I closed my eyes, drawing in a deep breath, holding it until my lungs started burning. I exhaled slowly, and shook my head, trying to rid my mind of the memories, wishing I could just forget all the darkness, and focus on the light, the times when we were happy. But unfortunately, it seems to be all the happy moments that I've forgotten.

~♡~

I wrung the cloth out, wiping Y/n's forehead, face and neck, and to my relief, she swallowed thickly, her eyes fluttering opened, then closing to narrow slits as she looked up, her tongue poking out in an attempt to moisten her dry cracked lips.

I picked up the mug of chicken broth, knowing it was cold, but it was wet, so I spooned up some of what was left. I placed the spoon against her lips, and let the liquid trickle into her mouth. I watched her swallow again, and she took a breath and looked at me.

"Thank you." She mumbled, her voice cracking.

I smiled at her. "I can go you make another cup if you'd like..."

"Not that..."

I looked at her, not sure what she meant.

"I knew...you were here...taking care of me. The whole time. I knew...I could feel it, the cool cloth, wiping my brow, the broth...you fed me. I knew...you were beside me, but I...couldn't make myself...wake up, I couldn't open my eyes. I wanted to...I wanted to thank you."

She had a little difficulty speaking, her voice weak, causing her to speak in broken sentences. But the thing I noticed as she spoke, was that she wasn't stuttering over her words. I was pretty certain this was the first time she had spoken to me that she hadn't sounded scared.

¤¤¤¤¤¤

You looked at the man who had been taking care of you, knowing it had been many hours that he had been sitting there, waiting for your fever to break. He hadn't left your side, except to do what was necessary to take care of you. You knew he hadn't, because you could hear him there, feel everything he was doing to try and help you.

You could hear him, and you wanted to open your eyes, and tell him that you were okay. But you couldn't. No matter how hard you tried, they wouldn't open. Your body was fighting against you, not allowing you to move. You had even tried to lift your hand once, but it felt like it weighed a ton, and you couldn't move it.

But you could hear him breathing, and moving around the room. You knew when he removed your clothes because they were drenched in sweat, and that was the only time you had wanted to fight against him. Only out of embarrassment, because you had nothing on underneath them. But you also knew that he had only done so because leaving them on you would have made things worse for you, you most likely would have gotten sicker. You couldn't hold it against him. It had been for your own good. There was nothing evil, or perverted, about it.

He must be exhausted. You didn't know what time it was, to weak to lift your head and look for the clock, but he looked like he might close his eyes any second.

"How long...have you been sitting here...taking care of me? You need to sleep." You tried to speak in a normal tone, but your voice was still weak. You were thirsty.

"I brought you up around...6 yesterday evening. It's just now going on 6am, so I guess it's been about 12 hours. But I'm ok, Y/n. I'll be fine. I just need to know that you're going to be okay. How do you feel?" He looked at you with nothing but concern on his face, and you were trying to process how it felt to know that someone cared about you, worried about you, to the extent that he had.

"I could...use some water. My mouth is so dry...my tongue feels like...a dried up sponge."

He chuckled. "I'll be right back."

You watched as he turned, your eyes on his back as he left the room. You took slow, deep breaths, as you felt your heart pounding in your chest. He was a man, a very beautiful man, a caring, compassionate man, a thoughtful, kindhearted man. But he was a man. You should be scared of him, simply because he could end up being just like your boyfriend. But you didn't think he was, or ever would be. He was different. You could trust him. He had given you no reason to be afraid of him. He had been nothing but kind to you. He had just spent 12 hours sitting next to you, making sure you were okay, taking care of you.

You heard him coming up the steps, and you closed your eyes, begging your heart to slow down.

"You scared me Y/n. I was so scared you weren't going to be okay." You opened your eyes as he came into the room, and walked to the side of the bed. He had a glass of water with ice, a straw sticking out the top, and he bent to put the straw between your lips so you could drink.

You drank the water, deciding it was the most heavenly thing you'd had in your life. It felt so good, and you drank greedily, until he gently removed the straw from between your lips. "Not to fast, you don't want it to upset your stomach."

You looked up, your eyes meeting his, and he looked right back at you, his eyes sparkling. He seemed to be trying to hold back a smile, chewing on the inside of his lip. He wasn't shy about holding your gaze, and you knew you'd look away first, but you wanted to see how long you could last before you lost your nerve.

His eyes burned into yours, and you saw several different emotions emerge in a matter of seconds, dancing across his face so quickly that you didn't have time to even try to distinguish one from the other, or tell what they were. Seconds later, you closed your eyes, his gaze too intense for your newfound courage.

"It seems like the fever may have melted away some of your fears..." he observed quietly.

You opened your eyes again, catching his gaze immediately. "You haven't...given me a single...reason to be scared."

You looked away. He put the straw to your lips again, and you drank, more slowly this time so he didn't take it away. He let you drink until you had enough, then placed the cup on the table. He turned to look at you again, searching your face.

"Ah, since you are saying that you knew I was here the whole time, knew what I was doing, then you know that I had to...remove your clothes...I'm sorry." He smiled awkwardly.

"I know, and I understand."

He nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line, a thoughtful look taking over his face.

"If your feeling okay to just rest here for a half hour, I think I'm going to go and take a quick shower, change out of these clothes. Will you be okay? Do you need anything before I go?"

You shook your head. "I'm okay, please, go take care of yourself."

He nodded again, and left the room.

You wanted to try to move, but you knew you didn't have the strength. It was an effort just to pull your arm out from under the covers to scratch your nose.

The thought that was foremost in your mind was that you needed to put some clothes on, because the thought of him having to help you get dressed caused your cheeks to heat up, and your heart to pound loudly.

But you knew it wasn't going to happen. First, you really didn't have anything suitable to put on. He had brought you clothes, but nothing like what you would want to wear to lie in bed and rest. Until the clothes you'd been wearing were washed and dried, you had nothing else to put on. Second, you didn't have the strength to get up yourself and get dressed even if you did have something to put on.

You let out a nervous breath. What if you had to get up and pee? How would you do that? You'd need help. And clothes.

You tried to sit up, sliding your legs towards the side of the bed. But the covers felt so heavy. You got one leg over the edge of the bed, your foot peeking out from under the blankets. You had to stop for a minute, and try to regain some energy. You counted to 30, then slid the other leg over the edge, twisting your body a bit sideways.

Both knees were bent, legs hanging off the side of the bed. Now you just had to sit up. You tried, but you couldn't gather the strength to do it. And now you couldn't pull your legs back up either. Wonderful. Now what? He would come back from his shower to find you like this.

You lay there like that, determined to try again in a few minutes. Maybe if you totally relaxed, when you tried again you'd be able to manage sitting up. You closed your eyes, willing your body to have enough strength to allow you to sit up.

"Just what did you think you were going to do if you were able to get up?"

You opened your eyes with a start to see him standing in the doorway, fresh from his shower. His hair was damp, messily towel dried, and he had changed into a pair of black sweats and a red sweatshirt. His feet were bare, and he was holding a pile of something in his arms.