance to both of their reliefs.
When she checks the clock at 10 am, a thought strikes her in a bolt down her spine, “Don’t you have class?!”
He chuckles at her, “I’m skipping today, silly. Much rather keep you company.” She gives him her best attempt at a stern look, but melts a little at his earnest tone.
—
They laze away the rest of the morning, legs tangled on the couch as a show neither of them really pays attention to hums along. Mary comes in and out, getting ready and leaving for class, and Marlene comes home at one point. They make idle conversation, James filling her in on the events that led to their both being on the couch in their pajamas at 1 pm on a Wednesday while Lily frowns, wanting to keep her embarrassing behavior to herself.
Marlene laughs lightly, glad that Lily is feeling better, and proceeds to disinfect the whole kitchen as subtly as she can. She has no doubt Marlene will take refuge at Dorcas’ again tonight.
She manages to keep soup down later that afternoon, and James heads to home to shower and grab a few things while she takes a nap. She wakes to the sound of him murmuring outside her door, and manages to catch the end of his conversation.
“M-hmm, I think the ice packs really worked… Yeah, I’ll tell her… Okay, love you, Mom. Talk later.”
He creeps back in, shutting the door carefully behind him before turning to see her staring at him. “What?”
“I love you.” She whispers, heart swelling with the care he’d shown her the last two days. The care he’d given since the day they got together.
“I love you too, Lils.” He crosses the room quickly, fingers threading between hers as he lets himself be pulled on top of her, flopping onto the bed. He’s heavy, torso pressing into her chest as her lungs fight to fill past halfway, and his hip digs sharply into her stomach. He brushes his lips against her neck in a soft kiss and she breathes him in. Home.