Missing [ST]

Ninety Eight

Christmas Day:

For the third time, Leah rolled over and tapped her phone screen to check the time.

A beam of white light made her face glow, and she groaned a silent sigh when barely five minutes had passed since the last time she had checked.

It was officially Christmas day being seventeen minutes past one in the morning, and the bedroom was pitch black, completely silent, but Leah had been wide awake since she and Steven had gone to bed around midnight from present wrapping duties.

Steven himself was sound asleep next to her, curled up towards the middle with a palm on her pillow because he had been the big spoon, but she had shuffled out of his arms and let her legs and feet breathe out the side of the thick duvet.

Even now Leah was too hot lying in bed, uncomfortably nauseous which was the reason for her inability to fall asleep even in her boyfriend's protective arms, and when she felt another flush of heat, and a strange taste in her mouth, she knew she was going to be sick.

In a rush, Leah stumbled towards the master bathroom in the dark, jammed the light on, which was so bright it made her ears fuzz, made a racket lifting the toilet seats up and chucked up what had been last night's dinner.

Holding her hair on top of her head in a clump worked until her grip slipped, and a lock caught the edge of her mouth just as she spat the rest of the foul taste that had been left in her mouth.

At least Steven appeared before she started crying his name, and fairly un-zombie like when she took a peek underneath her arm. He had sourced the gift of a scrunchie, and kneeled down behind her.

"Don't touch that bit," Leah warned, holding the gross strand nearer the top, out of the way. "I need to wash it."

Hair secured, she flushed the contents with a lazy hand, and sat back against the wall.

"I'll be back in a sec." Steven's voice opened her eyes, and she caught a glimpse of the festive snowman pyjama bottoms and the blush sleep marks on his skin as he walked out.

Leah didn't want him to go, body shaking, but she didn't have much choice but to be on her own for a bit when her voice refused to work. Tears appeared because of it, and she had to wash the bit of hair that was still pinched between her fingers before the prospect of it made her sick again.

Everything was slow, from grabbing the shampoo bottle from the shower cubicle, to having to bend over a bit to use warm water to separate the strands over the basin.

It tempted the second round Leah really didn't have the energy for, but she managed to breathe past it and massaged some shampoo into her hair.

"Should've kept one up here." Steven returned with a glass in hand from his trip downstairs.

He set it down on the surface, not having to ask, or think twice about grabbing a towel to squeeze her wet strands of hair so they didn't drip.

Leah refused to look into the mirror ahead of her, because her fragile state would probably make her bawl, and grabbed the glass to rinse out her mouth.

"I already hate this," she confessed, filling it up. "I thought it was supposed to be morning sickness, not night sickness."

The humour was forced, glass clacking her teeth to make her weak smile fade, and she drew in a sip of water.

"I think it's just a general term." Steven was re-tying her hair again, properly.

It saved her a task, it was him being naturally caring, but it didn't stop her shaking as she washed her hands, or calm her unsteady breathing.