Disclaimer: I SO own nothing. Except Zelda. Whose name I am borrowing from a gamecube game.
A/N: Okay, fine. It's been a LONG time. I don't know if there are even any of you left out there. But in case there are… I reread this thing this evening and knew I had to finish it. So here you go. Not done yet. But it looks like it is going to be continuously updated from here on out.
A/N: WARNING! This chapter may make you fall head over heels in love with Larry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Can you feel the love tonight?
The peace the evening brings
The world, for once, in perfect harmony
With all its living things"
-Can You Feel the Love Tonight, The Lion King
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*Zelda*
I hate the flu. Of all the illnesses in circulation, how was it that I got the worst one? The one that makes you pass out. The one that makes you continuously need juice, and makes you so weak that you can't move from your bed.
"Are you SURE you don't want us to say?"
My mom peered at me nervously.
"Of course not," I replied, trying to force my voice to sound normal. "I'll be okay."
"I know," agreed a voice from behind us. "Because I'm going to stay here with her until you two get back from your play." Larry stepped into my room and my felt my heart speed up.
"We wouldn't go," my mother quickly said, "but they got these tickets for us in advance."
"It's okay," I said again. I turned to Larry, ignoring the fuzzy feeling in my head. "You don't have to stay either, Larry. I'll be just fine."
As if to prove my point, I made to sit up, but my head swam. I collapsed backwards onto my pillows.
"I'll stay," said my mother, quickly.
"No," Larry argued.
I closed my eyes warily. "Go on, mom. It's okay. Larry will take care of me." He always did.
After another weak and uncertain argument, she left.
Larry handed me my juice. "Drink up."
"I don't want any," I muttered. "And I'm hot."
He chuckled, and rested the glass on my bedside table, then went to cut on the air. He returned and picked up the drink once more. "Drink it, Zelda."
"No. I don't like orange juice. I want coke."
Ugh. I was acting like a brat. But I was tired, and sick, and more than mildly delirious.
"You can't drink coke when you have the flu," he explained patiently. "Now have some."
"No."
"Zelda."
"Please don't make me."
He sighed. "I have to. What kind of friend would I be if I just let you die in the bed?"
"You can't die of the flu." But I took it anyway. I didn't want to waste my strength on a petty argument that I knew I would lose.
He brushed his thumb against my forehead, moving some of the hair from it. "You're burning up," he said, concern reflecting in his voice.
"I'm sick. It's allowed."
"Want to watch some T.V.?"
I shook my head.
"How about a game of checkers?" We normally went with Chess, but I guess in my state, it wouldn't exactly have been fair.
"Not really."
He took my hand. "Then how can I make this easier for you?"
"Just talk to me." I wanted to hear his voice. There was something about it that always made it welcome when we were together. Whatever it was he had to say, I wanted to hear it. I wanted to know everything he thought; I wanted to know him like I knew myself.
"About what?"
A dangerous question to ask a sick girl.
"Why aren't you in love with me?"
I was drugged up on Nyquil, and sick beyond measure. Or else I wouldn't have even THOUGHT such an insane question. Not only did it scream "FALL IN LOVE WITH ME!" but I also had no desire to hear the answer.
"You don't know what you're saying."
Quite right. Nevertheless, "I want to know."
"Zelda."
"Larry."
I gazed up at him through hazy eyes. "I deserve to know."
If he guessed why he owed me this, he gave no indication.
"It's complicated." He hand tightened around mine.
"What is?"
"My feelings for you."
"Why?"
I blame it on the flu! The flu made me do it!
His voice altered, and he was on the offensive. "Would you WANT me to be in love with you, Zelda?"
Another dangerous question.
"I'm tired."
That was all it took for him to reach up and switch off the light.
"Don't leave," I said quickly, fearful, for reasons I couldn't explain, that he wouldn't be there when I woke up.
He kissed my forehead gently. "I'll be here with you the whole time. But you need your rest."
"Read to me?"
He smiled. "What do you want me to read?"
Wasn't much material for that. But my hand closed over a copy of Shakespeare's sonnets and I thrust them at him. "These."
And as he cleared his throat and his voice washed over me, a stray thought flittered through my mind, unbidden.
He never answered my question.
A/N: Okay, fine. It's been a LONG time. I don't know if there are even any of you left out there. But in case there are… I reread this thing this evening and knew I had to finish it. So here you go. Not done yet. But it looks like it is going to be continuously updated from here on out.
A/N: WARNING! This chapter may make you fall head over heels in love with Larry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Can you feel the love tonight?
The peace the evening brings
The world, for once, in perfect harmony
With all its living things"
-Can You Feel the Love Tonight, The Lion King
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*Zelda*
I hate the flu. Of all the illnesses in circulation, how was it that I got the worst one? The one that makes you pass out. The one that makes you continuously need juice, and makes you so weak that you can't move from your bed.
"Are you SURE you don't want us to say?"
My mom peered at me nervously.
"Of course not," I replied, trying to force my voice to sound normal. "I'll be okay."
"I know," agreed a voice from behind us. "Because I'm going to stay here with her until you two get back from your play." Larry stepped into my room and my felt my heart speed up.
"We wouldn't go," my mother quickly said, "but they got these tickets for us in advance."
"It's okay," I said again. I turned to Larry, ignoring the fuzzy feeling in my head. "You don't have to stay either, Larry. I'll be just fine."
As if to prove my point, I made to sit up, but my head swam. I collapsed backwards onto my pillows.
"I'll stay," said my mother, quickly.
"No," Larry argued.
I closed my eyes warily. "Go on, mom. It's okay. Larry will take care of me." He always did.
After another weak and uncertain argument, she left.
Larry handed me my juice. "Drink up."
"I don't want any," I muttered. "And I'm hot."
He chuckled, and rested the glass on my bedside table, then went to cut on the air. He returned and picked up the drink once more. "Drink it, Zelda."
"No. I don't like orange juice. I want coke."
Ugh. I was acting like a brat. But I was tired, and sick, and more than mildly delirious.
"You can't drink coke when you have the flu," he explained patiently. "Now have some."
"No."
"Zelda."
"Please don't make me."
He sighed. "I have to. What kind of friend would I be if I just let you die in the bed?"
"You can't die of the flu." But I took it anyway. I didn't want to waste my strength on a petty argument that I knew I would lose.
He brushed his thumb against my forehead, moving some of the hair from it. "You're burning up," he said, concern reflecting in his voice.
"I'm sick. It's allowed."
"Want to watch some T.V.?"
I shook my head.
"How about a game of checkers?" We normally went with Chess, but I guess in my state, it wouldn't exactly have been fair.
"Not really."
He took my hand. "Then how can I make this easier for you?"
"Just talk to me." I wanted to hear his voice. There was something about it that always made it welcome when we were together. Whatever it was he had to say, I wanted to hear it. I wanted to know everything he thought; I wanted to know him like I knew myself.
"About what?"
A dangerous question to ask a sick girl.
"Why aren't you in love with me?"
I was drugged up on Nyquil, and sick beyond measure. Or else I wouldn't have even THOUGHT such an insane question. Not only did it scream "FALL IN LOVE WITH ME!" but I also had no desire to hear the answer.
"You don't know what you're saying."
Quite right. Nevertheless, "I want to know."
"Zelda."
"Larry."
I gazed up at him through hazy eyes. "I deserve to know."
If he guessed why he owed me this, he gave no indication.
"It's complicated." He hand tightened around mine.
"What is?"
"My feelings for you."
"Why?"
I blame it on the flu! The flu made me do it!
His voice altered, and he was on the offensive. "Would you WANT me to be in love with you, Zelda?"
Another dangerous question.
"I'm tired."
That was all it took for him to reach up and switch off the light.
"Don't leave," I said quickly, fearful, for reasons I couldn't explain, that he wouldn't be there when I woke up.
He kissed my forehead gently. "I'll be here with you the whole time. But you need your rest."
"Read to me?"
He smiled. "What do you want me to read?"
Wasn't much material for that. But my hand closed over a copy of Shakespeare's sonnets and I thrust them at him. "These."
And as he cleared his throat and his voice washed over me, a stray thought flittered through my mind, unbidden.
He never answered my question.