The Famous Crybaby Boyfriend - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

After going an entire day without eating, then suddenly polishing off a huge bowl of noodles, my stomach decided to go on strike.

In the middle of the night, I was wrenched awake by spasms and pain tearing through my stomach.

It felt as if a red-hot needle were stabbing back and forth inside me. In less than a few minutes, I was drenched in a cold sweat.

The alarm clock beside the bed read exactly three o’clock.

I struggled to sit up, and the rustling woke my boyfriend.

He propped himself up on one hand and quickly switched on the small night-light by the bed. “Your stomach hurts again?”

Curled in on myself, I barely managed to nod.

He got out of bed, turned on the light, found the medicine, and poured some water.

Gently, he helped me take the pills, filled a hot-water bottle for me, then climbed back into bed. He carefully pulled me into his arms and lightly rubbed my stomach back and forth with his hand.

The pain had eased a little. With his long arms and legs wrapped around me, I could feel the heavy thud of his heartbeat against my back.

Then, all of a sudden, my neck went cool. Two warm drops of water landed on my skin with a soft patter, wobbling as they slid down along my shoulder blade and pooled in my collarbone.

I turned to look at him, but he buried his face tightly against the back of my neck, dodging my gaze and refusing to let me see his face. His body was trembling faintly, out of his control, from the sobs he kept trying to hold back.

I forced myself to turn around and wrapped both arms around his neck. Instead of my fingers, I used my lips to gently touch his damp, salty cheek.

His tears fell even harder, soaking a few strands of hair until they stuck messily to his forehead.

I teased him softly, “Why are you crying again, you little crybaby?”

“I’m the one in pain, not you. I haven’t even cried, so why are you crying?”

Even though he was crying so earnestly, so heartbrokenly, he still didn’t forget to keep rubbing my stomach.

His warmth kept seeping into me through his palm, through his back pressed close to mine, and through his warm tears, like a scalding spring.

“Don’t cry. How about a kiss?” I searched for his lips and kissed him gently, lingering there.

There were still pitiful teardrops hanging on his face. His brows were furrowed, his eyes shut as he let me kiss him, and the aggrieved little sobs in his nose slowly turned into comfortable hums.

Beneath the quilt, we had sealed off a tiny world without sickness or pain.

Our two heartbeats nearly melted into a sticky paste, pressed together and bubbling softly.

“It hurts for me too,” he whimpered quietly against me.

“Hm?”

He took my hand and placed it over his heart. “It hurts here.”