Alien (Justin Bieber Love Story)

Chapter 29

I woke up the next morning to an empty bed and sobbing sounds in the bathroom. Jumping out of bed and to the restroom as fast as I can, I run in to see Justin hovering over the toilet with tears rushing down his face. He had apparently thrown everything up because he was just dry heaving now. Noticing my presence, he looks up and whimpers, the tears racing faster. I walk over and rub his back, whispering soft comforting words as he starts to dry heave again. Finally he stops and flushes the toilet, standing up to brush his teeth.

After finishing, he looks at me sobbing and makes grabby hands, wanting me to hold and comfort him in his time of need. I bring him back to the bed and let him cuddle himself into me. "How long have you been sick baby boy?" I ask softly, petting his hair. "S-since I woke up 3 h-hours ago." he whimpers weakly, nuzzling my neck. His voice is raspy and breaking in between words, probably from a sore throat. "Oh baby I'm so sorry. Why didn't you wake me?" "B-because you looked so p-peaceful and you n-need your sleep." he whispers cutely. "Aw sweetheart...If you don't feel well you need to tell me." I say sadly since I could have been helping him all this time. He nods weakly, playing with my fingers.

A few minutes later, he starts to cry again. "Oh baby what's wrong now?" I ask. "I-i d-don't feel g-good." he wails into my neck, his tears rolling down onto my skin and dampening my shirt. "I know, darling. Would you like some soup? I can make your favorite." I offer. 'He needs to eat something' my motherly instincts kick in. He nods as I stand and buries himself into the many fuzzy blankets on the bed.

I walk downstairs to make the Vegetable Soup with hunks of ham. After about an hour of waiting and walking up and down the stairs to check on my baby, the soup is finally finished. Filling him up a bowl and a glass of Ginger Ale, I begin my trek up the stairs. Opening the door, I see Justin's back to it so I set the food down. I walk over and see he is dead asleep. His hair is ruffled and laid against his forehead instead of gelled up like normal, beads of sweat roll down his face and chest because of a fever of 102.3 (I checked on one of my other times checking on him), and he's mumbling incoherent words around the thumb in his mouth. I brush the hair out of his face, gazing at him in wonder. How can one look so beautiful all the time even when they're sick?

I gently shake him awake. Even though he needs to sleep he also needs to eat since I know there is nothing in his stomach. His eyes flutter open and they light up when they see me sitting there, but a flash of pain sweeps across them. He whimpers and his eyes begin to fill with more inky black tears. "Shh baby. It's okay. I'll make you feel better." I reassure, grabbing his soup and drink. I pull him slowly into a sitting position with pillows behind his back to hold him up and begin to spoon feed him his favorite soup. He eats it slowly and weakly, holding one of my hands the entire time. We have to stop for him to run back to the bathroom two more times.

After he drinks the last drop of the Ginger Ale, I climb in next to him and rub his back to sooth him. He wraps his arms tightly around my waist and nuzzles his face into my neck, his soft hair tickling my chin. I peck his head and he kisses my neck. His breathing becomes even and slow, a sign he fell into a deep sleep. I bury my nose into his sweet smelling hair and slowly fall asleep as well.