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𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐 𝒎𝒆 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒖𝒑 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒆?
Antoine's Perspective
I stare ahead of me, completely zoning out, as I pick at the pancake I was given. It really does taste delicious, and I really do feel hungry, but every single time I put a piece in my mouth, it's like I'm not hungry anymore. It's like my body just doesn't want to accept the food. I sigh, and when I shift, I suddenly feel very light-headed.
I can get through this, I tell myself. I can.
Suddenly, though, it's too much. I feel too warm. Too lightheaded. Too out of it. Too gone. I push the plate of syrup and a pancake that's sitting in front of me away right before my head flops down on the table.
Reese Mallory, right away, puts her hand on my shoulder, saying, "Antoine? Antoine, are you okay?"
"Yeah," I mutter. Whisper. "I'm... fine. I'm just..." I sniff, which makes me start coughing, which makes me feel warmer than I already am. "I'm just... not feeling very well..."
"Antoine!" she says loudly, which makes my head hurt and my vision swirl, and I really wish I was home right now. It scares me that I'm feeling this sick, this suddenly, in this place, with only this girl.
This scares me.
"Come on, Antoine," she says, softer. "Let me help you to my bedroom..."
"No..." I breathe deeply. "I'm... I'm okay here... I just need a moment... I don't... I'm not sure if I want to go to your room. I don't know if I can."
"Antoine..." she breaths, sounding like she doesn't have a clue what to do, and I feel so bad for being sick. For worrying her. I should go, but now she won't let me. I should've never let her bring me to her house. Of course I'm sick. I've been soaked in the rain one too many times. I've been emotionally torn apart one too many times. Of course I am, and now here I am, laying here, feeling half dead yet so overly alive, worrying the hell out of Reese Mallory as she tries to figure out what to do with me. "Please, can you come to my room with me? Please? I'll help you... Just, can you please try?"
I look up at her, about to say something, but I stop when her eyes widen at me. "Antoine, your face is bright red!" I feel the touch of her cold hand on my forehead, and it feels so nice, but then she gasps, putting a hand over her mouth, saying, "You're burning up!" She looks so worried, and she mutters, "Oh God, oh God, oh God, what do I do, what do I do?" looking away from me.
"I don't wanna get you sick," I mutter, because it's the only clear thought in my head.
Her voice sounds like its far, far away as she responds with, "Don't worry about that, Antoine. It's okay if you get me sick. We just need to get you to my bedroom... Ugh, my mum is sick too, so I can't get help from her, and Gabe just left... What do I do?"
"Nothing, it's okay. I can take care of myself, you know," I mutter, trying to stand up off the chair. I stumble forward, though, wavering as my vision goes blurry, and I suddenly fall into her, my eyes shutting. I pant, feeling so warm, so hot, I think I'm about to set on fire. I am on fire. My face is on fire.
"Antoine," she breathes.
"Sorry..." I mutter. "You shouldn't have to support my weight like this..."
"Come on now, Antoine. I'll bring you to my bedroom. You're... gonna be okay." She sounds so unsure as she says this, which makes me very unsure of myself as well.
She lets me lean on her as I try to walk on my own, and we shuffle to the stairs. It's a challenge getting up the stairs for me, and one time I fall down on my knees, feeling so dizzy that I think I almost pass out. "I'm so ill..." I whisper, breathing heavily.
"Antoine," she says for about the one hundredth time. "It's... okay." I felt her arms wrap around my middle, which made my tremble for a moment, to feel such caring arms around me. Nobody ever took care of me when I was sick. Obviously my papa never did, and my mama was always scared of getting sick, so it always fell on my older siblings to take care of me. They didn't do much.
I've never been this sick and have such kind arms around me, helping me stand, and get up the stairs.
She lets me fall into her own bed, and I flop back, breathing, "I'm really hot."
"I... know, Antoine. Just... relax. Take off your shirt if you need to. Do whatever you need to do. Are you comfortable?"
"I'm hot..."
"I know, I know. I'm going to be right back, okay? I'm gonna get you some things. I'm gonna close the door, but if you need help, just call, and I'll come, okay? I'll be right back."
I nod slightly, saying, "Okay... I feel like I'm on fire..."
I'm not sure if she hears the panic that I'm feeling at this fact in my voice, but she responds once more with, "I know it feels like that, but you're gonna be fine, okay? I'll make sure of that. Just lay right here. Do you believe in God?"
I open my eyes at this question in confusion, eyebrows furrowed, unsure if I heard her right in my feverish state. Despite that, I respond with, "Sometimes. But sometimes I feel like He doesn't love me anymore."
"Until I get back, pray to Him."
"Why?"
"It'll help. Trust me. Always does for me, even though I don't even know if He's real or not, either. I'll be right back with some things that will help you feel better."
"Okay," I say, feeling a very soft smile form in my lips. "I won't be going anywhere."
