Adrian refused to let me leave his apartment.
Not suggested.
Not recommended.
Refused.
Which honestly would’ve sounded controlling if it wasn’t for the fact I currently looked like a medically exhausted raccoon wrapped in blankets.
“You still have a fever,” Adrian said calmly while buttoning the cuffs of his shirt.
“I’m alive.”
“Barely.”
“That feels dramatic.”
“You poured orange juice into your tea this morning.”
I blinked slowly.
“…I was experimenting.”
“You were hallucinating.”
Rude.
Unfortunately accurate.
It had officially been two days since I got sick
Two entire days of:
medicine
warm soup
tea
Adrian carrying me around like I was fragile glass
him forcing me to sleep
endless lectures about rain
him checking my temperature every thirty minutes like an emotionall
