𝗚𝗲𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲 𝗠𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗜𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀 🤍

What's The Matter?

1998

I awoke in the middle of the night, the feeling of nausea was rising through my body.
I glance at George who's sleeping peacefully, which is an unusual slight at the moment, since his mother died sleep hasn't been easy and for the last few weeks it hasn't for me either. Almost every night i either feel sick or have to rush into the bathroom and vomit out my guts. Fun, I know.

The nausea subsided, like it does most other times. I have a suspicion of what's wrong, but I don't know how George would react.

I smile gently at the sight of the sleeping Greek, I take my hand and put it to his forehead and gently run my fingers through his hair. After doing this a couple of times I saw the edges of George's lips curve upwards, then he moved and leant further into my touch and shifted his body closer to mine. I continued this for a good 10 minutes but then stopped as the nauseous feeling began to take me again. Quickly, I reached my bedside table for a glass of water and took a sip to try and get rid of the feeling.

It was then that a groggy voice sounded from next to me. "Why'd you stop?"

I placed the glass back on the side and look at the brown eyes which were now looking at me. "I thought you were asleep?"

George turns his body towards me "I was. But I'm not now,  I was enjoying it."

Guilt creeps into me. "I'm sorry for waking you. I shouldn't have done anything, you just looked so beautiful I couldn't help myself."

The man laughs. "Thanks. I'm guessing that's a complement."

"What else would it be?"  Suddenly, I sit up straight, which startled George slightly. Usually when I've felt sick I've managed to sneak off without disturbing him, or if he's been awake come up with some excuse. Today, that obviously can't happen.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Concern and worry lacing George's tone.

I shake my head slightly. "Nothing, I'm fine."

Of course, he isn't convinced. "No, tell me."

Before I could reply, I rip the covers back off my legs and bound into the bathroom, my footsteps echoing off the floor, then another set a couple of seconds later and a voice calling my name in almost fear. I collapse at the toilet and empty the contents of my stomach into the bowl. 

Not a second later George falls next to me and clears my hair out my face. "Y/N?" He asks his voice almost frantic.

I know whats the matter with him, George over the last few months has been terrified of losing me, since his mother died he's become almost paranoid, so every time I feel ill he gets scare like incredibly scared.. I hate to see him like this all I can do is assure him.

I half heartedly glance at George, his eyes holding vulnerability and fear. "I'm fine, I promise. I just ate something probably, okay? I'm fine."

"But what if it isn't-"

"George!" I cut him off. "Nothings wrong with me, okay? I swear."

He looks at the floor. "Okay, Sorry. I just- oh it doesn't matter."

I would say something but before I know it I'm back vomiting into the toilet.
I end up sitting there for about 20 minutes, throwing up twice more, George sat and rubbed my back not leaving my side.

Eventually, the nausea disappears. And I look to my husband and give him a small smile, to which he gently returns. "You better now?" He asks softly.

"Yeah" Slowly, I stand up careful not to accidentally upset my stomach again. I offer my hand to George. He laughs. "It should be me who offers the helping hand."