[REAL LIFE]
"This seriously sucks balls," Clara groans raspily.
George hands her a mug of lemon tea, perching at the end of her bed. He's frowning, eyebrows curving down in pity.
At this moment in time, Clara really hates Addy. Loathes her from the bottom of her heart.
She sneezes loudly into her arm, and George subtly turns his head away from her, despite being masked up. That's what Clara is now. A bio-hazard. Bio-hazards don't go to clubs on Saturday nights and share drinks with random women. Unless you're Addy. Then that's exactly what you do apparently.
"I feel awful. I think I'll stay and take care of you." George says.
"No!" The ferocity at which Clara says that sends her into a coughing fit, nearing spilling the tea in her hands, making George scoot away from her. "No don't, seriously. You have a meetup, me being sick can't ruin that."
"But then you'll be alone on your birthday." George's eyes get all big and sad for her.
Clara's birthday is in two days. And it sure looks like she'd be turning twenty-four alone.
"It's fine really. I'd feel worse if I kept you here. I'll probably be spending it sick anyway, and I don't want anyone being near me. It'd be a waste if you didn't go hang out with your friends." Clara takes a gentle sip from her tea, shivering as a chill hits her body.
"... are you sure you don't need me? You can barely get out of bed to use the damn toilet, let alone feed yourself."
"I'll be fine, Georgie seriously stop worrying." The last time she said that she did have a panic attack, but that's beside the point. "Please, just have fun. We'll celebrate my birthday once you're back and I'm better."
"Okay but I'm not leaving until tomorrow, so I'll be waiting on you hand and foot until then!"
"As it should always be," Clara teases. "But have you even packed yet?"
"... no."
"George!"
Tubbo was to be sleeping on Tommy's couch, while Jack, Niki, and George had all gotten separate hotel rooms nearby. They'd be in Nottingham from the eighteenth to the twenty-second.
"Fine, I'll go pack right now. After I give you medicine. What are your symptoms?"
Thus far Clara is experiencing a sore throat, runny nose, and a cough. However, she knew that things would get far worse soon. When she got sick, she got sick.
"Tylenol cold and sinus should do the trick for now. It's in my bathroom on the shelf near all the other pills, can you grab it for me?" Clara says, weakly raising a hand to point.
"Yeah, yeah, I got you, just lay down and relax." George hands her her laptop from where it sits on the nightstand. "Watch something."
Clara settles into her mountain of pillows, pulling her covers tightly over herself. She's only left bed once today, and it's four pm.
George gets up and exits, and right as Clara is opening her laptop, her phone rings. She searches her covers with her hand blindly, before fishing it out. She sees the caller ID and manages a smile. Clara hits the speaker button.
"Hey love how are you? I know you said last night your throat felt a bit off, but you were assuming it was from the screaming at the club. Any updates on that?"
"None whatsoever," Clara says sarcastically, voice scratchy.
"God." Clara hears rustling as Wilbur moves around. "Did you take off work?"
"George called them, yeah."
"Oh, and you were supposed to go on your trip!" Wilbur exclaims, pity coating his voice.
"Yep. Not anymore though."
"But what about your birthday?"
"I guess my bed will be a lovely space to turn twenty-four in."
"Will Salem go over and at least have dinner or something?"
"No, Salem hates getting sick, I already told her not to worry about it. I don't want her to catch something from me, it's not worth it."
Clara can almost hear the frown.
"Hmm... alone on your birthday..."
"... yep."
"Hmmm." Wilbur doesn't say anything more, seemingly lost in thought.
"'lara I brought you the Tylenol and some buttered toast. Google says plain foods can lessen symptoms." George re-enters, setting a plate on the bed, and giving her the pack of pills.
"Hi Gogs," Wilbur says.
"Oh hey, Wilbur!" George says brightly. "Cheering our girl up?"
"Trying to. But she shouldn't be talking right now to be fair, she should conserve her voice."
Clara doesn't really want him speaking for her, but she knows he's right. Making any sound makes her throat feel like it's on fire.
"So should I officially tell everyone you won't be able to make it?" George asks with a sigh.
Clara nods, disappointed.
"Alright. I'm leaving late tomorrow so I'll be around in the morning and early afternoon to take care of you. What do you want for dinner? I can try to cook-"
"No please don't, you'll burn the house down."
"Yeah, that's fair. I'll order something."
"Not pizza," Clara says quickly, knocking back the Tylenol with a sip of water.
"Are you sure? I can just dis-request a certain delivery person. Or I can go pick it up in person for us."
"It's fine I'm craving Italian anyways. Can we order from Zizzi? Do they do deliveries?" Clara takes a bite of her toast, hand shaking as she raises the bread slowly to her mouth.
"I'll check. And if not I'll figure something else out. Okay shout if you need me, I'm going to my office. Let me know when you want me to place the order."
"Alright, alright."
"Awww, George you're such a mother hen," Wilbur coos over the phone, and George leaves the room with an eye-roll. "Right. I want no speaking from you. Just sit tight and I'll entertain you."
"Ohhh, you'll entertain me will you?" Even in the midst of illness, Clara still has the ability to be cheeky, interpreting Wilbur's statement in the worst possible way. "I'm up for some entertainment."
"Shhhh. I'm thinking of what to do."
There's silence over the line for a moment as Wilbur thinks, and Clara takes the time to finish up her toast, putting the plate on her nightstand and settling back into her bed.
"Oh, I know! Let's Netflix Party but like FaceTime too so that we can see each others' faces."
"I like that plan."
A notification pops up that Wilbur is requesting to Facetime, and Clara accepts it, properly opening her laptop, and setting her phone up against the Macbook screen.
The FaceTime connects and there's Wilbur's goofy little face. He's smiling derpily, eyes too close to the camera.
"Hi loveee," he drones with a grin.
"Hi darlinggg," she mimics, managing a smile as her voice rasps.
"Okay, I'm sending you the Netflix Party link."
When Clara receives it she clicks it instantly, being redirected to a screen showing Netflix's Murder Mystery.
"Wait Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston? How have I not seen this yet?" Clara says.
"No idea, but it's fantastic. Now, with lovely intentions, I'm telling you to shut up now."
Clara opens her mouth to quip back but Wilbur evil-eyes her so she obliges, and shuts up.
He presses play, and Clara lays back in her bed, totally relaxed.
As the plot progresses, Clara pays close attention, eyes never leaving the screen. Wilbur sometimes comments on something, or makes a little joke, just to remind her that she's not alone. She smiles when he does, grateful that he's taking time out of his day just to make her feel better about being alone on her birthday. Maybe she'd just spent that whole day on the phone with him, watching movies. That wouldn't be so bad at all.
When the film finishes, Clara yawns loudly as Wilbur picks the next one. He ends up settling on The Holiday, some cliche rom-com. But Wilbur picks it with hidden intentions.
About halfway through the film, Clara lets her eyes fall shut and dozes off, just as Wilbur intended. He smiles when he notices, and just keeps watching the movie, letting her sleep.
REZZINA SPEAKS...
today is new girls last day on Netflix I'm in mourning. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO REWATCH 5084508 TIMES NOW??? anyways aww clara's sick :( poor her. and it really sucks that she'll be all alone on her bday!!!! all alone!!! yep yep so yeah tune in on Tuesday for claras bday chapter! love you all so much and thank you for all the love I really appreciate it! this whole thing is legit surreal. LOVE YOU ALL AND I HOPE YOUR SUNDAYS ARE/WERE FANTASTIC!!!