What is love?

Chapter 5

I wake up to a sliver of sunlight that tore across my face that comes from the tiny slit between the curtains. Alongside these sudden sunlight I can also hear the clanking of silver. It's probably the nurse, coming in to bring my breakfast. I opened one of my eye just a slit and my guess is correct. An elderly lady with a good amount of grey hair lay down a tray of breakfast before shaking me twice.

"Wake up, whoever your name is. Wake up!" She instructed as she shake me back and forth repeatedly.

"I'm up, I'm up. And it's Scarlette." I muttered and shake my eyes awake. "Why so early?"

"Well, you have to finish your breakfast soon. It's better if it's consumed nice and hot. And in the early morning too. Especially on a Sunday morning. Am I right?"

I glanced at my pancakes and maple syrup and gave her a quick thumbs up. "Yep, real perfect."

"See? now finish up that breakfast and you can return to your dorm tomorrow. You look rather sturdy. And I bet the cooks will be very pleased if you finished your meal." She made a silent and swift curtsy and pull the curtains of the four poster bed before leaving.

I quickly adjusted my sitting position and grabbed the silver tray. I know it sounds weird and stubborn but as if I care. Because I have as much care to have a possibly poisonous snake clutched tightly in my arm and eating with my non-dominant hand. Once again, it feels weird grabbing a forkful of pancakes in my left hand and shoving it in my mouth. If that's weird, how will drinking feels like? I tried to move the fingers of my right hand. My wrist feels numb and oddly pale and rigid. Just as I tried to experiment with my right hand, the curtains of my four poster slid back and a pair of blue orbs met my chocolate browns.

"Dummy, I told you being dependent doesn't make you look weak right?" He sighed.

I quickly shot under the blankets, abandoning my breakfast in embarrassment. "March! Why are you here?!"

"I told you I'll help you out with things until your hand gets better." I can feel the other side of the blanket gave out a soft slump as March sat down on the bed. "Get out will ya? I won't bite."

"No! I'm such a mess! My hair's messy, my face's messy. I'm a mess! You should've told me you're coming!"

"I'm sorry. I won't judge, I promise. Even my hair's a mess too. I haven't even showered yet. Only breakfast. Come on out. I won't judge, pinky promise."

"Fine, I'll come out." I peeked out from the edge of the blanket and for the first time noticed his shaggy, messy and tousled sandy hair. My cheeks gave out a light powder of blush as I crept up the headboard slat. "No lie, you look messy." I sniggered.

He desperately tried to smoothen out his hair with his saliva and using his hand as natural brush - "Better?" - before picking up the plate of pancakes and began feeding them to me. And as much as I tried to squirm my way out of this, I really need to get used to this. For he is not going to get out of my hair until the issue is solved. 

Also, what is this weird feeling like a swarm of butterflies are released in your guts? Butterflies aren't dangerous creatures. But in your guts, they're really out of their environment and somehow has the ability to create that sweaty, nervous, embarrassed, queasy feeling. The things nerves can do to you.

"All done. The cook and the nurse will be pleased." He beamed, setting the empty plate back on the tray. "Tea?"

"No thanks. No space." I pull up my blankets up until my neck. "Uhm, March. Mind if I ask a question?"

"Sure, I guess."

"what did you meant by "good" last night?"

It took him a while to ponder before remembering what I meant and the supposed proper answer to my question. "Well, don't you think it's good to lash out your emotions every once in a while? Pickled and bottled emotions aren't good for your mental, you know?"