I'm Anything You Want Me To Be.

John flicks my hair out of my face after he readjusts my blanket. “It’s kind of like déjà vu,”

“Hmm?”

“You are just like Dani when you’re sick,” he tells me.

“Really?” I ask lazily.

John nods, withdrawing from me and getting seated back onto the chair he put on my bedside.

It’s no wonder I got sick after swapping spit with John, really. But I didn’t expect it to be this bad. My voice sounded all too different, my head ached all too much.. It sucked.

But for the past 6 hours I’ve diagnosed myself with fever, John took care of me.

“Can you tell me about that?” I mumble. “That time Dani got sick,”

He smiles at me, knowing I’ve been mindful recently about the promise he made, the promise that he would tell me when I came back. “Garrett called me up lunch time, I remember very well.”

I just wait for him to continue.

“He said he was sorry for the bother, but he really needed someone to check on Dani.”

“He could only call you?”

“He decided he could trust me the most with that sort of thing,”

“Aw,”

“I thought twice, that’s for sure. But Garrett sounded so desperate, so I went over anyway.”

“Yay,” I cheer for the Garrett who could forget worrying because of the trustworthy friend John was.

“When I came, I thought no one was home. The doors were locked, no windows were open,”

“That’s home for ya,” I joke.

I’ve mentioned that home felt nowhere near like the name it held because of the shadows cast by our gloomy past, it was dark and there was never any air or light..

“No one was ever stupid enough not to leave a spare key somewhere outside the house, so I went looking for one,”

“Did you find it it in the old fern by the front porch?” I ask. It was one of the few things we retained in that house since our parents died, the key they always made sure was right there.

“Yeah, I did.” John taps my nose. He pauses. “You are adorable when you’re sick,”

“Was Dani?” I curiously inquire.

“If I’m being honest,” John shakes his head. “She looked terrible. When I let myself in, I found her sleeping in her room. She’d obviously been crying and she was just a mess.”

“You wake her up?”

“No.. But I did check her temperature, got her some water. I texted Garrett, I was like Okay, I’m here, she’s sick, what do you want me to do now? And he called me up, and was all John, thank you so much for checking on her, so I said yeah, okay, what am I supposed to do now? And he was like I don’t know, make her some chicken soup? The way you make it for me! Dani’s gonna love it. You see, when Garrett gets sick, I’m usually left responsible for him because Trey would be out getting medicine,”

“You’re such a good friend, John,” I say, reaching my hand out to touch his cheek.

He takes my hand. “At least you think so,”

“Why, what did Dani think?”

“She thought I was a dick,” John simply replies.

“Why,” I frown.

“I don’t know!” he exclaims in a jokingly confused tone. “I was nothing but nice to her.. I didn’t wake her up, and I didn’t even tell her to fuck off when she started questioning why I was there. I mean, I guess it was partly my fault she got mad, I was checking her message thread with Garrett on her phone..”

“What were they talking about?”

“Garrett was asking her why she was texting in class, Dani said she stayed home from school, Garrett asked why, Dani said she was sick. I don’t think he was supposed to get all worried, but Dani did say she felt really terrible.. Then I saw Garrett telling Dani he’d send me over to check on her—”

“How sweet!” I comment.

“No, they weren’t dating yet,” John says in a correcting tone.

“They weren’t?”

John shakes his head. “But I knew what Garrett had in mind about her.”

“Did he love her?”

“So much.” he says.

“Did he know that?”

“Nope, but I did.” he replies. “I’ve always had to watch over Garrett,”

“You love him?”

“Of course,”

I smile at him.

He bites his lip.

Then I remember what he was actually talking about before Garrett. Who.

“Dani got super mad,”

“Super mad?”

“Extremely, terribly, crazily, overly, fucking mad.” John explains. “I guess I was invading her personal space..”

“What do you mean?”

“I put a bowl of soup on her side table. I saw her phone there, took it and read her messages with Garrett, and I waited for her to wake up.”

“It’s not nice to snoop around people’s phones,” I mumble in a jokingly scolding voice.

“I know,” John laughs regretfully. “Then I apologized just so she would calm down. And she did after a while. Then she started asking what I was doing there, and I said she should’ve known Garrett told me to come over. Soon after, we started quarreling and I hated being in fights, really, but Dani didn’t want to go down without one.”

“So..?”

“So, soon enough, Dani and I decided to just forget about being friends and kept business casual. She didn’t enjoy having me know so much about her.. Then Garrett developed these weird feelings, we found out that Dani felt the same. Before we knew it, they were dating and they were happy.”

“And how about you?”

“Oh, I was very happy. She was perfect for Garrett, and so was he for her—”

“John, what /did/ you know about her?”

“That she was asthmatic.” he replies. “She never let anyone else know,”

“But Kennedy—”

“/I/ told him. Sometime after my first fight with Dani, Gare asked me to check on her again, but I was too busy so I passed it off to Kennedy.”

“How’d you find out? Did she have an attack—”

“I saw one of those little inhaler drug bottles in her room, when I saw how hard she tried not to cry, I found out what they were for.”

I realize how full of questions I am when I sputter out more of them. “Why’d you have to take her to the hospital? Was she okay?”

John laughs at the interrogation our conversation was turning into before he went on seriously. “She kept telling me to leave when she started crying. I demanded she tell me where her inhaler was but she just kept yelling ‘leave!’ So I started looking for it myself.. I know I shouldn’t have left her for even just a second, ‘cause when I came back she’d already passed out.”

“Why was she crying?”

“Wait, how do you even know what happened?”

“I heard you guys the other day when you came over,” I quickly answer before asking again. “Why was she crying?”

“I had no idea,” he says. “She was off right from the start, but her spirit literally dropped when she saw that I made her soup—” John darts off his chair. As he starts running out of our room, he hollers: “I left the stove on!”

I start to giggle at his silliness when I hear footsteps by the door again. Not John’s.

“He makes it good,” Garrett assures me. “John’s chicken soup is the best.”

“He said he used to make it for you—”

“Oh, he still does.” Garrett boasts as he treads to me. After bending down and giving me his nose kiss, he says “I wish you weren’t sick,”

“Why’s that?” I merrily ask.

“Because I can’t hang out with you,”

“Aw, it’s okay though.” I yawn. “John’s good company when you’re sick—”

“I know right?!” Garrett enthusiastically agrees. “So I’m okay with you being sick because you’re with John!”

I smile at him.

John has reappeared now at the door. Seeming to notice Garrett, he says “There’s still some in the kitchen if you want some, Gare.”

“Yay!” Garrett cheers as he empties the chair he shortly claimed from John. “See ya!” He waves before he excitedly trots off, but not without running into John.

“Watch it,” John hisses at Garrett as he leaves. He now continues to me, careful with the bowl he is holding in his hands. He looks at me, and the knit in his brow ceases. “I made you some chicken soup, Garrett insisted.”

“You are too sweet,” I comment, watching him set the bowl on the side table.

“Too much a nurse is more like it,” John huffs.

“But I love you.” I muse.

“Are you sick or are you drunk?”

“If you would get me some whiskey, I could be both.”

John smirks, somehow sweetly. “Later,” he promises.

I sniff at my colds.

“Now, the soup’s still really hot so let’s just wait a bit,” he tells me, settling back onto his seat.

“Okay,” I mumble, my eyelids becoming heavy all of a sudden.

“Do you want to just sleep first, baby?” John chuckles, moving to me to readjust my blankets, and to re-fluff my pillow.

“Sleep would be nice,”

“Okay then, I’ll just reheat your soup when you wake up,” He starts getting back on his feet before retrieving the bowl. However, he bends back down and kisses the top of my nose. “Get well now.”

It’s just a fever, I say in my head as he pulls away and leaves.

There’s no reason he should fuss over me. And besides, it’s just a fever. It’ll be gone by tomorrow.

Though I do enjoy the attention from John, I know he’s got other things to focus on right now. Besides, this back story between him and Dani isn’t going to help him or her anyway. And I needn’t know it anymore. I’m done with Dani.

So I hope I get well now. Maybe the sooner John quits worrying about me, the sooner he can finish what he needs to finish with the guys..

Then maybe things between him and me would be easier to understand, without Dani distracting, or without Garrett pushing. Maybe John and I will finally ease our way into this, or just figure this out.

Maybe we’ll..

Zzzzz.

John sucked in a quick but deep breath. He glanced at the bottle of whiskey at the side table and resumed eyeing me. "Iann.."

"Do me a favor," I almost whispered. "Just a favor,"

"What?" He made such small and limited wiggles under me, and I must admit, having him wrapped around my finger like this amused me.

I smirked, following his eyes for a second as they trained back to that damned bottle.

That damned, empty bottle, and the glass that was never used.

"I shouldn't have left you alone,"

"Yeah, you really shouldn't have, John." I agreed. I giggled at the regretful expression he made.

He really shouldn't have.

I don't know if anyone else knows this, but John's realizing it now.. When I've got a fever, I get really sensitive. As if I weren't enough sober..

After a nap that lasted around a couple of hours, I awoke to see that John wasn't by my side. I know I've just thought about it before dozing off, that I needed to just get better so I would be done being a distraction.. But my head ached, and I just needed John for that moment.

When he came, he touched my face, and observed, "Cold sweat." Then he smiled, not noticing the grimace on me. "I've got just the thing." He left for a second and came back with a bottle of whiskey and a glass. Very nicely, he told me to take a couple of shots of whiskey, which was around an inch up from the wide glass he had. He said it would warm me up so the fever could more easily be sweated out of my system.

Oh, he also said it was Garrett's favorite part of being sick and having John as his caretaker.

As he was leaving, I begged him to stay. For some reason, I didn't want to be alone then.

He told me to just go back to sleep since he had something he really needed to finish. At one point, he sounded excited about finishing whatever it was. But I couldn't care and got mad at him once he left.

He dared to have even joked about me not needing him. I think that's what provoked me the most, that's what led me to wanting to get that shallow sense of vengeance.

"John.." I purred as I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck. I planted a soft kiss behind his ear. Withdrawing from him slightly, I undid a couple of the buttons at the top of his shirt. Then I kissed his collar the way I know he didn't 'need' me to right then.

"F.." John gasped. "Fuck, Riannon, what are you doing?!"

"Just tell me to stop, John Ohh," I mumbled in a low voice.

He shivered. "Iann.."

"You and I are alike this way," I started. "We both get this way when we're drunk.."

"This way?" John's trembling did not cease. Had I more sense in me, I wouldn't have thought it was because that kind of contact with me excited him.

"Hmm, you do know what I mean," I said as I reverted my attention to fumbling with the rest of his shirt buttons. "Don't you, John?"

"Iann.."

"Now, if you were drunk--"

"Oh, well, Riannon, if you left me any of that whiskey--"

"Oh well," I repeated in a different tone. I smiled against his skin, making sure he felt it.

"We both know you're only doing this to get back at me,"

"Doing what?" I asked in a sarcastically innocent tune.

"Teasing." he answered straightforwardly.

So in reply, I straightforwardly said "I want you."

"Are you or are you not just doing this to get back at me?"

"Maybe," I hummed. "Now do me one favor, John. Just one favor. Then I'll get off your back."

"What is it?" John gulped. I could tell he was listing out the possibilities in his head. But I'll say now, that if he didn't want that as much as I did, he would've flat-out told me to stop.

But he didn't, did he? Nope, he chose his comebacks carefully, careful that in any way, he would not have told me to stop.

My smile boiled back down to a smirk, my hands couldn't be controlled and they ripped John's shirt off. My lips teased at his skin some more, then I said it. I finally said it. "Fuck me."

That was the last thing I remember.

Now, my head is aching again.

But not because of the fever.

I must say, that whiskey did help.

But my head is still aching. The fever has broken, I know.

Now I have a hangover.

I let out a groan. And recalling whose last sweet face I saw last night, I roll over to check if he's here.

"She's awake." John announces to himself, feeling my side of the bed rattle. But he keeps his eyes glued to the ceiling.

"John--"

"I should go reheat your soup now--"

"I feel better--"

"I don't." John spits as he throws our blanket off him and gets up.

"John,"

"Yeah, I'll go reheat your soup," he mutters on his way out.

I go after him and follow him into the kitchen. "John--"

"I'll make sure it's not so hot this time so you can--"

"John,"

"Or I could always pop an ice cube in there, whatever." He shakily pours soup from a plastic canister into a bowl, then he puts it in the microwave. "I had to tell Garrett not to eat your soup--"

"John--"

"Great news, I finished what I was--"

"John--"

"Jared liked--"

"John,"

"Kennedy did great--"

"John--"

"Pat was--"

"John,"

He doesn't finish whatever he was saying as the microwave beeps and he rushes over. With his all too jittery manner, it's no surprise when he yells "Fuck!" as he had burnt himself on the hot bowl.

I grab a thin potholder form the railing by the sink and take the bowl away from him. Thumping it on the table, I say "John, will you calm the fuck down?!"

"I can't!" John replies loudly.

"What's the matter,"

"Nothing, eat your soup," he huffs as he plumps down onto a chair.

Calmly, I seat myself. I fiddle with a spoon he'd set. "John,"

He only looks up from his fidgeting hands.

There is something about the way he looks at me now that makes me break it off, so I stare at my soup instead.

My eyes trail to my legs which are bare, then I see the stretched shirt covering my upper thighs, recognizing it to be John's--

"John,"

"What?"

"How drunk was I last night,"

"Very," he simply answers.

"Oh, Tim's going to kill us." I say, half-threateningly, half-humorously. "Why are you freaking out?" I say as I stir the soup up.

"It was bad."

"Bad sex? Sorry--"

"No, Iann, you were drunk and.."

"John, come on, it was just sex." I say, this entire thing turning into a joke to me now. "And bad sex, by the way you're reacting. Sorry--"

"Riannon." John's voice sharply cuts me off.

"You're mad at me because I got drunk last night?" I roll my eyes and tap the side of my bowl with my spoon. "Then maybe you shouldn't have gotten me whiskey--"

"It was for your fever and you weren't supposed to have more than two shots!"

"Well, had you not left me unsupervised with half a bottle--" I now cut myself off, seeing by the way he looks down that he's beating himself up inside for it.

And I know, last night, the guilt was eating him up, too.

"Sorry," he and I say at the same time.

"I didn't want to leave you, I had to, and you know that."

Something about that angered me. "I'm gonna have to take it every time you're not around, then?! What, you're just gonna leave me whenever you have to? And you won't bother to tell me first," I spit, thinking not just about last night but also that morning I woke up alone years ago--

"Well, I'm sorry, what the fuck do you want from me?!" John yells. By the way his eye twitches, I know he's about to say something he knows would hurt me. But he's not stopping. "I'm not even your boyfriend!"