Bastille Imagines

Soup Remedy

There's nothing worse than being cooped up inside with a blocked nose and the dizziness of an aching head to isolate you from the world. This cold has been around for days now and you're beginning to think that it's overstayed it's welcome. However all the tablets and pills in the world couldn't stop it now. You're expecting another 2 or 3 days out of this.

With your book and tea sitting closely by, you spend your day off relaxing with the torment of a cold keeping you company. With the occasional sniff or two to occupy the silence, you scheme plans that would pass your ill time. Unfortunately, your beloved Dan has to be away working at the studio desperate to finish recording as now is the only time he'll get no thanks to his busy schedule, so he's off limits for the time being. Your friends are currently working, something you should be doing but you were begged to take the day off by your manager, Dan and your subconscious. Goddamn. Why does being ill suck? You miss being able to breath, thinking now that you took having a clear nasal passage for granted.

Turning over the last page of your anti-climatic book you feel a sense of emptiness. You relied on that book to keep you going for the last month, but now it's done with an unsatisfactory ending. What a complete waste of time. You long for something to take your mind off the fact that your head is full of mucus preventing you from functioning properly, even your thought process is bummed out. All too soon drowsiness naturally sinks in, fulfilling what was missed out on last nights sleep, seeing that you couldn't breath. You comply, snuggling up to the cosy blanket and falling asleep.

When you wake, the apartment is ten times darker, only the light of the TV brightens the room. That's funny, you don't remember leaving the TV on...even turning it on for that matter. You sit up looking over the back of the couch to see Dan in the kitchen preparing a meal of some kind. You didn't realise you completely missed him coming back from work; something you hate doing because you know Dan can sometimes come home with the stress of work following him, so instead you like to welcome him home with open arms and the offer to watch Netflix and chill to consider. You must've been asleep for a long time if he's managed to come in unnoticed and have a shower in time for you to wake up. His hair is extra voluminous probably only just having dried it, his contacts are out and in replace his glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose outlining his eyes. You always thought he looked better that way.

He spots you awake on the sofa and presents you a soft smile, not saying a word until he walks over to you, a bowl of soup in hand and cold/flu tablets tucked under his arm.

"There you go, love. I'll bring you your tea." He sweetly coos before disappearing again into the kitchen. What a doll. He's made you his speciality soup that has you falling head over heals for. Although it's soup, it's only thee best soup you have ever had the privilege of tasting, exaggerated yes, but you still stand by your words. You scoop up your bowl of soup a little too eagerly than necessary and immediately start digging into it, wasting no time to ravish it.

His miracle of a soup clears the awful taste of dryness in your mouth to be replaced by sheer delight. It's cooked to perfection. Dan returns with you tea and sits beside you, arms wrapped round your shoulders.

"Dan this soup is amazing." You exclaim.

Despite the compliment, he blankly looks back at you.

"It's just soup." He replies, raising a quizzical eyebrow to you. You roll your eyes, not having the energy or the train of thought to contradict his comment. His chuckle rings through your ears, forcing your head to lean on his shoulder as he plants a soft kiss on your temple. "Maybe that cold of yours has made you delirious."

Just as he mentions the word 'cold', you can feel the tickle of a sneeze coming on, as though the very mention of the word strikes up one hell of a sneeze. Coincidentally, you take a deep breath in and prepare yourself for an ear-popping sneeze. With the force you throw yourself a good metre or so into the air before you softly land back into Dan's arms.

When all is silent, you wipe your nose and embarrassingly glance over to Dan who seems to appear as though he's seen a ghost.

"You better not give that cold or so help me God, I will hold you personally responsible for jeopardizing the very heart and soul of Bastille."

"Drama Queen."