Red stifled another cough as she reached over to turn off the droning radio on the bedside table. One of Mr. Tennegan's announcements was bubbling through it but she couldn't divide her attention to listen. Her skin was flushed and feverish and she cherished the cool sheets of the bed. But it was a mess, the sheets rumpled in heaps and the pillows flattened where she had tossed and turned relentlessly. She couldn't help it though. It was a pain to have a heavy head and parched throat that managed to keep her awake day and night. She couldn't even sing, which meant that most of the days were slow and boring until Boxer got home. Her only options were watching TV or listening to music (reading required too much thought and energy). These activities were proven to be only short-term relief and eventually boredom crept in here and there. Time did not apply to her anymore as any forms of a regular sleep pattern were nonexistent, but she guessed it was nearing the evening from the way the sun coloured the room. The sunlight had begun to wane and it painted the walls in a waxy orange, lining shadows all over the room, which she was thankful for as it numbed her eyes to encourage sleep. She suddenly realised with disdain, amongst the mountainous body of the duvet, that the television in the living room was still on. The residue of the sound of the news trickled into her ears where it was unwelcome so she forced her heavy body out of the bed to turn it off.
When she completed the arduous journey back to the soft peaks of the duvet, she could already feel the sweat coating her body, yet she felt strangely cool at the same time. Like her body was radiating heat but the room was disagreeing with the temperature. She could also feel the air running out of her lungs and decided with frustration to take a bath already and stop moping around.
When she entered the bathroom it seemed more cold and surgical than before, and she slowly sunk herself into the lukewarm water with relief when she felt it was at the right temperature. Her brain seemed to run past the entire process of preparing a bath and in its state she struggled to grasp onto simple memories. Everything was waffly and unclear. Where had she put her clothes? She eyed them at the sink and then tried to shut down any train of thought. Her mind wandered anything in her sight - which was pretty much everything - and she realised in annoyance that she had been squinting. The wretched light threw itself in her face and she abandoned the idea to get up and turn that off as well. She sunk herself lower in the tub in a childish attempt to avoid it and convey her frustration. Everything seemed to be against her today - all the sounds too loud, the light too strong, the tastes too bland. But when she closed her eyes and leaned her head back none of this seemed to matter anymore. The bathwater seemed to melt away at her and soften her senses. The agitation and aches and cluttered thoughts from her mind were swept into the silence of the room. She stretched as best as she could (as she still felt mechanically stiff) and it released some tension. The languid fumes of lavender bled into the air from a collection of candles lining the edge of the tub. Red couldn't recall when she had lit them, or when she had swirled scented bath soap into the water, but her mind was so hazy that she didn't need to think about it…not now, not now...
She awoke suddenly, as if from a stupor, and her brain slowly edged awake like a rebooting computer. Her eyes swept the surroundings and she sighed. Ah, she was in the bath - a very relaxing bath - that had now cooled considerably. Her body was clouded with tiredness and she felt a sudden laziness take hold of her when she stood up. Although, there was a new freshness in her muscles and sharpness to her senses and the fever had seemed to subside for now, welcoming the idea of sleep. A thought opened in her blank mind about the inviting softness of the bed, so she dressed herself as best as she could in the nearest thing she could find -which happened to be (apart from her underwear) a baggy shirt that probably belonged to Boxer. She left the light on as she stumbled out of the bathroom and collapsed onto the bed. At the moment that she swamped herself with covers and pillows, the slam of a door interrupted her soft daze and she squinted (again) when the light was flicked on; her mortal enemy of the day. Boxer was home, shrugging off his jacket, taking of his shoes, putting away the keys.
He gave a short breathless laugh when he saw her, something like a bark, as he started taking off his tie. She must've looked funny in the sea of white, tied up like a cocoon, with untamed scarlet curls of hair and a somber blue t-shirt. Probably in a strange position too - yet to her, comfortable. Not to mention the small frown on her face at the invading light; it was only small because that's all she had the energy to muster. He leaned to kiss her on the forehead while unbuttoning his shirt. "Hey. How was your day?"
She shot him a look as he straightened to take off the shirt and ditched it on the chair where it slouched lifelessly. He chuckled at her expression and eased himself onto the bed, his pants and belt still on, and pressed himself against her. "You're definitely better than yesterday." He caressed her stomach under the shirt with his supple hands which caused her to shiver, either from the sudden cold or the fleeting contact of skin. His lips focused on the back of her neck and she almost slapped one of his hands away when it strayed higher to her ribs.
"I had a bath. Just now, before you got home." She informed him in a voice as delicate as silk, yet tinged with a raspy quality, a mixture of her fatigue and the coarseness of her throat. It still made him flood with affection and he wanted to gather her up in his arms and kiss her endlessly. But he steadied his giddy heart, as she was exhausted, deserved rest, and wouldn't want to deal with an attack of kisses all over her face at this time.
"Oh, that's why you smell so good." And he made a show of it by burying his face in her hair and taking a deep inhale, to which she laughed surprisingly and squirmed. He pressed some kisses onto her shoulder and collarbone and then laid his head back on the pillow. Their bodies relaxed against each other and they eventually drifted off together, just as a breeze willed itself into the room from the open window.
The next morning he was awoken with the tangy smell of bacon and the rich aroma of coffee. There was some kind of sizzling in the background and the emptiness of the bed initiated him to investigate. He managed to stumble his way into the kitchen where Red was humming to herself, crinkling strips of bacon in the pan in front of her, and a fresh pot of coffee on the table. She seemed to be more energised and some of her liveliness had seeped back from the clutches of the sickness, as she hummed vividly and swayed from side to side occasionally. He noted with amusement at the disarray of her hair, and didn't forget to admire her lithe frame draped in that oversized shirt when he placed a hand gently on her waist. "Good morning."
