sympathy ~ e.d.

VII

The doorbell rings and it wakes me out of my sleep. I still feel horrible, despite having just slept for a little. I am nauseous and my headache isn't really gone. Maybe I should take a painkiller. The door rings again which isn't helping my headache at all. 

I grumble and get up to open the door. I swing it open and see Ethan standing there. Nope, not doing that right now. I immediately shut the door again. 'Please let me speak.' He has placed his foot between the door and doorframe so it won't close. I weakly attempt to let the door lock again. Which isn't working because I am quite weak at the moment and Ethan is far from. 

'No, I am sick. Leave.' 'I won't. I brought you some pasta. And I want to have a talk with you.' 'I don't.' I try to close the door again, but he steps forward, causing me to walk backward. Why am I seemingly so afraid of him? Ethan slowly walks towards me while I back up so he ends up coming into my house anyway, despite my attempts at keeping him out. 

'Leave! I am sick, I don't want to talk.' 'I'll leave. But I just wanted to give you the pasta. It's plain pasta with red sauce and a few vegetables and no meat because I wasn't sure if you were a vegetarian.' I squint my eyes at him. How does he know that I'm a vegetarian? 

We're still standing in the hallway and my eyes are looking straight into his. He is in my personal space right now and I do not like it at all. It's sweet of him to think of me and pretend to care but I don't want to let him in, especially not this literally. This is my house, my space. 

'Get out.' 'On one condition. We are talking about the message you sent either today or Friday. I will get out if you promise me you'll see me Friday.' 'Sure. Now leave and take your poisoned pasta with you.' 

He places the pasta on the floor before he opens my front door again. I look at him with a confused look, what is he doing? 'It's not poisoned, it's quite good. And have a nice night, I hope you'll feel better soon.'

Ethan walks out and quietly shuts the door behind him. What just happened? 

I quickly head to the living room to see him head towards his car and drive off. Wait. How did he know my address? I never gave it to him.

I grab my phone and I click on Ethan's messages to ask him. 

'Can I speak to you for a sec?' 

'Are you okay?'  

'You're not in the English class, did you call in sick?' 

'You called in sick, sneak.' 

'Are you alright? Do you want the notes for English? I actually made some.' 

'I assume you're sick and sleeping or something, but I'm worried. I'm coming over if you don't reply for an hour.' 

'I'm coming over.' 

'Open your door.' 

'I'm dead serious, open your door. I have pasta :)' 

That was the last message he sent me. I furrow my brows. He completely spammed me. I'm not used to getting texts from people. Especially not this much from one person.

'Spamming stalker. How did you get my address, creep?'

It takes a few minutes for him to answer, he's probably still in the car. In the meanwhile, I picked up his pasta and placed it on the table, debating whether I should eat it or not. 

You're alive! I had to make sure you were okay. But go eat your pasta and sleep, Zee. Goodnight :)' 

'You didn't answer my question, E' 

Why did I call him that? It was some quick, in the moment thing. I shouldn't have done that. Now he must think we're best friends or something. Which we are most definitely not. He has gone offline, probably to get some rest himself. 

I sigh and grab the pasta from the floor. It's still warm. I grab a fork and eat a few little bites. I drink some water to also stay hydrated. I somehow do feel slightly better. I should go to sleep again and see if I feel any better tomorrow. I really hope I do.