A Proscriptive Relationship

:A Proscriptive Relationship: 43

I glanced down at him with a scowl. To my surprise, he was looking back at me with wide eyes. My breath caught and I dropped him in shock, pushing myself back, blushing hard. He landed on the ground with a loud thud and a groan. I blushed even deeper and winced.

"Sorry!" I apologized, bringing myself closer. "Are you okay?"

"What am I...?"

Mr. Heywood looked at me with an extremely confused expression. His expression, mixed with his messy hair, and worn out look made him look like a lost puppy and I couldn't help but stare at him in awe. He looked so cute! Mr. Heywood continued to look at me like that as I gawked, a smile spreading across my face. How I wish I could take a picture...

"Ow," Mr. Heywood groaned, bringing a hand to his head. "Shit."

"What's wrong?"

"Headache," he told me, shaking his head in dismissal. "Why are we on the ground?"

"Oh, um... you have a fever."

"That doesn't explain why we're on the ground..."

My face became hot again and I adverted my gaze. "Um... well, you kind of passed out in the kitchen, so I tried to bring you to your bed... but you're heavy and I ended up dragging you, and I was just attempting to pull you onto it, but you caught me by surprise so I dropped you."

Mr. Heywood smirked slightly, but it was ruined by a sudden coughing fit. When it was over, Mr. Heywood put his hand on the side of his bed, attempting to push himself up. I reached out my hand for support, but he ended up putting a hand on my shoulder, making me sink under the pressure as he managed to get himself to his feet. Then he collapsed onto the bed with a sigh.

"Holly."

"Yeah?" I asked, straightening myself out.

"Get out."

"Huh?"

"Go call Jeremy or something, just get out," Mr. Heywood ordered, his voice muffled by his comforter.

"What? Why?" I asked in confusion, a little hurt by his words. What did I do?

Mr. Heywood flipped over onto his back and laid a hand across his eyes. "Not like that, Holly. I just don't want you to get sick too. I'll feel like it's my fault."

A frown slipped onto my face. Now that I was thinking about it, I realized it was probably my fault Mr. Heywood had suddenly gotten sick over night. He had spent three hours in the cold rain searching for me. I looked guiltily at the floor. "I'm going to stay to take care of you."

Mr. Heywood chuckled. "I don't need someone to take care of me, Holly. I've lived on my own for the past four years. Go on a date with Jeremy or something."

"We aren't dating!"

Mr. Heywood raised an eyebrow in amusement as I flushed once more. That had come out more defensive than I had meant it to be. Mr. Heywood chuckled again, but it turned into a cough.

"If you want to help, go get me some cold medicine. It's behind the mirror in the bathroom."

"What's the magic word?"

"Please."

I stared at him in amazement. He must be sick, I thought. He never said please. Nodding, I started towards the bathroom, still blown away with his "please". As I passed the kitchen again, the burning smell filled my nose and my eyes widened. Crap! I had forgotten to figure out what the burning smell was!

Rushing into the kitchen, I immediately went to the oven. There was nothing on the burners, so I opened the oven door. Large clouds of smoke met my face as soon as the door opened. I coughed and removed my face quickly, trying to wave the smoke away. I located the oven dial and turned it off, still trying to clear the smoke around me. After a few moments I opened the oven again, peering in. Small, black, burnt mounds of... something were sitting on a silver tray. I closed the oven door again. I'd deal with those... things... later.