Musical Sketches ✔️

19| Fever Dream

Past Micheal's POV

"Brandon, seriously? A cigarette?" I scoffed, "Yeah, no thanks. I might be depressed, but I would never stoop that low."

"It's not a cigarette! Look, it's just money folded up in a piece of paper."

"It looks exactly like a cigarette."

"That's the point! People can't know that I have a pound."

"A pound? No one wants to steal a pound from you, Brandon."

He took the pound out of the paper and handed it to me, "It's a gift from me to you."

I laughed as I took the pound from him. "Why disguise it as a cigarette, though?"

"I'm artsy!" he exclaimed, "It was fun to make."

I shrugged and leaned against the wall. I couldn't help but wonder what Mark was doing. Every night, he would sleep talk. Most of his dreams were about me and it made me happy knowing that. But, most of his nightmares were also about me. His dreams weren't anything weird, mostly just specific memories with some random stuff thrown into it. His nightmares were usually wild, though. He'd wake up in a sweat and he wouldn't even talk to me. I knew part of what he had dreamt about, but never the whole nightmare in detail. Maybe, it was better that way.

"Have you seen Mark?" I asked, "I didn't see him in class today."

"He felt sick during homeroom, so he went back to our dorm," Brandon said.

"I'm going to check up on him. Do you want to come with me?" I asked.

He shook his head, "No, you can go ahead. I'll be right here if you need me."

The second I walked into the dorm room, the first thing I saw was Mark, laying down on the floor. "What are you doing on the floor, babe?"

"It's cold," he mumbled, "Outside is also cold."

"Get up. Let me feel your forehead."

He rolled over and I felt his forehead. He was burning up. I needed to find a way to get his temperature down.

"Ice," he muttered, "Cold."

"Oh my god, Mark. Get off the floor. You're acting like a man-child."

"I'm not," he protested, "I just feel like an overcooked tamale, right now."

I got a washcloth from the closet and ran it under some cold water. I wrung the wash cloth and pulled him onto the bed. "I'll tell the school that you're sick. You didn't even call in sick today."

"It must've slipped my mind," he groaned, "Did I worry you?"

"Well, yeah. I thought you died. Since you scared me, this is my payback," I said as I flicked his forehead. He laughed and I put the wash cloth on his forehead. "Don't move."

"What happens if I do?"

"Then, the wash cloth will fall off your forehead and you won't get better."

He took my hands and whispered, "Your hands are cold. Let's just stay like this for a while."

"Yeah, no thanks. I don't want to get sick from you."

"It's so hot in here. Can't you turn the air conditioner on?"

"I think so. I don't think you can have cold showers, though. Air conditioning should be fine, I think."

I turned the air conditioner on and he immediately said, "It's so cold in here. Can't you turn the heat on?"

"What more do you want from me!" I exclaimed, "Just go to sleep."