I opened my eyes, uncomfortably sweaty, and with a throbbing headache. I was in bed... Ethan's bed? Sleepily, eyes still closed, I began tugging covers away from me, desperate to get away from the heat.
"Hey, hey," a voice whispered. Ethan. He was sitting, back against the headboard, knees up. He grabbed my hand, stopping me from pushing away the covers. I sat up farther, causing a washcloth to fall down my face and onto my lap. I blinked in confusion.
Ethan snorted at me. "Stop moving," he chided, gently pressing me back down onto the bed. I lied down reluctantly. He placed the lukewarm washcloth back on my forehead. "Better?"
"I'm so hot," I whispered. "I have to..."
And I sprung up again, and he wasn't able to stop me. I peeled off the pink sweatshirt, and my long sleeve with it, leaving me in a sticky sports bra. I sighed in relief.
"I'm taking my jeans off, I don't care," I announced, as I pulled them off beneath the sheets. Ethan watched me with a blank face.
"What hurts? Are you going to throw up?" Ethan asked in concern as I closed my eyes.
"My head," I told him.
"I'll get you a new washcloth. We took your temperature. 103." Ethan said. "Not good, Emma."
He padded out of the room and returned with two ice packs and a glass of water.
"Drink up," he said, putting the glass to my lips. I did, gulping the water down. When I was finished, he gently snuck one ice pack under my head, and the other over my forehead. Then he settled back into his spot next to me. He was silent, and I could feel his eyes boring into me for ten minutes straight.
"I'm fine, Ethan. Stop worrying." I assured him, eyes still closed.
"You don't know that," he said fiercely. "I kept telling Grayson to take you straight to the hospital, but he wouldn't listen, the dick."
"I don't need to go to the hospital, E. It's just a fever. I run a high temperature anyway." I lied casually. I definitely felt shitty, but I knew I just needed a few days of rest and I'd be fine.
"What are we going to do for your video now?" I mumbled.
"Don't worry about it. Go to sleep." Ethan insisted softly, rubbing my arm with his fingertips. And I did, sleeping for a few hours before waking up sweatier than before. Ethan suggested I take a cold shower.
"Yell if you need anything, Grayson and Bryant are here. I'm going to the store. I'll be back in 20 minutes." he told me, setting out two towels for me.
"Thanks," I said, glancing at the clock. It was ten at night. Today felt like it lasted a week.
I showered, letting the cool water trickle down my back. When I got out, I put my hair in a bun and put on the t-shirt Ethan had left me. An 'Astroworld' t-shirt. I vaguely thought of the album, the only song I remembered was 'SICKO MODE'.
Ironic.
When I exited the bathroom towards the bedroom, Ethan was setting up a large fan.
"I'm breaking that fucking fever, even if it's the last thing I do," he muttered, rushing over to check my forehead again.
"Still hot, dammit." he said despairingly, "Here, sit, sit."
I resumed my position in his bed lethargically, noticing the purple Gatorade and Advil lined up on his nightstand. Right next to the pineapple.
He guided me into bed, tucking the covers around me. Strangely, they didn't feel suffocating, but warm and comforting.
"Good night, Emma," he said softly. "You'll feel better in the morning, I promise."
"Goodnight," I whispered to him, feeling my eyelids droop.
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