My Sickfic Blog

Jenny had come over for a couple more movie nights, but this was their first actual date. As in, outside of Rhett’s dorm room.

It’s… intimidating.

Rhett doesn’t usually pursue anything further than a one night stand.

It’s easier that way.

But he hasn’t stopped thinking about Jenny since the day he met her.

And that terrifies him.

In the best way possible.

“Not at all,” Jenny tells him.  “I’m just glad you don’t hate it.  You think you’ll order another roll?”

“Oh, definitely. Maybe two,” Rhett says, then sticks his fork into his California roll. He swirls it around in the soy sauce mixed with wasabi, then takes another bite.  “Might even go for something raw, just to have the full experience.”

“Dang, we’ve got a daredevil out here,” Jenny teases him.

Right now, Rhett is on cloud nine.  He’s finally starting to feel like himself again for the first time since his bowel surgery.  He’s started up physical therapy to get him strong enough to get back in the pool.  His roommate, Adam, has become more of a friend than the bane of his existence.  And he’s dating Jenny.

So yeah, Rhett has it pretty good right now.  And it’s the first time he’s been able to acknowledge that since before his sister got sick.

He just wants to soak it in.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Of course, it doesn’t last.

Because why would it? Rhett thinks bitterly.

As the game had gotten underway, he was playing the all-too-familiar, back-and-forth game of “does my stomach actually hurt or is it all in my head?”

The sushi he’d eaten feels like lead in his stomach.  His innards are becoming undeniably uneasy.

His phone buzzes and he looks down.  It’s a text from Adam: Hey, look straight across the court.

Rhett swallows hard and looks up to see Adam, Phil, Scott, and Dean waving their arms furiously in his direction. They’re seated opposite he and Jenny, behind the opposing team’s bench.

“Who are they?” Jenny wonders, resting her head against his shoulder.

“Adam and some other guys from the team,” Rhett tells her as he lifts his free arm up to wave back, rolling his eyes at their antics.  Enough to appease them so that they’ll knock it off.

A few moments later, Rhett gets another text from Adam: We decided to come last minute! We’re gonna grab dinner after the game if you and Jenny want to join.

Rhett quickly tucks his phone back in his pocket without answering, hoping that Jenny hadn’t read the text over his shoulder.

He’s not sure he’ll make it through this game, let alone dinner afterward.

~*~*~*~*~*~

By the end of halftime, it’s evident that what Rhett is feeling isn’t all in his head.  He feels straight-up rotten.  He swallows the nausea down as best he can as the teams come back out to the court. Then he reaches up to wipe some sweat that has collected on his brow.

Jenny sees him.  “Are you sweating?” she asks.  “I think it’s freezing in here!”

“Yeah, I’m kind of warm…” Rhett mumbles an answer, then puts a hand on his stomach when it whines and gurgles.

Jenny frowns at that.  “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies, for no good reason other than he doesn’t want his sour stomach to ruin their date.  “I’m fine.”

“Really?” Jenny says doubtfully, studying his face.  “Because you look really pale…”

Rhett gulps.  “I do?”

“Yeah, and you’re holding your stomach…” Jenny observes.  She puts a hand on his shoulder. She knows.  “Oh, babe…”

Busted.  No use trying to hide it now.  “Damn, you’re intuitive,” Rhett mumbles, ducking his head.

“So you do have an upset stomach?” Jenny seeks verification with raised eyebrows, craning her neck to meet his eyes.

Rhett blushes.  He always gets embarrassed talking about GI issues.  “Yeah.  M’sorry.”  He closes his eyes against a wave of dizziness that washes over him.

“Don’t be sorry,” Jenny tells him genuinely.  "Now I know why you got so quiet.  Do you want to leave?”

Rhett lifts one shoulder up in a shrug.  “Um… actually, I feel like if I move I’m going to puke everywhere,” he tells her honestly, then breathes deeply through his nose to try to stave off the ever-pressing nausea.

“You mean that?” Jenny asks, hoping he’s speaking in hyperbole.  “It’s that bad?”

Rhett hums in confirmation.  His ears are ringing.  “M’sorry,” he says again.

“Miss?  Here, take this…” says a woman’s voice, who Rhett vaguely realizes belongs to the woman of the middle-aged couple sitting beside them.  They must’ve overheard the conversation.

“Are you sure?” Jenny says to her.  “Thank you so much.”  She puts a hand on Rhett’s knee.  “Babe, here, hold onto this empty popcorn bucket,” she instructs. “If you need to be sick, you’re covered.  But I think we should try to get you to the bathroom if we can, don’t you?”

“‘Mhmm,” Rhett agrees.  He forces his eyes back open as the lingering smell of buttery popcorn hits his nostrils.  He swallows hard and hugs the bucket tightly, while Jenny helps him stand.

If Rhett wasn’t feeling so dreadful, he’d take the time to appreciate that Jenny has been calling him “babe.”

“Okay, c’mon,” she says, nudging him toward the aisle.  There are only three seats that they have to shuffle past.  “Excuse us, thank you,” Jenny tells the fans who stood for them to get by more easily.

Rhett feels like he’s going to collapse as he starts the descent down the stairs.  He has double-vision now, and his insides are twisting painfully.  He’s not going to make it to a bathroom.

Thankfully, he does make it down the stairs, and into the concourse.  His legs feel so weak that he instinctively beelines for the nearest wall, allowing him to lean his weight against it as he slides to the ground.  He feels Jenny’s hand on his shoulder, kneeling down with him.

He starts to heave as his legs fold.

“Okay, okay,” Jenny says gently.  “Here.”

Rhett feels like putty as Jenny guides his shoulders and head over the bucket with one hand while she holds it in place with the other. Rhett is promptly ill, his guts spilling into the bucket in multiple gushes.

Vaguely, he’s aware of Jenny talking to him as she pats his back.  There’s more chatter around him, and he wonders if he’s collected an audience.  He desperately tries to get his body under control, but the smell of undigested sushi isn’t helping matters.

His bowels start to twist, too, and he knows he really needs a bathroom now, lest he soil himself.  Still hugging the bucket, he starts to stand back up.  His legs are wobbling beneath him.

“What’re you doing?” Jenny asks frantically.

“Bathroom,” Rhett mutters out.  “I-I need—”

He vomits again, then spits.  He groans.

“I really n-need a toilet.”

“Oh gosh, okay, it’s just ahead,” Jenny tells him, and helps pull him to standing.  “I-I can’t come in with you…”

Thank God for that, Rhett thinks. He’s humiliated enough as it is with what Jenny has witnessed.

He lets her usher him to the doorway of the men’s restroom, thankful for a brief reprieve from vomiting.  It doesn’t change the fact that he feels like he might pass out.  Even he can recognize he shouldn’t be fending for himself right now.

“What can I do?” Jenny calls after him as Rhett beelines for the nearest stall.

“Get Adam.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Okay, let me just change out of these clothes and we can have dinner," he patted her hip, so Bell would move out of the way and she beamed back at him, nodding.

By the time he joined her in the kitchen, almost one hour later, his stomach was hurting with hunger. She had only cooked the dessert, Bella admitted, serving them both a large portion of roasted vegetables and lamb chops.

"I told my mom," Bell waved her fork around as Lucas dug in the food, going for seconds before she was even done with half her plate, "about the wedding."

"And?" he stole a zucchini from her plate and Bella slapped his hand away.

"She said something along the lines of finally," she rolled her eyes, "she asked me if I'm gonna change my surname."

Luke raised an eyebrow, chewing pensively, but said nothing. Bella finally ate the carrot she was waving around in the tip of her fork, shrugging, "I was thinking of hyphenating it."

"We can do that," he nodded, pushing the plate away and glaring at Bell's, "could you eat any slower?"

"You're gonna change yours too?" Bella raised her eyebrows, ignoring his needling and pointing the fridge, "get the pie out, you don't have to wait for me. I wanna know if you like it."

"Of course I'll change mine to match yours," Luke rolled his eyes, happily getting up and putting the dinner plate away in the dishwasher, before taking the pie out of the fridge.

It wasn't the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, but it still looked pretty damn delicious. Lucas brought it back to the table, where Bella was frowning, still munching away her plate.

"But I like your name as Lucas Atwood," her pout quickly melted away as he served himself a large piece of pie, Bella leaning in to get his exact reaction.

Lucas sniffed it first, causing her to laugh and kick his shins. He was suspicious of it, Bella was not the best cook in the world, or even the neighborhood. He took a small bite, before his eyes widened, "oh this is really good, Bells!"

"Yeah?" she had a huge smile on and he nodded enthusiastically, digging in.

The dough was crumbly and the filling of strawberry custard was just the right amount of tangy. He quickly polished off a slice, serving himself of another one.

She rolled her eyes, still smiling, "you really like it? You're not just indulging me?"

"I do, I really do like it," he poked her, "are you planning on finishing dinner any time tonight?"

Bella wrinkled her nose, then shook her head, "I think I'll just put it away. I was snacking all day while cooking, I'm not actually hungry," she got up to put her plate back in the fridge and then draped herself over Lucas, planting a kiss to his cheek, "don't change your name, I like it."

"I'm just gonna add yours, baby," Luke rolled his eyes, leaning against her, his head coming to rest between her boobs, "it's only fair."

"I guess," she petted his hair, "but Isabella Martinez-Atwood sounds cool. Lucas Howard Martinez-Atwood sounds terrible."

He huffed, licking off the fork, "I hardly even use the Howard, it'd be Lucas Martinez-Atwood," he kissed the inside of her wrist, "unless you don't want us to match?"

Bella bit the inside of her cheek, then planted a kiss on the top of his head, "I don't know, I'll think about it. Talking of parents, did you tell your father?"

Lucas cringed and finally put the fork down, leaning back fully with a sigh, "uhm, I did..." he let out a little burp, "his reaction was less enthusiastic than Marisa's, for sure."

"Did he call me a gold digger?" Bella scoffed and Lucas shrugged.

"It doesn't matter what he said. He doesn't matter," he rolled his eyes, getting up to put away the dishes, "come on, we can talk in bed, I'm beat."

Bella pouted, helping him tidy up the kitchen and then following Luke back to the bedroom. He had already had a quick shower, so Lucas simply brushed his teeth and collapsed on the bed, looking much more sleepy by the time she joined him, now freshly showered and smelling like toothpaste.

"Don't be upset about my dad," he said, sounding winded and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling Bella to him, "he's a jackass."

Bella let out a huff, pressing her cheek to his chest and tracing little invisible patterns on his opposite arm with the tip of her fingers, "he's just saying what everyone else thinks."

"Everyone who?" Lucas squirmed on the bed, sneaking a hand under her large band t-shirt and scratching her naked back, "baby, whoever thinks that, it's no one whose opinion I'd respect or want."

"I guess," Bella mumbled, draping a leg over his hip and cuddling closer, closing her eyes. She wasn't even a little bit sleepy, Bell was more of a night owl, while Lucas was the early riser. She could hear his soft breaths as he started to drift off, but her mind was alert and running circles.

Marrying Lucas had been an easy decision to be made in Italy, after all those months she had spent thinking their relationship had been spectacularly blown because of a refused proposal. It was a decision she did not regret one bit, but also one which's repercussions hadn't crossed her mind.

Marrying Luke was easy, being linked to his family... Not so much.

Lucas stirred on the bed, letting out a groan as he rolled on her direction and flipped them easily, throwing an arm around her torso. Bella scooted up on the bed, grabbing her phone and freeing her arms from his hold.

"Bell?"

"Shh, sleep," she whispered into his hair, her free hand moving lazily down his back and then up, while she scrolled through her favorite music portal, checking out tickets.

It wasn't thirty minutes later when she felt a soft vibration against her thigh. Lucas was using her chest as a pillow, so his belly was actually pressed to her thigh and it was bubbling and churning.

Bella glanced down, but Luke was still asleep, soft snores escaping his parted mouth. She frowned, then continued to scroll, but just a handful of minutes later his belly let out a loud whine. It wasn't loud enough to wake him up, but it certainly felt awful enough to, because Lucas let out a groan and rolled on his back, rubbing his eyes.

"Luke?" Bella whispered, sitting up straight on the bed and planting a hand on his chest, "baby, is your belly upset? It's super gurgly."

Instead of getting an answer when he opened his mouth, what came out was a loose wet belch. Even in the dark she could see his face was paling and Bella cringed.

"Okay, c'mere," she grabbed his arm, "sit up, it's probably just reflux-"

"It's not reflux," Lucas' voice was thick with nausea, "fuck, I wanna throw up."

She cupped his face, "do you think it's a bug? Indigestion?" his cheeks were clammy, but there was no heat that usually accompanied a stomach bug.

He shook his head, pushing her hands away from his face and leaning forward, an arm wrapped around his stomach, "no... No-" another wet burp sneaked up on him and he let out a groan, "I can taste the fucking strawberries."

Bella's stomach dropped at his words. It had been her pie. Her damn pie.

"Aw, Luke, I'm sorry-"

He never heard her concerned apology, because he bolted up from the bed, slamming the bathroom door shut after him. Bella grimaced, both in sympathy and hurt, as she got up too.

She knocked on the door, "babe, can I come in?"

"No," Lucas whined through the door, "go away."

"Luke, I'm so sorry, I swear I checked everything..."

"Bell, go away, please," his voice sounded strained and she pouted even more, leaning against the door.

"I'm sorry-" a cacophony of noises answered her, so weird she wasn't sure what exactly was happening. There was no answer, so Bella moved away from the door, venturing back in the kitchen.

She took the pie out of the fridge, inspecting it. It smelt fine, if more eggy than it should be, but fine nonetheless. Bella put it on the counter, fishing out a strawberry and nibbling on the very tip. It tasted fine. Again, with the slight taste of eggs, though...

Bella squinted, leaving the pie out in the counter and then walking back to the fridge and fishing out an egg. She broke it inside a cup and then sniffed at it.

Then it hit her, the rotten terrible smell, enough to make her gag. In the midst of baking, surrounded by strawberries and with sugar boiling, she hadn't felt it at all.

"Oh no..." Bella whispered, throwing it all away, but keeping the pie on the counter to figure out how to dispose of it later. She filled up a glass with water and grabbed a bucket, walking back to the room and planting the items on their bedside table, before softly knocking, "Luke... Baby, are you okay?"

Nothing but a whimper answered her, so she decided that fuck his privacy and slowly turned the knob, opening the door.

He was sat on the toilet, not before it, clutching his tummy with one hand, mouth hanging over the trashcan. Within the ten minutes since he had rushed in there, he had already managed to sweat through his grey top, leaving a huge dark spot on his back.

"I'm so sorry," Bella repeated, rushing to him and crouching down, "aw, Luke, it was definitely my fault. I think the eggs were b-"

He interrupted her explanation by letting out a moan and then more deep cherry vomit fell inside the trashcan, "I can't even think about it..."

"I'm sorry, baby," Bella rubbed his naked thigh, noticing his skin was covered in goosebumps, "get it up, it'll make you feel better..."

"It hurts, Bell," Lucas whined, spitting inside the can and then squeezing his eyes shut as another cramp his intestines. She bit down a whine of her own, continuing to rub his thigh. His stomach was gurgling something fierce and soon she heard as another bout of diarrhea hit the bowl, just as Luke jerked and started to dry heave over the trashcan.

It sounded terrible, deep, guttural heaves that were trying to pull up his stomach lining, but all he managed was some pink tinted froth. He coughed, almost dropping the can, wasn't it for Bella's hand grabbing it last minute.

She planted it on the ground, looking at him like a kicked puppy, "how can I help?"

"You can't," Lucas scoffed, wrapping both arms around his stomach, and taking deep breaths, "I need a shower, I think I'm wrung-" his belly let out a deep, horrible growl and suddenly he gagged, pink chunky vomit covering his knees, the ditched boxers pooling at his feet, his naked thighs and Bella's hand resting on them, "fuck... Now I'm empty."

"Oh, are you sure?" Bell couldn't help but tease, grimacing at her hand now covered in vomit, but there was no heat in her voice. This was all her fault anyway. Lucas groaned, starting to nod, but then he shook his head no and she scrambled to grab the trashcan on the ground, in order to minimize the mess.

She cringed as his whole back arched with the strength of the heaves, body struggling to bring up more. It looked like he was empty, but as Bell was about to tell him as much, more chunky vomit fell in the can, followed by two mouthfuls of pure liquid.

There were tears streaming down the corner of his eyes and Lucas sniffled pitifully, curled up over the trashcan and squeezing his tummy, "this feels like I'm being stabbed in the gut..."

"Let's wash you up, Luke" Bella said, moving slowly in order to dispose of the trashcan without making an even bigger mess of their bathroom, "a warm shower will make you feel better."

"I'm sorry about your hand..."

"Luke, that's the least I deserve after making you so sick," she rolled her eyes, turning around to start the shower and unplugging the drain, before wrapping an arm around his torso, flushing the toilet and pulling him up.

Lucas gagged at the motion, leaning heavily against her as Bella struggled to hold him. His stomach let out yet another unhappy whine and she cringed.

"Babe...?"

His throat bobbed up and down as Luke swallowed convulsively.

"Okay, turn around, Lu-" Bella said hurriedly, grabbing his elbow so he was facing the toilet, instead of the opposite wall and it was just in time, as more vomit rushed up. It was still an impressive amount and he coughed, struggling to breathe as it came out from his nose too.

"You're alright, shh-" Bella rubbed his back, feeling dread start to eat her up. She had heard a significant number of scary stories surrounding bad eggs. That wasn't your regular food poisoning...

Luke whimpered, coughing and struggling to take a breath between the dry heaves, until he finally seemed to have run out of contents to throw up. He swayed on his feet, butt naked and covered in vomit from his lap down, truly a sight to behold.

"I feel like death."

"I know, baby," Bella pouted, stepping inside the shower with him and squeezing Lucas' waist tightly to keep him from slipping. The hot water clung to his sweaty top, then washed down the sickness and he raised his face in order to swallow a mouthful, swishing it around his mouth and then spitting it back up towards the drain.

"Oh no, the bathroom..." he groaned, slumping against the wall and Bella rolled her eyes.

"The bathroom doesn't matter," she gently planted him against the wall, stripping his top and helping him slide down. She didn't trust him at all to stay standing, "sit down and let the hot water do the work, I'm going to clean this up."

He didn't argue, instead Luke curled up under the hot water, head hanging as it ran down his back, and burped wetly towards the drain, bringing up another splash of bile and pink vomit.

Bella cringed in sympathy, carefully stepping around the puddle of sick and throwing an old towel on top of it. She got down to her knees, wiping the tiles and grabbing the ditched clothes, rolling it all in one nasty ball of fabric.

Lucas let out yet another sick burp, curling up even more and hugging his knees, "Bell- Bell, help me up, I need- Help me up-"

Hearing the urgency in his voice, she promptly ditched the mess in her arms inside the sink and then reached in, grabbing his arms and pulling him up.

Lucas stumbled up, dripping water everywhere as he once again sat down on the toilet, arms wrapped around his sick tummy as even more diarrhea rushed out of him.

"Aw, babe..." Bella cooed, moving closer and allowing his forehead to rest against her stomach, rubbing big wide circles on his naked back, "you're okay..."

"I'm gonna throw up," he mumbled tiredly, voice thick with nausea and she carefully pulled back in order to plant the trashcan back on his lap. Luke didn't even gag, he just opened his mouth as more watery vomit rushed out, trembling now that the hot water was cooling on him.

Bella planted a kiss on the top of his head, feeling her heart break. He was clearly in a lot of pain because of her.

"Aww, mi luz," she whispered, hugging him closer despite the grossness of the situation, "you'll feel better in a little bit..."

He coughed up yet another splash, then let out a sigh, "I think now I'm done."

Bella didn't have it in her to quip back any type of banter as she helped him up once again and under the shower spray. He was swaying even more than before, his abused belly sticking out, bloated and red around the belly button.

"Let's get you in bed," Bella whispered, steadying him on his feet and grabbing the soap bar, "don't collapse."

"I feel really woozy, Bell..."

"I know, babe, it'll be just a second..." she bit the inside of her cheek, washing him up as quickly as she could and then hugging him again, helping him out of the shower area. Lucas leaned so heavily against the shower curtain that she heard a rip, but Bella didn't pay it any mind and kept them moving.

He was shivering violently when she helped him sit down on the bed and draped a towel around his shoulders, rubbing it up and down his back quick enough to create some warmth. His tummy was gurgling still, loud enough she could hear it clearly.

"Okay, babe-" Bella leaned back as far as she could, without removing the hand from his shoulder. For the first time since moving in their new place, she thanked heavens it was so tiny, because she could reach his underwear drawer easily, "help me here a little bit..." she patted his thigh, "up."

He raised himself up just enough she could slide the boxers in place and then Lucas fell back, curling up as much as he could and burping again, "I'm gonna puke again..."

"Right now?" Bella huffed, cheeks burning with all the heavy lifting, hand darting for the bucket. He shook his head.

"In a little bit..."

"The bucket is right here, Lu," she removed it from the ground and put it where should be her spot on the bed, "I'll be back in just a second, I just need to put things to wash..."

"mmkay..." he mumbled, turning on his side and grabbing the bucket's edge in his hand, despite not pulling it close to his mouth.

Bella made a face, rushing to finish cleaning. It wasn't even five minutes later when she came back to the bed and Luke had seemingly passed out, the bucket curled under his arm.

She gently moved onto the bed, cupping his cheek to feel for any heat. It felt like a low grade fever, which caused her worry to heighten even more.

Bell couldn't fall asleep, she was too worried and too guilty, so she spent the better part of the night rubbing his back and emptying the bucket when every couple of hours he woke up to throw up a little bit. Around 5 AM he rushed back to the bathroom again and by 6 they had both given up on sleep or in having a normal day ahead.

Bella called them both sick, as she stood next to the stove and waited for the water to almost reach boil, so she could fill up the hot water bottle again.

She half expected Luke to be back asleep, he was weak as a kitten and falling back asleep every minute he wasn't actively being sick, but instead he was awake, watching the morning news on mute and with closed captions on, a clear tell he had a headache.

Bell opened a small smile, sitting in the little space next to his side since he was curled up and tapped his hand, "let me put the hot water bottle on your tummy, Luke."

"Was this the plan?" he croaked, voice hardly more than a whisper, a teasing smile tugging up the corner of his lip, "marry me, then poison me to death?"

It was a silly joke, but it stung and before she could fully understand what was happening, Bella recoiled as if she had been slapped, eyes tearing up.

"I'd never-" her voice broke and the tears sprung forth before she could stop them. Ugly, hot tears that she had zero control over, as well as sobs shaking her body, "I didn't mean to- I never- I-"

Lucas' eyes widened in shock and he suddenly looked more awake than before they had even gone to bed. He sat up correctly, letting out a surprised noise, "Aw, Bell, you know I'm just joking, baby... I know you wouldn't-"

"I'mssorry!" she slurred, moving back, covering her face with her hands and angrily trying to rub the tears away, only for Lucas to grab her t-shirt and pull her closer. Even weak as he was, his weight alone was enough to have Bella moving and she smushed her face against his chest, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

"Hey," he pressed his lips to her temple, mouth all chapped and terrible acidic breath, but she didn't mind it, "I know you didn't mean to, Bella, calm down..."

She shook her head, hugging him closer, "you're in so much pain and all because I was stupid-"

"You weren't stupid, accidents happen," he groaned when the hug squeezed his tummy, sinking down against the pillows, "it's fine, baby. I don't love you any less..."

"And I don't want your stupid life insurance money," she whined, voice muffled by his neck. Lucas let out a chuckle, squeezing her tighter.

"I know," he kissed the top of her head, "I wasn't planning on dying from food poisoning either, c'mon. That's sad."

"Stop talking about that," she whined, squeezing him a little more, "I'm never cooking again."

Lucas' stomach gurgled ominously when it was reminded of the pie and he scoffed, "promise?"

Matthew was restless. He was shifting on the couch like he was sitting on a bee hive and he had that angry scowl on his face she associated with difficult days with his shadow. Except he was cautious with his shadow around her - they didn’t have an incident inside her apartment. As if her defensive magic woven into the floor now worked more in his favour, clearing his mind. Which was a good thing, natural thing, since witches usually provided comfort and calmness to their wolves. But they weren’t a pack and she wasn’t his witch or he her wolf - here they were just two students, bounded by a secret they never talked about. Somehow it mattered very little here and she liked it that way. 

Seline was biting her lip, looking up from her laptop occasionally. She wanted to ask him what was wrong but didn’t know how well he would take it. Maybe the best she could do was give his discomfort privacy, no matter what it was.

Suddenly Matthew stood up, expression drawn and uncomfortable, hand on his belly. Then he bolted to the bathroom. Seline watched him go, concerned.

She watched out for gagging noises, but none of that came. Maybe she was reading too much into this. Would he tell her if he was sick? Wolf and witch relationships aside, if her stomach bothered her, she would rather die of emberassment than admit it. It was an intimate, awkward thing, stomach issues, so she bet he would rather be left alone if something was wrong.

You can only offer what you would like yourself. She was aware she wouldn’t know what would help him. How can you spend evenings with a person each day and not know this?

The bathroom door opened abruptly, but the followed steps were shuffling and slow. Matthew dragged himself on the hallway to lean against the wall across from her. Her gaze flickered to him, trying to be inconspicuous. 

Matthew was sweating buckets, dark red hair plastered to his face. He was usually pale, but now he was glistening, freckles standing out on his cheeks and nose. His arms wrapped around his stomach. He was swaying, bending forward a little.

“Seline.”

She turned towards him immediately. “Matt? Hey, what’s wrong?”

He gulped and ran a hand over his face. “Ugh. I-I don’t know? It’s just-” he looked away, flushing, “my stomach really fucking hurts.” 

“Did you throw up?” she asked, eyebrows drawing together. 

“No. But it feels like my guts fucking exploded,” he threw a sheepish look toward the bathroom. Seline noted he closed the door behind himself, which he usually wouldn’t bother with. “...and it didn’t help at all.”

“Oh.” Seline nodded, trying to figure out a sensitive, emphatic way to talk about this without embarrassing him or getting squicked out herself. “You know what? I have these herbal drops that help with indigestion? They are a miracle thing, I swear.” 

She brushed past him towards the kitchen for her yellow bottled drops. Learned to use the herbal things from her mother and knew a really good doctor who made herbal drops from his own garden. Her whole family used it for years for all kinds of issues. It was always her go-to before any hard-on medication.

Counting 30 drops for herself and adding 20 more for Matthew’s weight into a bit of water, she swiftly returned with the glass.

Matthew slid down the wall on the floor, pulling his knees towards himself and hugged them close, face hidden in the crook of his arm.

Seline crouched down beside him, her heart swelling up at the sight. “Come on. Drink this. Maybe it will spare you from throwing up.” 

He eyed her with glossy eyes. This close to him, the smell of sickness and sweat hit her senses, and she suppressed a grimace. Matthew took the glass of water and took a tentative sip. “Hmm. Is this a witchy concoction?”

“Just regular human medicine and traditional herbal knowledge,” she snorted at him. “If it worked for them a few hundred years ago, it will work for you now.” 

Matthew nodded and emptied the glass. She took it from him before he could drop it on the floor, hunching over himself. 

“You will feel better in a minute,” she promised, doubting words immediately. “Come on, up from the floor. Let’s lie you down on the couch.” She wrapped her hands around his arm, coaxing him to stand. He swayed unsteadily as he got up. Better get him sitting down now, or he might not get up on his own soon. 

The redhead sprawled on the couch, but then moaned at the movement and curled up on his side instead, shivering. Seline noted how he hugged his stomach protectively and pulled his hoodie up, nuzzling his face into the couch’s decorative pillow. “I just don’t get it. What’s wrong with me?”

She sat down across from him on the edge of the couch. “You have been handling your shadow pretty well lately, right? Keeping it down so consistently. Ever managed that before?”

Matthew took a shuddering breath, his bleary eyes focusing on her. He squinted against the light of the living room lamp over him. “No?”

“Well, there you have it. Congratulations! You managed to keep your shadow down enough to catch a stomach flu. It’s been going around the campus, I hear.”

“Congratulations for sure,” Matthew grumbled, huddling further into himself, squeezing his eyes shut.

Seline didn’t really have a reason or good excuse to stay beside him, but she didn’t feel like leaving at all. Shutting off the light, she brought her laptop to her lap, sitting cross-legged beside Matthew. This way, she could keep an eye on him all the time. 

The noises his stomach was making didn’t get any better, though. If anything, they grew worse with each passing minute, gurgling and whining. Matthew wasn’t asleep either, hiding his face in the pillows and rubbing his stomach angrily. 

A burp sneaked past his lips. Matt’s eyes flew open and he coughed a small “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. Do whatever you need to,” she said. She couldn’t focus on her work at all, watching all the telltale signs of oncoming sickness. 

Closing her laptop resolutely, she threw it on the nearby table and fetched a trashcan. Better be safe than sorry.

Matthew looked horrified at the trashcan, sitting upright to lean against the backrest. He scowled at her and then burped instead whatever he wanted to say, pushing a hand over his mouth. 

“I’m-m not gonna throw up,” he declared, a fighting glint in his eyes. He was radiating heat. She could feel it even standing up. She cracked the window open and then sat beside him, pushing the trashcan nearer with her foot. 

He glared at her and then belched. A shiver ran through him and he swallowed hard. His breaths came in short, panting huffs.

Then he pitched forward with a painful-sounding retch. Seline quickly grabbed the trashcan and brought it close, just in time for him to hunch over it. Another retch wracked his body and he lurched violently over the trashcan. Nothing came up. Only a few drops of saliva hang from his lips.

“Mattie. You are doing fine. Psshh. Just let it happen.” She pulled his hoodie down and dared to put a hand on his back, rubbing gently.

The movement coaxed up another burp. Matthew panted over the trashcan, eyes opening and shutting hard. He grimaced and spat into the bag, looking offended and angry to boot. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Seriously, you don’t-”

“For real,” he interrupted, looking at her from the side. “I didn’t mean to come to your place to hurl. I never mean it and it somehow always happens and I’m really sorry. I can leave if you-”

“Oh, shut it,” she said with a small grin. “It’s okay. I’m not letting you leave like this. So stay put and get better.”

He smiled slightly in return, then grimaced. “Seline?”

“Yes?”

“I hate this.” 

She laughed softly at that and leaned closer. Matthew took the trashcan from her hands and buried his head inside it. Putting both her hands on his back, she felt his whole spine shake with the next lurch that finally brought chunky liquid out. She winced as it splashed against the plastic.

A slight pause came. Matthew lifted his head hesitantly. His nose was running and there was vomit hanging from his lips and chin. 

Seline patted his arm. “Be right back.” She hurried to get a paper roll from the kitchen before sliding behind Matthew. He had his feet planted on the floor, trashcan between his knees, head hanging low over it, looking helpless and lost. But he sighed at her touch.

She offered him one of the papers, but his grip on the trashcan didn’t loosen one bit. She gave up and wiped his chin herself, catching all the droplets and throwing the crumpled sheet into the trash. “There you go. You are alright.” 

Matthew stayed silent, blinking hazily. Then his back arched and he was heaving again. She raised herself on her knees with his back in between and rubbed at the sweaty pullover. 

When he pitched forward with a loud throaty gurgle, she sneaked a hand under his hoodie, over his stomach. Seline wasn’t sure what was allowed or not, but he didn’t protest her administrations, so she went with the feeling. His middle was bloated and tense under her hand, puffed out despite all the emptying his body been doing from both ends. 

Matthew moaned against her and she could feel his stomach muscles clenching against her hand. She kneaded against the gurgly organ, which ushered a burp out and a handful of milky sickness. At least it was more watery now, coming easier.

Matthew gagged and heaved, a torrent of liquid rushing out. He was left coughing and catching his breath for a few more minutes, even when he came up empty. Then he let go of the trashcan and tipped back, unknowingly leaning against her chest. She squicked quietly and laughed. “Okay, okay, easy, big guy.”

Seline slid from behind him and helped him ease against the couch until he was lying down, propped up on two pillows. When she stood up to get rid of the stinking bag, she felt a tug on her sleeve.

“Where-...are you…?” Matthew blinked sleepily, dazed and confused. It wasn’t fair. Why did she suddenly feel so protective of him? His dark brown eyes looked like big chocolate cookies, lost in his ashen face. 

Taking mercy on him, she twisted the bag shut and pushed it aside, sitting down next to his head. “Shhh. I’m not going anywhere.”

They sat in silence as Matthew took deep breaths, his chest rising and falling irregularly before evening out. His eyes slid shut and he reached out a hand towards her. Seline could do nothing but take it, holding it over his shoulder. Effectively trapped beside him. 

Pretty sure he would never allow himself such a touch if he was fully coherent. But with the fever raging against him and with how dizzy and exhausted he was after the bounds of vomiting, she could see a completely different side to her gruff red-haired protector. Protector? She still thought his shadow was more of a hindrance to him, but he was getting better. This human weakness was proof.

She slipped her fingers over his forehead, pulling the sweaty strands from his face. Then she combed them through his hair.

She was a little disappointed that he didn’t sound super enthusiastic, but he was probably tired from work. They walk over a couple of blocks to Que Linda and get a table in the back. It’s cozy and cute, and Raina can’t wait to eat. She skipped lunch before her meeting so even though it was still a bit early she was starving. She ordered passion fruit juice, a pork chop with rice and beans, and a side of sweet plantains. Jack, usually one to go all out at a place like this, just ordered the Cubano sandwich.

“That’s it?” she asked.

Jack shrugged, “Just not very hungry, had lunch kind of late today.” 

They enjoyed their meal, filling each other in on their days, chatting about their upcoming plans for the weekend and about the new ideas Raina had for her novel last night she hadn’t had a chance to tell him about yet. 

The train was crowded on the way back to Brooklyn, so they had to stand, getting a spot in the corner where there were no seats, they were standing face to face. When the train rocked a bit and Raina accidentally bumped into Jack’s stomach he gave her a grimace and rubbed it a little.

“Your stomach hurts?” she asked.

He nods, “Think I ate too much, nothing major.” He muffled a quiet burp into his fist. The train covered the noise but she knew the motion well enough. 

She makes a skeptical face. All he had was a sandwich, surely that wasn’t enough to make him uncomfortably full, but she knew full well that he wouldn’t admit to a stomach ache this early on. 

“What do you want to do tonight?” she asked. 

“I was hoping to get some work done on that big commission tonight, but maybe we could watch a movie later?”

“Sounds good,” she said, “Maybe a scary movie? I’ve been itching to re-watch Let the Right One In.”

He nodded, “Sure.”

They got off at their stop in Brooklyn and walked back towards their apartment. 

“I was going to stop at the grocery store on the way home, do you mind?”

Jack made a face and muffled another burp. “I think I might just meet you at home if it’s okay. I need to pee.”

She nodded, “Okay, text me if you need anything.” She ducked into the small grocery store as they passed it and picked up a few things they needed: yogurt, apples, peanut butter, eggs, oat milk for her coffee, half and half for Jack’s, a loaf of bread, and some oreos just because she still wanted a treat even after her massive dinner. 

When she got back to the apartment she put her groceries away and then stuck her head into their shared office/studio. “Jack?” 

He wasn't there, so she figured maybe the bathroom but he’s not there either. She went into the bedroom and found him sitting out on the fire escape. 

“You okay?” she asked, her forehead wrinkling. 

He shrugged. “Just wanted a little fresh air,” he said. “It was stuffy in our room.” He climbed back in but left the window open. “Nevermind about the painting, let’s just watch TV, I’m beat” he said, stripping off his undershirt and dress pants, letting them fall to the floor. Unusual for her neat freak husband. 

Raina changed into one of his big old tee shirts and joined him in bed where he was sitting, propped up against the headboard. She turned on the TV and pulled her laptop onto her lap, eager to make some notes for her novel. Jack chose to put on Frasier, one of his favorites, and another indication that he maybe wasn’t feeling great. He usually only went for his comfort shows when they were together if he was under the weather or in desperate need of some cheering up. 

She reached over and put a hand on his thigh as she typed with the other, rubbing her thumb back and forth comfortingly against his skin for a few moments before returning it to her keyboard. She could hear his stomach letting out louder and louder gurgles as time passed. Eventually she heard it let out a loud whine and he burped loudly and suddenly a few seconds later. 

“Sorry, that was gross,’ he said. 

“Are you okay? Sounds like your stomach’s pretty upset.”

“It’s a little sour,” he said. “I don’t know, I ate lunch and it was fine and the second I sat back down at my desk it just started making all these noises and I got so bloated. I tried to use the bathroom a few times at work, but it didn’t make a difference. Nothing would come out, not even air.”

“And now?” she asked, “After dinner?”

“It’s even more upset, but at least I’m getting a little relief from the burps.” 

“I wish you’d told me, you didn’t have to eat dinner when you already weren’t feeling good.” She reached a hand out tentatively. “Do you want me to rub it?”

“Yeah,” he said, stretching out a little to expose more of his stomach. “It wasn’t so bad by the time I left work, I thought it was just a little indigestion.”

His belly was usually pretty flat, not musclebound or anything, but fit enough if a little soft. Now it was rounded out, badly bloated and firm under her hand. As soon as she touched it she could feel it bubbling and churning under her hand. She pressed lightly, rubbing her hand in gentle circles. He moved her hand a little lower and she could practically feel how badly his intestines were cramping. He gave a little low moan. 

“Does that hurt?” she asked. 

“Kind of,” he groaned, “Just feels off.”

“You have cramps?”

“Yeah, but nothing’s going up or coming down, it just fucking hurts Ray.”

She put her laptop aside and leaned her head on his shoulder, focusing on rubbing his bloated abdomen with gentle pressure. He let out the occasional sigh or moan, but seemed to relax a little, his breathing evening out and his eyelids fluttering closed. She watched an episode and a half while she rubbed his still churning belly. She was rubbing at a spot that felt especially tight when he gasped followed by another airy burp.

“Sorry, babe,” she frowned, pressing her hand into his right side. She felt a flood of bubbles under her hand.

His stomach let out its loudest grumble yet, a low roar that went on for several seconds. He burped again, loudly and forcefully, clamping a hand over his mouth as liquid splashed the back of his throat.

“Uuuugh,” he groaned. “I don’t feel good.”

“Let’s move to the bathroom,” she said. 

He groaned again, but nodded and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and letting her lead him to the bathroom. He sat down on the floor across from the toilet and she sat next to him, resuming her careful stomach rubs. He leaned his head back, eyes closed, each burp he let out sounding a little more dangerous than the last. As she ran her hand across his gut, just below his navel, he let out a sharp hiss and put his hand over hers, stopping her. 

“Bad?” she asked, looking at his face which was screwed up with pain and had gone pale and waxy, his hair looking startlingly dark against it. 

He lurched forward, pulling himself over the bowl and groaning into it, a thin stream of drool dripping from his lips. “Can you,” his voice was thin and whiny, “Can you keep rubbing it?”

“Of course, baby, of course.” She complied immediately, rubbing her hands gently but firmly over his tense skin. 

She dislodged another burp, long and braying and it brought up a tiny amount of liquid with it and he coughed and groaned over the bowl. He coughed again and a much bigger wave of vomit came up, thick and chunky, as though it was mostly still undigested. “Unnnnngh,” he panted, cold sweat breaking out on his neck and forehead, “It hurts. I can’t get it–Urrrrrrrrrrp.” another thick, wet burp tore through him and she felt his stomach muscles clench and bear down, his entire body rocking up over the bowl with the force of the heave as he brought up a massive wave of awful smelling sick. He heaved painfully, again and again, muscles clenching involuntarily. 

Raina rubbed his back, “Breathe, baby, breathe, take a deep breath, there you go.” 

He released his grip on the toilet seat just a little as he finally managed to get a deep breath in. He sobbed the breath back out, tears gathering on his lashes as he leaned his face against his folded forearms. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” she shushed, still rubbing his back. She stroked his hair away from his face, startled to see that he had popped a blood vessel in his left eye with the force of his vomiting. She stood up and brought back a wet washcloth, wiping his face and folding it and laying it across the back of his neck. 

“My stomach still hurts so bad, Ray,” he whimpered. “I feel…so…sick. I think, oh god, get out Ray.”

“What? No, I’m not leaving–”

“GET OUT,” he snapped as he scrambled up, pulling down his boxers and turning around quickly as she rushed out, shutting the door behind him.

 Raina stood fretfully outside the door for a moment but didn’t want to invade his privacy. She went to the kitchen, getting him a glass of water and heating some water on the stove to fill the hot water bottle so it would be ready for him. She placed all the necessary supplies on his bedside table. He still hadn’t come out, so she knocked softly. “Jack?”

“Nnngh, I’m okay. Just leave me alone.”

“Okay,” she called from outside the door. “I’m here if you need me.” She went back inside the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling on her phone a bit but not really taking anything in as she worried about Jack. 

Fifteen minutes or so later she heard a flush, and the shower, and then Jack staggered back into their bedroom, a towel wrapped around his bottom half, clutched loosely on one hip. She got up and helped him to sit on the edge of the bed, then grabbed another towel out of their closed and gently dried his dripping hair and his back and arms before very carefully drying his chest and stomach as he leaned his head against her hip.

“How are you feeling, baby?” she asked, running her fingers through his damp curls. 

“I don’t know, the pressure’s a lot less, but I still feel sick.” 

She helps him lay back against the pillows, “Sick how?”

“Nauseated and crampy and just, aaah—” he groaned, clutching his stomach, “I don’t know, it hurts, I feel rotten.” Even though he just got out of the shower his pale face already had a sheen of sweat covering it. 

She reached up and felt this forehead and then rested the back of her fingers on his cheek. “You’re starting to feel really warm. I was thinking food poisoning, but this is starting to seem more like a bug.” She put the thermometer in his ear, waiting for the beep. “Yeah, 100.8, babe.” 

He gave a little shiver as she confirmed what he was already feeling. He curled on his side and she tucked the hot water bottle wrapped in a soft towel against his stomach. He breathed a little sigh of relief. “Thanks, Ray.”

“You need to drink some water, babe,” she said. 

He squeezed his eyes shut. “No, I can’t. It’s just gonna come right back up. My stomach is still– still cramping so bad.” 

“How about a little sip of Sprite, then? You’ve gotta get some liquids in you even if they come back up.” 

“Okay, I’ll try,” he sighed. 

She cracked open the room temperature can of soda she’d found on top of the fridge and put a straw in it, holding it to his lips. “Just a couple of sips,” she encouraged. 

He sipped at it and then turned his head back into the pillows. “Can you turn out the light?” he whined, “My head hurts.”

“Of course,” she clicked off the lamp, leaving the room dark except for the light coming in from the hallway. 

He let out a soft sigh. “Is there a bucket?” he asked in a quiet voice. 

“Right here on the bedside table, do you need it?”

“Not yet,” he said, “But soon.”

“Okay, babe, okay,” she shushed, rubbing his back as he curled towards her. She heard Mow pad into the room and jump up on the bed. Jack groaned a little as the motion.

“Izzat the cat?” he slurred sleepily as Mow curled up in the crook behind his knees.

“It’s just Mow, baby,” she said, “Try to get some sleep.”

“Mow always knows when I need him,” he mumbled. 

“I know baby, Mow always takes good care of you,” she said.

Lucas stumbled out, glad that the small house was empty. At least Bell's mom hadn't been there overhearing it all. Not that he had much pudor or dignity left to spare when it came to the woman, considering he had gotten a stomachache every time they visited her in New Mexico.

"Luke, my god..." Bella's voice startled him and he looked up, surprised.

"I thought you left..." his voice sounded horrible. Bella shook her head, rushing to him and holding him by the elbow, stopping him from collapsing down.

"No, babe, of course not," Bella cupped his face and her hand felt heavenly against his overheated cheek. Despite the cold sweat, his whole body felt like it was on fire, "I wouldn't leave when you're sick, I was worried."

"Uhmmm..." he leaned on her touch, "I'm not sick, just a stupid baby who can't digest food."

Bella scoffed, "that doesn't make you a baby, just a gringo," she teased him lightly, but the humor was weak in her voice, as she was clearly worried and he was feeling wretched.

"Bell..."

"Come lie down," she guided him to the small couch of the cramped house and Lucas collapsed on it. He couldn't lie down on the couch, it was far too small, but it didn't matter. Lucas leaned back, pressing a fist to his mouth as he muffled a sick belch.

"I want to die."

"You look like a corpse, if it helps," Bella mumbled under her breath, reaching for his tank top, "arms up, you sweat through the top."

"Ugh," he raised his arms just as little as necessary for her to strip him down, trying to avoid jostling his stomach. The nausea was still very present, pressing on the base of his throat, the chili crawling up quickly "...gonna be sick."

"Now?" Bella raised an eyebrow, sitting back on her heels, his top squeezed in her hands. Lucas nodded, immediately gagging and causing her to scramble for a recipient, but there was none. The buckets were across the house and while the place was small, she wouldn't grab it in time.

"Shit! Okay, okay, here..." she held the top under his chin, folded in a little nest and Luke groaned at the sheer humiliation, as yet another sickening bubble caused his stomach to clench.

He coughed, leaning forward. His belly squeezed once, twice and then boiling liquid went up, burning his throat as it fell in the white fabric, stinging his nose.

"Breathe, Luke-" Bella sighed, grimacing at the mess, "baby, breathe-"

"It'sinmynose" he whined, coughing again and bringing up yet another mouthful of vomit. It was bright orange and chunky, the sheer aspect of it causing Lucas to gag again. He squeezed his eyes shut not to see the mess and heard Bella groan as he puked again, this time some of it running down his chin.

A dry heave, although his stomach felt far from empty, and Lucas swallowed in a bunch of times, managing to push the nausea back down.

"Done?"

"For...for now..." heartburn was fierce, making his chest ache. This felt like a minor heart attack.

He felt, instead of seeing, Bella move on the couch, followed by the noise of running water. Then a cold towel was on his face, wiping away the sweat and puke.

Lucas breathed out, opening his eyes and Bella smiled at him as she turned the towel around, using the clean side to wipe down his chest, "you're sweating like crazy."

"I know..."

"You're gonna get dehydrated at this rate," she bit down her lip, "you need to drink some water, baby."

Just the thought caused him to grimace, he couldn't fathom putting anything in his queasy stomach, not when it was a struggle to keep down what was currently in it.

"Hang in there, I'm just gonna grab you a bucket."

He nodded, not that Bella was expecting an answer, and leaned back, planting a hand over his stomach. It looked awful, bloated and taut, the smallest of pressure sending up an airy burp, but even worse, causing more cramps to erupt.

If they were back home he'd had a hot water bottle pressed to his belly, but in the heat of New Mexico just the idea of more warm things pressing on him made Lucas feel claustrophobic.

"I'll go shopping later," Bella said and he was unsure if he had missed a good chunk of the conversation. Upon seeing his confused frown she cleared up, "for food, baby."

Bella sat down, planting a plastic red bucket on the ground and then raising a glass of water, "little sips."

"I don't- I don't wanna eat anything..." Lucas grimaced at the thought and she nodded.

"I know, sweetheart, but everything in the fridge is poison to you," she glared at the glass, "you need to drink just one sip, Luke."

"My stomach is such a mess right now, Bell," he shook his head, trying to bring the glass to his mouth, only to gag at the mere idea of swallowing anything, "I can't."

She looked concerned, but didn't argue, taking the glass back and setting it down on small dining table that was near the couch, "later then..." Bella ran her fingers through his hair, "do you wanna lie down in bed?"

"Uhm..." he breathed out. Yes, he did, but the cramps were starting to pick up again and so was the nausea. He wasn't sure which end was gonna blow first, but Lucas knew this whole ordeal was far from over.

"Luke?"

"Aww," he hissed, heart speeding up as a bunch of bubbles seemed to go through him. It hurt, felt like someone was squeezing him from the inside, "I.... God," a fierce cramp had him holding his stomach and rushing up.

He ran to the bathroom, not bothering to even close the door behind him. His bowels were on fire and standing up that fast had left him lightheaded, a bunch of spots appearing in his sight and a ringing in his ears.

Lucas sat down on the toilet, squeezing his stomach as burning liquid rushed out of him, only to realize it had been a bad idea to put that much pressure on his belly. He gagged, bringing up a hand to clamp it over his mouth, attempting without success to swallow down the bitter saliva that was quickly collecting.

He retched, acid rocketing up to his throat and burning his nose, but Lucas swallowed it back down, hoping against hope he could manage-

"Here, I got you-" Bella planted the bucket on his lap, hand coming to his forehead to support his head, while the other one was in the middle of his back, rubbing circles, "I got you, Luke, let it up."

His body didn't need any added incentive, but the gentle way she bent him slightly forward was enough to do the trick and Lucas hugged the bucket like a pro, coughing up a surprisingly large stream of vomit. He didn't have time to catch his breath, whole body rioting against the spicy chili, as more puke shot past his lips at the same time as his intestines squeezed again.

"Fuck," he coughed, spitting in the bucket, "fuck."

Lucas hung over it, panting for air, barely managing to breathe in before another painful heave took over him, bringing up the last of his stomach. Then he continued to hoover, resting his forehead to the plastic rim and fighting the gags, tears streaming down the corner of his eyes. It fucking hurt.

"Luke..." Bella rubbed his arm, "baby, shh... You're okay..." she pressed a kiss to his shoulder and he let out a small sob.

"It hurts, Bell."

"I know, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry," she kissed his arm again, wiping the tears from his cheek, "You'll feel better in a bit, I promise..."

He interrupted her by rocking forward with a violent heave, except it was empty. His whole back arched with it and he squeezed the bucket more tightly, as his stomach struggled to find anything to get rid off.

Lucas swallowed in, forcing a burp and then heaved again, managing to spit up a pathetic mouthful of bright yellow bile and then gag for another five minutes, loudly.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his gut seemed to calm down.

He was covered in sweat and shaking like a newborn fawn, nose running, eyes bloodshot.

"Let me take this," Bella gently forced him to ease his iron grip on the bucket, "are you all done?"

"Think so..." Lucas mumbled, grabbing the sink next to the toilet to keep himself from faceplanting the ground, "Bell, I don't- I don't feel well."

"I know, baby," she sighed, putting the bucket in the furthest corner of the sink and then stepping inside the shower area of the bathroom. She turned the water on, pushing the curtains aside, "c'mon, a shower will help."

"I can't stand," Lucas sighed, rubbing his stomach uneasily, "just give me a minute."

"Okay," Bella moved closer, flushing twice, while he hid his face on her shirt, muffling a dangerously wet burp. She didn't pull back, only continued to stroke his cheek, thumb attempting to smooth the pained frown on his forehead.

He leaned on the comfort, trying to collect his strength, then nodded and grabbed firmly on the sink, "Alright, help me up."

Bella was tall, but Lucas was much taller and she let out a huff as he leaned part of his weight on her, allowing her to pull him under the shower that was still running.

He braced against the wall with both shaky arms and then raised his head, gulping water down, only to immediately bend again, bringing it all up in one productive heave. Bella jumped, startled.

"Jesus, Lucas..."

He heaved again, loosing his grip on the wall and sinking down to his knees, bringing Bell down with him. More yellow bile shot out of his mouth and Lucas was thankful for the water still running down his back, washing away the sickness and sweat. He panted, on all fours, "kill me."

"You're scaring me, Luke" Bella said in a small voice, "please tell me you're done, otherwise I think we should go to the ER..."

"I'd die from the shame," he whispered, then nodded, "I think I'm done now. Can't stand though, I'm too shaky."

"It's okay, I got you-" despite the fact she was still entirely dressed, Bella wrapped her arms around his torso and Lucas hugged her back, allowing his girlfriend to pull him up with all her force.

She was panting as she managed to get him back on his feet and Lucas let out a nauseated smile, "damn, how much do you lift at the gym, Bells?"

She let out a hysterical giggle, more worried than anything else, "not enough, you're so fucking heavy-" Bella steadied him as Lucas swayed, "please don't pass out."

"Not gonna," he promised, but couldn't help hunching over as he wrapped an arm around his stomach, which was empty but still achy and queasy, "I wanna lie down, Bella..."

"I know, let me just finish washing you up-" she said, barely paying attention, already with soap all over her hands. Lucas frowned at the open door.

"Your mom is gonna walk in this mess and kill me."

"Oh yeah, my mom the puritan," Bella said sarcastically, "she's not coming back any time soon."

"You always say this and then she walks on us," Lucas opened an exhausted smile, resting his forehead on her shoulder as he felt her hands on his body, washing away the sweat.

He could tell she was rolling her eyes even without looking. Another burp snuck up on him and he cringed, seeing as it was right next to her ear, "sorry-"

"Please don't puke on my hair, Luke," Bella teased him lightly, holding the shower head to wash away the suds and then carefully bracing him against the wall so she too could strip from the soaked clothes.

After the shower Bella helped him into her childhood room and Lucas collapsed back against the pillows, unable to move. He heard her let out a huff, "what happened to not wanting my mom to catch you naked?" Bella scoffed, throwing a pair of boxers out of his suitcase and on his chest.

He grabbed it, but his arms were too heavy and his stomach still churning sickeningly, threatening to jump out of his throat if he moved, "you said she wouldn't be back soon."

"And you are gonna pass out in a minute and I can't dress you when you're unconscious," Bella shrugged, putting on pj shorts and her sports bra, then patting his thigh, "c'mon, help me."

"Uhm, don't shake me..." Lucas grumbled, allowing her to push the boxers up his leg and then fix them in place, the elastic pressing against his bloated lower belly, "great, now it's squeezing me."

"It's not squeezing you," she giggled, amused and then rubbed his stomach lightly, working up a burp, "would a belly rub help?"

"No," Lucas grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss her knuckles, "you're just gonna make me puke again if you press on my belly or worse."