Kill Me ✔️

Chapter 22: Healing

♡ Elle ♡

I let out a huff.

"I'm fine, Nico," I hid the congestion in my voice. "We can train today."

He shook his head, "Nope. You need one more day of rest."

"Well, Winters' party is tomorrow," I said while kicking my feet since my butt was planted on the kitchen counter.

He turned to look at me over his shoulder while he made soup, "Do you still want to go?"

"Yes, I think it could be nice to meet some new people," I shrugged.

"Why?"

"To make friends."

"Boring."

I tried to kick his butt, but my leg didn't reach. He turned the stove off and I crossed my arms, "Making friends is nice. You and I were friends at one point."

"Yea, we were," he said while walking to be standing between my legs. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine, and if it didn't make me feel all warm inside I would've pushed him away since I was still a little sick. "And now I get to do that."

I bit my bottom lip while I smiled. He made a soft noise and lowered his head while he shook it. He moved it back up and his green eyes locked on mine, and he pulled my bottom lip so that I was no longer biting it, "Don't do that unless you wanna get fucked on this kitchen counter."

"Maybe I do-"

He cut me off by putting a spoonful of soup into my mouth. He tucked some hair behind my ear, "Not while you're sick."

He put his hands on my hips and helped me down from the counter. He held the bowl while we walked into his living room, and I took a comfortable seat on his couch. 

Once I was sitting, he carefully handed me the bowl, and I blew on it since steam was radiating off of it. 

I put it into my mouth, and he started to tie my hair back since it was falling in front of my face. Nico brushed my hair again when we woke up this morning, and it's a good thing he did because I literally looked insane.

"Thank you," I smiled at him once it was tied.

"I told you," he spoke sternly. "Don't thank me."

I held a spoonful of soup for him to eat, but he shook his head. His hand ran from my shoulder to my hip as he asked, "Is your body still sore?"

"Not really," I shook my head. But then I regretted it realizing that I was missing out on his hands touching me. "Actually, yea. A little."

"Where's it hurt?" he asked me, placing his hand on the nape of my neck. 

In between my legs.

"My back," I blurted, knowing if I waited a second longer my instructive thoughts would've won and I would've said that out loud.

He moved to be sitting behind me, and I was now in between his legs. His hands went underneath my shirt, gently rubbing up and down my muscles as I ate the bowl of soup that was still in my hands.

The TV played in front of us as I ate. He never complained about how long he was rubbing my muscles for, even though I was eating pretty slowly. He pressed his hands against my shoulders as I finished my soup, and I went to stand up to wash it.

He quickly grabbed onto my hips and pulled me back down. 

"I'll wash it later," he said in a stern yet soft voice.

I nodded and set the bowl down on the table in front of me, and he grabbed the blanket that was hanging on the couch cushions behind us. He moved back to be sitting beside me, and he motioned to his lap and said, "Lay down."