Jiley Oneshots

Selfish love

Sensitive topic. But again, not proof-read.

James's POV:

"Babe, I need you to close your eyes, and breathe, alright," I say firmly, squeezing Riley's hand. She whimpers and tears stream down her cheeks as quick as a running waterfall, and I only begin to feel all the more heartbroken as I watch the blood seep out of her lower. 

It wasn't the most pleasant scene as she was in the bathtub, sat au naturel, with crimson liquid beginning to mix with the warm water, and I knelt down by the side of the tub fully clothed. 

She squints and breathes in sharply, shaking her head as she did so. Her hand became a tight grip together with mine, and incessant wails escape her lips, but there's nothing I can do to help. I notice a cramp build up in her stomach as she squirms and places her free hand over it, the once-clear water now becoming fully scarlet to match the color Riley's sclera currently was.

"Are you still leaking?" I question gently. She doesn't respond, not even with a gesture, so I take it as a 'yes' and wait another few moments, rubbing her cold, damp, and slightly sweaty, exposed back. I don't know if it helped but at least I knew it was comforting, and that's all she needed right now. Comfort and support. "It's okay, Ri," I say, excluding the minor choke that disrupts my flow of words. Her hair falls out of place when a ripple of pain rifles through her abdominal joints - again, which I'm able to notice through the way she clutches her stomach. "I'll be right back," I tell her, slowly letting go of her hand after rubbing it subtly.

Standing up, I quickly rush from out of the lavatory and out into the landing corridor before making my way to the bedroom. Riley's beige cotton towel awaited my presence on the bed, so I reach to pick it up and carefully begin to unfold it as I made my way back into the room my wife was sat in. 

I sigh and put the towel to the side before making my way over to her and helping her up, out of the tub. She cries and cries and cries, not allowing any words to leave her lips as I wrap the towel around her petite body and then help to carry her out. Clearly not finding the strength in her to focus, let alone walk, I pick up her set of toiletries and then hold her in my arms, wrapped in the one layer of soft fabric that failed to expose her body.

Carefully and keeping mind of how sensitive she was in this current moment, I set her down on the bed gently, like putting a baby bird back in its nest, or an egg inside of a basket. Walking over to the side where the drawers were, I take out one of her brief knickers, knowing she preferred to where those ones when she was suffering from times like her periods. She sniffs when I reach for a tampon, and finally, her quiet, dainty voice says:

"A pad, please. Not a tampon."

I succumb to her request and do as she wished, rummaging through the top closet before coming across one of the soft 'women's nappies' as Georgia calls them. I make my way towards her once again and she stands up to take the items from me before pulling them on for herself. Not even needing to look, the sight of a drop of blood trickling down her leg comes into view. I quickly grab a tissue from the side and lean down to swat it away for her before she sits back down again.

Walking around the bed, I don't stop to grab her shorts-and-top nightwear, but instead go over to my closet where I take out a miscellaneous set of joggers and a hoody that belonged to me, but that I know she would feel more comfortable wearing. I nonchalantly saunter back over to her, swallowing the gut-wrenching pain in my stomach. I needed to make sure she was okay first, before I start worrying about myself.

She slowly takes the joggers from me to put on for herself and once she's done so, I resign the towel from being wrapped around her body, and quickly pull the hoody down from over the top of her head to cover her perfectly round breasts. She doesn't say anything to me still, but takes the towel to wrap around her neck and shoulders as droplets of water fell from the tips of her hair. Her eyes look down as her lips become wetter with each second that passes, and her tears continue to succeed in escaping the strength of her iris', citing gravity's defeat.