I'm Not Sick I The O.C.

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own The O.C. or any of its characters. Everything belongs to FOX and Josh Schwartz.

Ryan's POV

When I woke up in the morning, I had hoped that I would be feeling better. I actually felt worse. Everything hurt. My head was pounding, my throat was on fire, and my entire body ached. I couldn't breathe out of my nose and I felt extremely cold. I resisted the urge to shiver. I wasn't going to let the Cohens know that I was still feeling awful. I had to act like I was fine—like it was just a 24 hour thing. I would just have to push through it and put on a more convincing façade. I forced myself to get out of bed. I had some clothes in here for one time where I had to stay in here when we had guests. I put them on and then sat on my bed. I needed to rest for a moment before making my way out. After a few minutes, I went into the pool house to grab my backpack. As I packed the few textbooks I needed quickly, I realized I didn't do my homework; I hope I won't get into too much trouble. After I had my backpack I went into the kitchen. I just have to make it to school. As soon as I came into the kitchen, I noticed Sandy having his morning coffee and bagel.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sandy asked.

"School." I answered, trying my best to sound normal. The congestion made it a bit more difficult.

"You're not going anywhere." Sandy said and I sighed; I had to go to school. I didn't want to stay here—well I didn't want to be sick. And I certainly did not want them to worry about taking care of me. That wasn't their job.

"I'm not sick." I insisted. Sandy crossed his arms and arched his eyebrow. "I'm fine." I had hoped I sounded somewhat convincing.

"That's what you said yesterday." Sandy pointed out. Clearly, I wasn't believable.

"I feel better." I attempted to claim, but it wasn't working. Do I just look sick or am I as bad of a liar as people say? Probably both. I really didn't want to stay home from school. I already had some work to makeup from yesterday, let alone if I missed more. It really wouldn't be a big deal. And then they wouldn't have to think about taking care of me. Why can't they just let me? My mom would have been thrilled if I had done that for her.

"Right okay." Sandy shook his head as he walked over to me. I took a step back, sitting at the counter in my normal spot. Sandy eyed me in a way that made me nervous. He put his hand on his forehead and I couldn't resist the urge to shut my eyes like I did last night.

"I'm okay." I opened my eyes and quickly insisted.

"Ryan, do you think I was born yesterday?" I looked over and saw Kirsten walked in, dressed for work. And until she walked in, I hadn't noticed that Sandy was not dressed for work. Why wasn't he dressed? Not being in his suit, I could get. Often, he went surfing in the morning, but he wasn't even dressed for that. But why?

"What?" I asked.

"We know you're sick." Kirsten said and I sighed. "And we know you're still sick."

"I'm—"

"Not sick? Yeah, try again later." Sandy chuckled and I sighed; if only they hadn't found out last night. "Now open up."

"Huh?" I asked, confused by what he was asking.

"I need to take your temperature." Sandy explained, holding up a thermometer. Did he have to do that? I think it was obvious that I had a fever. I had even let my body shiver a bit since I knew there was no point trying to hide it. They knew and they weren't going to let me go to school.

"Do you have to?"

Sandy nodded. "Ryan, it is just thermometer." I knew that. I could clearly see that. It wasn't some foreign object. But I just knew if I let him do it, he'd want to do it frequently; that was something I didn't want. I didn't want them to think they had to do stuff for me.

I shook my head. "You don't need to do that. I think you already know that I'm sick." I protested.

"Yeah, but I have to keep an eye on that temperature." Sandy argued as he brought the thermometer closer to my mouth. "Open your mouth." He repeated his instruction. I complied hesitantly and he stuck the thermometer under my tongue. I sat there with my arms crossed as I began to shiver.

As I sat there, waiting for the thermometer to go off, Seth came down and stared at me for a second. "Well, well, is someone sick?" Seth asked sarcastically using a tease-like tone.

"Shut up, Seth." I glared at him with the thermometer still in my mouth.

"You: Get to school." Sandy pointed to Seth and then turned to me. "And you: no talking."

I didn't argue; it's not like I was much of a talker anyways. Eventually, the thermometer beeped and Sandy took it. "102.2" He read and then put it down on the counter, shaking his head. "Not good, kid."

"Sorry." I shrugged. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't control it; if I could I wouldn't have a fever.

Seth left shortly after that. But not before he said a few other words as he grabbed some breakfast. I didn't even bother to listen to what he said. I got up and started to walk to the doors so I could go back to bed in the pool house but Sandy stopped me. "Guest room, Ryan." He reminded me. Not that I minded. It was actually kind of nice being in the house for a change, but I just hoped it's not a bother with me taking up their guest room. I guess it was alright since they probably wouldn't have any guests while I was sick.

I went back to the guest room. I took off my clothes and changed into something more—comfortable. I was now wearing my usual white tank top with sweatpants. I got back into bed and that's when Sandy came into the room. "Do you want anything to eat, Ryan?"

I shook my head. The thought of eating made me feel nauseous and I did not want to throw up again.

"Okay, but I want you to eat something later." Sandy said as he came in and sat on the edge of the bed. He then placed a cold washcloth on my head. Why did he do that?

"What—"

"It's to help with the fever." Sandy explained before I could get more than one word out. I nodded, deciding not to fight it. The cold actually was helping with my headache. "Do you need anything Ryan?" He asked and I shook my head. If I did, I could get it. I could take care of myself. I don't know why he thought he had to keep checking on me. I would be fine eventually; it is probably just a cold. "Okay well, I'll be here all day. So just come get me—or call—if you need or want anything. I'll check on you in a little bit." Sandy patted my shoulder.

"You don't have to—" I hope he didn't take off the whole day to keep an eye on me.

"I want to." Sandy replied. I didn't see why he wanted to do that. Why would anyone want to be around a sick person? I don't know if I would. Why does he insist on taking care of me? My own mother never did nor did she want to. She wanted perfect kids—though it isn't like those exist. She wouldn't pay for Trey and I to get flu shots—though I'm not really complaining all that much—but then if we got sick, she didn't want to hear about it. She would yell and depending on the boyfriend of the day, I could have also gotten my ass kicked. On the bright side, I don't have to worry about getting my ass kicked here; I know Sandy and Kirsten would never do that to me. But that didn't mean I could bother them if I got too cold or I possibly developed an appetite again. It wouldn't be right to bother them. They aren't my parents and they shouldn't have to do anything that wasn't necessary. I could handle this. I could handle just having a cold.