#friend request

“I can still go to work,” you murmur, your throat scratching with the effort as you attempt to sit up. 

She gently pushes you back down as she clicks her tongue. “No, you ain’t. You can barely stay awake, and your fever ain’t getting better. The only thing that I want you to do is lie here until I get back.” She leans down to kiss your forehead gently. “Damn this sub shortage.”

You know that Melissa would much rather stay home with you, taking care of you until this sickness passes, but she searched half of Philly and couldn’t find a sub. It was also the biggest reason why you felt so guilty about staying home. There was going to be no one to cover your art classes for the day, and it was the favorite part of the kids’ day. 

As if reading your mind, your girlfriend tucks the blankets tighter around you before comforting your nerves. “Mi amore, Janine and I are going to combine forces and still give the kiddos their art classes for the day. The second graders will not miss out on their art time. I promise you.”

You give her a wobbly smile and feel the prick of tears. Melissa’s heart sinks as she looks at you, her face cupping your cheek gently. You melt into her touch, doing your best to contain your emotions. You are always a little all over the place when you are sick, but Melissa was used to it now. She loved every part of you…even the part that came with tears and snotty noses. 

“I will come visit you at lunch,” Melissa says, kissing your lips gently. “Get some rest. I love you.”

You go to speak, but it comes out in a squeak. Melissa opens the water bottle she placed on your nightstand and places it against your lips. You take a large sip, and when you nod your head, the older woman pulls the bottle away. That is when your eyes flick over to your nightstand. Your phone is on the charger next to a bottle of water and a plethora of your go-to snacks. There is cold medicine, cough drops, and even tea bags with post-it note instructions on when to take them. Underneath your medicine is the book that you have been reading. 

The sight of it all makes you want to cry again. “I love you, Mel,” you whimper, your arms leaving the burrito of the blankets to reach for her. “I love you so much.”

Melissa hugs you tightly before ushering you back under the blankets. “I know you do, mi amore. Not nearly as much as I love you, but it is the thought that counts.” You giggle as Melissa glances at the clock. “Okay, I have to get going, but I will be back soon.”

You nod and watch her leave the bedroom, shutting the door with a soft click behind her. You stay awake long enough to hear her music start blaring through the speakers. It doesn’t matter that the sun hasn’t even risen; Melissa is going to jam, and it's your favorite thing about her. When the sound disappears down the street, you fall back into a fevered sleep. 

When lunch arrives, Melissa sprints from the doors of the school and is home within minutes. She takes the stairs two at a time, calling out your name. The older woman opens the door to find you sprawled in the middle of the bed, asleep with your book propped open on your chest. The water bottle is empty, and some of the snacks have disappeared. There are remnants of medicine wrappers, and Melissa can’t help but grin. You have been following her orders after all. 

She doesn’t want to wake you, just moves the book gently off your chest, marking your spot before she places it back on the nightstand. You stir slightly but then fall back asleep. Melissa spends her lunch sitting on the edge of the bed, running her fingers gently through her hair. When she has to leave, she checks her crock pot full of chicken noodle soup, then heads out the door. 

You don’t wake up again until Melissa comes back from the school day, her arms overflowing with construction paper. She plops down on the bed with a huge smile on her face. 

“You didn’t come for lunch. You promised,” you pout, sitting up against the headboard so you can look at her. 

“I did come for lunch,” your girlfriend responds, placing the construction paper in front of you. “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you. I did sit by your side and play with your hair while scrolling through Instagram.”

“You are addicted to that damn phone,” you tease.

“And you sound like you are feeling better,” Melissa grins in return. She finally nods down to the paper on your lap. “Alright, now look at the cards the kids made you. They were very excited about them, and I promised to film the entire thing.”

You immediately throw up your hand as Melissa raises the camera. “I look like shit, Mel! Please don’t.”

“Come on, baby,” she pouts, her bottom lip protruding out. “I made them a promise, and I don’t want to let them down.”

You roll your eyes, dropping your hand as you let out a sigh. You look through each of the cards, your eyes filling with so many tears that soon you can’t see past them at all. Each card has a version of kids hoping you get better soon or telling you about a time they got sick. The construction paper was covered in crayons, markers, colored pencils, and so much glitter. So much glitter that soon it was covering the bed and had gotten in your hair. When you get to the final card, you murmur out a thank you and promise the kids that you will be back soon. 

Melissa flips off the camera and gathers you in her arms. She kisses you along your hairline and down your jaw. “That was great, baby.”

“You better not send that to Ava,” you hiccup, wiping away your tears. “She will post it on TikTok, and I will become instantly famous for being the sick art teacher.”

Melissa can’t help but laugh. “At least you look cute.” You groan, trying to squirm out of her arms, but instead she pulls you onto her lap. “No running away from me. I am here to kiss you, feed you chicken noodle soup, and make sure you get better.”

You melt into her, nuzzling into her chest as she begins to tell you all about her day at work. When she is done, she runs you a bath and helps you sink into it. She sits on the edge of the tub washing your hair, humming along to the music coming from her phone. She isn’t the greatest singer, but you still smile as she tries her best to sing along to your favorite songs. 

After your bath and you are in a new set of pajamas Melissa picked up at the store, she tucks you back into bed. A bowl of chicken noodle soup is placed in your lap, along with a plate of rolls that have your mouth watering. Melissa props up a laptop at the end of the bed, putting on Survivor before she slides next to you, wrapping one arm gently around your hip. You eat, and for the first time in days, you actually can keep it down. 

Melissa is so excited by this that she dances down the hall and stairs when she goes to return the bowl to the sink. The energy that you had is short-lived, however, as the medicine starts to wear off. Soon, your eyes are drooping, and you are shaking again. 

Your girlfriend gives you another dose of medicine before pulling you flush against her. Your hot breath tickles her neck as she pulls the covers around you. Your arm goes to cling to her shirt as her arms wrap around you to practically pull you on top of her. 

“You are going to get sick, Mel,” you murmur, trying to push away. 

Melissa scoffs before kissing your forehead. “I don’t care. I just want to hold my baby until she feels better.”

Which is exactly what she does. She rubs circles along the small of your back and recites Peter Rabbit to you from memory. You fall asleep in her arms, refusing to let go of the older woman.

Three days later, you are feeling better and are getting dressed to sub for Melissa as she lies in bed, a Kleenex sticking out of one of her nostrils. You lean over to kiss her head. 

“I told you that you would get sick.”

She shrugs with a smile playing along her lips. “It was worth it, taking care of you is all that matters.”

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