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"Murphy! Let me handle this one." You spoke lowly, placing a hand on his good shoulder. The boy glanced up at you, lips pursed together as he nodded. "You need to drink-"
"Get away from me." Bellamy's voice was rough, hand throwing out in effort to keep you at a distance. You stared back at him in shock, almost hurt by the tiny outburst. "It's not safe. You can't get sick- not you."
"I haven't gotten sick yet. Maybe I'm like O, maybe I can't catch it." You breathed, crouching down beside of him. Gently taking his hand, his muscles tightened. "Let me take care of you Bell."
