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How He Cuddles

 Because yesterday was her birthday and I don't have a gift yet, I dedicate this to you~  Hapii birthday again

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Laziness has never been a good point of mine—not to anyone, I’d bet. And this laziness is the main reason why I’m stuck here at home with a runny nose and a skull-breaking headache. And let’s not forget this annoying sister of mine. If only I went back to my office and got my umbrella instead of running through the drizzle last night. Tch, wrong move, I know.

 

“…that’s why, I, Viola Andrada hereby put you”―pointing a finger at me, smirk on her lips― “poor Reddlyn Andrada in a house arrest.” She finished her speech with a satisfied nod, arms crossed.

 

I shifted on my seat and stared at her. Just stared and shrugged. It’s not like she said anything wrong, and besides, I didn’t listen to her whole speech. I really have nothing to say.

 

“Whether you put me in home arrest or not, I’m still staying, stupid.”

 

She stuck her tongue at me and pouted, acting all childish again.

 

“Just leave already. You still have work, right? And I bet you don’t want to be late. I can handle myself here. Besides, dad is coming home from his trip.” I motioned for her to go away and grabbed the folder on the coffee table.

 

“Sis, you’re sick.”

 

“I know.”

 

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Meaning, you need to rest and not work. Just a day won’t hurt you. Go back to your room and enjoy a whole day sleep.”

 

My sister can be a nagger, a little pushy, childish and annoying. She might be all that but that’s what I like about her, she pushes you to the extent of surpassing your limits. But right now, she’s just plain annoying.

 

“If I stay any longer in my room, my energy will be drained from me which will most probably make me sicker than I am now. So please, just let me do my thing and you go to work,” I deadpanned, grabbing new sheets of Kleenex to wipe my nose. I really hate runny nose.

 

Viola was about to snap when a knock on the door stopped whatever she has to say. Both of us turned to look at the door. Before any of us can ask who it was, the door flew open; Vannes walked in and closed the door behind him.

 

“Uhm, hey?” he adjusted his glasses and scratched the back of his neck. That seems to be a habit of his when he doesn’t know what to say. “I…” he did this weird gestures looking from the door, then to us, trying to formulate a sentence. To explain his sudden appearance, maybe.

 

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have class?” I sniffed, discarded the used sheets and grabbed new ones to wipe this gross mucus coming out of my nose. Really gross.

 

“It’s Friday, I don’t have class.”