So High School

Its a fever dream

A/N I've got quite a few depressing ideas lined up 🙃🙃

TW

Taylor woke to the sound of the bedroom door closing. She turned over in bed, burying her face in the covers. Her head was pounding, pulsing behind her eyes, and her stomach churned.

She pressed the pillow to her face, trying to block out the pain and squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep. Evidently, she succeeded, as the next thing she knew, she could feel a hand gently rubbing her cheek.

"Hey, baby," Travis whispered, his hand slowly stroking her face. Taylor mumbled something unintelligible, burying her face further into the covers.
"You wanna come have some breakfast?" he asked softly.
"I don’t feel well," Taylor whined, her voice muffled.
"Aww, baby, what sort of unwell?" Travis cooed.
Taylor didn’t answer; instead, she peered up at him from beneath the duvet.

"Oh, sweetheart, you don’t look very well," Travis sighed sympathetically, brushing her hair back from her forehead. Taylor groaned, closing her eyes.
"Okay, let’s get some food in you, and then you can go straight back to bed, alright? I’ll lie with you, and we can watch a film or something," he offered gently. Taylor nodded weakly as Travis stood up.
"I’ll get you some toast, yeah?" he asked. Taylor nodded again, her head still heavy. Travis left the room, and once again, she was alone.

She sat up slowly, trying to ignore the pounding in her head and the churn in her stomach. Reaching for the glass of water on her bedside table, she hoped to soothe the dryness in her throat.

But before her fingers could close around the glass, her stomach turned violently. She pulled her hand away, accidentally knocking the glass over, sending it shattering onto the floor. Desperately, she clamped her hand over her mouth, needing to rush to the bathroom, but her body felt too weak to move.

Before she could even think, she leaned over the edge of the bed, vomiting up everything from the night before. Her stomach twisted again, and she barely had time to breathe before she was sick again, this time on her legs. Tears welled in her eyes as her tangled, curly hair became matted with vomit and the duvet was completely soaked.

Just then, the bedroom door creaked open, and Travis stepped inside, a tray in his hands. His eyes widened as he saw the mess before him. Quickly, he placed the tray down and rushed to her side.

"I’m sorry, I’m so sorry," Taylor sobbed, hanging her head in shame.
"Hey, no, don’t apologize," Travis said softly, his eyes scanning the bed in concern.
"I couldn’t hold it in... and I couldn’t get to the bathroom, and I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to... I’ll clean it up, I will..." Taylor rambled, panic rising in her chest.
"Tay, Taylor," Travis said, placing his hands on her shoulders to get her to focus on him. "Baby, it’s okay. It’s not your fault."
Taylor nodded slowly, eyes drifting over the mess.

"Alright, I’m going to run you a bath, and while you’re in there, I’ll clean this up, okay?" Travis said, already heading toward the bathroom.
"I can clean it up, I’ll do it, you don’t have to-" Taylor began, but Travis interrupted her gently.
"No, Taylor. You’re too sick to do anything. Just rest, okay?" He paused at the doorway. "I’ll take care of everything."
Too weak to argue, Taylor reluctantly agreed, sinking back against the pillows.

A few minutes later, Travis returned, having drawn the bath. He came to her side, slipping one arm under her legs and the other around her back, lifting her gently.
"Why are you carrying me? I’m all yucky," Taylor mumbled, her head resting against Travis’s chest as she shivered from the cold air.
"You’re not yucky, and I love you," Travis murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. He carried her into the bathroom and helped her sit on the counter.