rays of sunlight // Antoine Griezmann

Chapter 11

I feel warm, and I don't know how long it has been since Antoine was here. Hours? Days? Could have been weeks... No, likely days. But I feel so sick, still... I start coughing, and my thoughts focus on nothing but the pain of my lungs and the heat in my head.

I pull myself up, stumbling out of bed, leaning against the wall. I change into pajamas, feeling extremely lightheaded, before plopping down on my bed, to put Antoine's phone number into my phone, creating his contact.

I don't completely believe it. Even now, after all this time to think and dream about Antoine and what happened and what he did for me. I don't completely believe it.

My eyes are a little unfocused, but suddenly, a sharp pang of hunger hits me, and I drop my phone in the pocket of my hoodie, getting up right away, trying to make my way to the kitchen.

I try, but it's scary. It's scary to move, because everything is shaking. I think I am going to die. I don't know... Then I remember my father's funeral. It just hits me, just like hunger hit me. I think I might be crying now. The tears feel cold against my hot skin. I don't think that's good. Tears should be hot, shouldn't they?

I don't feel well.

I stumble to the fridge, throw it open, and lean my head on one of the empty shelves, feeling the coolness fill my head, my essence. I think it's the first time I've felt something good in... a long time. I don't know how long, though, because I don't know what the date is. I forget how old I am. I'm just longing for the coldness of the fridge. Also food... Food! My God, food! I grab a block of cheese, unwrap it gingerly, and take a big bite. Then I lean my head back on the shelf of the fridge, chewing away at the cheese.

Suddenly, my head hurts, and I'm laying on the floor. I feel worse, so I fish my cell phone out of my pocket, calling Antoine. My wrists, my hands, my arms... they all feel really weak. Way too weak.

"Antoine Griezmann speaking. Who is this?"

"Antoine..." I groan. "It's... Belle. I need you to come over..."

"Okay, I'll be over. Are you okay?"

"I am laying down. I can't get up, because everything is really hot."

"Okay, okay. I'm coming."

"Bye... The back door is unlocked. You can leap the fence." I hang up, and go to sleep. Or maybe I pass out. One of the two, I'm sure.

Next thing I know, I am laying in the most comfortable bed ever. Then I see the most handsome man ever. I stare at him, eyes wide. "Hi... You're a cutie..."

"How do you feel, Belle?" Antoine asks, and I realize he's the handsome man. That's funny...

"Better than before. I'm less warm. How long has it been."

"Four days, since  you were found by me that day on the street. Two days ago you called me. I've been nursing you back to health. I'm glad it seems like you're getting better. I should have never left you four days ago. I should have stayed with you."

I ignore this last comment by him, asking simply, "Where am I now?"

"In my bed."

"Where have you been sleeping, then?"

"My couch."

"Have you been working?"

"I'm on vacation time, Belle. I'm a footballer. So no, but this was planned. I have nothing else, nothing better, to be doing, other than taking care of you."

"What if you catch my sickness, Antoine? Then what? Then you can't go back to work and play, because you'll be sick."

He speaks in very gentle tones, rubbing my cheek with his thumb. "If that did happen, I'm sure I'd be okay, because I make enough money in the first place. Missing a few games wouldn't make me go broke or anything. And I doubt that will happen. I don't think what you have is contagious."

"Then what is it?"

"I think it has got to do more with emotion stuff than physical. You're tired. You had a cold. You were in a fragile place, and too many things were weighing on you. It drove your health into the ditch. But instead, we should thank God, no, that I was here at just the right time for a break to take care of you."

"God doesn't exist..." I say vaguely. "But if he did, I'd thank him."

Antoine smiles brightly brushing some hair from my forehead. "Exactly. Now you just go back to sleep. I'll take care of everything. Everything is okay."

And, for some reason, I just believe his words. I trust him. I let myself fall back into slumber. Because I trust he's true. I don't have to worry, at least for now, because Antoine is here to take care of me. Antoine will make sure everything will be okay.

I guess people are right when they say fever makes you confused, and a little crazy.

Or maybe they're not.

I wake up some time later, feeling excellent. Well, as excellent as I can feel. I don't feel warm, my joints feel stronger, and my thoughts are much clearer. The only thing that bothers me is that I'm hungry. And I'm in Antoine's house. And I have no idea where he is.

I call his name a few times, my voice still weak, not able to get to it's proper level, but I hear no answer. For some reason, I start to panic. What if he got hurt? Or died? And I'm about to receive a phone call? What if, as soon as I found someone who could give me the sense of security I need, he's going to be hurt too? What if he leaves, too? Then what?

I feel myself sweating, and tears enter my eyes. I try to wipe them away, but they come. So fast. They steal my breath away, until I'm sobbing, just at the thought of it.

"Belle!" Antoine says as he enters the room. He gently wraps his arms around me, whispering in my ear, "What's wrong, Belle? What happened? Are you okay?"

I shake my head, and catch my breath just fast enough, clinging onto him with all my strength in my arms, holding fistfuls of his shirt, "Antoine, don't leave. Just don't ever let me lose you now. Not now. Not ever."