Ethan~ Ethan drowned in snotty tissues, they lay all across the bed. His nose was red and irritated from the tissues and his eyelids were droopy and watery. You looked at him sadly and cooed, "Awe, my widdle Eee Tee Wee Tee is sick. My poor baby." You pouted and stroked the top of his head.
He let go of a loud and wet sneeze, he lifted the comforter, snot oozed from his nose as he wiped it with the blanket. You smacked his hand, "Eww Ethan," you were walking away, "I'll get you some tissue." You passed him a tissue box, "I'll be sleeping on the couch." He pouted weakly,"No," he managed to squeak out. You sighed, "I don't want to sleep in your snot babe, but I promise I won't go home until you feel better." He smiled at that part then let out another nasty sneeze.
"Yuck," you cringed as he grabbed a tissue from the box and blew in it. You grabbed a small trash bin from the bathroom and carried it into Ethan's bedroom. You pointed to the little bin. He looked at you and huffed, "No."
You crossed your arms over your chest, "And why not?" He reached out to grab a dirty tissue but it was not a success, "Betuz," he said holding in a sneeze, "I'm too weak, you gotta do it for me babe." He gave you a weak smile, "Pwease?" You shook your head rapidly. You disapproved of touching his disgusting tissues, even if you had gloves on.
"I'm not touching those." You whined.
"Fine," Ethan said back, "They'll just be there, and I hope the germs get everywhere."
"Ethan, I don't want to be sick. That's disgusting, I hate being sick." You shuddered.
"There's some Lysol in the kitchen, you can spray me if you want!" Ethan laughed, "It'll get rid of my nasty germs." With that you headed to the kitchen, when you returned Ethan was knocked out cold holding a tissue in his hand and his mouth drooping open slightly. He left you awake with all the cleaning to do.
Grayson~ You lay next to Grayson, he was heated and sweating. You shoved a thermometer under his tongue and waited for it to beep, catching his tempurature. He looked at you through weary eyes and breathed heavily, his chest caving in weakly every time he exhaled. You stared at him sadly and pulled out the little stick. You read his temperature to him, "It's official babe," you told him, "you've got a bad fever. You're one hundred and one point five. That's bad."
Grayson murmured something that you couldn't understand, "Hm?" You hummed, you say the thermometer down and pulled another blanket on top of Grayson. He sighed heavily, "I said I hate being sick, (Y/N)." You kissed his sweaty forehead and smiled a little, "It's okay baby, I'm going to take care of you."
Grayson shuddered under the thick blankets, "I'm cold babydoll." You looked at him with disbelief. He already had on a long sleeved shirt, a pair of plaid pajama pants, socks, and three heavy blankets on top of him.
"How?" You asked, and you grabbed a quilt from the closet. You walked over to the bed and made sure Grayson was snuggled into the covers. He was still shaking from the cold of the room. The windows were closed and the air was turned off. From the touch of his skin he seemed so hot, but from how he felt on the inside, he was super chilled. "I'm hot and I'm cold," Grayson complained, his voice was dry.
"It's yes and it's no," you said giggling.
"You're in and you're out." He said.
"You're up then you're down," you laughed.
"You're wrong when it's right." Grayson looked at you and coughed into the sleeve of his shirt.
"It's black and it's white." You looked to Grayson to say the next line, but he didn't.
"No." Grayson said taking the bottled water from the night stand next to him, "We are never fighting and breaking up." You leaned over and kissed him softly forgetting about his fever. Then you jumped up from the bed and yelled, "Ewww! I've got Grayson Germs!" You both laughed as you ran into the bathroom to attempt to wash away the germs.
