Live , Laugh , Love (Sebastian Stan )

Chp. 17 Please be ok

I felt really weird all day.

"Do you want some chicken soup?" he asked quietly, rubbing my ankle.

"Ok." I whimpered. My throat was swollen and it hurt to talk.

Seb gave me a sympathetic look and walked into the kitchen. I heard him clattering around out there so I put my hands over my ears. Every little sound was like a firework, and my stomach felt like it was doing flips.

This was definitely not PMS. I ran my fingers over my head softly, feeling the hot, sweaty mess that was my forehead. I whimpered again, tossing on the couch.

Seb walked in. "Are you okay, baby?" he asked.

"No." I said. "No, I'm not. Seb, can you get the thermometer out of the cabinet in the bathroom?"

"Sure, baby." And he walked off.

Riley walked over to my slowly, testing. He wasn't used to seeing my like this. He gave me a nervous little huff of breath before coming closer to the couch.

"It's okay, baby." I croaked, and my hand automatically flew to my throat. I bent myself over in a coughing fit, spitting up the gooey mess into a napkin. Seb came back into the room and rubbed my back.

He got the thermometer ready and stuck it into my mouth. He held my hot hand as we waited for the thing to beep, indicating it was finished.

"You're not dying, Rachael." Seb said, smiling sympathetically. "This is probably just the flu. You probably picked it up at the fashion show Monday."

The thermometer beeped as I considered this, and Seb looked at the little screen.

"Oh, gosh." He said, a look of concern crossing his face. "Baby, you're at 104. I think we should get you to the hospital."

I groaned, trying to stand up but getting dizzy. Seb had to catch me before I fell back. "I don't want to go anywhere. I feel like shit."

"Baby, 104 is not healthy. Can you please just go to the doctor and make sure everything is okay?" he was pleading as he helped me sit back down.

"I'm not going to a fucking doctor, Sebastian !" I yelled, my head throbbing. I yelped, grabbing my forehead in pain.

After the pain had subsided I looked over to Seb. He had his face in his hands, and he was rubbing his temples like he had a headache. I immediately felt bad for yelling at him.

"I'm sorry, hon." I said, tears forming. "I just feel so bad right now." I said, and he wrapped me in his arms.

"I want you to feel better, babe. I'm taking you to the hospital. I don't care if I have to carry you out of here." His voice held no waver, no argument. I knew that he wasn't kidding when he said he'd carry me out of here.

"Fine." I agreed reluctantly. "But I'm at least going to go get something decent on first."

He agreed, walking into the kitchen to check on my soup.

I walked into the bedroom slowly, careful not to move too fast. Then I felt it. My stomach flipped violently, and I half-ran to the bathroom.

I leaned over the toilet, vomiting harshly. It was only about two seconds later that I felt Seb's hands pulling my hair back.

He sat there patiently while I threw up what little things I had eaten that day. He went to the bathroom sink and poured me a little cup of water.

"Sip it." He warned, handing me the cup. I obeyed, ready to do anything to wash out the repulsive taste out of my mouth.