“How are you feeling, Vic?” I lazily turned my head, gazing at Drella. She knelt down at my level and brushed my hair from my face. It was matted to my skin, sticky with sweat.

“Eh.”

She frowned. “Your forehead is still on fire.”

“My insides are still frozen.”

“Aw, baby,” she cooed softly. “I hate seeing you sick.”

“I’ll be fine in a few days, really,” I said, but my voice was weak. I had come down with some sort of flu overnight.

“Come here,” she said gently. She helped me sit up—I had been laying horizontally on the couch in our small, one-bedroom apartment—and she draped a blanket around my shoulders. I snuggled into the blanket and curled up next to the armrest. “You’re so damn cute,” she frowned.

“I’m sick!” I protested, jutting out my bottom lip.

She smiled and brushed her fingers down my face again. “I know, I’m sorry, baby.” She lightly kissed my forehead and turned away. I stayed in my spot, my skin boiling but I also was shivering and my teeth were chattering. I could feel sweat dripping down my forehead. I curled up even more and closed my eyes, trying to stay as still as possible. “Hey,” Drella said softly, touching my cheek. I opened my eyes and straightened out a little. “Here’s a cold cloth for your forehead,” she said. She brushed my hair off of my forehead and then placed the damp towel on my head, causing me to shudder again. But it also was soothing.

“Here’s some medicine to reduce your fever,” she said. I opened up my hand and she dropped two pills into my palm. I stuck them in my mouth and accepted the water she gave me with a small smile, swallowing them down.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Here,” she took the water from my shaking hands and gave me a cup with a bubbly liquid inside, a straw sticking out. “It’s sprite,” she said. I nodded, taking a small sip. It sizzled down my throat but I liked the sensation.

Drella sighed and ran her fingers through my hair. “Is there anything else I can do to help?” she frowned. I closed my eyes a little and then reopened them, shaking my head.

“No, thank you. This is perfect. You’re the best.”

She rolled her eyes and kissed my cheek, standing up. “You haven’t eaten anything all day. How does soup sound?” she asked.

“Wonderful,” I said, although I scrunched my nose up. She laughed a little and walked over to the kitchen, a few feet away. I sighed, resting my head back and closed my eyes.

We had been living in this small apartment going on four years. Shortly after Drella started college, we had saved up enough money together to be able to afford the small place, splitting the rent together. It was perfect for us; we were doing really well together.

“Vic,” Drella said, softly. She touched the side of my face and my eyes fluttered open. I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep. I wasn’t even dreaming. My thoughts had just cut off and now here she was. “You’re really sick,” she frowned, caressing my cheeks. I nodded and curled up into myself, burying my head into my folded arms. I groaned a little. I felt horrible.

Drella rubbed my back and I felt her kiss the back of my head, pulling up the blanket over my shaking body. “We might have to take you to the doctor to get you antibiotics,” she said softly. I nodded.

“Maybe later,” I said weakly.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” she said softly, nudging my arm.

I shook my head. “That’s okay. I don’t want to infect our room,” I said.

“You’ll be more comfortable,” she encouraged. I shook my head again.

“I don’t want to get you sick,” I said.

“Okay,” she said softly. She was kneeling at my level again, brushing the side of my face. Her hand was refreshing against my heated skin.

“I wish I had my mommy,” I murmured quietly, not even thinking, the words just slipping out. The thing about being really sick, was that all you wanted were the home remedies your mom would make at 2am, when you were up tossing and turning all night and sweating through your sheets. All you wanted was the motherly touch, her hand rubbing your back as you got sick, or holding you as you shivered. And when you were really sick, you couldn’t help but weaken down to the point of acting like a child, back in the days where all you wanted was your mom.

But my mom passed away two years ago. My dad died of a heart attack and she went out with him, falling ill of what I swore was heartbreak. I tried not to think about it too much.

“I know, Vic,” Drella said softly. She didn’t say anything else; there was nothing to be said.

“I love you Drella,” I whispered. I closed my eyes and I fell asleep before I could hear her response—but of course I knew she felt the same.

“Don’t be a prick, Michael!” I heard suddenly. I peeled my eyes open. I saw Drella was on the phone, she was sitting on the couch opposite me across the small living room, her face twisted almost angrily. If I had the energy I would have smoothed out the stress and anger from her perfect face.

“He’s your brother. All you’ve done is fuck around since mom and dad died. Do you know what he said to me? He said that he wants his mommy. He’s so sick, Mike. He needs family.” Drella paused, listening to whatever my brother was saying on the other end. “Apparently so,” she said, her lips in a tight line. “Whatever, Mike. Call me back when you’re decent,” she sighed, hanging up and setting down the phone.

“Drella?” I called quietly. Her head shot up and her eyes softened. She sighed a little and walked back over to me, sitting on the floor by my head. She rested her head on the cushion, the top of her head skimming my chest because I was laying on my side.

“You heard that? I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “It’s okay. Is he still being an ass?” I asked. She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Vic!”

“I know. I feel responsible for him, though. It’s okay, though, Drella. You’re my family. We’re each other’s family,” I said. “And he is to, only when he’s being nice,” I added with a small smile.

“I know,” she smiled. She lifted her left hand up and rested it on my exposed face, gently scratching the skin soothingly. “Are you feeling any better?” I nodded.

“How long was I asleep for?”

“A few hours,” she said.

“Ugh. I’m hoping this is a twenty four hour sickness or something. I'm so over this,” I grumbled. She laughed.

“You sound over it a little,” she said, sticking her tongue out at me. I smiled and nodded. “Would you like your soup, now?”

I nodded. She helped me sit up and I could tell already that the sleep had helped me. I stretched out my arms and she handed me a bowl and a spoon. She grabbed one for herself, too, and sat on the couch next to me, curling up her legs and leaning her head on my shoulder.

“I could be contagious, you know,” I said.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “I don’t care.”

Notes

Hi anyone who's reading this!
This is the sequel to my story called The Concrete Night! If you haven't read it that's okay, you won't be confused in this.

Thanks for reading and let me know what you think so far! :)