WARNING: descriptions of vomit below!
read the warning!
read the warning!
read the warning!
okay, you’ve been warned! please enjoy the fic!
“Hey, Yuuri, do you think, if, say, a person ate dog food - just theoretically! - do you think anything bad would happen to them?”
Yuuri’s head snapped up from the book he was reading, and he took in Phichit’s appearance uneasily. His skin was coated in a sheen of sweat, his face was waxy and washed out, and he was panting heavily; all in all, things weren’t looking good. Yuuri truly didn’t want to ask, but he knew he had to.
“Oh, Phichit, what did you do?”
“Nothing!” Phichit responded too quickly, but Yuuri gave him a look and Phichit ducked his head. “I mean. I just… wanted to try a little. To make sure we weren’t feeding Makkachin something horrible! And it wasn’t bad, but there were so many different kinds!”
Yuuri sighed. “Yeah, Viktor totally spoils that dog. Did you… try all of them?”
Phichit stifled a belch into his hand and bobbed his head in a slight nod. Phichit had come for the weekend to keep Yuuri company and help take care of Makkachin while Viktor was gone at a family funeral, but it seemed that Yuuri’s best friend was going to cause more harm than good. Yuuri chewed on his lip.
“How bad do you feel? Should I call an ambulance?”
“No!” Phichit waved his hands in front of his face frantically, and Yuuri was reminded of how much his friend hated hospitals. “I’ll- oh,” Phichit cut off his protest with a moan, and he doubled over clutching at his stomach. Yuuri jumped up and ran over to him.
“Okay, let’s go, time to move,” Yuuri urged, half pushing Phichit towards the bathroom. They hadn’t taken three steps when Phichit was wracked by a gut-wrenching heave. He squeezed his eyes shut and clamped a hand over his mouth, but his cheeks puffed out and he made a choked sound as his Adam’s apple bobbed, frantically trying to swallow whatever had come up. He managed to keep it in for the moment, but Yuuri knew getting him to the bathroom was out of the question. Moving quickly, he grabbed a rarely-used bowl from the cabinet, and had Phichit sit on the ground with the bowl in his lap.
Almost immediately, he doubled over with another heave, and this time he didn’t hold back. Thick, dark vomit shot from his mouth and nose, splashing in and around the bowl in Phichit’s lap. Yuuri winced, but rubbed his back. Phichit belched from deep in his gut, and sputtered as more puke blocked both of his means of breathing yet again. When a sob escaped him, Yuuri began to offer quiet reassurances, his heart aching.
“You’ll be okay,” Yuuri muttered. Phichit’s only response was another deep heave followed by a wave of sick that robbed him of breath for so long his face turned red. Phichit gasped in great breaths of air, and both were relieved when there was a short reprise from throwing up. Then, without warning, a gurgling sound came from his throat and sick spilled down his chin, missing the bucket completely and staining his shirt. Phichit coughed up a final big wave, which mostly landed in the bucket, thanks to Yuuri positioning Phichit over it, and then he was done.
Phichit wiped his face off and gave Yuuri a wide eyed look.
“That was awful.”
Yuuri cringed. “Yeah…”
Then Phichit, much to Yuuri’s shock, grinned. “I feel so much better now! Sorry about that! I’ll go clean up, and then we can play with Makkachin!”
Yuuri stared after his friend in amazement as he made his way to the shower. Halfway there, Phichit stopped, and called over his shoulder.
“Ah, Yuuri, maybe this dog food isn’t good to be feeding Makkachin after all!”
Shaking his head, Yuuri just groaned and let his head drop into his hands. Even when he wasn’t puking, Phichit could be quite a handful.
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