Space They Cannot Touch

13.

You stared at the bowl of soup in front of you. Looking up, you glanced at the food heaped onto everyone else's plates. It hardly seemed fair that they were all feasting whilst you had soup. Again. Your stomach rumbled in agreement. You thought about maybe having just a bit of bread when, as if on cue, you felt a shooting pain in your jaw; you winced, hand flying to cup your face. 

"Babe, just take the damn pills!" Tom groaned, face pinched as he watched you gingerly spooned soup into your mouth. You elbowed him under the table and mouthed at him to shut up.

You knew you should take your pills but they were too strong, leaving you dazed, disoriented and nauseous. You'd spent all of Wednesday and most of Thursday feeling like you'd been given Rohypnol, and had decided that you would rather deal with the pain than feel like that again. You just had to wait another couple of hours before you could take another dose of ibuprofen.  

"Why won't you take your pills Y/N?" asked Nikki, her face full of motherly concern.

You gave Tom a withering glare, the effect somewhat diminished by your puffy cheeks, and sighed. "Cos they make me feel ill. So, I'd rather just put up with the pain than feel like I'm tripping out" you explained, trying to sound matter of fact.

"Why don't you ask the doctor for a prescription that isn't as strong?" she asked.

"Honestly can't be bothered going back to the doctor and being charged $300 just to get a different script. Besides, it'll pass soon and it's only when I eat that it really bothers me" you replied. You were annoyed with Tom; now he was bringing his family into this pill debacle.

"I told you I'd pay the doctors fee babe" Tom said. "She was wincing all through lunch, AND she barely slept last night!"

"Tom, leave it! Please!" you exclaimed, which was a bad move; you'd opened your mouth too wide and felt a stitch pull. You grimaced and waited for the searing pain to pass. When you opened your watery eyes the Holland's were staring at you, each wearing their own look of pity. "I'll be back" you mumbled, getting up and going to the bathroom.

You sat on the toilet lid, nursing your aching mouth. At first it had been nice having Tom treat you like you were made of blown glass, but the novelty of it wore off quickly, your patience worn thin by his constant fretting. He'd also not touched you since the night you came home from the hospital, worried that the strenuous activity of fucking would somehow hurt your mouth. 

"It's not like you don't want to, I can feel your boner!" you'd grumbled the other night after your attempts to get frisky on the couch had resulted in him grasping your wrists in his hands until you gave up. He'd frowned at you before he closed his eyes and started humming "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to ignore you.

Tom had noticed you weren't taking your pills. He hadn't been happy when he confronted you about it. "Why won't you take them? Are you a martyr or something? Do you enjoy being in pain?"

"No, but I enjoy the feeling of being drugged less so I made the decision to stop taking them"

"You're clearly not thinking straight, you're in too much pain" he muttered, going to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water, popping said pills into his palm.

"I can't think straight if I take those things! I can't even stay awake! Or do you like me better when I'm drugged out of my brain? Able to get some peace and quiet from me, have a break from your needy girlfriend!".

The argument had devolved from there and you'd spent Friday night with your backs to each other, both too proud to say sorry. In the morning you'd been awkwardly polite to the other until, unable to hack it anymore, you cut up one of the pills and took half of it as an apology. Tom had snuggled with you on the couch for the rest of the day, and didn't push the subject again. Until it was time for Sunday dinner with his whole family.