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Ben is on his way to the shops, walking as always. Even with how cold it is outside at this time of year, he doesn't bother to take the bus. "It's healthy" He always says.
He feels his phone buzz in his back pocket, pulling it out as he steps into the uncomfortable warmth of the shop, which is a 15 minute walk from where he lives.
He stops dead in his tracks as he reads the text.
—I'm sick :(
It says. It's from Rey.
They knew each other from Uni. He had first seen her in a few classes they had together and it immediately became a struggle not to stare. He wasn't trying to be a creep, but my god, she looked like everything he had ever dreamed of.
But he never once tried to make a move. Always shy of rejection. So he kept it to himself.
Up until the night he spoke his first words to her.
She bumped into him, already mostly drunk, spilling her half empty cup over his pants. She had apologized profusely, taking napkins and dabbing them on the wet spot on his crotch.
"I am so sorry, really."
Her words were slurry.
"It's no problem; it happens to the best of us."
He says, his voice a little hoarse but tender nonetheless, trying to make her feel less bad. He gently takes her wrist, stopping her from giving him a boner as she desperately tries to clean up the mess.
She snorts.
"It looks like you pissed yourself."
He looks down again, a slight embarrassment washing over him.
"well...yeah, well, let's hope-"
She jumps in before he can finish his sentence.
"Wait, don't I know you?"
And that's where it began. After that night, they soon found out they had multiple mutual friends.
One would think that feelings would fade after getting to know someone more. Knowing all their faults and mistakes.
Yet the more he knew of her, the more his feelings grew.
Rey's flirting with him every now and then didn't make it easier. He was close to head over heels for her, and he still had no idea if the flirting was supposed to be simple banter or something much more than that.
—that sucks. I'm shopping right now. Can I get you anything?
Ben replies, not noticing the smile that has crept onto his face. He wanders the aisles, already looking for something that might be able to bring a smile to her face, before she has even answered.
—soup?
It's short and sweet. He can exactly imagine the way she says it, with those big, soft eyes and that small pout on her lips.
—on it's way!
***
About half an hour later, he stands in front of Reys' door. He doesn't knock yet; somehow he got himself all nervous and riled up on his way here. He kept telling himself to calm down and that he wouldn't stay long anyway. But his hands only got sweatier, and now he was here and only hopes she wouldn't notice.
He finally knocks, and after a good minute, a disheveled Rey opens the door. Her hair is a mess, and she looks worse than he had expected. She stands there all cuddled up in a blanket, as he wishes he was. She forces a smile to greet him.
"Hey" Her voice is slightly hoarse, but he thinks it just might have been the sexiest thing he'd ever heard. He clears his throat. "I got your soup." He holds up the grocery bag.
Her forced smile turns into a genuine one, and she steps to the side to let him in.
As Ben walks inside, the familiar smell of her scent fills him. It is warm and comforting. It always reminds him of a warm spring day, laying in the grass beneath all the fresh blooming flowers, letting the sun shine on him. He looks around as he puts the soup on the kitchen counter and notices the state the apartment is in. It's a mess. He feels his finger itch to clean it, to give her a nice place, and to take care of all the responsibilities for her.
He feels her warmth on his back. She peaks around him to look at the soup. He gazes back at her, it's an adorable sight to see her wrapped up in that blanket, her nose having a red-ish tint.
She looks up and their eyes met. He turns around to face her.
"How've you been?"
"Not good. I have this constant headache, my nose is runny and I'm too tired to get a single thing done. I feel icky." She says, her nose crinkling. He gives her an empathetic look. Even with her being sick, he still thinks she's the cutest thing.
"Why don't go lay down on the couch and I'll bring you the soup once it's done"
She nods and shoots him a smile before she walks around the counter and sitting back down on the couch, the same spot where she had probably spent the past few days.
Once the soup is done, he carefully brings it over to her. She thanks him and starts eating.
The heat of the soup makes her sniffle even more. He only watches her in awe, having a hard time to tear his eyes away from her.
After a while, she places the empty bowl on the tissue- and mug-filled coffee table.
Meanwhile, the sky has shifted from bright, blending colors into a dark night sky. You'd see stars if it weren't for the light pollution. That's one of the things Ben dislikes about living in the city.
"I feel like I could already fall asleep again," she says, leaning back against the couch, her eyes heavy.
He looks at her for a moment, not saying a thing. "Then sleep." His voice is deep, but comforting.
"But you just got here."
"Don't worry about me. I don't mind."
She sighs, submitting to her sleepiness. "You're too good to me, Ben." She mumbles. And he isn't sure if it's her saying it or her clouded mind. But for right now, he doesn't care all that much; he just smiles and decides not to answer.
***
He hadn't even noticed, but he must've fallen asleep at some point. Because when he wakes up to mumbles and whines from Rey, he's all disoriented.
Her head rests against his arm at an uncomfortable angle, and his eyebrows immediately begin to crease once he looks down at her, a deep frown on her face.
He places a hand on her cheek, his thumb moving over it in a calming manner as he speaks softly to her.
"Rey, wake up."
Her whines only continue, pearls of sweat forming at her crown. Ben moves to lay her head down on his lap, his fingers running through her slightly greasy hair.
A small tear builds in the corner of her eye, the salty liquid rolling down the side of her face. She mumbles again. She sounds distressed, and he absolutely hates it, so he tries again. His lips are close to her ear, and he speaks with the softest voice he can manage, afraid he otherwise might scare her out of this sickened dream.
"Rey..."
Her eyes flutter open, and her frown stays. She just might be even more disoriented than he was, and when her eyes focus on him, it seems to make even less sense to her.
"Ben?" Her voice is raspy and quiet as she looks up at him and slightly tilts her head as if that would speak more sense into her.
"Yes. Don't worry, you had a nightmare, but I'm here." He tells her in what she thinks is the sweetest voice. She musters a small smile and tries to sit up, but immediately lays back down, her head pounding and stinging. She groans, and he places his hand on her forehead. Rey feels the coolness, the spots where his hands are callused, and his soft fingertips. It covers all of her forehead, and she feels as though the headache is not as bad anymore. "Shh. How about you stay here for a bit?"
"How late is it? Don't you have to go? You got these theater things tomorrow, don't you?" His heart leaps. She remembered. She remembered something he told her weeks ago—something he thought was so insignificant to her. But no.
A grin spreads across Bens face. She catches it and smiles back. "What?" Her voice is softer now.
His face immediately turns red, just as red as hers, although she has the excuse of being sick. He looks away. "Nothin. It's uh..." His eyes dart around the room to find a clock. "...half past eleven."
"You should go," she says, even though he can tell that in the way she speaks, she seems to want something else.
"I can stay," he answers after a moment of pondering.
"Really?" She sounds almost happy that he offers, and it makes him smile again as he looks back at her. "Really." He tells her, his fingers moving through her strands of deep brown hair that glimmers in red undertones when the sun hits it just right.
She yaws, her eyes falling closed, and she moves so that she is lying on her side, facing him. She lifts a hand and lays it under her cheek that rests on his thigh, her fingers slightly gripping the fabric. Not a moment later, he hears a small snore from her; if he wasn't scared to wake her, he would have chuckled.
After a while of merely sitting there and gazing down at her sweet, soft features, the slightly olive-toned skin, her dark lashes, and the freckles across her nose and cheeks that he knows she also has on her forearms and shoulders, he starts to feel tired again himself. And although he would like to have nothing more than to keep her on his lap, he couldn't stay like this the whole night.
So he moves a gentle hand under her head, lifting it and scooting to the side, placing her head on the couch. He stands up, stretching, and looks back at her. He wishes he could have moments like these outside of her being sick, perhaps every day and every night if the universe would allow it. A sigh leaves his lips, and without even thinking, he turns to clear the small couch table while trying to be as silent as possible.
Once that's done and he has wiped the surface clean, he crouches down beside her, stroking strands of her out of her face. She shouldn't sleep here on the couch, he thinks to himself. He wasn't about to leave her here and sleep in her bed himself, or even worse, leave all together. No.
He stands back up and slips one arm under her shoulders, the other under her legs, and lifts her up into his arms.
His gentle brown eyes look down at her in his arms, to those closed lids that hide the eversea of green.
He is careful as he walks into her room and lays her down on the bed that looks too big for her small frame. As he goes to grab a blanket, she stirs, and her heavy, deep eyes meet his. They pull him in like a siren song, and it feels hard to resist not doing everything she tells him to.
Without a word being said, he pulls the blanket over her and tucks her in like a mother would a child.
Their eyes meet again, and he can tell she doesn't want him to go. Maybe she's scared to have nightmares again, and waking up alone for probably not the first time. Or maybe she just wants him here.
He wishes for the latter.
Her wish for him to stay is made clear as she slips out a hand from under the covers to grasp his. A gentle tug is all he needs to get in bed beside her.
The mattress still feels cold, leaving goosebumps on her arms. As if they had done it a hundred times before, she scoots closer to seek his warmth, his natural scent just a perk. The faint smell of pine mixed with something that is uniquely him gives her a sense of comfort she can't find anywhere else.
He lies facing her, one arm draped over her as he presses his lips against her forehead. Whether it's to warm her back up or to simply hold her, neither of them are sure.