#stomachache

"Structurally, sure," Leo continued, unbothered by the lack of incentive, walking back with two cans and handing Max one, falling on the couch with him, "but there's no charisma. You need a pet... And I don't know, some paintings. A wall that isn't eggshell white. That shit is depressive."

"Hmm," Max grumbled, sourly, opening the can and taking a big swing of it, "it's fi-"

"What is your favorite color?" Leo interrupted him, turning eagerly on the couch. Max glared at the other guy's sunny face, rolling his eyes.

"Leo, my place is fine-"

"No, it's not," Leo glared right back at him, "and you're always holed up here unless I invite you out, or Vince- But Vin is busy having the worst year anyone has ever had, so it is my duty to make sure you're not driving yourself insane, sitting in the dark staring at blank walls."

"I'm not your duty," Max groaned, cheeks burning at the implication he was someone's burden. What the fuck?

"Yes, you are?" Leo frowned, seeming puzzled, "aren't you my friend?"

"Uh- Yea-"

"So, my duty," he said, as if that was the only logical conclusion. Max scowled at his lap, taking another big swing of his beer.

"Hmm, whatever," he shrugged, forcing a nonchalance he didn't feel. This was all so new and weird. Even with Vince it had been just as weird, but at least then he had the butterflies that explained why he felt so odd about everything Vince did or said. Now he didn't have any of those, but he still felt... Odd. Like he was learning how to ride a bike, but blindfolded.

"You look like you like red," Leo decided, after a minute of uncomfortable silence. Or at least, uncomfortable to Max, because Leo seemed perfectly content.

He did like red, a whole lot, but Max only squinted at Leo in return, "why? What makes you think that?"

"How dare I perceive you," Leo snorted at his antics, jumping from the couch, so he could pace around the living room, "you dress like an emo teenager, it was either red, purple or black and black is not a color."

"Black is absolutely a color," Max couldn't help a small smile from tugging at his lips, masking it by taking another drink. His beer was now empty, so he busied himself by going to get another can. Was Leo hungry? Max was, so he opened his fridge, pointedly ignoring Leo rambling about leather couches or whatever.

His fridge was depressing, a thought that caused Max to frown. It was a fridge, how could it possibly represent anything? Damn Leo, getting in his head.

Inside of the appliance were the cans of beer, a singular package of sliced white bread, some ricotta, a gallon of milk that he should throw away because it was probably spoiled and two remaining croissants of the batch Vince had brought to the school under the guise of "I made too many, Luke's fridge can't fit anything else", which Max highly doubted was the truth, if solely for the fact he had seen Lucas' fridge before and that shit was the size of an wardrobe.

"Do you wanna order pizza?" Max asked, closing the fridge door with his hip and Leo, who was now by the little balcony area of his apartment and tsking under his breath, mumbling to himself, beamed at him.

"Oh hell yeah."

---------------

Pizza had been a mistake.

One that Max had been well aware off, from the second he picked up the first slice, covered in stretchy cheese and with pepperoni sliced on top. It was so greasy, so delicious, and he hadn't had pizza in forever, so he had done more than a singular slice and splurged with two and a half.

Mistake number two.

Not because he couldn't handle two slices, of course he could quantity wise, except that greasy food like that upset his little bitch of a stomach and he always tried to keep it to the bare minimum.

Now he was lying on the couch, with Leo sitting next to him, one hand holding a slice of pizza, while paint shopping for Max, because apparently he had decided that what his living room really needed was a colorful wall.

"And maybe some warm lamps too," Leo grumbled, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, "these overhead white lights make it look like a hospital."

"You're such a jerk," Max scoffed, but his voice was clipped. He could feel there was a bubble of air sitting in his chest, waiting to come up, and he didn't want to burp in front of Leo.

"A jerk who's being oh so helpful," Leo snorted, ignoring his bitching, "look at this one," he turned his phone so Max could take a look at a swatch of paint that looked exactly the same as the last four he had been shown.

"It's red."

"Oh my god, it's not red," Leo groaned, turning his phone back immediately, "it'ss burgundy."

Max rolled his eyes at him, then tried not to wince as he could feel a gas cramp go through his gut. He had been wearing sweatpants already when Leo arrived, so it wasn't like he could open his jeans and he had bloated so much that even loosening the drawstrings hadn't done much. He hoped Leo wasn't paying enough attention to realize Max looked sort of pregnant.

"What about stripes!" Leo perked up, swiping to a picture of a wall with alternating stripes of a dark, toasty red and a shade of beige, "or like this-" he swiped to one where the stripes were deep red and rich brown, "that's cool right. Very manly."

Uh-huh.

Max snorted, "very-URerp-" a belch rushed up mid sentence and he clamped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. Leo was staring at him, eyebrows up.

"Pfff," the other guy giggled, "what was that?"

"Very manly?" Max finished what he was going to say, cheeks burning. His stomach rolled, as if that singular burp had dislodged something, but not in a good way. In a lets start this party, sort of way.

"Yeah, very manly, hold on-" Leo thumped on his chest, trying to force up a burp and Max shook his head.

"What the hell are you doi-"

Pffft.

"Dude, did you just fart!?" Max cackled, bewildered, as Leo's cheeks turned crimson and he covered his face.

"Shut uuuup," he groaned, face hidden, "was trying to burp to make you less embarrassed!"

"Oh, you idiot," Max giggled, tension easing off his shoulders, bellyache momentarily forgotten over that one pathetic commiserating fart, "I'm fine."

Leo scoffed, cheeks still ablaze and turned back to the phone, now pouting out of sheer humiliation. Max bit down a smile.

"Don't pout."

"I'm not," Leo grumbled and Max would've kept teasing him, wasn't it for the fact his gut picked this moment to remind him that people with glass houses shouldn't throw stones, by whining loudly, gas battling it out, unsure of where to go.

Fuck.

If Leo heard, he chose not to say anything, glaring at his phone now. Max cleared his throat, "uhm- So you were showing me the manly stripes."

He felt stretched. Max squirmed on the couch, inconspicuously lowering the waistband of his sweats. It brought little to no relief. Leo had started talking back up, pointing at the striped walls in his phone and gesturing to the little area that marked Max's entry hall, but Max was barely listening.

His stomach flipped, not just gas now, but genuinely off. The greasy after taste of the pizza was doing him in and he gulped down, goosebumps covering his body.

"So?" Leo blinked expectantly at him, "which one do you like most?"

He didn't care. Max's face was pinched and he realized a second too late that he had snuck a hand under his shirt in order to cradle his stomach. He removed it, "the brown-" his voice was thick, deep, as a bubble of air pressed in his throat, "uurp- brown and beige one."

"Ooh okay," Leo perked up, criss crossing his legs on the couch, "I thought you'd pick the brown and wine one, that's interesting."

Was it? Max nodded, not really agreeing with anything, and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, muffling a sickly burp. His mouth was feeling slimy, greasy meal sitting in his stomach like a brick.

"Okay, so I'm gonna save these-" Leo wasn't paying him any mind, fiddling around his phone and saving a couple different inspiration pictures that featured the brown and beige stripes, "and we can look at lamps."

Didn't Leo need to go home? What time was it anyway?

"Where- Where's Jon?" Max asked, fidgeting on the couch to try to find a more comfortable position. There wasn't one, he was feeling clammy and queasy, a gas ball sitting in the middle of his stomach.

"Working," Leo wrinkled his nose, didn't bother looking up from his phone, "overnight shift."

"Uhmmm," Max wiped his face, then jumped up, "uh- I'm gonna go smoke."

"I thought you were trying to quit," Leo's head snapped, eyes zeroing him in.

"I never said that," Max scoffed, rolling his eyes at the other guy. He searched his pockets for his crumpled cigarettes pack and didn't find it.

"Yes, you did, last time I came over," Leo pouted, "you said Vince hates it."

"He does- Uurerp," Max let out a burp as he stretched to grab his backup pack on top of the fridge. It was thick and wet, bringing a sliver of relief, but tasting so disgusting that his mouth flooded with nauseous saliva. He gulped down, "uhm- yeah, he does hate it."

"And then you said you'd quit," Leo pointed out, having moved to sit on the couch's arm, so he could watch Max stumble around. His gravity felt off center with that lump of congealed food in his belly.

"Nev'r saidthat..." Max mumbled, then stepped outside in the balcony and lit up his cigarette, making a show of sucking it and letting out the smoke in a cloud, if only because he knew Leo hated it and wouldn't step any closer.

His belly cramped, a gurgle running down, and he turned around, pressing the upset organ against the banister and staring at the 8 stories high fall. It was one of his favorite things about his apartment, how high it was, how quiet, windy... He really liked the place, maybe Leo was right and painting a wall wasn't such a bad idea...

Paint felt permanent, though. Felt like saying, yeah, I'm staying, I'm gonna extend my lease one more year, I'll stay in this town, I like it here- Which he did. When he thought of going back to Doveport, no matter how much simpler things were there, Max didn't feel any excitement. Instead, he shuddered at the thought. No, he didn't have any plans to leave Welton, it was permanent... He might as well start treating it like that.

The banister pressed against his stomach pushed up a deeply relieving burp and Max let out a groan, pushing himself further against the metal. It felt great, even if he was still queasy from the items alone. Pizza and beer, what had he been thinking?

"Dude?" Leo's voice was close, too close, and Max jerked, looking to the side. His friend was leaning against the balcony door, eyebrows furrowed, mouth downturned and clearly upset, "why are you nearly throwing yourself off the balcony?"

Max frowned right back, a nagging voice in the back of his head telling him this was important for some reason... Leo's honeymoon disaster, his brain supplied, and yeah, that, but something else also... Leo knowing how to handle an extremely drunk Vince with way too much ease, hinting at having experience...

"So?" Leo had pressed his lips into an annoyed line, "step away from the edge, Max."

"Chill out," Max groaned, "give me a minute, I'm just getting some fresh air."

"You can get fresh air without leaning so much you're nearly falling," the other guy's voice was clipped, the lightheartedness from before was gone.

"Ookay," Max stumbled back, bracing against the balcony's door and now he was close enough to Leo for the guy to be able to tell he was definitely not doing great, Max could tell because his eyes widened and then squinted, studying him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Max gulped down, fighting the urge to burp again, "I think you should go."

Leo rolled his eyes, "I will, as soon as you fess up. I'm not gonna leave you alone if I don't think I should-"

My god, this guy, Max thought with a groan.

"I'm not gonna jump off the building, I just have a stomach ache!" He cried out, frustrated, "one I'd like to nurse on my own, so if you could be so kind-"

"Ah," Leo's expression cleared up, then he giggled, "why didn't you just say you had a tummy ache? What's the big deal?"

"A tummy ache," Max groaned, wrapping an arm around his, very bloated, stomach, "I don't have tummy aches, I was cursed by a witch or something."

Leo cackled at that, shaking his head and stepping back into the living room, "okay, okay, a curse then," he shrugged, looking around in search of something, "uhm- Do you want some tea before I leave? Peppermint is really good for tumm- The Curse," he smirked, finally finding his sneakers ditched near the front door.

"No, I'm fine," Max muffled a gross belch in his hand, shuddering violently at the taste of the pizza and how frothy the beer had made it, "sorry, I ruined the night-"

"Nah," Leo rolled his eyes, "I should've left an hour ago, I knew I was pestering you... I just wanted to know how long until you bit my head off," he beamed, causing Max to scoff and glare at him. This little shit.

Vaguely, he thought it was weird that Leo was, he assumed, an only child, because he had all the energy of a younger sibling, "get out of here, Leo."

"Going, going," Leo grinned, moving around to grab his stuff and fixing his performative tote bag around his shoulder, "see you tomorrow?"

"Why tomorrow?" Max asked, confused, walking him to the door even if every step was hurting. His mouth was watering up, he was definitely gonna end up puking. Not now, in the close future.

"We're going paint shopping, remember?"

"Now, I know for a fact I didn't agree to this-"