And now she's walking around the house with a thermometer under her arm. There has to be something wrong. She's never felt this sick before, and she's used to making herself feel sick. The tiny device beeps, and she quickly removes it to check the temperature. 98.6°. Normal.
But there's nothing normal about this. She's been feeling awful all week. At first, she chalked it up to PMS, but PMS wasn't a week long thing; not for her at least. So, it has to be something else.
She puts the milk white temperature teller back into its box and sticks the box back into its place in the medicine cabinet. Her focus briefly drifts toward a different box; an unopened box of U by Kotex that's sitting one shelf before. She starts to wonder when she's going to need that box, but she's interrupted when her breath hitches in her throat and she feels a familiar feeling — one that sends her across the room and forces her to her knees in front of the toilet. For the fifth time today.
She wipes her mouth, stands up, flushes, and steps towards the sink to clean up. Her blonde hair is already pulled back from earlier bouts of nausea, so she goes straight to washing her face. Her skin still feels clammy, but the lukewarm water helps to remedy that. Even though she's already 'formally' washed her face today, she adds some facial scrub. She's been having breakouts all over her face, and she wants to keep them at bay. She's not sure what she would do if her skin wasn't perfect.
Then she starts on her teeth, making a mental note to go out and buy a new toothbrush once this illness passes, just to be sure that it will stay gone. She doesn't want to fight it again if she doesn't have to.
Her phone rings and Caleb's face flashes on the screen. She has her favourite picture of him set as his contact photo. Other than her mother, he's the only contact in her phone that actually has one. It doesn't mean she doesn't care about the others (though there are a few people in her contacts that she doesn't really care for); they're just the most important. She clears her throat and answers, trying her hardest not to sound as groggy as she feels.
"Hey you."
"Han, where are you?"
"The apartment. Why?"
"It's date night. I thought you were going to meet me at Joanne's?"
She's silent for a moment. She can vaguely remember discussing this with him earlier, but she can't remember all of the details right now. She's so tired.
"Can we stay in tonight, babe? I'm not feeling too hot."
"You're always hot, Han."
"No, not that kind of– Nevermind. Can we just order a pizza?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure. Alright. Do you want your usual?"
Hanna nods, despite the fact that he can't see the gesture.
"Yes please. See you in a few?"
"Of course. I love you."
"I love you too."
She hangs up the phone and sticks it into the left pocket of her grey sweatpants, turning back towards the mirror and twirling a couple of loose strands around her fingers. She can see the medicine cabinet in its reflection, and starts to think back to what she was thinking about before she got sick, but she soon realizes she can't remember what that was.
So, she leaves the bathroom and sprawls herself across the couch.
She's awakened with kisses all over her face and neck. When had she fallen asleep?
Caleb gestures for her to lift her legs so that he can sit, and she does, resting them across his lap once he's seated. He rubs them gently.
"Are you feeling any better, baby?" he asks, concern both in his tone and his expression. He doesn't like it when she's sick.
Hanna shakes her head. "Not really." Now that she's awake again, the nausea is back, though she doubts she's going to puke again. She hasn't eaten since lunch.
Caleb raises an eyebrow. "Do you wanna tell me what's wrong?" he prompts. If there's anything he can do, he wants to know. He doesn't like it when she's sick.
Hanna shrugs. "I threw up today." She can see Caleb's expression change from worried to something a bit more — fatherly, so she quickly adds, "Unintentionally." It's the truth, and she's not looking to be lectured tonight.
The male's expression goes back to its worried form. "Do you have a fever?" he asks, putting a cool hand on her neck to see if it feels any warmer than usual. It doesn't, and now he's confused. There's silence for a moment. "What else is wrong?" he asks, pulling out his phone so that he can plug them into Google. Google diagnoses aren't always accurate, but it's worth a shot.
Hanna starts to list her symptoms, cheeks turning red out of embarrassment for some of them. The only other sound in the room is the sound of the keyboard on Caleb's phone. He looks up at her blankly, and she's sure he saw something he didn't want to see. "I'm dying, aren't I?" she asked, dragging her palm across her forehead, in exasperation.
He shakes his head. "Han, could you be... Pregnant?" He hands her his phone so that she can look for herself, and she immediately starts to sob. This isn't something she wants. At least, not now.
Caleb takes her hand and rubs his thumb over the back of it. "Hey, it's just Google. It's probably wrong anyway. We'll take you to the doctor's tomorrow to see what's really going on, alright?"
The blonde nods in agreement, swinging her legs off of his lap and adjusting her position so that her head is leaning on his shoulder and her feet are facing the direction the top of her head used to be. "Alright," she whispers, before nodding off again against his body.
Author's note: So, I've decided to leave the diagnosis until the next chapter so that I would remember to update, but let me know what you think of the story so far! I've had something like this in mind for a while.