Chapter 4: Fever
i.
He can't sleep that night; he's not sure of what happened or what didn't happen. He thinks it was just an illumination – a cruel work of art his mind created – Rachel couldn't have kissed him; his lips – a sign of despair and loneliness, of lost hopes and heartaches.
But he feels her lips; he feels the way they press on his – rose-like softness – he feels their weight.
ii.
When he finally wakes up, the sun is setting outside. He reaches his nightstand to turn on the lights but in vain.
"The power's out." – She stands at his bedroom door; he can vaguely see her tiny frame leaning on his door.
"What time is it?"
"8.30pm" – She comes closer to him this time – "You were sleeping like you were dead when I came here."
He tries to sit up but all of a sudden he feels as if all the power has been drained out from his body; a horrible headache hits him and he lies down again.
"Poor thing" – The mattress sinks down as Rachel sits next to him. She puts her hand on his forehead – the hand of an angel, a heavenly touch; her cool, soft skin touches his burning skin.
"You're having a bad fever, Finn. I'll bring you some hot soup, okay? Then I want you to rest, I'll lock the door when I'm out."
She's about to stand up when he holds her hand, his eyes pleading her, "No, please, stay with me."
He's gotten used to the dark now; he can see her face and body under the dimming light creeping into the room through his sheer curtains.
"Please, Rachel, stay."
She lets out a sigh and bends down to kiss his forehead – a blessing of an angel for a caustic soul.
"I'll get you the soup."
iii.
He wants to just lie back down and never wakes up; he hasn't felt this awful for years, but he's so afraid that if he closes his eyes, she'll be gone.
"How was the soup?"
"So good."
"Really? That's my first time cooking for someone else other than my Dads."
She blushes as she puts a wet cloth on his forehead – her touches are so gentle, and there's this unfamiliar gleam in her eyes he cannot understand.
"Okay, now sleep."
"I don't want to."
"You need your sleep."
It takes him all his strength to sit up, he rests his back against the headboard; the room starts spinning around him because of the headache and dizziness which just attack him but he can't care less.
"Hey, hey, lie down."
"No."
"Finn, you're having a very bad fever. I want you to lie down. I'm not going anywhere, okay, but you need to lie down. Here, I'll sleep next to you, is that okay?"
She pulls the comforter away and rests her tiny body next to his.
This is not doing anything good for his fever right now.
There she is, lying so close to him. He breathes her in – the sweetest scent he has ever smelled. Her skin isn't a color of olive anymore – the light from the bright moon has silvered her soft skin. She turns her body to face him; her knees slightly bend; her bare feet resting next to his. He wants to touch her – but he's afraid that if he does, he'll ruin her.
He lies back down but refuses to turn to look her in the eye. He can't risk it.
"Aren't you afraid you'll get sick too?"
"I'm a strong girl, I can handle it."
"But…"
"Sleep, Finn."
"Will I see you when I wake up?"
She touches his cheek with her hand and kisses his shoulder; then she begins to sing, with a certain shade of sadness in her voice.
"So you lost your trust and you never should have
No, you never should have
But don't break your back
If you ever see this
But don't answer that
In a bullet – proof vest
With the windows all closed
I'll be doing my best
And I'll see you soon
In a telescope lens
And when all you want is friends
I'll see you soon"
The last words are more like a whisper; strangely enough, Rachel's the first one to fall asleep. Finn turns around and watches her as her steady breathing fills the utter silence in the room; her long eyelashes touch her cheek. In all of the glory of the sliver light, she looks more beautiful and fragile than ever.
He kisses her forehead – a very, very soft kiss.
"I'll see you soon."
Two people fall asleep on the bed covered in mystic streaks of white moonlight, with their bodies close and their hearts beat almost at the same rate.
iv.
He wakes up before she does.
The power still hasn't gone back on, the sky outside hasn't put on its bright pink coat yet, so he guesses it's still very early in the morning.
As he listens to her breathing, he has realized what Ivan Bunin means in the story about a girl named Olia Meserskaia. He remembers the girl talking about an old book which describes the true beauty of a woman. Eyes as black as boiling tar, eyelashes as dark as night, soft skin with a shade of fresh pink, the color of the knees is a color as that of a mussel shell, and other things he can't recall. But the thing he remembers most is the notice of "light breathing" - the sense of a true woman.
Rachel has brown eyes though, with long, dark eyelashes, olive skin; but she is the most beautiful woman he has ever known. And her breathing – like that of an angel. It's just so gentle, so graceful and calming.
He falls back to sleep.
v.
He's cooking when he hears her footsteps behind him.
He turns around to find his girl standing at the kitchen counter, rubbing her eyes in a way that almost child – like. She's wearing his T-shirt – she must have worn it since yesterday.
"Finn, why are you up so early?"
"I'm making us pancakes – you said you loved them."
He turns around and almost drops the pan as he feels her arms hugging him from behind; she rests her face against his back.
"Rachel" – He whispers – "What are you doing?"
She giggles; he feels her breath through the thin material of his sleeveless T- shirt.
He hopes she will let go, but a part of him wants to – needs to – have her near him.
She drops her arm and kisses him on his shoulder again – she seems to love that spot.
"I'm just checking your temperature."
vi.
They spent the day in his apartment – she says her Dads have gone to her cousin house in Hamptons for the weekend.
There's something wrong with the power line in his building – Mr. Douglas says they've been fixing it for hours but nothing has improved.
The sky today is being quite timid and shy, it refuses to wear the bright lights and white cotton candy – like clouds, it insists on wearing a dull, sad shade of grey.
He doesn't mind though, because inside his apartment, he already has his sun.
They're lying on their backs on the floor in his living room, with food around them and scattering papers – his draft when she notices his vintage vinyl record player on the top shelf.
"Finn! Finn! Is that…? Oh my God! How come you never tell me about it?" – She squeals and pulls him up by the arm, pointing at the player.
Finn chuckles and pulls a chair to take it down for her. Rachel furrows her eyebrows and bends down to study the record with such meticulousness.
"Do you have any vinyl records to play?"
They go through an old box full of vinyl records – courtesy of his mother. He watches her as she pulls out every record in the box. Sweats are forming on her forehead, the front of her (his) shirt sticks to her chest, brown eyes shine with excitement, lips close tight forming a straight line.
She puts one of the records on the player and begins to sway when the music comes up.
"Love, love is strange
Lot of people
Take it for a game
Once you get it
You'll never wanna quit"
She grabs his hands and begins to make him dance with her with her arms wrapping around his neck.
"I can't, I really don't dance."
She continues singing and smiles at him.
"Your sweet loving
Is better than a kiss
When you leave me
Sweet kisses I miss"
He chuckles and gently sways his hips, manages to avoid stepping on her toes.
They keep on dancing, song after song; he even does the famous "Twist n Shout" dance when they dance to the Beatles.
"Can we stop now?" – He asks after the 8th song.
"No, wait! One last song, I love this one."
"Moon river
Wider than a mile
I'm crossing you in style, someday
You dream maker, you heartbreaker"
She brings her body closer to his and rests her face on his chest, her arms holding him tightly.
"Does Finn love Rachel?" – She asks, her voice muffled, but he can still understand what she says perfectly.
Love is not the right word. He's a writer – yet he doesn't know how to describe his feelings for her. He worships her, he adores her, he finds solace in her. Oh yes, yes, he does love her. So much. Forever. Until the end of time.
He knows he's not allowed to love her, he's simply just not. The age – gap is one thing, but he feels as if he could never have her completely. She's wild, untamed; she's outrageous and it's just too much for him. If he chooses to love her, he knows he will end up being miserable. She will crush his heart somehow – the heart that holds this never –ending fanaticism and love for her.
Yet, it's a misery he yearns for.
"He does." – He kisses her hair.
"How much?"
"So much."
"Finn?"
"Yeah?"
'I'm going away for a while with my Dads, maybe for a year."
"Where to?"
"France."
"It's beautiful there" – He's feeling déjà – vu.
"Finn?"
"Yeah?"
"Kiss me."
She turns her face to look into his eyes – the eyes that he wants to look into for the rest of his life. Her pink lips slightly part, and he wants to kiss her, he wants to feel the softness of roses on his dry, miserable lips.
So he does.
He bends down and she stands on her tip –toes, and their lips meet halfway.
Oh how he longs for her kiss and he dreads the moment they pull away. He takes time to taste her, to let the fire slowly spreads from his lips to his whole body. When she gently pushes her tongue into his mouth, he feels the rush and the desire being pushed up to the point which he thinks has become ineffable.
When they finally stop the kiss – he doesn't know how long they've been kissing – he has to sit down on the couch.
"Hey, are you okay?" – She kneels in front of him, her hands cupping his face.
"It must be the fever."
She's about to say something when her cell phone rings.
"My Dads are here to pick me up. You're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good."
She stands up quickly to get change and after a few minutes, she stands in front of him again, dressed fully in her usual shirt and plaid skirt.
He stands up and holds her in his arms, "I'm not going to see you for a year."
"I'll see you soon." – She kisses his chest.
And with that, she's gone.
tbc
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a/n:
A whole fluffy chapter for you guys, awwwee! Thank you so much for the reviews, guys, it means a lot to me. I can't stop smiling reading them! I'm kinda having a bit of trouble finding inspiration, so it's gonna take longer than usual for an update, oh and I'm also kinda sick, so maybe this chapter is not as good as I want it to be. But really, there's no excuse, so just be harsh on me, kay? (〃￣ω￣〃ゞ
Songs: "See You Soon" – Coldplay (listen to the live version)
"Love Is Strange" – Mickey & Silvia
"Moon River" – Henry Mancini, Johnny Mercer.