My gaze meets his, holding it. “Yes. I do.”
His eyes turn glossy as he bites the inside of his cheek. I fucking hate I’m the reason his emotions are so all over the place. He runs his fingers through his hair, looking away. I’m sitting up, pulling him into my hold before I know what I’m doing. Hot breath fans my neck as his body trembles against mine. With my cheek against his head, I close my eyes, attempting to force the emotion down.
Anderson has always been there for me in ways I never even knew I needed, giving so much of himself without a second thought. Has always been the good in my life to counteract my fucked up. He’s managed to give me something I can’t live without… his love, and I need to be strong enough to deserve it. I need to finally grow up and be who he needs, too.
Eventually, we both fall asleep wrapped up in each other.
When I come to, my shirt is soaked to my skin, body shivering despite the blazing temperature raging inside of me. A hurricane of distaste rumbles in my gut, threatening to spill over, and when I move off the bed, a heavy ache settles deep in my bones.
Fuck me.I knew this was coming, but that doesn’t make me any more prepared for the ungodly feeling taking hold of my body. Sheer darkness covers the room as I pad across the cold wood floor toward the bathroom. Anderson is sound asleep on the bed, blissfully unaware of the violent storm raging inside me.
Shutting and locking the door, I turn the water on to drown out the sound I know is coming. Waves of heat radiate through me, my skin on fire, while my body shakes as if it’s freezing. A thin sheen of sweat coats my entire body. My legs collapse, knees colliding with the ceramic tiles that line the bathroom floor. My stomach lurches. Rancid, yellow-green bile spews into the toilet, burning my throat on its way out. My body heaves violently, expelling all the contents of my stomach until there is nothing left.
My hair is slicked against my sweat-lined forehead, head resting on my arm that’s hugging the bitter cold toilet, as my eyes flutter closed. Everything hurts, everything throbs, and if I had to envision what dying was like, I’d say it was a lot like this.
I must’ve dozed off like that because the next thing I know, a pounding startles me, my eyes flying open.
“Crew! Open the damn door!”
My fucking head throbs so viciously that even blinking hurts. Pulling myself up on shaky, unstable legs, I trudge over to the door that connects to Anderson’s bedroom, unlocking and opening it. Anderson stands on the other side, eyes wide, hair a mess, in nothing but his black boxer briefs, with his arm raised, ready to pound on the door again.
“Can you fucking not,” I mumble, walking over to the sink, where the water is still running.
“Not what?”
“The fucking pounding, the yelling. Can you just be fucking quiet?” I splash my face with water, the coolness sending another shiver down my spine.
“Wow, you’re in a mood.”
Meeting his gaze in the mirror, I roll my eyes—which hurts, by the fucking way. “No!Whatever gave you that idea?” I deadpan, grabbing my toothbrush, pouring a glob of toothpaste on it, and shoving it in my mouth. Admittingly, the minty taste of the toothpasteishelping the nausea, but the brushing of my teeth is not.
“You look like shit, Crew.”
Sneering at him through the mirror, I spit into the sink, bringing the bristles back to my mouth to work my tongue. The task sets off my gag reflex, my stomach immediately rolling.Fuck.Dropping the brush into the sink, I spin on my heel, barely getting my head into the toilet before more bile forces its way up my throat.
“Oh, shit,” I hear Anderson say under his breath. His body comes up, crowding mine, rubbing soothing circles on my back as my body continues to try to exercise the demon from my soul through my stomach.
Collapsing onto the cold, hard ground, my arm flies over my eyes, blocking out the painful, blinding light. I can’t fucking do this. I can’t survive this. I’m fucked up, and I’ll always be fucked up.
Strong, warm hands come to my forehead, brushing the hair out of my face. “Crew, you’re burning up.” The concern lacing his voice is evident and causes a thick lump to form in my raw throat.
“Just leave me alone. You don’t need to see this.”
Talking hurts. Breathing hurts. Everything fucking hurts. There’s a throbbing in my head that seems to be getting louder, stronger, and my throat feels like I’ve swallowed razor blades.
“I’m not fucking leaving you. C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.” He offers me a hand, to which I take, pulling myself up to stand. My legs are wobbly and threaten to give out on me. With his arm wrapped around my waist, he eases me back into the room and onto the bed.
“Arms up. This shirt is soaked.” He slides the sweat-filled shirt over my head, tossing it on the floor beside the bed before fluffing the pillows and lying me on my back. “I’m going to get you some water. Stay put, okay?”
All I can muster up is a deep-throated groan and a head nod. Flipping the pillow over, the cool side feels fucking amazing against my overheated skin. My body feels like it’s burning from the inside out, a raging inferno, melting each and every organ until I’m nothing more than a pile of pathetic nothingness.
The soft sound of bare feet padding across the floor fills my ears, and I can feel Anderson approaching. He sits on the edge of the bed, hand gently resting on my side. “Hey, can you sit up and drink some of this?”
“I don’t wanna.”
“Crew, you have to drink, otherwise you’ll get dehydrated again. Please.”
Every muscle in my body is screaming at me as I sit up on the bed. I have never felt such a bone-deep ache like the one I feel right now. He hands me a bottle of water, cap already removed, and I begrudgingly bring it up to my lips. The ice-cold liquid pours into my mouth and down my throat, bringing life to my scratchy, dry esophagus.