11. Jordan
Jordan
It’s early morning. Really early. Not properly light or dark anymore. I blink, mildly confused when I make out the outline of a bookshelf that isn’t mine and a faded poster above it that reads All I need to know about life I learned from Star Trek.
I’m not in my room. I’m in Orion’s.
In his bed.
I snicker at the poster. One of Orion’s claims to fame is that he’s never watched Star Trek.
I fucking love his sense of humor. It’s the best. I chuckle to myself about what a legend he is as I take stock of my surroundings.
I swirl my tongue around my mouth and will my brain to come back online.
It’s slow to happen, but the first thing that comes rushing back is how sick Orion was last night.
He looked and sounded awful. Seriously, it was so bad that I considered calling my mom to ask her if I should take him to the ER.
I’m about to sit up to check on him when I notice a warm weight on my chest.
I rolled to the middle of the bed last night, and Orion did too.
He must have because his head is tucked into the space between my head and shoulder and his arm is draped over my chest. It’s not draped exactly, more like wound.
Wrapped like a vine. My T-shirt is knotted between his fingers and his other hand is tucked tightly under my side.
I put my hand on his forehead as gently as I can.
Shit. He’s burning up.
He must be sleeping deeply, though, because he doesn’t react when I touch him. Poor guy didn’t get much sleep last night, so he must be beat. He was tossing and turning a lot, and I could tell from his breathing that he was awake more than asleep.
I think he needs sleep more than he needs another dose of his meds, so I decide not to wake him.
I’m lying awkwardly, twisted half on my back, half on my side.
I’m likely squishing the hell out of him, so I roll onto my back carefully, bringing him with me.
I expect him to push me away because he’s squirrely like that, but he doesn’t.
He moves with me as though he’s stuck to me like Velcro.
The hand on my T-shirt tightens as I settle into a comfortable position and doesn’t let go.
It’s kind of nice, to be honest.
It’s not that I’m glad he’s sick or anything like that.
I’m definitely not. I’m worried about him, and I hate seeing him feel like shit.
It’s just that I like hugging him, and he likes trying to get away from me.
I don’t mind that he’s like that. To each their own and all that, but this is nice.
It’s nice to get a really good hug from him without the struggle that usually comes with it.
Since I don’t know when I’ll get another chance like this, I wrap my arms around him and close my eyes. He’s so sick that he moans in his sleep when I do it. It’s a soft, strange little sound that’s almost sad.
I tighten my grip on him, and he does it again.
I lie as still as I can with my arms tightly around him. I don’t move a muscle. Not when my stomach growls, and not when the arm he’s lying on gets pins and needles. I don’t care what it costs me. I’m not moving until Orion is ready to wake up.
After a while, he stirs, but I don’t want to let him go yet, so I run my hand up and down his back to help him get back to sleep. Poor thing. His chills are so bad that his whole body trembles when I touch him.