33. AND IT'S ALL FOR YOU...

[mememaker]

THREE TYPES OF LOVE MEME

This meme deals with three types of love, angsty, sweet, and twisted! Please note that there are triggers abound!

- Post your characters and include preferences (if any!)
- Others reply.
- Go to RNG and enter numbers 1-3 to get a love type, then 1-12 to get a scene

Comments

2-6 (Truly Madly Deeply, Sick Day) Sister Blitz~

[preforging]

Arthur hadn't been at work that day. It was only after her shift was over that she had been able to inquire about him, and Marie had said he'd called in sick.

Eames hadn't had to think about it much. Despite the fact they had only been dating a month or so, after a year of quiet, awkward flirting, she had paid for some soup and bread, and then rode the bus with it in a little paper brown bag until she reached Arthur's flat. Still in the dress and leggings she'd worn to work, she knocked on his door.

that is, 2-9 (Truly Madly Deeply, Sick Day) Sister Blitz~

[preforging]

I fail numbers forever.

[littlspecificty]

Arthur felt horrible.

He kept wondering, as he drifted in and out of consciousness, if he had dreamt phoning into work.

So the knocking, was also something he was sure he had dreamt (his ears being stopped-up didn't help, either). He gave a weak cough and burrowed further under the covers, seeking warmth as he felt another set of chills creep into his skin.

[preforging]

She waited a few minutes, brow drawing down in concern. Then she reached into her pocket for the key he'd given her (for emergencies he'd specified, but she was rather worried and figured he would forgive her, hopefully, for counting this as an emergency) and unlocking the door, stepping inside.

The room was ice cold, and Eames set the food down and then pushed the heater on, looking around. It didn't seem like Arthur had gotten up today, his dinner dishes still in the sink, and she made her way back to where she knew his bedroom was.

Finding him curled up in a ball under the covers made her smile a bit, but she was more worried by his nonresponsiveness when she called his name from the doorway. She moved over, reaching out an arm to poke at the ball of blankets.

"Arthur, have you smothered yourself or something?"

[littlspecificty]

The response to the poke was a weak, muffled cough and then a muffled groan. He was sore all over. And so cold.

Still under the blankets, he was sure he was hallucinating Eames' voice, but responded anyway with a pathetic, "I think I'm going to die."

It would be less painful, he morbidly thought.