They laid in bed, side by side; his arm was flung over her torso, keeping her close to him. She was lying on her side and he was behind her, half on his chest, and half on his side, snuggled into her. His face was buried in her waves of red curls. He was restless, and he didn't know why.
He turned away from her and coughed loudly, then sneezed. It wasn't so much the coughs, as the sneeze that woke her up. He went back to couching loudly, and then blew his nose.
"Wayne, are you ok?" she asked as she sat up in bed. She placed a hand on his back, and he jerked, and she almost pulled her hand back. He was burning up. Her hand felt ice cold to him. She hastily got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, getting some tissues for him.
She stripped the bed of the thick bedspread and put it in a chair in the corner. She urged him to lie down and covered him with the light blanket. She went to leave the room, when his croaky voice sounded.
"Where are you going?" She turned back with a worried expression on her face.
"To get you some water and aspirin, I'll be right back." And indeed she was back in a flash, cradling two pills and a glass of water. He took both pills and drank the whole water. She went to put them back, but his hand on her writs stopped her.
"Leave it." He patted the space on the bed next to him. She smiled and crawled into bed, lying close to him, but not so close he felt cold. She went to kiss him but he pushed her away. "You'll get it too."
"Doesn't matter." She gave him a light kiss and laid down to go to sleep.
And that was how she knew he was sick.