Page 87 of Dealing With Drak

It began this morning when she woke from her sleep, shaking with discomfort. Her skin was warm and yet she felt frozen inside. Chills caused her body to tremble and her temperature made her sweat uncomfortably. She did not wish for me to help her in any way, attempting to shoo me from our bed even as she could not fall back asleep.

Shortly after she decided she would not try to rest any longer, she became physically sick, throwing up the contents of her stomach and pushing me away so that I could not witness her state of illness. It was awful to watch her cower from me, ashamed of her body’s functions. I was firm in being at her side, and eventually, she gave in.

I, of course, softly pleaded with her to put on a health band, even for just long enough to diagnose what ails her, but she flat-out refused. My stubborn mate turned her nose up at me and claimed to have a stomach vire-rus. A common hu-nim illness, according to her.

After a few hours of pain and discomfort, she seemed to have settled. With small bites of food and hydration, color returned to her cheeks. She was no longer clutching her stomach from bouts of pain or nausea.

Unfortunately, her quick sickness recovery did not fix her day nor her mood. She has been snapping at Cay-leb and I and then nearly crying with frustration at herself for hours now. It is dinner time, and I am debating bringing her to a mender, even if she fights it. I worry, but I do not sense anything truly wrong in the air around her, so I have not forcibly taken her anywhere. Yet.

“The silence is getting on my nerves,” my mate warns, picking at her food with a glum expression.

I send a helpless look to her brother. We have been trying not to speak so that we do not upset her further, and now she wishes for conversation?

“Lovan is helping me make a guitar,” he says while blinking. Frek, he does not know how to handle this any more than I do.

Going along with his attempt to share words, I offer a hesitant smile. “The string instrument that you play songs with?”

Cay-leb has explained this musical device to me in one of our many talks. He is very fond of music and used to have his very own guitar. But with the zom-bays taking over the Urth planet, he could not think of such a frivolous thing. He had to leave it at home and never planned to reflect on it again. He said that he was too overwhelmed to think of asking for it before leaving the planet, and I was saddened that I did not ask if there was anything he wished to bring with him. He did not even bring his own clothes, only the extras found in the sorority basement.

We have since had Aprixian clothing crafted for him in the hu-nim style, and he is quite happy with them, but I still hold regrets in not equipping him before our ship ride here. I have, of course, offered to return with him to collect things, but he does not wish to travel again for quite some time. Cay-leb likes to feel grounded, and he likes it here, stuff or no stuff.

I am grateful that he finds this planet appealing. His friendship with Lovan has certainly helped. He spends a great many hours in the city with him, working on miscellaneous projects for the advancement of science—and for fun.

“Yeah,” he replies, a hint of color tinting his cheeks. “I drew him a diagram, explained how they worked and what materials were usually used to make them, and he seemed pretty confident that he could recreate one.”

“He is a very smart male,” I note, nodding along. “I am sure he can craft you this. I should like to hear how it sounds when it is finished.”

“Yeah, definitely,” he concurs with a smile. “I’ll play you something.”

My mate glowers at her plate and makes a grumbling noise.

Hesitantly, her brother asks, “You good, Anna?”

“Ugh, my God, Caleb! Will you stop breathing down my neck?” she shouts, growling at her brother and throwing her utensil atop her plate.

Cay-leb groans, not wanting to deal with another outburst from her. “I’m across the fucking table, A. I’m not anywhere near your neck.”

She scoffs at him before sneering, “Then why can I feel your breath there?”

“An-nana, what is wrong?” I ask with a frown.

“What isn’t wrong?” she snaps. “My stomach hurts again, nothing tastes right, and you two are so fucking loud I feel like my head is going to explode.”

“Anna,” Cay-leb warns, his voice firmer than before. “Check your tone. You’re going to be pissed at yourself for being rude to Drak. He hasn’t done anything but try to help you all day. Let him fucking help you or I’m holding you down while he puts the health band on you. Enough is enough.”

I can not tell if my mate is going to bite him or burst into sobs of sadness. I feel as though I have aged many years today.

“It is okay,” I say hesitantly.

An-nana’s bottom lip trembles and my heart clenches.

“Please do not cry, my mate,” I beg, coming to her side and dropping to my knees so that I may look her in the eyes.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Reaching up, my hands surround her face. “I know you do not mean to snap, I can take it, my pretty Mean One. I only wish to make you feel better.”

“I k-know,” she sniffles. An-nana begins to steady her breathing and calms for me, melting into my touch.

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