Narrator
The Fairchild children definitely weren't used to being ill. It was just uncommon for the family. Though today as Miles sat in the library with his girlfriend in his lap, his stomach started to turn. He momentarily set the book down, reaching up to wipe the cold sweat that was on his face. Y/n looked back at him, confused why he set his book down. "My god Miles! You're so pale!" She reached up to touch his cheek but retorted at the feeling of his burning skin. She put his book away and got up, leading him to his room. They sat in his bed as he tossed and turned for 15 minutes, attempting to get comfortable. He got up and walked into the bathroom, Y/n not far behind. He stood, studying his reflection in the mirror for a moment. He bent down and threw up in the toilet, Y/n's hand lightly ran over his back. His loud retching filled the atmosphere, making them both more uncomfortable. Eventually, Miles finished and sat back up. Y/n reached up and flushed the toilet, ready to get the image out of her head. Miles wiped his mouth on a towel Y/n had gotten damp. She intertwined their fingers and gave him a caring look, "You okay?" He glared at the wall in front of him. He wasn't sick very often and he was glad, he hated it. She got another towel damp and put it on the back of his neck, this sent shivers down his spine. His hand fell onto her knee, rubbing it softly. "How're you feeling now babe?" He sighed and put a hand on his throbbing head. "Turn the lights off." He grumbled, shading his eyes. Y/n got up and turned the lights off, leaving the two in the dark.
