Dirt Poor (part two of I'm Only Living For You; A Ray Toro X Reader)

Sick

For once, Ray wasn't up before me. He was usually the one who woke me up, gently rubbing my back and kissing my forehead. "Get up Princess," He'd say. "It's time to wake up Baby Girl." I would make little sleepy noises and kiss him good morning, then stretch and leave the bed to start my day. However, I was actually awoken by my alarm (I always had it set just in case), and Ray wasn't even awake.

That one stubborn curl was plastered to his forehead, which was unusually sweaty. I pulled the covers back and saw that his clothes had sweat stains all over them. "Ray, wake up a minute, okay?" I rubbed his chest and he fluttered his eyes open. "Are you sick, baby boy?"

Ray looked at me, eyes drooping and threatening a return to slumber. "I think so..." He mumbled, nodding.

I moved so I was sitting up and felt his forehead. Damn, that's hot. He was practically burning up! "Oh honey, you're so warm!"

"You sure?" Ray rasped, pulling the blanket back on himself. "I feel fucking cold."

Shaking my head, I walked to the dresser and found him a fresh set of clothing. "I think you might have the flu; you should stay home today." I set the garments on the bed and knelt down to pet my boyfriend's face. "You should sleep for a few more hours, then try and take a shower. When you're clean, put these on and just chill on the couch or whatever. I'm going to get ready for the day, then I'm going to take your temperature."

RAY'S POV

I felt like shit. Laying on the bed, pathetically buried up to my nose in blankets while Y/n was getting dressed at the edge of the bed.

She is so beautiful. Not a supermodel, but I was never into them anyway. Just delightfully gorgeous in a way I couldn't describe. There was no way I could tell you of a better woman if I tried. That's what she was, wasn't she? A woman; mature, developed, strong. I suppose it had been many years since she had been a 'girl' to society, but she still felt herself to be girlish for a long while. Her transition from girl to woman was long and slow for a while, but hastened at the end due to the absence of her mother. Maybe I'm wrong, I never did take it upon myself to ask her.

Laying, watching the love of my life stand in the bathroom to fix her hair was miserable for me. Yes, she was beautiful, I've said that. She was so put together, pinning her hair in place and gathering her things in her backpack. A lady who had to spend her valuable time caring for her unemployed boyfriend who was almost too sick to move. Pathetic is what I felt, sweating through my clothes. "Y/n?" I spoke, immediately regretting it as the words stabbed my sore throat.

"Yeah?" She looked up at me smiling. She had a thermometer in her hand, presumably to take my temperature.

"Um..." I realized I didn't actually have anything to ask, I just wanted her attention. Fuck fuck fuck think of something fast! "I love you!" I blurted out.

"Um...I love you too?" She laughed, lifting up my arm and sticking the thermometer under it. "I love you so very much!" She giggled, smoothing my hair.

"I love you to the moon and back." I said, placing my hand over hers.

"Well, I love you to infinity." She stuck out her tongue.

"Yeah?" I coughed. "I love you to infinity and one." Y/n rolled her eyes and kissed my forehead. "Careful, don't get sick too."

"I won't." She sighed, pulling the thermometer from my armpit as i started beeping. "Jesus H. Christ! 105 degrees! Don't catch on fire when I'm gone sweetie!"

Y/n got me a cool rag and a large bowl to puke into just in case before she left. I fell asleep almost immediately after hearing the front door lock.

Y/n was standing in the kitchen, holding something in her arms, cradling it. A baby. She was soothing it, kissing its forhead and gently swaying back and forth. Her mouth was moving and her eyes were closed as if she were singing, but the whole scene was completely silent. I made an attempt to speak to her, but there was no voice coming from my throat.

Y/n passed me and walked into another room, silently cooing to the little infant in her arms. This room was familiar: it was our room, with our bed, and the dresser, and the little table next to the bed. There was more in the room. A bassinet, with little plush toys and blankets sticking out, and all sorts of baby items everywhere, not messily, but they were around. She set the baby down in the bassinet, then kissed its forehead as she covered it with the blanket. Y/n was so happy, stroking the little baby, mothering it and giving it all the love it could need and want. I wanted nothing more than to be there with her in that moment, to share her happiness, to see her face looking at mine, so joyful.

Y/n turned and walked out, brushing her hair back and yawning as she collapsed onto the sofa. She surveyed the room a bit, until her eyes hit something I knew very well: my guitar. Her smile turned to a frown, then a scowl and she stood up. Violently grabbing the guitar, Y/n took it to a closet and set it inside, closing the door a little forcefully. I felt my chest contract at this sight. What had I done to her? Had I left her? Was I dead?

I was awake, even more sweaty now. I reached for Y/n, but felt nothing but sheets, remembering that she had gone to school. It's not like she really wants to wake up next to you anyway. The little intrusive thought pelted my head. Shaking my head, I moved from the bed to the bathroom so I could shower like Y/n had told me to. Yeah, she always has to tell you what to do, right? 'Cause you're too useless to know how to take care of yourself.

The dream had already left me in a rotten mood, and being sick was not helping. Letting the water hit my skin, wetting my hair and cleansing myself helped, but there wasn't much I could do. Soon, I was dry, and dressed in the clothes Y/n had chosen for me, sitting on the sofa and dozing off while watching the news. Man, this shit is depressing.

I awoke to the sound of the front door closing. "Aww, hi baby." Y/n was standing in front of the doorway, bundled in my winter jacket and her favorite red scarf. She pulled the scarf down and smiled, showing her red nose and cheeks, stung by the freezing winter chill. "I brought you some soup. It's chicken and rice." She was holding a styrofoam container in her gloved hands, the tips cut off revealing her fingers.

I gazed at her, then at the soup, longing for both. "Ah, soup." I managed out, thoroughly exhausted from a long day of doing absolutely nothing.

"Yeah!" Y/n answered, laughing as she stripped off her coat and warm clothes. "Soup! For you! I'm gonna go get you a spoon." She shuffled into the kitchen and returned a moment later, a grin on her face, and a spoon in her hand. "I have your spoon!" She said, jumping up and down a little. She rushed over to where she had set the soup, carefully removing the lid and letting the steam rise off. She stirred the soup a little bit before handing it to me.

"Oh...soup." I mumbled, just taking in the warmth in my delirious state. Y/n snuggled into my side, pulling one of the throw blankets over us. "Thank you." I said, kissing her forehead.

"You're welcome." She answered, hugging me tightly. "Gosh I love you so much."

"Really?" I laughed.

"Yeah." She smiled.

"That's good," I answered. "Because I love you so much too." Y/n hummed and kissed my cheek as I ate the soup. There was not much more speaking that night, just the sounds of sitcom laughter and a few commercials every now and then, accompanied by the flickering lights of the television, reflecting on the walls, the windows, and ourselves.