Get Well Soon
She wished she hadn't gotten sick. It was all Kurt's fault—he had convinced her to stay out late in the pouring rain, and now she was bed-ridden with a fever. Her stomach churned, making every position uncomfortable. Her bones ached, her muscles strained. Her streaked hair was damp with sweat; it clung to the nape of her neck and depressions of her temples.
She wished she hadn't gotten sick. Everyone stopped by to see how she was doing, not that Kurt was in any better condition (served him right). She was distressed—too weak to tell them to buzz off, their voices only made her headache worse. It also didn't help that he was the only one who constantly came to visit.
She wished she hadn't gotten sick. She wouldn't be stuck with him, the smooth-talking Cajun with the freaky gorgeous eyes and inability to comprehend the term "personal space". He always came by, always told her stories she didn't want to hear—yet, she loved it.
She wished she wasn't sick. He told her about the things she missed, the things she hadn't seen. He reminded her of the things she would never have, she should never want—but at the same time he made it all better, he made it feel right. It had been him who set her feelings on fire, made her so agitated her jaw was on the border of becoming permanently clenched, made her heart flutter when he said her name.
She wished she wasn't sick, but she didn't mind now. He would bring her flowers to apologize for nothing. He would bring her breakfast to give himself an excuse to sit down with her, to talk even more than he had the day before. She didn't feel so lonely now.
She didn't mind that she was sick. It gave him an excuse to be with her.
A/N: Another chapter I can't decide if I like or not.
I'm going crazy with my updates XD all the stories I have to finish... I may or may not do another oneshot after Strings called "Lies" (request).
You know the drill: final chapters - Mistle Toe, Strings, MAYBE Lies.