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If you'd have told the Tuesday of two years ago that one day she'd be sat against the headboard of a guy's bed, reading a book while said guy (sick as a dog and dosed up on enough Nyquil to tranquilize a horse) dozed with his head in her lap, she would have laughed right in your face. Her? And a boyfriend? A boyfriend who's a stereotypical pretty boy with his perfectly curly hair and a smile that ought to be melting a cheerleader’s heart instead of hers? Yeah, right.
And yet as she turns to the next page of A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf and Corey lets out a deep sigh in his sleep like a dog who's had a long day, Tuesday counts her lucky stars that fate decided to bring him to her… even if he is currently a congested, slightly sweaty mess.
She dog-ears her page and closes her book, setting it down on the bedside table before her eyes return to her boyfriend. When she looks at him for too long, she feels like a fraud of a feminist because of how much she loves him. How much she finds herself longing just to spend her days cuddled up on the couch with him instead of trying to change the world like she planned.
“ I love you.” she whispers, letting the words be swallowed by the nothingness, unheard by an unconscious Corey. After all, she can't say it out loud too much. It'd get to his head if he knew just how wrapped around his finger she was.
He turns his head a little, and Tuesday is struck like always by how oddly… beautiful… he is. His aquiline nose, the perfect arch of his lips, the curls- all come together to make him look, especially in these moments of stillness, like a Grecian statue come to life. And that's not even to mention his…
Eyes, fluttering open and blinking languidly in the dim light of the bedroom. The blue of oceans and sapphires and glacial ice.
“Good morning.” She greets softly (it's well into the afternoon by now).
Corey breathes in deeply, nostrils flaring, and stretches, the muscles visible through his thin t-shirt rippling before they relax again and he sinks back into her lap.
“ Mmm…”
She can't help the way she grins, burying her hand in his hair once more and seeing him melt beneath the touch. “Enjoying your nap?”
The corners of his mouth curve up in a boyish smile, eyes heavy-lidded. “ Mhm.”
“Feeling any better?”
He murmurs noncommittally, so she moves her hand to his forehead. The fever that was burning there when he first laid down in her lap hours ago clearly still has him in its clutches, despite the pallor of his cheeks. Tuesday frowns.
“You need more meds, babe. Let me go get you some more Nyquil.”
She shifts to get up, but her sick boyfriend whines, wrapping his arms about her middle and holding her tightly. “ Don’ go… need you.”
Tuesday sighs. “But Cor, I have to get you-”
He shakes his head. Buries his nose further into her stomach until she relents, sitting back against the headboard and rolling her eyes.
“Okay… We'll wait a little longer, princess. Just try not to let your brain fry in the meantime, yeah? If it does, I'm blaming you.”
“Mmm.”
His non-verbal reply hardly convinces her of his capacity to keep himself from burning with fever, but with the way he's yawning, getting comfortable again and closing his eyes, she knows there's no way she's acting against his wishes. Mainly because sleepy Corey is like a curly-haired bear in hibernation- impossible to rouse and too heavy to simply move (especially while she's also pinned down by his paws).
“Night night, then.” she muses, watching his red nose twitch as he starts to drift off.
“ Mm… n’night Tues. Love you.”
A small, adoring laugh escapes her lips. “Yeah. I love you too, Corey.”