DREAM KINGS (Shawn Mendes x Harry Styles)

C h a p t e r [47]

A loud scream wake me up. I open my eyes with a painful neck. Stiff and hurting like hell. The scream is coming from the outside the house and it's not just actually scream but an argument. Two voices are heard. Male and Female. I peek through the window and saw my neighbors, a married couple, screaming at each other's faces. What a great Saturday morning, I guess.

"Ugh.." I moan as I feel my neck and made a letter U movement to try and ease the pain. Somehow, it got slightly better. I wonder if he already ate the dinner I made last night. I decided to go downstairs, straight into the kitchen to check if he's already there but he's not. And the food I made was.. untouched.

Now what is wrong with that jerk. I went on my way to the living room and surprisingly, he's still there. Lying on his back, unaware. He's crumpled like a ball, wrapped with the blanket I put on him last night and his mouth's covered with his hands.

I shrug, guess we're not going out for the tour today. I'm safe. Rest day, finally. I yawn and turn around, ready to left the scene when all of a sudden, I hear him moan, continuously and more in an improper way.

"Stay.." he muffles, "Please.. don't go.."

I turn to him in a slow pace, with my brows curving in the middle, out of curiosity. I walk to him and the moaning and muffling continues.

"Stay with me.. I'll.. am I.. not enough..?"

"Mr. Mendes?" I mumble, "Are you okay?"

"I'll be better, I—I.. I.. I promise.."

He started making sounds like a sobbing kid and I thought that was odd. I went around the couch and carefully placed my hand on his head. It's wet and it's burning like campfires. I put my hand down on his neck and it's like what it feels like on his head. He's got a fever.
A high temp fever.

"Oh god.." I said as I immediately back away. I went to the kitchen and made him a soup. A chicken mushroom soup. This is what I was telling him before. Too much exhaustion after events will send many types of aching and unluckily, he's got himself a fever.

After making the soup. I brought it in the living room and down on the transparent table glass. Though I know he's gonna be so mad or become an awful ass, I still need to wake him up.

"Hey.." I said, "Wake up."

He moans.

I touched him on the shoulder and carefully wriggle to wake him up. He just moans in pain.

"Mister? Mister Mendes? Wake up.."

"Mmm.." he opens his eyes slowly but in discomfort. His breathing changed.

"Told you. Saturday's gonna be a rest day."

With the fever, he's unable to respond to what I'm saying, nothing he says but to moan and moan.

"Come on. Let's sit you up."

He weakly tries to pull himself up while I assist him. The blanket's still on his body, covering his shoulders down to his knees. I pick up the bowl of chicken soup from the table and scooped a tablespoon. He turns his head away with an distorted face.

"You need to eat." I said as I put the spoon closer to his mouth.

He grunts.