BUT

S - Four / End

Seeing the glass of water on her bedside table, she suddenly felt her thirst and drank the whole thing in one gulp. It tasted somewhat stale but it still felt good in her body nevertheless. She picked up the empty glass as she got up and walked slowly out of the room.

"Diana, how did you take me to my room? I know I’m sick and all but I still must weigh more than you can carry?"

The faucet suddenly turned off and the sound of running water stopped. She turned towards the sink, feeling a new burst of ache building on her temple.

He was standing near the sink, clearly looking surprised at her sudden appearance and guilty at her catching him there.

Equally surprised, she just stared, unable to say anything.

He looked the same, except he looked tired. Bloodshot eyes, bags under them and he looked pale and generally worn out. He was just frozen[timm1]  there looking back at her and on the countertop beside him were newly washed mugs and dishes. A boiling pot was on the stove. As her eyes darted to it, he finally moved, switching the stove to simmer.

Now that the shock was slowly fading, she frowned. What was he doing here?

As if in response, he walked towards her slowly, gingerly, taking the empty glass out of her hand. He filled it up again with water and placed it back in front of her. He stepped back again, as if there was some solid, invisible force keeping her away from him.

She thought she must be going crazy because the instinct to shout and throw the glass of water at him suddenly flared up inside her. But why should she be angry? He clearly cleaned and cooked for her and most probably took her to bed and watched over her. Nevertheless, she was mad. What right did he have to do all those things?

She waited, resisting the urge to hurl accusations at him. All she did was stare at him, waiting for her sudden anger to die down.

"I'll leave as soon as this finishes." He finally broke the silence, turning his back on her and resuming stirring the contents of the pot. If he saw the play of emotions on her face, he didn't give any indication that he did.

She abruptly wanted to cry and tell him to drop everything else and just do nothing but hold her. It was all too much, the rapid convoluted switching of her thoughts and feelings. If it was because she wasn't feeling well...well, she was sick alright. Sick in the head most probably.

She heard herself call his name.

He turned back to her, frustration etched on his face.

“Please.”

Anger was barely suppressed in his tone. She was taken aback by his expression. Why was he mad now? Wasn't she the one who needed to be mad and not him?

"Just let me do this for you. If not as –” He looked away from her. "Even as just a friend, let me do this. What are you – what have you been –" He shook his head. "How do you expect me to –" And he stopped again, looking more frustrated.

She watched his face, only half listening. The desire to cry and touch him intensified and she tried desperately not to. She missed him. Only now that he was right in front of her did she realize how much she truly missed him.

He looked up suddenly and found her staring at him with a peculiar expression on her face. All his anger and frustration disappeared at once, replaced by sudden weakness and exhaustion.

She looked away when his eyes caught her, training her gaze now on a spot right above his shoulder.

He exhaled, unable to control his own emotions now. He took a step forward cautiously, giving her time and a chance to back away if she wanted to. She didn't move and stepped even more closer to her, slowly and carefully.