The Lemon Pill (boyxboy)

Chapter Eleven: Little Bro

SCOTT'S

Six years earlier...

"No!" I shouted at him through the phone.

"But I have to be there, the festival is only once a year," Christopher exclaimed followed by a violent series of coughs.

Tomorrow is the School's annual National festival where people from other states come to display and share their school culture. It's a fair of some sort where food and other stuff is sold. Christopher loves going to the festival, he would save a ton load of money to buy alot of shirts and snacks.

We would often go around the fair together and he would always wear an official festival cap carrying a ton of food while I just carry a bag of beefy fries.

"There is no way I'm going to let you go," I demanded. "You have to rest, you're getting sicker and sicker everyday."

He coughed violently once again and let out a load baby cry.

"I called your mom and told her you're not well enough to let out of your house," I informed him.

Christopher had a fever for about five days now and he's not getting well because he keeps going to school to help with the annual festival.

I gave Christopher a few hours to rest while I went to my kitchen to cook something healthy for him. I pan grilled some tuna and a side of pesto tomatoes.

I went to his house with the food and saw him bedridden, wearing thick pj's.

I walked into his room wearing my pj's as well and placed the food on his nightstand and took my small medicine box from my pocket. I placed my backhand on his forehead to check his temperature. Just like yesterday, he was still burning.

I took a pill from my medicine box and left it on his nightstand beside a glass of lemon juice.

As I was about to leave the room, I turned back and I felt a warm hand grab my arm.

"Can you stay?" Christopher asked with a shivering voice.

I glanced at him and saw his tired eyes.

"Of course," I whispered. "Budge up," I said as he scooted to his right.

I got under the sheets and lied down beside him as I felt him shivering. I reached for him and pulled him to me.

"It's so cold..." he mumbled as he reached me with his right hand, going for an embrace. Then we both heard a loud cling downstairs, maybe at the kitchen were the rest of his family was preparing for dinner. He quivered upon hearing the sound. "Who's there?" he exclaimed weakly. His high fever is making him over react, and soon he might hallucinate if I leave him alone.

I pulled him closer to let his head rest on my bicep as my hands caress his head.

"It's okay," I started. "You're going to be okay, I promise,"

Christopher might be a tough guy, but when he's weak or when situations like this, he seems softer and honestly more adorable.

"You promise?" he asked, still with a shivering voice.

"Yes, you'll be all right, nobody's going to hurt you," I whispered and I felt for. Second like he meant so much to me just like a little brother, at the moment, maybe more.

He glanced at me with his eyes shut, but his mouth had a wide yet weak smile. He snuggled closer and let out a deep breath.

"Nobody's going to hurt you as long as I'm here," I whispered.

At that moment, I saw a completely different Christopher. he wasn't the Christopher that I would hang out with every afternoon after class, or the one that I fool around with. Somehow I saw something inside him that I wanted to hold onto forever besides our friendship.

Now...

"What about this one?" he asked, holding a beige tee unto his body.

"Nah," I said looking up to him and looking back at my mobile.

"Come on! We've been in this store for half an hour and you still don't like what I'm trying on," he cried.

I looked at him and stood up and walked towards the corner of the store where the good clothing were. I took a blue and white stripped collarred shirt and handed it to him.

"Here you go," I said.

Upon entering the mall, I told Christopher that I was only going to buy him clothing that looks good on him. Going inside Christopher's closet was a total nightmare to me. Fitted long hanging shoulder shirts, sweaters with numbers like a jersey, and baggy windbreakers of every kind are all that you can see in there. Not to mention, his collection of basketball and football team shirts or whatever you call that.

Today, I wanted to buy clothes for Christopher that really suits him and make shim look more decent. I wouldn't want my friends to think bad about his sense of fashion.

"What?" he asked. "Harrington, it's the 21st century, I would look like I'm going on a golf game if I'm gonna wear that around."

"Oh, now that you mentioned that," I started as I took three more collared shirts with a variety of patterns. "Try these ones on too," I said.

"What? They suck!" he complained.

"No, Nurse Brandon sucks and I'm telling you he knows what he's doing with hid mouth-"

"Whatever Harrington!!!" he said cutting me off.

He looked at me with a face of disgust but at the same time he didn't refused and got inside the dressing booth at ease.

On every shirt, he would swag the curtains to show me and every shirt I picked looks really really appealing on him. The way his pecs show and the visibility of his broad shoulders was perfect and made him look like his age.

"Do I look like Harry Styles hot, or Zayne Malik Halloween?" he asked with a smile.

I looked around and saw more shirts and long sleeves that would fit him, so I grabbed all of them, maybe more than ten, different shirts and tossed it to him.

Every shirt was, predictably, good on him and he didn't say a word but cool.

He walked out with the sixth shirt and smiled at me.

"I told you, you look good on them," I mocked.

"Never doubted you," he exclaimed.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but you can only fit five shirts at a time," a lady said walking to us. She seems as if she was pissed off or something. The look on her face wasn't appealing and it looked like she wanted us out of the apparel.

"Oh, sorry," Christopher whispered.

"I guess, you and your... Friend, would have to get another number," she said with her eyebrow raised. She didn't seem like she worked here because of her attitude. Firstly because you shouldn't talk to your customers like that, and of course you should come with a homophopic approach hag.

"No," I stood up. "Me and my FIANCÉ are going to take all of these," I mocked her emphasizing in the fiancé word.

"Let's go to the counter babe, leave those clothes and let her take it to the payment," I said smiling at the lady while taking Christopher's hand.

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