Quandary | Noah Sebastian |

eighteen

Noah

"I promise you, Liv. The guys are going to be happy to see you."

I soothed circles into Liv's back as she breathed deep and rested her forehead against her arms, folded over the toilet seat. She worried herself sick, thinking the Nick's and Jolly would be cold towards her due to her absence and my condition when in reality they were the ones who were asking about her. She just wouldn't listen to me.

"I know you think they're mad at you, but—" she heaves, briefly interrupting me. "But they're not. They ask about you—" She choked and released what was left in her stomach. I cringed but continued to rub her back. "You're okay," I whispered when she lets out a cry, and pressed a kiss into her hair. She coughs into the bowl, the raspy sound filling the otherwise quiet bathroom.

After a moment, she sat up sniffling, and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," she huffs. "It's not just them being mad, it's the fact that everything makes me sick now. What if I get sick at Jolly's?"
Shrugging lightly, I brushed back her bangs that were stuck to her forehead in sweat and gave her a soft kiss on her temple. "So, you get sick. It happens."
"But what if they ask? I don't want them to know yet, Noah," her voice starts to grow in pitch, her lips trembling.

I cupped her face in my hands, tracing her lips with my thumb to settle them, and gazed into her eyes that were beginning to swirl with fresh tears. "Then we tell them you ate something that made you sick, Liv. You're overthinking it; I promise they won't know until you're ready for them to know, okay?" I held onto her stare, hoping to quiet her frantic and worrisome mind. Her eyes bounce between mine, and I knew she was trying her damnedest to believe my words.

She sucks in a choppy breath as her eyes fluttered shut and bobbed her head in a quick nod. She then gave my thumb a tiny kiss, and I knew she was finally accepting what I'd been telling her. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up and head over to Jolly's," I tell her, wiping the remaining tear stains from her cheeks.
She whispers a barely audible 'okay' and flushes the toilet before standing. I stood from my spot on the floor and headed into our bedroom with only a minimal wheezing fit, leaving her to wash her hands and brush her teeth.

When Liv finally emerged from the bathroom, I couldn't help the bit of sadness I felt seeing the look of pure exhaustion on her. She had thrown on one of my old hoodies, her hair was unkempt, and her face was paler than usual, paired with dark circles under her eyes. Yet when she tried to smile, as weak of a smile it was, she still looked as beautiful as ever—but I knew how worn out she was feeling, especially after puking the way she had.

Flashing her a sympathetic smile, I stood in front of her and gave her shoulder a gentle rub. "On second thought, why don't we stay in?" I suggested, "You're exhausted, and I'm still not feeling all that great either."
She shakes her head, peering up at me with tired eyes. "No, no. I'll be fine. You said the guys wanted to see me, so..." she trails off, shrugging her shoulders with a dry chuckle.
"You sure, love? You have inventory tomorrow morning; I wouldn't want you to be too tired going in."
She rolls her eyes with a scoff. "Well, after you just drilled it into my head that the guys want to see me, I'd better go."

I pursed my lips into a line and gave her a pointed look. "Don't get snippy with me," I tease, propping my fists on my hips.
"I'm not," she grumbles, folding her arms over her chest and averting her gaze elsewhere.
"Mmm, sure. And I'm not the lead singer of Bad Omens."
She lightly smacks my chest at my remark, but I can see the slight curl of her lips as she fights back a smile. I laughed, the rumble of a cough soon replacing it, and I tried my best to stifle the coughing fit I was about to have.

As things progressed with Olivia, I was slowly but surely recovering day by day. My breathing improved quite a bit, but I was still having coughing fits here and there throughout the day, though not nearly as bad. Rose petals would still make their way out of my lungs, but there hadn't been any thorns along with them as of late—thank God.