Chance Encounter ➳ Drew Dirksen

30. fevers & stains

Drew woke up the next day feeling like absolute shit. His head felt like it weighed a ton, his eyes couldn't see straight, and his clogged nose wasn't allowing him to breathe properly - more or less, at all. Maybe this was what dying felt like. It was horrible.

"Brandi," Drew groaned, rolling over onto his side to poke his girlfriend. He didn't want to wake her up because they'd both fallen asleep at such an ungodly hour, but he felt like his life was on the line. "Baby, please wake up."

Brandi's eyelids began to flutter, but they still didn't open. "What is it, Drew?" she asked softly.

"I think I'm dying."

"Shut up, Drew. You are not dying. You're just being a little diva again."

"I feel like I'm dying."

Brandi brought a lazy hand up to rest it in the crook of his neck to check if he was really sick, and she nearly flinched when she felt the heat against her skin.

She quickly kicked off her blankets and got out of bed, ignoring the black blobs clouding her vision from getting up too fast, before making her way to the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Drew croaked out, sounding really sad.

"I'm just getting a thermometer."

Brandi rummaged through her medicine cabinet for a few moments, before she finally got ahold of the familiar stick of glass, partially wrapped in some paper towel.

She walked back to the bed and stared at Drew expectantly, but he didn't move. He just looked really confused and lost.

"Open your mouth, Drew," she demanded and he did as he was told, releasing his lower jaw slowly, before Brandi placed the end of the thermometer in his mouth and pushed on his chin to close it again.

The thermometer hung awkwardly in his mouth, and the taste of metal and alcohol stained his taste buds as he tried hard not to gag. He knew better than to act out in front of Brandi.

"How do you feel?" Brandi questioned, sitting in a cross-legged position beside him, on the bed. She looked anxious, and her eyes showed an obvious hint of concern. "I know you feel like shit, but -- can you describe what exactly you're feeling? So I know how bad it is."

Drew explained everything he was feeling, from his aching head, down to his cold feet. Of course he found it hard to talk. I mean, you try speaking with something breakable in your mouth and an awful taste on your tongue. Which is why he was more than relieved when Brandi gently pulled the thermometer out of his mouth and held it up to the light to see better, before a frown crossed her features.

"My poor baby's really sick," she said, and Drew felt his stomach flutter. "Maybe we should go to your mom. She'd know how to handle this, because I definitely don't."

Drew nodded his head, not really knowing how else to respond. The only thing on his mind was how good his mom's chicken soup was and how she'd always make it for him when he had a fever. He missed that, and this was his opportunity to satisfy that craving. "I like the soup she makes me."

An amused smile made its way onto Brandi's lips as she combed her fingers through his tangles of blonde hair, which was slightly damp from his cold sweat. "You're so adorable."

"I know."

He never got tired of hearing those words, and Brandi never got tired of saying them to him. It's pretty much been their thing ever since that day Drew showed up at her flat and they just ate ice cream on the couch. It was a fixed routine. Nearly everyday, Brandi told Drew that he's adorable and he can reply however he likes.