Chapter 25

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Despite Peter's promise of feeling better, you felt horrible the next morning, and the morning after. Your throat was scratchy, the thought of eating made you nauseous and light made your head spin. You slept most of the time, tucked away in the alcove that sheltered your bed. Peter was almost always by your side, steering off the boys who tried to see you. You were glad, not wanting them to get sick as well. The boys were also quite loud and would irritate your head even more.

Because he was always by your side, Peter mostly took care of you. He brought you water, checked your fever and gently forced broth down your throat. Being taken care of... felt good. Even back at the orphanage you were never truly taken care of. Mostly you were the one watching after Owen and the other children. It felt so good being paid attention to. Having someone tell you that 'it was going to be okay' even if you felt the opposite. The only time you left the bed was to use the bathroom but after then you'd go right back. Your body was worn out and you often felt sore and stiff from laying in bed so much, when you were conscious enough to feel anything. Most of the time you were sick felt like nothing more than a hazy dream. A nice dream where you were being taken care of and all you had to do was sleep.

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Peter hated being sick. As a magical boy he didn't often get sick and was quite unprepared when he'd felt himself coming down with something. However you, his lovely darling, had helped him through it. You had stayed by his side and cared for him so sweetly. So... motherly. It felt wonderful. Unfortunately, just as he'd gotten better you'd gotten sick. Now it was his turn to take care of you, something he'd never really done before. Yet, your semi-conscious form clung to his warmth and dreamily smiled at the sweet promises he whispered to you about feeling better soon. It was so wonderful. Maybe, he could sit down and have a talk with you about the future when you got better. But for now, he'd be patient.

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