It Started With a Cake

Ch9. Sick

The next few days follow much the same, I wake up nauseous, and in varying amount of time I end up hunched over the toilet, Peeta behind me rubbing my back and holding my hair out of the way.

Then depending on the severity I may manage to keep a small amount of food down as Peeta offers to make breakfast.

As the days pass my small morning routine speeds up in effect, sometimes only having a few minutes after my waking up to make it to the bathroom, some days not even that.

My keeping food down has also become more rare with the severity of what I assume to be my morning sickness speeding up as the days pass. It doesn't just keep to the morning either, its effects last all day. With waves of nausea coming up every other moment, food aversions effecting almost every meal offered to me and of course actual vomiting making a regular occurrence each time a sight, smell or taste even rubs me the wrong way.

Now with my newest symptom making its appearance Peeta has practically ordered me into bedrest, not that I could really attest against needing it when I felt I was going to faint every time I stood up.

"I hate this" I growl as he enters the room again, baring food I will no doubt either throw up or refuse entirely, but knowing him it's probably cheese buns, the one thing I can't seem to refuse.

"I know you do" he smiles sympathetically, I frown at him, it wasn't fair, how could I hate him when he was so nice to me.

As I suspect it's another batch of cheese buns and judging by the steam they're freshly baked.

Though the sight of them fills me with a craving to devour them in one speedy mouthful I will myself into a slow steady pace.

He sits beside me as I eat, watching as I slowly make my way through them, preparing to grab the trash can if needed, but surprisingly I make it through the plate with minimal nausea, my stomach seemingly settled enough to hold the new food in there.

Still he waits there with me, unmoving but ready to, as if any sudden movement he makes could set me off.

Luckily though nothing comes up, for now at least.

After eating Peeta stays in the bed with me, cuddling me per my request. He's brought his sketchbook with him, which he scratches at every so often in between scratching my shoulder and asking if I'm feeling okay, the answer always much the same.

I felt awful, though maybe not as much as I would if I were on my feet.

On the one hand I never wanted to leave this bed again, while on the other I was longing to go outside into the woods, my comfort place.

It wasn't too bad with Peeta though, with him next to me the time seemed to tick by just the slightest bit faster.

Just having him laying there with me helps me to relax, allowing me the moment of serenity as I close my eyes, leaving the pain, nausea and dizziness behind as I slowly drift off.

There's barely any light in the room when I open my eyes once again, the descending sun casting an orangish glow over our bedroom. I smile at the colour, forever and always his colour.

"Did you sleep alright?" He gently asks me pulling me from my thoughts, I'm surprised to find him still laying beside me, just as he was when I fell asleep. The only difference I find is his finished sketch, which is unsurprisingly of me; he seems to find most of his inspiration from me nowadays, or at least relating to me.

I take a moment to look over his sketch, inspecting it with intrigue.

"Do you like it?" He asks me quickly once he realises I'm looking at it.

I take a moment to smile over at him, glancing up into his crystal blue eyes with a look of what I hope conveys love.

"I love it" I reply simply glancing back down at it to take in more of the details, "how'd you come up with this one?"

I look back up at him to find a grin on his face. "I don't know, I guess I just pictured it."

"Do you think it's going to be okay?" I ask him, a tear coming to my eye as I imagine losing this.

He of course knows what I'm talking about, seemingly even knowing each thought in my mind as it wanders over the worst possible outcome.

"I do" he places his hand back onto my stomach for probably the millionth time today.

I can't seem to hold in the fear this time allowing my sobs to escape me, my body collapsing into his arms as I hold on for dear life.

"What if it's not?" I somehow manage to get out between my sobs. His hand has moved from my stomach to my back, rubbing it profusely as he gently soothes me.

He doesn't speak as I rant out my inner thoughts that seem to be weighing me down, only shushing and telling me it's okay in between my hiccups.

When I've finally calmed down enough he begins to counter my worries with assurances, each of my points seemingly stupid as he lays it all out for me.

Well losing it is not completely out of the question yet, so my concerns aren't stupid, but Peeta is right, with all the symptoms and even my outburst just then, it is quite likely things are going well.

Despite the hell I've probably just put him through he pulls me in close to his chest, hugging me tightly as he tells me he'll always be there no matter what, and if just for this moment that's what calms me down.