You and Scarlett had recently broken up. When you go to her house to pick up the last of your things, you see that she was nowhere to be found. Despite your better judgment, you decide to go and investigate. The sight that greets you all but breaks your heart.
**
You let out a near silent curse when you ring the doorbell for the third time and receive no answer. All you wanted to do was grab the rest of your things. You'd taken most of it the day you'd both decided to end things, but there were a few heavier items -such as your desktop computer- that you were unable to take with you due to the sheer size and weight.
Using your key was a last resort, something you didn't want to have to do unless it was absolutely necessary because, as much as it breaks your heart to admit, you weren't her girlfriend anymore. You couldn't just come and go as you please. That privileges was out the window the second you'd broken up.
But apparently you didn't have a choice, because the longer you stand here, the more evident it becomes that she wasn't going to answer the door. Your key slides into the lock with that same familiar ease, and your eyes take in the familiar sight of her entry way as you tentatively push open the door and step inside.
It looked the exact same, except for the light layer of dust lining each and every surface. Weird. Scarlett was, in the most polite way possible, a clean freak. She liked order and often became grumpy when things were even the slightest bit out of place.
You go to blame it on her just being busy, but the sight in the living room immediately halts you in your tracks. There were tissues everywhere, and there was that slight smell in the air of sweat and just overall sickness. You hate the fact that your stomach sinks in concern, because there was only one rational thing that could explain this.
Scarlett was sick, and had obviously been so for quite some time.
You couldn't help but freeze on the bottom of the staircase in a silent debate on whether or not you should go up. The part of you that was still very much in love with her wanted nothing more than to take care of her. But the ugly part of you, the one who was still so hateful over the ugly breakup wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of here.
She'd been the one to distance herself. She'd been the one to not make time for you, and she'd been the one who'd told you to pack your things and get the hell out of her sight. Why should you repay that with kindness? Because you loved her, that's why. And despite the fact she'd broken your heart, the last thing you wanted was to see her suffer.
It wasn't like you. It never had been, and it never would be.
With a defeated sigh, you grasp the hand rail and begin to ascend the long staircase. You make it to the top in no time, and find yourself hesitating for only a short second before making your way down the hall towards the bedroom you'd once called your own.
You stand there like an idiot for what feels like forever before you finally find the courage in you to grasp the handle, and and as you push down, that same smell that had greeted you downstairs, only a little more intensified, was quick to fill your nostrils.
Scrunching up your nose in slight disgust, you enter the room and softly close the door behind you.
The curtains were closed encasing the room in a heavy darkness, but that doesn't stop you from being able to make out Scarlett's small figure laying in the centre of the large bed. You warily make your way over, and the first things you notice were the red tinged nose and quiet snores escaping her slightly parted lips. Her skin was pale, but her cheeks were flushed, signalling she had quite the fever, and you notice her body was trembling almost violently.
Before you could stop yourself, your hand was reaching out and brushing away the sweaty strand hair that had fallen into her face. That action almost immediately rouses her, and you wince slightly as her eyes blearily flicker open.
"Hi," you murmur, tentatively perching yourself on the end of the bed. "You're sick."
Scarlett furrows her eyebrows, almost as though she couldn't quite believe you were here. Her eyes, glassy from the fever induced haze were bloodshot, pupils huge telling you that she hadn't been getting very much sleep.
Her trembling hand reaches out for you, and you only hesitate briefly before taking it, the pad of your thumb instinctively grazing over the almost too warm skin.
Then, without any warning, her eyes fill with tears, her bottom lip trembles, and she was letting out a stifled sob before attempting to sit up. You frown in concern as you scoot yourself a little closer, leaning forward and slipping an arm beneath her body before tugging her to your chest. She lets out wet, gravely sounding cough when her sobs catch in her throat, and you wince at the painful sound as you use your other hand to cup the back of her head.
"It's okay," you murmur into her hair, "you're okay. I'm here. I've got you."
Scarlett let's out a choked sob as she shakes her head, and you let out a soft, defeated sigh as you hold her as close as you could. She smelt less than pleasant, so you knew once of your tasks today would be getting her into the shower.
This was the last thing you'd expected to happen. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you'd expected her to be mad for invading her space. To tell you to go away just as she'd done no more than a week ago. A part of you still expects that to happen, because you knew this whole emotional mess was just her fever talking. She didn't actually want you here, but you couldn't just leave her to cry.
You hold her close for a few silent moments before easing her body back down onto the bed, bringing your hands up to cup her cheeks. "I'm going to get you some medicine, okay?" You gently wipe away the tears with the pads of your thumbs.
Scarlett's trembling hands reach to grasp your wrists, almost as though she was silently pleading to you to not let go.
Her touch sends shivers throughout your whole entire body, and you just about manage to refrain from pulling yourself of her her grasp as you force the corners of your lips into a small smile.
"It's okay," you reassure, "I'll be back."
Thankfully, though she visibly hesitates, Scarlett does let you go, and you try and make your breath of relief as subtle as possible as you make your way through to the bathroom. In here was just as, if not worse than her bedroom, and you make a mental note to give it a thorough clean before you leave as you grab the Tylenol and cough medicine from the cabinet.
When you make your way back through to her bedroom with your arms full, you notice that Scarlett was now sat up against the headboard of her bed. She appears to be staring into space, and your lips quirk up at the corners in slight adoration as you climb in next to her.
"Here," you murmur, pouring the correct dose of cough medicine into the small plastic cup before handing it over. Her trembling hand takes it, and she sniffles wetly as she tilts it back and swallows with only a slight grimace. You ignore the urge you have to praise her as you hand over the Tylenol and water, watching as Scarlett repeats the same steps as before.
This time, however, she must have swallowed wrong, because she begins to cough forcefully into her hands. You watch her, eyebrows furrowed in concern as you reach out to steadily pat her back.
"Take a deep breath, you're okay." You sooth, and Scarlett nods, trying her best to comply despite the fact she seems to be unable to catch her breath. Her chest heaves with each ragged exhale, and her already flushed cheeks taking on an even darker shade of red signalling not enough oxygen was getting into her lungs. You were forced to swallow the tightness in your own throat.
"Scarlett, breath." You instruct as you reach to grab the bottle of the water from the nightstand, your hand still firmly patting her back. Scarlett attempts to let out a hoarse breath, but she does no more than choke further.
By now, panicked tears were streaming down her cheeks, and you could feel your own heart beginning to pound. Hauling her body into your arms, you lay her down on her side and raise her arms above her head. You lay behind her propped up on your elbow, resting your hand against her heaving chest and rubbing firmly.
"You're okay. I'm here. You're okay." You sooth, pressing a tender kiss against the side of her head.
Scarlett let's out another wet cough before somehow managing to catch her breath, and it was only then does let out a soft sob. With tears in your own eyes, you tug her around to face you and pull her against your chest. You hold her as close as you could, your hand grazing soothing circles up and down her back. Your other hand cups the back of her head, fingers combing through her tangled tresses.
"I-I don't.. don't feel w-well." She chokes out as she desperately clutches at your shirt, and you nod as you press your lips against the top of her head.
"I know baby." You murmur, "I know."
She stifles another sob against you at the nickname, and you instinctively tighten your grasp around her. You hadn't meant to say it. It had just slipped out because that was all you ever used to call her. She's your baby. Or well, she was. You feel your throat tighten at the thought, and you swallow heavily to refrain from bursting into tears as you hold Scarlett close.
A comfortable silence soon falls upon you with the exception of her slightly hoarse breathing, and it wasn't long until you feel Scarlett fall limp against you signalling she'd fallen asleep.
*
A few hours later, you find your self sat in the bathroom with your back to the tub. Scarlett was curled up in the water, sniffling softly as the hot water clears her congestion. Not a word had been spoken since earlier, but the silence surrounding you wasn't awkward. It was almost...comforting, which was surprising considering the circumstances.
But the silence doesn't last for long.
"I'm sorry." A quiet murmur.
You turn your head slightly, seeing the bare skin of her back from your peripheral vision, "For what? Getting sick? That's not your fault."
Scarlett sniffles softly, "No, not for that. For...for what happened. A week ago." She explains, her voice trailing off into a soft, trembling murmur.
You let out a soft breath as you twist a loose thread hanging off of your jeans around your finger, "You don't have to apologise. What happened, happened. It's in the past."
Everything was silent again, but the shuddering breath that escapes from Scarlett's lips does not go amiss. It has you turning to face her, and your heart breaks when you see her crying silently. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her bottom lip was trembling as though she was trying to hold back the onslaught of sobs.
"Scarlett..." you trail off, not knowing what to say.
Her lips quirk up into a sad smile as she wipes off her cheeks, "It's okay." She whispers.
With a soft sigh, you shift to your knees and lean forward to press a kiss to the warm skin of her forehead. As you pull away, you raise a hand to cup her cheek, the pad of your thumb grazing softly over her skin. "We'll talk. When you're better. Okay?"
"Okay." Scarlett murmurs, reaching up to cover your hand with her own.