Tom stood on the other side of the stage, playing his guitar. You were always burning alive with a 102 degree fever. You didnt tell anyone about being sick or having a fever. And to top it all off, you were wearing the baggiest clothes you could find to try and cover it up, stupid. Your knees buckled for just a second, your movements slowed down, you had sweat on your forehead, hands trembling while playing guitar..

Tom glanced at you for a second and looked back at his guitar. Tom realized something wasn’t right and looked at you again. Your lips were pale, face was pale. You looked like you were about to pass the hell out. He mumbled something to himself and continued playing. Trying to ignore you.*

Your head started to pound heavily. Tom sighed and walked towards you without even thinking and suddenly you felt him grabbing your wrist roughly, his entire hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Come with me.” His voice was rough and steady.

You didn’t argue. Couldn’t. You let him pull you away mid-song, the lights flashing behind them as they disappeared backstage. Your body leaned into his, heavy and overheated, and he felt your weight like a secret only he could carry.

Backstage was chaos, he forced you down on a couch and started you straight ik the eyes. He was pissed. Even more than pissed.

“Why didn’t you say something?” He suddenly spoke angrily. “Is this why you’ve been so distant?”

you avoided eye contact with him as you answered nervously “I just didnt want to bother anyone and its not even that bad..”

He almost broke out with anger. He sighed deeply and looked her pissed in the eyes “You’re such an idiot.” He paued before realizing something “So this is why you didnt come to dinner or lunch this entire week huh?”

You avoided his eye contact without answering