You're puking your guts up and coughing until your stomach is hurting. You think it's the flu, but about as much as you know right now is that you're sick and it's fucking painful. You're in bed, coughing, before you stumble to the bathroom as fast as you can and puking into the toilet like you have since you woke up this morning.

Only difference is warm, familiar hands brush through your hair, holding it back if it's long enough to need that, and you keep puking. But once you're done, you're pulled back into your boyfriend's warmth. "Hey, mesh'la. You okay?" Hunter's deep, smoky voice with a bit of a New Zealand accent calms and his body heat you down a bit, but you're still in pain from everything you're suffering through.