The Soulless Souls

8

"I told you this would happen! I freaking told you!"

"I'm sorry, darling. But you look pretty when you're angry."

"Stop it, Aryan."

"I'm sorry."

I huffed, pacing around the bedroom.

Ari had a fever. A very high one. He said it started when we left his grandparents. In front of the door, he suddenly fainted and fell on top of me and I had to heave him to the bedroom.

Tucked in and face flushed, he glanced up at me.

"I told you, you would become sick", I repeated for the nth time, trying to mask my worry with anger.

I was totally clueless. I didn't know how to care for someone who's sick. I couldn't even care for myself.

"I'm sorry", he muttered again.

"Stop apologizing."

"Alright."

I sighed and sat down on the bed next to him, touching his forehead with the back of my hand. His skin was way too hot.

"Do you need something?", I asked, forcing my voice to stay steady. He shouldn't notice that I didn't know what to do.

"Can you bring me my book from the living room, please?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? You want to read? You should rest and sleep."

"I'll be fine. Usually, I'm not sick for more than two days. It will pass."

"Still, you should take medicine. Does your throat hurt?"

"No, just my head."

"I'll get you painkillers. Do you have them here or should I go to a pharmacy?"

He thought for a bit. "I... don't have any here. But you don't have to go because of me, Edith."

"It's okay, Ari. Don't move an inch, okay?"

After I brought him his book and a glass of water, I went out to the pharmacy and bought painkillers and tea that would reduce his fever.

I gave him both and then laid down next to him on my side of the bed with a generous distance between us.

"Are you laying that far away from me because of last night or because I'm sick?", he asked, not looking up from his book.

I internally recoiled when images of last night appeared in my head. The way he hold me. The forced proximity. His body heat and breathing that were impossible to ignore.

"Because you are sick."

After a few hours, I checked his temperature again. His fever went down a bit. I couldn't stop the sigh of relief that escaped me.

"Is there something specific you want to eat? Like... soup, for example?", I asked him.

He looked at me wordlessly.

I frowned. "Do you feel dizzy? Are you alright?" I touched his forehead again but he suddenly grabbed my hand and sat up.

Before I could react, his other hand grasped my chin and he pressed his lips against mine.

My eyes widened in horror as I took in how unfamiliar his touch on my lips felt and how hot his skin was and how hot mine became.

After a few seconds, he leaned back, mustering me. "You're not allowed to be angry at me for this. I'm still sick."

"Well", I answered, internally shaking, though I wasn't sure whether it was because of shock or anger, "that's the problem. You kissed me while being sick!"