To have and to loathe

• 𝐂hapter 53

I shook my head, hurt blooming in my chest. "I'm sorry." I didn't have much experience with nursing someone. "You looked thirsty."

"Well, I'm not." He gruffed and then hissed with pain when he forced himself into a sitting position.

"Killian please don't do that." I panicked, but he shoved me aside and slid his legs off the edge of the bed.

"You need to lay back down." I implored, reaching for his arm but he slapped my hand away harshly.

"Don't touch me."

I tried to get my emotions in check because now was not the time to cry. "Alright, I won't but please lay down and rest."

He ignored me and got up on his feet. I could tell the room swayed in his eyes because he almost lost balance but ended up reaching out for the wall for support.

"Killian please you're not well. You should lay back." I persisted even though he started to take disorientated steps away from me.

I dropped the drenched cloth and followed behind carefully. "Please come back to bed."

"Don't you fucking tell me what to do. You don't know anything." He snapped and my eyes stung with the need to cry but I held it all in.

"Killian, the doctor said—"

He stopped and gave me a dark look that shut my mouth up.

"Where are my keys?"

"You didn't come home with your car," I mumbled, following silently behind him.

"Shit." He groaned and continued to walk away, looking disoriented, and at some, he leaned against the wall, taking in deep breaths.

"Killian," I rushed to his side, my hand on his shoulder as he continued to heave. "You need to—"

"What part of don't fucking touch me don't you understand." He snapped again and I jerked back, tears pricking my eyes.

"I'm just trying to help you."

"I don't need your silly help so stop acting like—" his words flattered as he staggered off balance again but I caught him in time, his weight making me groan.

"You're not well Killian, you can stay angry at me all you want but I'm taking you back to bed now."

He didn't say anything but I knew he agreed with me. I placed an arm around his waist, the other over his shoulders, and slowly led him back into his room.

Three hours later, after he'd fallen asleep and woken up again, he was feeling remarkably better, not well, but good enough that he became steadied in his legs and could walk into the bathroom to shower without my help.

After I had my shower, I spent most of my time in the kitchen, trying to prepare a healthy lunch. Cooking wasn't really my fort and I sustained a lot of blistered trying to chop up vegetables. An hour later when I was sure I hadn't created a disaster and the food tasted good, I took Killian's portion up to his room.

I knocked and then entered. He was sitting on his bed, his back to the headboard as he typed furiously on his laptop.

I sighed, he didn't look well enough to be working, but I knew better than to argue with a man in an unruly state.

"I brought lunch," I announced, placing it on his bedside.

His head craned towards it and then he turned to me with a somewhat dry expression. "Take it out. I'm not hungry."

Concern knit my brows into a wrinkled line. "But why?"

"I'm not hungry." He commented, turning his attention back to his laptop.