Anah's P.O.V
There must be a way.
"I know! Quillion, can you hear me! I need you to grab a bowl of ice and a towel big enough to cover your face. Also, I need you to put me on video call, I can teach you something from here. Do you understand? Quillion?" I hear a crash from the other side.
"I'm here," Quillion's voice barely audible because of the pain he is in, then I hear his door open.
"It's been 10 minutes! He still isn't back, it's taking way too long," I start shifting in my own room, my stomach turning from anxiety. With every passing second, restlessness took over me.
The moment I hear the door close, I jumped to hold my phone, turning on my laptop on the side so he can video call me or I can call him.
As soon as my laptop turns on, I open google chrome, open Facebook and tumbling on the keyboard, I give Quillion a video call. Before he can pick up, I turn on my night lamp and grab a scarf to put around my neck and cover my chest. Its out of habit, I guess.
Back to my screen. Finally, Quillion's face pops up drenched in sweat and the pain in his eyes hurts my chest. I have never felt this helpless in my life.
"Quillion! Finally, okay, look at me, you see this bone, right above your eyebrows. I need you massage them and tell me how you feel," I instruct him, I watch him as he starts slight massaging as instructed.
"Does it hurt? If yes, then keep doing that for a few minutes, I'll tell you when to stop," I inform him with trembling hands. Despite being confused, I can tell he needs the pain to go away, he was in no condition to debate with me, especially when I am helping him.
"Okay, now I need you to show me if the ice has melted onto the towel," he picks up the bowl towards the camera.
"Perfect, now look at me, I need you to pick up the two corners of the towel and place the top of it on your forehead, making sure the entire towel covers your face. Once its on you face, I need you to press the towel on your forehead and at the corner of your eyes," I motion the entire thing while explaining, to make it easier for him to comprehend.
He didn't say a word, he did what he was told.
"Aah, cold," he jolted at the touch of the towel on his face right before relaxing. Usually when migraines take over, our body starts to warm up so the best way to compress it is by cooling down our bodies in whatever way possible.
"You should lay down, it'll help keep the towel in place," I tell him as I notice his shoulder stop shuddering and his body structure relax.
"Thank you," he whispers underneath the towel.
"Of course," I reply, after that we sit in silence for a while. Not knowing what to say, I just watch Quillion lay slowly calming down.
"You should get some sleep," I point out, the silence was getting awkward at this point.
"Don't... go," stifled Quillion, the agony in his voice was now minimal and a softness had surfaced.
"Talk to me. Tell me something about yourself," he muffles underneath.
"Are you sure, you do need the sleep," I said worried his migraine might spike again due to his lack of sleep.
"I don't think I'll be able to sleep for a while," his tone came out embarrassed. I guess it is his first, asking a girl to keep him company during his worst. My eyes fell on his hand that had stopped massaging, waiting for me to say something.
"Well, okay then, if you insist. I don't know if you had noticed but I am the only left-handed in our class, makes me the odd one out. Where I come from, my ancestors believe in a superstition, has to with left-handers. It has been told that people with dominant left hand bring bad luck to the family," I watch him as his attention was all mine despite his face being covered by the towel, his body stiffened.
"I was eight when I found out and my little child heart was devastated. She locked herself in her room and spent the night crying," Like she is a completely different person from myself, I look away, threatened he might find that same little child peaking out the window of my eye.
"Well, I wish I had met that girl, would have talked some sense into her and her family," my head shot up only to be followed by a giggle.
"You really are a bully, aren't you," I tell him shaking my head in amusement.
"Not a bully, just finding it ridiculous. How much bad luck could an eight-year-old child bring. I mean she wouldn't even be tall enough to reach a car pedal," the roughness in his reply made my heart do a flip. He is right but that eight-year-old was too naïve to save herself.
"Well, if that's the case. I wish she had met you too," I reply with a whisper, sadness lingering in my side of the room.
"Hey. Look, my mother died when I was young so I wouldn't know much about family and caring. What I do know is that calling the very thing you created bad luck, is very wrong," he says, sitting up, taking off his towel. Our eyes meet and we both understand our sandstorms, his eyes reflect worry although his facial expression says nothing.
"I am fine now," he says before he looks away. Why'd he look away? I look at myself on my screen and -
I am crying, why am I crying...
Shocked at myself, I quickly wipe away the strange tears falling from my cheeks.
"Oh, he he, I'm sorry. Anyways, I should sleep!" my nervousness and embarrassment clear in my voice as I stumble on my words.
"See you in school tomorrow. Goodnight, take care," I rush to hang up, slamming my laptop screen shut. I get in bed, completely covering myself under my blanket with Cider tucked away in my arms.
"Hey, Cider. Do you know what's going on? I don't understand what's going on. When I got his call, his screams made me want to run to him. They made me want to take him in my arms," I question my stuff toy, looking him in the eyes, waiting for a reply like it were actually going to happen.
"Silly me. We should get some sleep, right! Good night, Cider. Good Night, Momo. Good Night, Quillion," I mutter one last time before falling into a deep peaceful sleep.