The Assistant

A Nurse For The Night

"Do you have anything for a cold?" I ask the pharmacist who stands behind the counter.

She runs to the back to check, before coming back up to the front, a bottle with liquid medicine in her hand.

I pay for this along with chicken soup, a thermometer, and some blankets.

I walk out of the store in a rush, and I begin my walk down the street on the sidewalks.

"I knew he'd get sick," I mumble to myself. "I knew it."

I carry all of my items to a bus station, and I eventually carry them onto the bus, paying my travel fee.

I ride for a couple of minutes until I get off at my stop.

Drake lives in one of the fanciest hotels in the city, a five star place that's relatively close to the office.

Hotel management are always bustling here, and and everyone is always nice.

The floors are marble that's polished to a shine, and there are many decorative pieces here: furniture, plants, vases, you name it.

I hop inside the elevator by myself, and I look at the room numbers.

"Room 302 should be on the third floor," I talk to myself as I press the gold button with the number three on it.

Thank goodness I looked at everyone's files when I got the job. I'd be completely lost trying to find his place if I hadn't had looked.

The elevator dings, and I walk out when the doors open. The hallway floors are a lush, patterned carpet, and there are also several paintings of famous artworks on the walls.

Who would have thought he'd live in a fancy place like this?

My feet stop themselves when I reach room number 302. I stand outside the door, contemplating on ringing the doorbell.

My heart has started to pick up it's pace now, and I have to remind myself to relax.

"I'm just paying him back for letting me use his hoodie," I remind myself. "Every thing is all good. This shouldn't be awkward, and I shouldn't make it awkward."

My index finger presses lightly on the bell, and I wait a couple of seconds. There's absolute silence.

Did he hear it? Should I ring again?

My finger is about to press the button again, when the door swings open.

A pale looking Drake stands before me, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His hair is even more disheveled, and there are bags under his eyes.

He has a pair of blue pajamas on, that have little moons all over them.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is hoarse, and I walk into the doorframe.

"Let me in," I order, pushing him backwards.

"Hey, you can't just come into my house," I push him enough so that I can walk directly into his living room.

His house is really clean, and I examine my surroundings quickly.

There's a couch with a flat-screen and coffee table in front of it, bookshelves with various books on them, and just some little decorations here and there.

I walk and sit my bags on the coffee table, then turn my attention to Drake, who still stands in front of the now closed door.

"Come here," I walk over towards him and link my arm with his.