Muddled Love

Feverish

Flip. Pause. Force my eyes to close. Now repeat this too many times.

That's how I'm trying to sleep, but somehow I'm restless. Maybe it's because I'm not used to this bed so I can't get myself to settle down. Whenever I stay at a hotel, regardless of how fancy it is, I can never get used to of the bed for the first few days. I always feel that there is something gross about the mattress, the blankets, and the pillows. Who knows who has slept on the bed and who knows what the people did on it right? I guess having Lucien beside me . . . makes the situation more nerve-wracking. I can't watch TV when he needs to sleep. I can't have some late night snack either because of the same reason. I'm just stuck here, rotating back and forth to find the right position to sleep.

What's more annoying is that I'm having a blanket fight with Lucien. He keeps curling the blanket away from me, leaving me with nothing but the corner. My tummy is barely covered and I'm starting to feel the cold wind from the AC blow on my body. Whenever I tug for the blanket, he pulls back. I don't know if he thinks this is a game, but it is not funny at all. I'm so frustrated that I finally snap at him, "Lucien! Stop hogging the blanket! I'm cold okay?" He doesn't respond right away and when he does, he murmurs something too quietly that I can't hear. "Lucien! Did you hear what I said?" I confirm, which results in the same reply.

I sense something is off. He usually will make some bratty remark, yet this time, he is too quiet. I turn on the light beside the bed and then scoot closer to Lucien. One look at him, and I already know that he is having a fever. There is sweat dripping from his temple and his teeth is chattering. The back of my palm touches his forehead to do a final check. Yup, he has a fever.

I resist the urge to say that I told him so. He should have dried his hair before going to bed. He also should have taken a proper bath. Since he didn't listen, this is what he gets. I know I shouldn't sound this harsh, but I get particularly irritated when I clearly tell him something for his own good and he still refuses to take my advice to heart. Despite my irritation, I'm not cruel enough to leave him to suffer by himself, so I make a call to the front desk and ask for some medicine, a bottle of water, and a new set of pajamas. Then, I boil a kettle of hot water for him to drink later and soak a towel in cold water to place on his forehead. After a worker comes with the medicine, I realize that I have to get him to eat it somehow. He should be awake enough to eat by himself right? This isn't going to be like a typical romantic comedy where I have to make him swallow the pill by kissing him? How does that even work? Wouldn't Lucien gag anyway and spit in my face? After the medicine part, there's also the trouble of getting him changed. He shouldn't sleep in clothes that are drenched in cold sweat.

When I am hovering over Lucien, I pat him a few times on the arm. "Wake up, Lucien," I urge. "You have to take some medicine." His eyebrows only furrow, causing me to repeat, "Wake up. You need to take some medicine." His eyelids seal themselves tighter together, and I know that at this rate he won't wake up.

With much reluctance, I open the water bottle, pop one of the pills in my mouth, take a sip of water, and aim for Lucien's lips. When our lips touch, he actually opens his mouth and lets me pass the pill with my tongue. What catches me by surprise is when he prolongs this exchange a minute or so longer than it's supposed to be. A trail of water even slides down the side of my mouth, making me feel like a slobbering old hound. I try to retreat, but his hand steadies my neck, turning this into a prolonged kiss. All of a sudden, he lets me go and lies back onto his pillow with his legs curling up to his torso. If you look at him now, he really resembles an innocent baby. He is even mumbling something quietly to himself. As I inch closer to wipe some more sweat from his face with a clean towel, I overhear him ask, "Why don't you . . . get it?"