Grace
The two of us were woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of yelling and I was more than glad that Katherine and James got the bedroom downstairs; even though their two floors down they're still able to cause quite the disturbance. It's only a minute later do I hear the sound of crying and it's coming from down the hall, and it didn't take me more than five seconds to realize that it was just Lucas.
Beside me Will lets out a groan in annoyance and he pulls me back, closing the distance that had come between us during sleep. I shake my head and smile when I just barely see that his nose wrinkles upwards like a kitten, and it's the only peace I get. But that peace is broken when Lucas starts to scream about how he wasn't tired, and then there's Sam who's very loudly trying to get her son to sleep.
I wiggle of Will's grip and throw the covers off of me and crawl to the end of the bed. A sharp tingle is felt in between my legs and I wince, but decide to ignore the pain as for what had happened only hours earlier was definitely worth it.
Searching through my suitcase I pull on a fresh pair of clothing, which was pretty much some undergarments, one of Will's shirts – which were basically a nightgown on me—,and a pair of long, knee high socks.
I open the bag that wasn't mine and toss a pair of boxers at Will. It hits him in the side of the face, and thanks to the moonlight seeping in past the curtain I can see his eyes scrunch together as he's confused as to what just hit him in the face.
Realization comes to him ten seconds later when he's holding the boxers in his hands. A low, tired chuckle escapes past his lips and he whispers a thank you to me before slipping them on. I make my way back to him and pull the covers back over me as I cuddle into his chest. He leaves a light kiss on the back of my neck before I roll over and place my cheek onto his collarbone.
I'm curled up in his side, my arm wrapped around his waist while his is under my head and his right hand is clasped with my left. He then bends his head down and plants a long, lingering kiss to the top of my head.
"Merry Christmas, Grace," he whispers, "I love you."
My eyes flutter closed at the sound of his words and a small smile tugs at my lips. "I love you, too, Will. Merry Christmas."
That's how we fall back asleep, except this time, the darkness takes me to the calming sound of the beating of his heart.
***
It's freezing the next time I wake up and there's a fresh layer snow covering the ground outside. The only warmth I get is from the man that lies beside me, and even then do I get a chill that runs down my spine and gives me the goose bumps. I try pulling the blankets up and curling my legs up to my chest to keep my warm but it does nothing to help.
I contemplated about getting out of bed or not, and that was really only because of me wanting food. It's not until there's a loud banging on the bedroom door and a screeching voice chanting the words 'Uncle Will! Uncle Will! Uncle Will!' over and over again that I actually roll out from under the sheets and stand on my own two feet.
Before even considering to greet the child – also known as Lucas – that stands in the hallway I pull on a pair of pants that are probably dirty on and then step over the clothes that both Will and I were supposed to wear to church but never got the chance.
When the door does come unlocked and it flies open and almost squishes me to the wall like a bug on a windshield a flash of blonde and blue go running past me and leaps onto the bed. Lucas crawls his way to Will and grabs onto the pillow I had been sleeping on and uses it and starts to hit him with it. Will lets out a grunt and at first he mumbles my names, probably thinking it was me hitting him, and then he opens his eyes and sees Lucas.
He lets out a low chuckle, a pink tinge coloring his cheeks as his gray eyes lock with Lucas's silver ones. For a second Lucas stops hitting Will with the pillow and just stares at him, wonder in his eyes as he's confused as to why his uncle is laughing, and it makes me smile. There were only few little moments where Will would forget about everyone else in the room, forget that reality existed and just focus on one thing in particular.
It shocks me though when something soft hits me lightly in the stomach, but still causes me to stumble back from the sudden and unexpected contact. My eyes trail to the floor where I see that a pillow is lying at my feet, and it's wrinkled and the pillow case is almost falling off. I glance up and at the two as I pick up it up, bending down with my knees and then standing up straight once it's in my hands.
They look somewhat terrified as their laughter dies down. I tilt my head side to side, deciding what I should do, but instead of going along to have a pillow fight I go with that there's presents downstairs and I'm really just woman-child. I chuck the pillow at Will all the while shouting that Santa came last as I run out of the room.
I hear little, thumping footsteps trailing behind me as I scurry down the stairs, and it doesn't take me long to figure out that it's Lucas. Knowing that Will is probably taking his time with putting on clothes I take this as an opportunity to get to know his nephew a little better. Lucas stops suddenly when he's standing on the two lasts steps and just stares at me with his arms raised.
"Pick me up?" He asks, pouting his lips and widening his eyes. I try to tell myself that I really shouldn't pick him up, but his puppy dogs eyes are pulling me in and it's not long before I'm carrying him in my arms.
"So, you like Spider-Man, huh?" I ask him once were in the kitchen and I set him down on the counter. He nods as he points down to his shirt and I see that it has a version of the beloved superhero printed on it.
He searches the counter for a second and then his eyes land on a jar of cookies. There peanut butter, but before I even consider giving him one a voice behind me interrupts my thinking process.
"He's allergic." The voice sounded oddly like Will's, but older and deeper. I cast a glance over my shoulder and see James standing in the entryway of the kitchen, but what surprises me is that he's wearing pajamas.
I shake my head, looking over at Lucas and I tilt my head, making a tsking sound. "Lucas ... do you know what could happen if you ate those cookies?"
He thinks for a second, shrinking away from me when the answer comes to mind. "The grim reaper pays me a visit?"
I choke on my spit and end up a coughing mess. "Eh ... Maybe. Who told you that?"
"Uncle Will," he answers as he hops off the counter and lands on his feet like a cat. He grabs a hold of my hand and I let him lead me into the living room where we sit down on the couch.
Lucas takes a seat beside me, looking around the living room for something to do while we wait for everyone else but then finds an interest in my hair. It was in messy waves, but still, somehow, wasn't a rat's nest. He doesn't ask for permission, as he most likely took my silence as his answer, and starts to play with my hair.
"Mommy lets me play with her hair," he tells me slowly as he combs his tiny fingers through the ends. "Hers isn't as soft as yours, though, Gracie."
I smile, "Really? Because I think yours is so much better than mine."
I notice that our reflections are showing on the turned off TV and I see him shake his head. "Well, too bad. You can't have it."
A chuckle escapes past my lips. "That's okay, you can keep it."
"Thank you," he mumbles as I watch him in his reflection as he starts to braid my hair, and I can only wonder how he learned how to do that. He lets it fall apart every once in a while, muttering about how it wasn't coming out nicely and he wants to try again. I let him do whatever he wants if it keeps him entertained.
He's a social butterfly which I found pretty strange seeing as Samantha was kept to herself, so that probably meant he got that part of him from whoever his father was or that it just meant he was talk-a-tive. Lucas tells me some stories; some made up and others I had to glance over at Samantha for to know the truth.
Samantha, when she comes shuffling into the living room tiredly, stops as soon as she sees her son playing with my hair. Since I could see her reflection in the TV I knew exactly what facial expressions she made. Her face contorted into one of confusion, with an eyebrow raised in curiosity, and then it twisted into a look of amusement as she shook her head at her child.
She sits down on the couch across from the one I'm sitting one – which was against the wall instead of the window – and she takes this opportunity to grab the camera off the coffee table and take pictures.
Will, for some reason, hadn't entered the room yet and I was starting to get suspicious. I'm guessing Samantha caught onto this as every time I heard feet from the entrance way my face would light up like Christmas tree, but then fell when I saw it Henry or Katherine. She gives me a reassuring smile and mouthing: "he's probably in the bathroom".
And, for a while, I do believe he's just in the bathroom. But when five minutes turn into ten and ten turn into fifteen, my stomach starts to twist in knots and I can't take it anymore. I tried my best to not let my worry get the best of me or my anxiety tells me false facts. I haven't bit the nails on my fingers since I was fourteen, but right now, I was practically prying them off with my teeth.
One of my feet fall to the floor, tapping softly against the ground – but 'softly' doesn't cut it for me as the next time I hear someone enter the room and I see that it's James, I've decided to go find my boyfriend. I have to close my eyes for a minute, taking a second to think of where he might be, and then I untangle Lucas's fingers from my hair carefully, setting myself free.
I apologize to him, telling him that maybe he could go play with his mom's hair. He agrees begrudgingly, and slowly makes his way over to Samantha. Before I'm turning the corner to head up the stairs I catch the two of them playing a game of Thumb War.
Skipping two steps at a time I make it to the second floor in no time. I pace up and down the hallway as I call out Will's name. When I don't get a response I check the bedroom were staying in and when he's not in the there I fast walk all the way to the bathroom, which is stationed at the back of the house.
I had come to the bathroom, but didn't knock on it or anything. I guess I had been so busy looking for me, my mind on other things that I had completely zoned out the sounds of what my imagination thinks of a cat coughing up a hair ball on the other side of the door.
There was no need for me to knock on the door as I had a good guess as to what he was doing being the close door. Opening it, still knocking on the door to let my presence be known, I gasp at the sight before. Kneeling on the floor, hovering over the toilet while clutching at it for dear life, was Will.
Obviously, he was throwing up, but I knew for a fact that there was most likely very little in his stomach. I rush over to him, sliding down to my knees like some profession baseball players, and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Using my free hand I raise it up and place it to his forehead, feeling it and finding it rather strange that he's got no fever.
Instead of a fever he's got the chills, and while he's trying not to gag his teeth are chattering. There's a bit of very, very light tan covering his skin, but mostly, he was looking exactly like Frederick had on his death bed. I shake my head to get rid of that thought, mentally slapping myself for ever thinking that and then go back to soothing Will.
Since his hair is pretty long, falling down in front of his eyes – which makes him look much younger in my opinion – and brush the short strands away from his face. I give him a peck on the cheek and then gently massage his shoulders. He looks like he's been to hell and back; almost like a zombie from Walking Dead.
He's doing his best to put on a brave face, and I wasn't sure if he was doing it for me or himself. In a matter of seconds was he up-chucking again, coughing and hacking like there was something stuck in his throat. One of his hands flies to mine, his grip so tight that I was surprise to see his knuckles go a shade lighter than the rest of the skin covering his entire body – which just so happened to be a pale white.
I squeeze back, whispering the regulars: "you're going to be fine", "this'll pass", and "it's going to be okay". When he's done throwing up he falls back onto his rear and leans his head against the wall. He uses the back of his hand to wipe at his mouth and then his eyes shut in exhaustion, a loud sigh escaping past his lips.
"How're you feeling? Better? Worse?" I ask in concern as I put my hand on top of his knee.
He shrugs slowly and opens his eyes just a bite. "Does in between work?"
I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Yeah, it works. Now, did you eat anything, because you should – something light so it doesn't hurt your stomach?"
He shakes his head but then groans. "I had this ... ugh ... I don't know what it was called or whatever, but it was sitting on a plate in the kitchen. I think my mother made them."
"Okay, so you might have food poisoning, but will have to wait and see." I tell him, and he raises an eyebrow in confusion.
"Wait and see for what exactly?"
"It'll pass," I answer as I comb his hair back with my other hand. "If you do have food poisoning then it will pass in a couple of hours, but if not, then the other possibility is that you have the stomach flu."
He looks at my skeptically. "But I was fine yesterday."
I give him a pointed look. "That's usually how the stomach flu works."
"How do you know all of this?" He questions, staring at me in curiosity.
"I grew up around a bunch of ill people. And if you are worried about me getting sick or anything, you don't have too. I have a really strong immune system." I explain to him and his mouth falls open into an 'O' shape.
"That makes sense," he says a little slurry like he's drunk. He holds out his hands, gesturing for me to help him stand up. Clasping our hands together, ignoring the fact that he had used one of them to wipe excess puke off his mouth earlier, I help him up.
He stumbles at first, but balances himself out by using the counter to steady him, and then he's almost still. His eyes squint as his other hand, letting go of mine – which I was more than happy that he let go, just by the slightest – and puts it to his head. I knew instantly that he was dizzy and just told him to take his time.
He's about to nod but thinks better of it and just as he's about to take a step forward he twirls around in a hurry and falls back down to the floor, right in front of the toilet. I didn't understand how he could still be throwing up if he didn't really eat anything, but I decide to let that stay a mystery.
I pat his shoulder, wondering if there was going to be a trip to the hospital today. "Will, how about you come down when you're ... able to the leave the bathroom? I'll take pictures and videos with my camera so you're not really missing anything or I can ask if we can post pone the opening of presents until later."
Trying to talk, but failing miserably as he gags on his own spit and hurls. Instead of using his words he just flashes me a thumbs up. I wasn't exactly sure if we should open presents without him, but then he chokes out "I'm fine" and the only thing I can do is sigh and walk out of the bathroom reluctantly.
The only thing I knew for sure was that there was definitely going to be a trip to the hospital sooner or later today.
Hi, hope you all enjoyed this chapter. This chapter will be split into two, but the one to come after this one will continue on as 'chapter thirty-four'. Enjoyed it? Liked it? Then leave a vote and comment so I know!
Thank you for reading :)