Describing Him (Ansel Elgort)

14 // Change of plans

I sit cross legged on the creaky bed, staring at the contents of my suitcase sprawled across the floor, my head in my hands.
Out of all the things I packed - and I packed literally everything from books to purple dragon bed socks to a freaking foot massager - I managed to not bring the number one most important thing every girl needs when they go on holiday.
I bring my knees to my chest and slowly rock back and forth, screwing my eyes shut, whimpering. I try not to let any tears escape, I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry.
I let out a whine, my breathing jagged.
I hear footsteps getting louder, and then my door opens.

"Margo?"

I don't want to look up into his eyes. I don't want him to see me like this. I don't want this to be happening.
But it is happening, and there's nothing I can do about it, so I slowly lift my head from my knees, my bloodshot eyes meeting his big hazel ones.
His whole face is filled with concern, and his eyes drill into me, pleadingly, and although I've done nothing I feel an enormous amount of guilt sink in my stomach.
He made his way to my bed, sitting down next to me.
"Marg, are you okay?" He whispered.
His face was so close to mine, his eyes never breaking his gaze.
"Yeah, I'm fine." The words that came out of my mouth didn't sound like mine at all; they were raspy and low. It was like I was listening to someone else speak. "Do you have a sister?"
I knew it was a long shot, but there wasn't a lot I could do. I knew he had a brother whom he was really close to, because he always talked about him, but I wasn't sure if he had a sister. If he did have a sister, I didn't really want to scavenge through her stuff, but maybe if I called her or got to know her or something I wouldn't feel to bad.
Ansel frowned, concern replaced with confusion, wondering why I randomly brought up if he had a sister right now.
"Yeah, I do, actually. Her name's Sophie - she has her own business selling suits. It's really cool, I wear them all the time. You'll meet her tonight, she's coming around nine."
I nod my head slowly.
Ansel hasn't moved at all, he's still sitting a few inches away from me, and his eyes are still glued on mine, still reflecting concern and care, but his eyebrows were furrowed and he was deep in thought. I noticed for the first time his eyelashes, long and dark, and there was something about the light that made his skin look extra smooth and silky.
"I think I have a fever," I mumble, and he shakes his head, the frown disappearing, and he moves even closer to me, eliminating the space between us.
He wraps his long arms around my body, enclosing me in his warmth, and he rests his head on top of mine, nuzzled in my mess of hair.
"If you want, we don't have to go out today," he whispers, and his warm breath creates goosebumps to appear on my skin.
I nod again.
"Did you have plans?"
He sighs, and that's when I know he had planned out this day, and I feel horrible for ruining it.
"Yeah, but it's fine. You had a big day yesterday, and if you went out today again and came home all run down you'd just get worse. I'd rather you feel better here, and besides, I kind of wanted to have a rest day."
I knew from his voice that he was slightly annoyed that we weren't going to do whatever he had set out for us.
"I'll be fine Ansel, I'll get through it, I promise. I wouldn't want to ruin your day just because I'm feeling bad." I assured him, and it was the truth.
"No, you'd ruin my day if we went to the city and it was tiring you out and making you feel like crap. I want to stay here with you." He insisted, rubbing his hands on my back.
I pull my head out from under his to look up at him.
He looks down at me with those big hazel eyes, and I know it sounds weird, but it was as if his eyes smiling.
"Thank you, Ansel. I mean it."
He pulls me on to him so I'm lying on him, our bodies curled up together, and my head on his chest.
I can hear the sound of his heartbeat, and nothing, nothing I'd ever experienced before seemed so momentous, like my life hadn't been complete until this very moment. I feel so safe and content, so whole and real, and despite having a raging fever, I've never felt so alive.
It's a hard emotion to describe, but the only way for me to explain it that you might understand is that what I was feeling was a drug, running through my veins; a part of me, burning in me, pumping my blood, and suddenly I was out of control and it was crucial that I had as much of whatever this feeling was as I could, and I was so high on just listening to his goddamn heartbeat with my face burried in his chest and I wanted more, more, more, oh, I wanted more.