Everything I Wanted

Sick Show - 23

The morning sun peeked through the hotel curtains, but Story barely noticed it as she blinked awake, her body feeling heavy and achy. She tried to clear her throat but was met with a raspy sound and a sharp scratchiness that made her wince. Groaning softly, she touched her forehead, and the warmth she felt confirmed what she dreaded: she was coming down with something.

"No, no, no," she muttered under her breath, collapsing back onto the bed. "This can't be happening."

Her mind raced. Today was the day of Billie's show, and she had been looking forward to experiencing another electric performance. Now, the thought of being a potential source of germs around Billie and the team made her stomach sink even more.

Reluctantly, Story forced herself to sit up, her body protesting every movement. She dragged herself to the bathroom, clutching onto the walls for support as dizziness briefly took over. Turning on the shower, she let the warm water wash over her, hoping it would help ease her aches and clear her foggy head.

But when she stepped out, she still felt weak. Her legs wobbled slightly as she made her way back to the room, her damp hair sticking to her neck. She needed help.

She padded over to Billie's bed and gently shook her shoulder. "Billie," she croaked, her voice barely audible.

Billie stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She glanced up at Story, immediately sitting up when she noticed her pale face and tired eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice thick with concern.

"I don't feel so good," Story admitted, her voice scratchy.

Billie frowned and leaned forward, placing the back of her hand against Story's forehead. "You're burning up," she said, her tone shifting into full protective mode. "Go lie down right now."

Story nodded weakly and shuffled back to her bed. She sank into the pillows, her body grateful for the rest. Billie was already out of bed, pulling on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

"I'm going to get some medicine," she said firmly. "I'll be right back. Don't move."

Story smiled faintly at Billie's no-nonsense attitude, even in her weakened state. "Okay, Mom," she joked weakly, but her voice barely carried the humor.

Billie shot her a look, though there was a hint of a smile at the corners of her lips. "Just rest," she repeated before slipping out of the room.

While Billie was gone, Story closed her eyes and tried to will away the feverish haze. She thought about the concert later that day and how she didn't want to miss it—or worse, risk making Billie or anyone else sick.

The door clicked open, and Billie returned with a small bag of supplies. She sat down beside Story on the bed, pulling out cold and flu medicine, a thermometer, and a bottle of water.

"Open up," Billie instructed, holding out a dose of medicine.

Story obeyed, swallowing it down with a grimace. Billie tucked a blanket around her, her movements gentle and precise.

"My mom thinks you should still come to the arena," Billie said softly, brushing a strand of hair from Story's face. "But you're staying in my dressing room, okay? You need to rest. I- We want to be able to check on you and make sure you're not getting worse."

Story opened her mouth to protest, but Billie held up a hand.

"Don't even try it," Billie said firmly. "I'm not leaving you alone here, and I'm not letting you push yourself."

Story sighed but nodded, too tired to argue. "Thanks, Billie," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Billie smiled, her fingers lightly brushing against Story's cheek for a moment before pulling away. "You're welcome. Now, get some rest before we have to leave. I'll take care of everything."