those years between us

[11] I'M UNHAPPY

IT WASN'T JUST a temporary headache. As it turned out, I had a fever. A raging fever. I stared at the thermometer for a long second before a loud sigh left my mouth. Fucking hell. Thirty eight point three degrees celsius. No wonder my head was throbbing like a bitch. I was sick. I'd probably caught a cold from not wearing enough, or maybe I caught it from someone else. I wasn't sure.

Being sick in the UK was always a painful experience. Even more so in university. Back at Arrington College, I could thrust myself into the care of the school health centre. There was none of that here. I wasn't living in school either. And I had no parents to take care of me, no one to watch over me, no one to cook food or help with chores or make me more comfortable. I was alone. In a foreign country. And most definitely sick. But it was hardly the first time something like this had happened.

Medicine. I probably had some medicine stuffed in a drawer somewhere that could help with the fever. And I'll have to scrap the ideas for any oily food I'd planned to cook tonight—had I planned to cook any oily food tonight? Swap that out with congee. Congee would be good. With some simple dishes. A bit of steamed vegetable and a tiny bit of meat.

No point going to the hospital over a fever. If it got worse, I would throw myself onto a taxi to the nearest hospital in an instant, but so far it was still very manageable. And I didn't think it was anything too bad. My nose had become runny and I'd randomly start shivering and sweating and I definitely had a bad headache, but that was all standard fever symptoms.

It was after I'd searched all the places I might have put medicine but failed to find any that I realised I was in slight trouble.

The nearest supermarket was a couple streets away. The nearest pharmacy even further. I was not in the mood to go out in the darkening streets for medicine.

I picked up my phone, considering messaging Camille to grab me some medicine and maybe come and help me out if she had the time, but then I remembered that she had a project meeting tonight—she'd told me a few days ago, and I didn't want to bother her.

Maybe it was time for Orion Ip to finally do his duty. In a way that I wanted him to.

Letting out a sigh, I grabbed my keys and my phone and crossed the corridor to knock on his door, praying that he was in tonight.

He was. He opened the door, looking slightly surprised to see me. Pushing up his glasses, he started, "Hey, Salome... Oh Jesus, you look pale as a ghost. You good?"

I shook my head, wincing, placing my hand against the wall outside his door for support. "Pretty bad fever. Umm, you should probably take a couple steps away from me. I might be contagious, I'm not sure. I'm out of medicine, and I was wondering if you could help me out and get some?"

"Oh of course." He glanced around. "Uh, I'll grab a mask. Prevent infection just in case, don't worry about that. Go and get some rest, yeah? I'll grab some Paracetamol for you, yeah? I'll be back as soon as I can. You feeling alright?"

"It's not that bad," I told him truthfully. "My head just really hurts. Thank you. I'll... I'll head back now. Thank you."

"Hey, no worries. I promised your parents, remember? You sure you don't need to go to the hospital or anything?"

"No, no, I'm good. A bit of Paracetamol should do the job." I forced a grin. "Thanks again."

And then, without another word because I was too tired for it, I turned back towards my apartment, unlocking the door and sliding back inside.

I'd made myself cosy on my bed, having changed into my pyjamas when Orion knocked on my door. I got out, tossing a jacket over myself and headed out to get it. He'd grabbed a surgical blue mask on his way, carefully strapped on his face, revealing only concerned dark eyes that took me in. "You feeling any better?"