time to take your medicine {matthew!}

[wendy]

Matthew could be such a child. Not once in her years of knowing him had he sent her such a… a whiny text. He was sick. This was another thing she wasn’t used to. Addison had caught a cold at least twice each year and the flu twice, and Matthew had never been sick (or not that she knew of). Who knew he could be such a… well, such a wimp about it? All she’d read was the text and while she did have math homework to do, it wasn’t like she could just leave him to suffer on his own. She wouldn’t want to take care of herself when she was sick (not that she did; she always went home when she was sick where her mother would then proceed to nurse her back to good health). Addison knew enough to help Matthew. Unfortunately, it would require medicine. Much like herself, Matthew hated medicine but unlike her, he refused to ever take it. Ever. She at least put up with it (then again, she loathed being sick so she usually did whatever it took to get better).

Addison had emptied out her backpack so she could fill it back up with what she would need. Her math homework in a spare binder and a calculator so she could still work on some problems. She grabbed two cans of chicken noodle soup, bowls, and spoons lest he not have any clean dishes. Then she’d added a cold pack, a thermometer, and the dreaded medicine (just some generic cough syrup, really). It was probably strange that Addison had all of this at her dorm, but her roommate had a weak immune system and as such often had to use the supplies. Addison grabbed two of her fairytale books from her bookshelf and kept those in her arms, not even sure if she'd be able to read to Matthew, but taking them nonetheless. She checked the room one last time before tucking her phone into her pocket and leaving, locking the door behind her. Addison would have to cross campus to get to his dorm; she was just glad it wasn’t past curfew.

Addison knocked on the door to let Matthew know she’d arrived before turning the knob and peeking inside. “Hi, Matty.” She said, smiling gently. Addison quietly closed the door behind her in case he had a headache. She looked around, hands on her hips. “This place is a mess.”

outfit; click

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

More than most anything in the world, Matthew despised being sick. He hated the aches and the pains and the churning in his stomach and the pounding in his temples and the way his body could never really seem to decide if it was hot or if it was cold. Most of all, however, he hated having to sit in bed. There was practically nothing worse than being confined to days under the covers, tossing and turning as he tried to escape the cold sweat of a fever. Thank God it had only been one day this time; one day so far, anyhow...Matt didn't get sick often, but when he did, he was quite possibly the most ornery, needy, pathetic piece of work anyone had ever laid eyes on. Not that he would ever admit to such, of course. No, when lying in bed as he was, with a trash can placed near the night stand, Matt found himself quite capable of nursing himself back to health in no time. It was just that he needed food to do so. And someone to cook said food. And maybe someone to talk to, because company always made a person feel at least a little better. That was why he'd texted Addie, really; not because his throat actually felt coated in glass or because his head actually felt as if it could very well explode at any minute; no, he'd texted her because he wanted company. He didn't really need her help, after all. And he especially didn't need her medicine.

Matt was just reaching for his phone to text Addie and plead with her not to bring that vile, disgusting stuff, but it seemed he'd been a few minutes too late. Fevers did that to you--made you lose track of anything resembling time. Hearing the door creak open, Matt groaned a bit, rolling onto his stomach and thrusting his pillow over his head. "Go aawwwaaayyyy," mumbled Matt into his sheets. He began to cough then, quite ferociously, so that he was forced to flop back over onto his side and face Addison. Kicking his sheets off in the midst of the fit, he became suddenly and embarrassingly aware that he was wearing only a pair of boxers. For a moment after the coughing had ceased, however, he lay still, shivering, with his hands stuffed in his armpits and his knees pulled up to his chest.

He opened his eyes slowly, licking his dry lips before he responded. " 'S not so bad," he croaked. "I can find everything alright," he shivered again and swallowed, a dry, hoarse kind of sound. "Say, Addie? Didja bring anything to eat? I'm starving..." smiling a bit, he reached down to pull a fistful of sheets back over his bare legs.

[wendy]

Addison realized that she really shouldn’t have bothered with her ‘it’s a mess’ comment. This was Matthew’s dorm, after all. He was much too busy climbing trees and doing other exciting things to clean up his room. She made her way to the kitchen, taking the backpack off. It was just as messy in here. “Oh? I can hardly find the sink in here.” Addison was joking, of course. She could and she would be able to figure everything else out, but it was still a little difficult to maneuver. Then again, the kitchen in her dorm was spotless; it would probably just take a little while to sort herself out. Addison left her backpack on the counter and returned to the room ; Matthew had kicked his sheets off during his coughing fit. She frowned, ignoring the fact that he was just in boxers, and approached the bed. She wasn’t worried about catching whatever he had; she’d already been sick recently so it would hardly be fair for her to be so again. Addison moved a few things around on the night stand; she set her fairytale books down. “Sit up.” She told him, hands on her hips again, “laying down isn’t going to help.”

Addison picked her way through the room, grabbing various articles of clothing and dumping them in a corner. It wasn’t much of an improvement but it was better than having them scattered all over the floor. “I brought soup,” she answered, glancing back to him with a smile. “Chicken noodle. I hope that’s alright.” Addison sort of wished she’d had some homemade soup from her mother, but that hadn’t lasted long the last time she’d brought some back. In fact, her and her roommate had finished it during a marathon of Lost (which Addison had not liked at all, much too confusing) the same day Addison brought it with her. “It’s Campbell’s. ” Addison finally stopped talking, realizing that if he had a headache, he certainly wouldn’t want to endure her being a chatterbox. Addison left for the kitchen, opening cabinets, looking for a pot. While it would take less time to just heat it up in the microwave, Addison preferred to make it on the stove. It just came out better that way.

“Have you been laying in bed all day?” she asked, kneeling in front of a cupboard. Aha! Addison pulled the pot out and stood, setting it on the stove. Addison peeked back into the room, “a shower might also help you feel better.” She resumed getting the soup ready, taking the cans, bowls, and spoons from her backpack. “The soup will be done by the time you get out. If you decide to, anyway.”

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

"You must not be looking very hard..." was Matt's reply. He tried for a moment to crane his neck enough to see where exactly she was looking, but flopped back onto the bed with a rather loud sigh almost immediately. This was horrible. Absolutely horrible. In truth, he hardly noticed when Addison returned to his bedside; having closed his eyes again and pulled the covers up tight to his chin, Matt 's teeth were chattering far too loudly to notice anything but the stuffiness in his head until he heard the sound of things being shifted about on his bedside. "Couldja...c'mon, Addie.." he muttered in her general direction, waving his hand in the area he presumed her to be standing in, his near-wordless suggestion not to move anything on the nightstand obviously not being followed. Had he not just been plain glad she was here, he might very well have scolded her for messing with his stuff. As it was, Matt was forced to content himself with a rather vicious death glare upon Addison's suggestion he should sit up. "What makes you so-" he coughed again, noisily. "sure?"

The look subsided as he watched her turn to begin cleaning his dorm; and slowly, he found himself easing into a sitting position, pausing in his ascent as Addison turned to look at him again, so he was momentarily frozen with his forearms awkwardly supporting him. Eyes wide and lips pursed as his arms quivered, Matt nodded his approval. She took far too long to turn around again. Once she finally had, however, Matt rested his head back against the cool surface of the wall, and sighed. Addison was right. It did feel a lot better to be sitting up. Not that she'd ever hear of that, of course.

As his friend's head peeked its way back into the room, Matt scrambled once more to pull the bunched-up sheets back over himself as a semi-respectable cover, thanking the fever for having already flushed his cheeks. He nodded warily at Addison, unsure of where she was going with this. Had it not been for the scratching of his throat, Matt might have asked himself. Instead, he waited, only responding when he was quite sure she was finished. "A shower..." he contemplated the idea for a moment before slowly beginning to ease himself out of bed, making sure to keep the sheets wrapped around his waist at all times. "I was thinking of taking one, you know. Before you came over..." his voice cracked a bit as he hesitated before putting his feet on the cool surface of the dorm floor. He was completely unaware that his hair looked like some sort of cross between a cockatoo and a lion, or that the large bags under his eyes made it more than obvious he hadn't really slept all night (or day, for that matter), or even that he was shivering. It wasn't like he needed her help, anyway.

"I'll just...call me when it's ready?" it was a meager attempt at a grin that Matt lobbed her way. Without waiting for her answer he began his slow, sickly hobble towards the bathroom door, shuffling his feet so as not to trip over the makeshift garment of sheets he was dragging all around him.

[wendy]

Addison rolled her eyes. Who knew Matthew could sound whinier in person? Of course it would be her fault that she couldn’t find the sink, and of course he wouldn’t want her moving things around in his room. It was a good thing she was patient, or she probably would have pulled him out of bed herself. It was clear that he hadn’t done much all day and she knew that this did not help. When she was sick, her mother would insist that she sit outside and get some fresh air or to lay out on the couch in the living room. Anything, her mother insisted, but staying cooped up in her bedroom with the blinds drawn and a blanket over her head. Matthew had clearly never heard of this advice. “I’ve been sick before, Matthew. I’m sure I know what helps and what doesn’t.”

He was acting strange, she thought. The fever was probably to blame for his blushing, but she didn’t know why he was making such a big deal about being covered up. At this point, Addison was sort of in full-on Mother mode. Not only did she have to make soup, she needed to wash dishes and do her best at cleaning his room (without moving his stuff, God forbid). Addison nodded, knowing full well he couldn’t see her, at his comment on taking a shower. It would help, just as sitting up had. Addison went about starting the soup, not really knowing how long it would take. So long as she could get the dirty dishes done (she started to run the water so it would be hot), she was fine. Addison glanced back into the room once more; Matthew was slowly making his way to the bathroom, dragging his feet as he went. “Oh, come now. Stop pulling that sheet around with you.” Her tone was scolding, yet her expression amused.

Addison began washing dishes, laying them out on a dry towel once they were clean. It didn’t take her long; there were more dishes than there was food on the dishes. She left those to air-dry before checking on the soup, which was doing nicely. Addison then began to make her way through Matthew’s room again. She was sure a change of bed sheets would help, and be appreciated. She pulled the blinds open, sunlight flooding the room, and began a load of laundry. Addison loved Baum in that it provided just about everything they needed. A place to live with a kitchen (which was perfect because the cafeteria food wasn’t the best), bathrooms, a washer and dryer, and beds that were surprisingly comfortable. She was lucky to find a set of spare sheets in the laundry room; Addison made the bed and then paused to stand in the middle of the room, admiring her work. If Matthew didn’t appreciate it, she was sure that his roommate at least would.

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

" 'I've been sick before, Matthew...' " imitated Matt in a horribly scratchy-sounding rendition of Addison's voice. He made a face at her. "Yeah, and so have I. And I'm telling you, it doesn't work," he grumbled in Addison's direction as he eased himself out of bed, only slightly regretting mocking her in the first place. It wasn't unusual for him to be put into a bad mood when he knew he was wrong, and the fact that he was sick was only making it worse; but it wasn't like Addison was going to get mad at him or anything. She never did.

Even as he glared defiantly in Addison's direction, Matt dropped the sheet onto the floor after only three second's hesitation. There was something about the stern way she spoke that rendered at least some degree of obedience, more so at least than he'd arguably ever given any authority figure before. "It's freezing in here," he complained, crossing his arms over his chest as his stood shivered for a good ten seconds more. Without waiting for her response, Matt bent down to pick up a pair of boxers he was almost positive were clean and a pair of navy blue pajama bottoms he'd been previously unaware he owned, and completed his sickly shuffle to the bathroom, only glancing back to glare again in Addison's direction as if to say "It's not going to work."

The minute he stepped under the warm water of the shower, however, all Matt's doubts were instantly erased. He remained in the bathroom, for almost twenty minutes, simply delighting in the way the water seemed to literally wash away the aches and pains of a fever, although he still felt far weaker than usual, but there was really nothing that could be done to remedy that. At least, not for a few days. When he emerged from the bathroom, dripping wet and wearing only the pants and underwear he'd brought in with him, Matt was smiling. Until he saw what she'd done to his dorm, that was. Frozen mid towel-drying of his hair, Matt gaped at what Addison had done to the place. The floor was...clean...and the bed was...made...and it smelled like...chicken noodle soup, and sunshine (yes, Matt was thoroughly convinced the sun had a smell, and nothing could persuade him otherwise). Once he'd gotten over the shock of it all, Matt turned to look at Addison, clamping his mouth shut. "Didn't I tell you not to touch anything?" Still, he was obviously pleased as he dropped his sopping-wet towel at his feet and made his way to the bed, walking with slightly more bounce than before. Matt collapsed onto the comforter with a contended sigh and closed his eyes. Arms resting behind his head, his stomach gave a loud grumble. "Lunch ready yet?" he hated only being able to talk just above a gravelly whisper.

[wendy]

He was sort of insufferable. Addison didn’t appreciate being mocked, she never really had, especially since she was taking care of him. Freezing? Addison examined the room, looking for a thermostat. She wasn’t cold at all (then again, she was wearing one of her most comfortable sweaters); Matthew was sick, though, and when you were sick, your body just didn’t know what to do with itself. She hated going between cold, hot, cold, hot and how no matter how comfortable the bed, you couldn’t rid yourself of the pain. Being sick was downright awful, so she understood Matthew’s attitude. Finding the thermostat, she turned the temperature up a little before returning to the kitchen. Addison towel dried the dishes and put them all away; she somehow ended up organizing the cupboards as well so all the bowls were together and the glasses, etc. Matthew would probably hate her for doing all this cleaning. While that would bother her, she was too proud to mind. This was all very good work for (she glanced at a clock) twenty minutes.

Addison taste-tested the soup, knowing Matthew would be out soon, and surely very hungry. “Done,” she muttered to herself with a satisfied smile. She poured most of the soup into a bowl, leaving some in case he would want more later (she’d used both cans so there was plenty left). She’d grabbed an extra bowl for herself but she wasn’t that hungry anyhow. “You never actually said ‘don’t touch anything.’” She replied, more sarcastically than she’d intended. “Besides, I know you appreciate it.” Addison paused, remembering she’d left the ice pack in her backpack. She took that out and put it in the freezer. It was probably best to not mention the medicine just yet. Addison grabbed a spoon and the bowl, carefully carrying it back out into the room. “Lunch is ready. Feeling better?” she asked, a knowing smile having made its way onto her face. Addison handed the bowl to him with a quiet, “careful, it’s hot” before sitting on the edge of the bed.

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

"Maybe not, but..." Matt was silent for a moment, frozen somewhere in between shock, disgust and thankfulness. "I'm pretty sure it was implied..." He flopped his head back onto the bed, then, deciding simply to glare at the ceiling instead of respond to Addison's comment towards his appreciation. Was he really that easy to read? Or maybe it was just that she knew him too well. Probably the second bit. He was a tad uncomfortable with the whole cleanliness thing, of course, but at the same time...maybe it was a tiny bit refreshing, being able to see one's floor? Maybe. But even on the off chance that it was incredibly refreshing, even in the most bizarre scenario in which Matt found it incredibly refreshing--enjoyable, even--he couldn't get himself used to it; it was no secret that within days, if not hours, of Addison leaving the dorm, it would go back to how it was before. He couldn't help it. Addison was a girl. Boys were useless with that sort of thing.

Matt scooted himself into a sitting position as Addison made her way back into the room, hands already outstretched to receive the bowl of soup. He shrugged a bit, although the truth of his well-being flickered somewhere behind his coy smile and brown eyes. "I guess a bit.." a lot. A great deal better, in fact. Having been far too ravenous to pay attention to Addison's warning as to the temperature of his food, Matt took a gigantic spoonful and shoved it quite heartily into his mouth. The result was horrible. Matt swallowed the stuff, what with it still tasting good and all, but the minute he'd done so his eyes widened and his tongue stuck out of his mouth and he stared at Addison with all the incredulity of a child who'd only discovered fire did, in fact, burn by sticking their entire fist into it. "Ow! Dammit, Addie, that hurt," he glared at her for a moment before sticking his tongue back into his mouth. The next spoonful of soup was taken more carefully, and preceded by almost thirty seconds of waving his hand over the stuff to cool it down. He scooted himself upward on the bed more, rubbing his now-rough tongue arcoss his teeth. "Do you have any water or anything? I'm thirsty."

[wendy]

Addison shrugged. “Who’s to say I can understand when you’re implying things?” She could, of course, but it was just too much fun to tease Matthew, especially while he was sick. “You could have been gesturing at the night stand to say ‘Oh, thank you so much, Addie! There was positively no more room and I’m just thrilled that you moved things around!’” Addison imitated him with her own sick-sounding voice but she couldn’t keep the act up; on her emphasis of ‘thrilled,’ she’d burst into giggles. It probably wasn’t fair that she was having fun while he was so miserable, but he had cut into her homework time so she was obliged to be in a good mood, right? Addison looked around the room, admiring her hard work. She thought she’d done a very good job. “Oh well. I’m sure your roommate will be happy about it.”

Addison glanced back to Matthew in time to see him take a huge spoonful of the soup. “Matt--!” she exclaimed, but she’d hadn’t enough time. His expression was hilarious and she couldn’t help but to smile a little. Until, of course, he cursed at her. “Are you blaming me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly. “It’s hardly my fault! I did warn you, you know!” Addison huffed and shook her head, standing. He took the time to cool the next spoonful. She knew it wouldn’t help much but she wasn’t going to say anything else lest it be her fault again. At his next request, Addison left for the kitchen. Taking a clean glass from the cabinet, she filled it with tap water and added a few ice cubes. Addison grabbed the thermometer for good measure and returned to Matthew. She set the glass down on the night stand (he didn’t have any coasters, of course) and the thermometer on top of her story books. “Anything else, oh lord of sickliness?” Addison asked, the same old glint having returned to her eyes, her brief anger at him gone.

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

"Could've been, but I wasn't," grumbled Matt to his bowl of soup. He stirred it gently with the spoon, watching at the noodles swirled about in the broth with a look of completely false concentration on his face. Of course, he simply didn't want to admit that Addison was completely and totally correct. This was how things usually worked between them, when she was; Matt pretended not to be paying attention until the subject changed. It was easier that way. Maybe childish as well, but she hardly ever scolded him for it. And even if she had, Matt seriously doubted his habits would changed. He wasn't much for apologies, either. "Maybe. They are a bit neater than me..." he shrugged, not particularly caring what his roommate thought about his personal cleaning habits. They'd never gotten into a fight about it.

"What? No! I was- it just burned, that's all," Matt's face crumpled a bit as she narrowed her eyes at him. He did feel a bit bad about cursing at her, of course, but still...she should've known he didn't really mean it. He'd never swear at Addison on purpose. She was his best friend. Still, the wordless look of innocence and uncannily puppy dog-ish star was about as good of an apology as she was going to get; and even that was far more than his usual. By the time Addison returned from the kitchen, Matt was smiling again, having decided the incident was cleared enough to ignore (of course, his tongue still burned quite ferociously). The soup was halfway gone from his bowl. He watched from the corner of his eye as she placed the thermometer on his nightstand, somewhat wary of the thing. But at least it wasn't medicine, he supposed. Taking a sip of the water, he nodded his thanks in Addison's direction. "Lord of sickness. I like that," his laugh was scratchy. It hurt to laugh at all, so he stopped almost immediately after he began, despising the unfairness of it all. "Nah, I think I'm set. You're good at this whole...mothering...thing, you know that?" he took another sip of soup. There. That probably made up for the curse word.

[wendy]

Addison shrugged. She could read Matthew easily enough and she certainly knew he’d meant for her to stop moving things around. How often did she listen to him, though? Well, she sort of listened to him when it came to ditching class or going exploring. But that was different from ‘don’t do that.’ She didn’t liked it when people told her not to do things; that was probably why she went through with it (often times, tenfold). That would teach them to try bossing her around. It was a different story with teachers and her parents, of course. It was important to listen to them. Otherwise you could get detention or you’d be grounded. “Who isn’t neater than you?” Addison asked teasingly. Realizing he probably wanted to drop the subject now, Addison went to go collapse on his roommate’s bed. Her feet hurt. Laying there, she stared up at the ceiling, wanting to count something but finding nothing. How boring.

Addison turned on her side and propped her head up with her hand. “Of course it burned. It was hot. I told you so.” I told you so. What a fun thing to say. So long as you said it at the right time, anyway. Had she still been mad at him, the puppy-dog eyes would’ve gotten rid of that immediately. When he pulled that on her, she just wanted to grab him up into a huge hug and never let go. That was hardly a good idea, but nonetheless. He was already nearly finished with the soup. That reassure her; it meant he was well enough to eat without feeling sick. “There’s more soup, if you want some.” She said absent-mindedly, rolling onto her back again. “You should put some of those glowing stars on the ceiling.” Then she would have something to count at least.

She looked at him again. Addison smiled gently, appreciative of the compliment. “I am, aren’t I? What would you do without me?” He’d still be laying in bed, whining and moaning, that’s what.


outfit; click

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

After making a rather childishly nasty face in Addison's direction--interrupted by another small coughing fit--Matt responded with a slightly haughty "Who isn't more fun than you?" It was beyond untrue, of course, for Matt found Addison to be far more than amusing, if just for the reason that sometimes it was funny enough to have someone fussing over you. Only so you could disobey said fussing, of course, but even so...Addison was certainly not the most boring person in the world. How could she be, when she agreed to skip class with him and told him stories and climbed trees and just plain laughed? No, he was most definitely joking. Most things he said were not serious, of course.

"I knew it was hot," Matt's brows knit together in a small, fleeting glare as she scolded him once again. It was a complete lie, of course, as he hadn't listened to a word of her warning earlier. But the soup and just looked so delicious, and smelled even better, and then there was the way the steam had been curling off it like little ghost fingers--the steam. Looking back on it, that was probably indication enough that the stuff was too hot to eat, but it was usually the minor details like that which came to Matt last out of everything. With a tip of the bowl to his lips, Matt downed the rest of the soup quickly, wiping the back of his hand over his lips as he smacked them together in satisfaction once finished. He held the empty bowl out to Addison with a semi-sheepish grin. "More sounds great. I'd go get it myself, but...you know..." he shrugged and gave an exaggerated sigh, unable to control his smile as he settled down onto his back once more. Hands resting on his bare stomach, he turned his head to look towards where Addison was lying, contemplating the idea in all seriousness. "What about real ones? I'd like that more," he chuckled a bit to himself at the idea of real stars splattered across his ceiling. It was a neat one.

This time Matt's eyes stayed locked upwards as he half listened, half painted the ceiling in his head. He shrugged, a movement that caused a slight wince as his muscle decided to twinge in that outlandish, sickly way, " Still be pretty hungry, I guess," Matt chuckled hoarsely and swallowed hard; he licked his lips again before pulling his blanket up to his chin as his teeth began to chatter.

[wendy]

Addison laughed. “Well then.” She could think of people who were more fun than her, even if Matthew was joking. Then again, their type of fun wasn’t her type of fun so they didn’t really count, did they? Yes, adventuring was much more fun than sneaking into clubs. In fact, that just sounded dangerous. So, if she didn’t include people who had un-fun sort of fun, then… yes, she was a fun person. Good. Random bouts of insecurity had never been something she liked. Addison sat up and stretched; it was nice how doing even just that could help wake a person up. All of a sudden, she was no longer tired. She turned so that her legs hung off the bed, her feet flat on the floor. “Of course you did.” Addison took the bowl, deciding she’d let him win this one. Now that the dorm smelled of soup and was bright with sunshine, Addison even felt better herself. Then again, she wasn’t sick. Well, so long as Matthew was feeling better, she was happy.

Scooping more soup into the bowl, Addison again pondered whether or not she wanted any. While she wasn’t hungry, she was rather thirsty. Oh, and Matthew would probably be needing that medicine soon… Addison set the bowl down and rummaged around in the refrigerator, looking for something to drink. Well, hopefully the Dr. Pepper wasn’t totally off limits. She grabbed a can and popped it open, taking a long swig of it. Ahhhhh. Much better. Leaving it on the counter, Addison grabbed the medicine from her backpack and shoved it in her back pocket. At least it was a small-ish bottle that she could hide in her pocket until the time came for him to take it. (Which would be never). Addison grabbed the bowl of soup and returned to the room, setting the bowl on the nightstand. “Do I need to warn you this time?” Addison asked, half-scolding, half-kidding.

“Real stars on a ceiling? Why, that would certainly be better than fake ones." His teeth had begun to chatter again; Addison wondered briefly if he was making a big show of being sick. He did have a tendency to exaggerate things. Addison chewed on her lower lip. Okay, he wasn’t going to get better if he didn’t take any medicine. She knew that because she’d gone a whole week being sick before agreeing to take some and after she’d done so, she’d gotten better in no day’s time. “Okay, don’t hate me…” She started slowly, holding her hands up defensively. “But you do need to take some medicine.” Addison made no motion to take it from her pocket because she was sure the moment he saw it, he’d probably kick her out.

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

Matt sat up slightly and grabbed the bowl--rather greedily--moments after Addison had set it onto the table. " 'Course not," he blew once on the spoonful of soup before placing it into his mouth, grinning as the warmth of it soothed his throat. "Don't be ridiculous." the words were spoken through a mouthful of chicken, and he had to cup his hand over his mouth so as not to spew said food all over his bedspread. Not that he would have minded had he been alone, of course, but Addison had this weird thing for being neat and tidy and as much as he loved occasionally pushing her buttons, he'd already made her mad when he'd sworn, so just this once, Matt decided, he wouldn't make a mess. Yet. And the stuff was hot, so he didn't very well wanting it landing on his bare skin, did he? Not to mention that it was far too delicious to waste. Addison made really good canned Chicken Noodle soup.

"Mhmm. But ones that you could blow out if you wanted to. You know, if they got annoying or whatever," he added matter-of-factly, taking a rather large swig of water. The soup was doing its job at least; the middle of his chest was starting to grow warmer from the inside, in that sort of way that only really grand accomplishments or, well, a good bowl of soup, could ever really manage. Even still, he felt awful and it showed. There was a pallor to him which was more foreign to his face than a frown, and a strange sort of dullness to the normal spark in his eyes. Not to mention the shivering. Matt wasn't one for complaining--particularly about the temperature--and even if it was the dead of winter and he'd left the house with naught more than a sweatshirt, he didn't bother with teeth chattering. It took up far too much time better spent doing something "unproductive."

Turning to face Addison after another sip of soup, Matt listened cautiously as she began to hold her hands up. Brown eyes darting up and down her person in an attempt to discern what exactly it was she was talking about, he came up empty. Until, of course, he heard that nasty word. Medicine. Even the way it rolled off the tongue was vile. Instantly, Matt's entire body tensed. He sat straight upright; the bowl of soup resting in his lap began to teeter precariously. After widening his eyes in momentary horror, he began to shake his head rather vigorously, only subconsciously aware that his hand was reaching for the thermometer resting on the nightstand, perhaps to fend Addison off with. "What?! No, I don't. I feel fine! I'm fine, Addie." perhaps he would have been more convincing had it not been for the small coughing fit that came next. "I'm a lot better. See? I can eat and everything. Bet I don't even have a fever." he added, a tad desperately, before shoveling another two spoonfuls of soup into his mouth and simultaneously grasping the thermometer in his free hand.

[wendy]

It would be ridiculous for her to worry. Addison rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of his bed, shifting a little uncomfortably due to the medicine bottle in her back pocket. She would never understand how some girls kept their phones in their back pockets. That just seemed dangerous (it could fall out!) and painful. The bed wasn’t a plastic chair, though, so she had some comfort due to that. Hadn’t anybody taught Matthew to not speak with his mouth full? That was quite possibly the first rule she’d learned (then again, an awfully embarrassing incident had come along with it, so…). “I could also make some tea,” she suggested in an off-handed sort of manner. “If you’ve got any, that is. I find it helps just as well as soup.” Of course, they had tea at her house/dorm all the time and Addison felt that it helped with just about anything. Cold water was probably a nice compliment to hot soup, though.

“How would stars get annoying?” she asked, curiously, having always found them to very pretty. She’d never considered them to be annoying. Well, they could get a bit frustrating if you needed complete darkness to sleep. Then, they would be a bit too bright… So, she sort of understood where he was coming from. Addison watched Matthew carefully for a moment, noticing how unlike-Matthew he looked. He was definitely sick, even if he didn’t complain about it. She almost would have preferred if he did; at least then he would acknowledge that he was completely invincible. He would need medicine eventually, whether he liked or not, and she would make sure he took it. What kind of best friend would she be if she didn’t help him get better?

Well, this wasn’t going as well as she’d hoped it would. After his exclamations, Addison took the bowl and set it back on the night stand, in case he were to knock it over. “I’m sure you’re feeling better, Matthew, and I believe you.” Sort of. She shook her head, unable to help but to smile a bit. Apparently, being able to finish soup in record time meant you were healthy. Addison leaned closer, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead. “No fever, hmm?” Addison glanced pointedly to the thermometer he held onto. “Prove it.” Addison couldn’t help but notice how much she made it sound like a challenge. She moved back and gave him a look that flat-out said ‘go on, I dare you. Take your temperature.’