#throwingup

Jenna raced to the door as soon as she heard the doorbell ring, knowing exactly who it was: the pizza delivery driver. Her pizza being here meant she could finally start her feast. She had decided to treat herself today as it was her birthday but what she found to be a treat others might have seen as their worst nightmare.

Ever since she was a kid she’d been fascinated by vomit. When she was six and Melanie puked all of her lunch back up on the lunch table, when she was 23 and Dani drank a bit too much and Jenna held her hair back while she projectile vomited into the toilet, even yesterday when someone in the office went home because they felt like they were going to be sick. And now she was fascinated with being sick herself.

She placed the pizza on the table next to the cold scrambled eggs she’d made this morning. She’d heard that apparently they’re pretty easy to get back up so hopefully she hopes that’s true. She started with the eggs knowing that if she was to vomit this all back up, she would be weak by the time the first thing she ate made a reappearance. Once she’d finished the eggs she moved on to salad, feeling the slimy leaves slide down her throat before tucking into the pizza. She’d gotten a large and now started to regret it as the eggs tossed in her stomach. She’d already had a pretty big breakfast as she’d gone out with her friends and they’d had a huge stack of pancakes. They now sat firm in her stomach. Despite that she powered through, finishing the pizza, eating chicken nuggets, downing a small carton of milk, eating a few strawberries and making sure to drink plenty of water.

Now for the finale. Her birthday cake. It was an average sized chocolate cake and oozed with chocolate dripping down the sides. She gagged at the sight of it feeling her half-digested meal slide back up her throat. She pressed a fist to her mouth and swallowed thickly, bringing the pizza box in front of her just in case she lost this battle with her stomach too soon. She’d forgotten to bring a bowl or bucket to the table so would have to settle for her now empty pizza box. When she was confident she wouldn’t vomit she picked up a fork and started to eat the cake. She savoured it because as sick as she was feeling she could still appreciate how good it was.

Halfway through the cake became thick and chewy in her mouth making it almost impossible to swallow. She felt her stomach churn and lightly stroked it underneath her top. She knew she didn’t have long before everything came back up. Her mouth filled with sweet tasting saliva as she burped wetly into her hand. God she was feeling awful now. She forgot how horrible the nausea was before you finally get the satisfaction of letting it all back up.

Her burps got deeper and wetter and she began to gag over the pizza box. It was time. She managed to slide off her chair and onto the kitchen floor. When she did throw up, which wasn’t often, she preferred to be kneeling so she could purely focus on vomiting and not trying to keep her balance. She let the saliva drool out of her mouth onto the cardboard and just seeing the saliva mix with the leftover cheese and tomato sauce made her retch violently. The food in her stomach sat heavy as she rubbed her stomach gradually rubbing it harder and harder in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

The nausea was making her hot and sweaty and her waistband was digging into her middle, increasing the already unbearable pressure. She took both her trousers and her top off so she was left in just her underwear, kneeling over the cardboard. She rubbed her hand in circles over her full stomach, feeling her stomach muscles contract with every gag. Her undigested food was inching its way up her throat, she burped wetly and felt her stomach lurch. She burped again and this time it sent a mouthful of cake back up, puffing her cheeks out. Swallowing it back down crossed her mind but she knew that if she did that she would only make the nausea worse and the process longer, so she opened her mouth letting the undigested chunks pour out of her mouth. Seeing the half chewed cake on the cardboard sent her over the edge and her stomach lurched as a huge wave of chunky brown puke erupted from her mouth making her stomach contract and her shoulders hunch over. She kept a hand rubbing her upset tummy whilst the other one was on the floor in an attempt to keep her balance. She coughed and spluttered, triggering another wave of thick chunky vomit. Before she could take a breath she gagged up a third bout of puke this time a slightly lighter brown with pink specks dotted throughout it. The chicken nuggets and the strawberries she thought, her stomach her stomach twisting sickly again. She unproductively retched at the sight of her undigested meal making a reappearance on the cardboard. She dry heaved a couple more times before grabbing a tissue and wiping the vomit from her face but she knew it wasn’t over yet. She still felt awful with her stomach still feeling too full. She knelt back over the pizza box, deciding that she needed to bring this food back up, knowing that she wouldn’t feel better until she did.

She leant down so her face was only an inch away from the chunky pile of thick brown vomit and breathed in deeply smelling the foul aroma of her stomach acid being mixed with her meal. She pushed into her stomach hard with her palm and burped deeply, with the burp turning into a productive heave halfway through. She slowly brought up mouthful after mouthful of thick, chunky undigested pizza and slimy salad leaves, the milk and water turning it into a sort of sludge like texture making it less difficult to get back up. After she’d thrown up what she thought was all the pizza she leaned back resting her head against the kitchen wall. She rubbed her belly, feeling slightly better but knowing she’s still got a bit more to go.

A sudden strong wave of nausea washed over her making her stomach churn. She closed her eyes and gagged still leaning her head against the wall and as the contents of her stomach shot back up, she just opened her mouth letting the half-digested scrambled egg pour out of her mouth, down her chin, and all over her stomach and breasts, some chunks getting caught in her bra. She burped up a couple more mouthfuls, even seeing some chunks of the pancakes she had for breakfast, and finally feeling better sighed and patted her now vomit coated tummy. She took in the sights feeling very content: the pizza box holding a large pile of thick, chunky, sludge like sick, her bra with chunks of egg stuck in it and her tummy covered in her undigested birthday meal.

Now about 5 minutes after 3, we hear the baby monitor go off again, which is to be expected at this point. Four weeks of having our beautiful baby girl, we know how long she sleeps before she's hungry again. That also creates exhaustion in both Harry and I. More exhaustion for me though because I'm still healing from giving birth and I'm the one that has to feed her from my body when she's hungry. That's why this time when the monitor goes off Harry tiredly mumbles, "I'll go get her and bring her to you, alright."

When Harry slips out of the bed with hooded eyes, messy curls, and low riding gray joggers that show his v line, I blindly slip my shirt off to make it easier to feed her when he returns with our tiny baby. A minute later, Harry returns with a fussy baby in his tattooed arms, ready to be fed. He walks over to the lamp on my bedside table and turns it on, leaving a warm glow in the room. Then he pulls back the blankets that's covering my naked chest and gently lays her small body between my boobs. Once our baby is on my bare chest, Harry carefully grabs one of my boobs in his hand and positions my nipple to her small mouth. "Is she latched on correctly?" he asks, not being able to see fully see due to her facing away from him.

I look down at my nipple she has in her mouth and can see her mouth doing subtle sucking motions along with feeling and the sounds the sucking she's doing with that strong mouth of hers. "Mhm I believe so. Come back in bed please." I respond. Harry leaves the lamp on and walks around the bed to crawl under the warm covers again. He scoots his pillow higher up and closer to mine, in the middle of the bed. Then he turns on his side and places a ring-less hand over our baby's back, gently rubbing it in soothing patterns and watches her while she eats.

Harry loves watching our baby feed from me. Not in a sexual way because its from my boobs that he adores so much during sex or foreplay. Its more of a fascination for him. Being fascinated with how my breast can produce milk to help our baby grow and become strong. Often when I'm breast feeding, no matter the time of day or place of feeding, he'll sit and watch. I never mind honestly. Harry is my husband after all, so I'm very comfortable around him.

As he's half consciously watching the baby feed from my boob, I'm laying flat on my back with my eyes closed, just about to doze off to sleep from the sleep deprivation my body is in. I'm not afraid to fall asleep because I know Harry is awake and watching her. So I do feel comfortable enough to doze off with her on my chest though I'm trying to keep awake to burp her when she's finished. I can feel Harry glancing at me and he's picking up on my battle with sleep. "It's okay to fall asleep. I've got her. When she's finished, I'll burp her and put her back to bed alright." he whispers quietly to me.

Knowing I have full permission to fall asleep, my mind falls blank as I doze into a much needed slumber. A few minutes later our baby girl detaches from my right nipple. Harry sits up and lifts her from my chest, pulling the covers back over my exposed upper body, and places her on his naked and tattooed chest carefully. He reaches over to his nightstand where a burping cloth lays and grabs it to place over his shoulder. Then he properly situates her upright over his shoulder to begin burping.

Usually it takes no longer than two minutes to burp her after a feeding, but for some reason tonight she isn't burping. "Come on my darling. Burp for daddy please so we can go to sleep." Harry coos in her ear softly while patting her back. She just makes a grunting noise like she's got a bit of a tummy ache due to not burping yet. Harry repositions her to where she's cradled in his arms and looks down at her. Our baby's face is scrunched up in discomfort. "Why won't you burp huh? Is your tummy hurting?" he questions his daughter in a playful yet worriedly manner. Obviously she can't respond to her daddy's question, so Harry just places a hand on her belly and starts rubbing gentle circles over it, thinking it'll help her tummy ache. It soothes her for a minute but Harry knows she must burp. So he places her back over his shoulder and attempts to burp her again.

After about ten light taps to her small back, she lets out a burping sound but its much more than a burp. It's a sickly burp that came along with vomit. Our poor baby girl projectile vomits a stream of white milk down her daddy's back and on the pillow underneath him. "Shit." Harry whisper yells, while jumping up from the bed out of quick reflexes. His sudden movements startle me awake.

"What Harry? What's happening?" I question my husband with a confused brain due to the sleep I was just in.

"She just spit up all down my back and on my pillow while I was burping her." Harry replies back while shushing the now crying baby in his arms.

I look over with blurry vision and see the spit up puddle on his pillow. "Why'd she throw up? Does she have a tummy ache?" I ask him worriedly. The one thing that stresses me out most with having a newborn is they can't communicate to let people know when somethings wrong.

"I'm not sure. She wouldn't burp for me, so I gave her a belly rub and tried to burp her again. Well she burped alright but it wasn't just air that came with it. It was her meal as well." he responds.

I make my way out of the bed and go to our master bathroom to fetch a damp cloth. I notice I'm still topless at the moment but I don't really care. Once I have the warm damp clothes, I make my way over to Harry who's calming our baby down. I walk behind him and began cleaning up the spit up that's running down his back. "I think her burp just got stuck and when it was finally ready to come out, she accidently brought up the milk too." I tell Harry. "She seems alright now so I don't think she's actually sick or anything."

Once I have cleaned Harry's back off, I carefully wipe our babies mouth off to make sure she doesn't have any dried spit up on her face. Then I go to our hall closet and find a clean pillow case for his dirtied pillow. While changing his pillow case, Harry asks, "Do you mind if she sleeps in her bassinet in our room for the rest of the early morning? You know, to keep an eye on her and to have easy access to her when she needs to feed again."

"Yeah of course babe. Hand her to me and go grab the bassinet." Harry hands the sleeping baby to me after I've changed his pillow case and goes to the nursery to fetch her light pink bassinet bed. I sit on the edge of the bed waiting on him to return. When he returns, he has a diaper, wipes, and the bassinet in his arms and hands.

"I'll place it on my side of the bed so you don't have to get up to get her when she's hungry. I can just hand her to you." Harry speaks lowly in his deep accent. Once the bassinet is sat on the floor by his side of the bed, I hand him our baby again and he lays her down on our bed to change her wet diaper. When he was holding her moments ago, he felt her heavy diaper, so that's how he knew to grab one when in the nursery. He unbuttons her onesie and takes off her soiled diaper. Then he takes a wet wipe and gently wipes her off so she doesn't get a rash from dried pee left on her. After she's all clean, he puts the fresh diaper on her and rebuttons her onesie.

Lastly, he slowly picks her up and places her in her bassinet and pulls her blanket up on her to keep her body warm. Once our baby is back to peacefully sleeping, Harry hands me the pee filled diaper and I toss it into the bin located in our bathroom. Then I turn the lamp off and we both crawl back under the warm blankets. Harry pulls me to his body and I curl up into his side. My breast still naked under the blankets but I know the baby will need to be feed again in a short amount of time, so there is no use in putting a shirt back on. Not long after me and Harry cuddle each other, we are both back asleep due to how tired we both are as new parents, but we are happily tired because we wouldn't trade our baby girl for the world.

"Mhmm my stomachs starting to hurt." he replies truthfully. He's unsure the cause but his stomach is swirling and his heart rate is picking up at the mere thought of having to be sick. Especially the thought of being sick at his girlfriends house during the at-home date you had planed. He doesn't want to ruin it by getting sick.

"Oh m'sorry. Do you think it was the Chinese food?" you speak remorsefully.

"I don't know but I don't want to be sick," Harry says with a voice crack indicating he's actually getting upset, "and ruin our date night." When he finishes his sentence, he starts softly sobbing into your chest.

"Hey, hey, Harry," you say sternly but still in your caring voice, "you would not be ruining our date night. You can't help if your feel sick. Do you maybe want to go sit in the bathroom so you're closer to the toilet?"

Harry just nods his head and you help him stand up from his position on your chest and onto his barley stable feet. Then you guide him to your downstairs hall bathroom because its the closest bathroom to your living room. You walk Harry up to the toilet and help him kneel down in front and you squat down behind him. "I feel so sick y/n!" Harry moans out through shallow breaths.

"It's gonna be okay Harry. I'm right here. It's okay to be sick. I won't be mad." you reassure your boyfriend so he knows he doesn't have to keep in his sick for your sake and so he'll feel better. Because you know undoubtedly he has food poisoning from the Chinese food he ate earlier and if he keeps the toxins in his body, he will just feel sicker and sicker.

Harry's back arches over the toilet as he lets out a sickly sounding gag. You grimace at the noise but know you must keep it together to take care of him and comfort him. He's breathing rather heavy with his mouth hanging open and saliva dripping out into the water. "Shhh babe, just relax and throw up. Your tummy will feel so much better after." you gently coo in his ear. You have one hand rubbing circles on his muscular back and one hand pushing back his curly bangs that's falling in his face. He lets out a harsh dry heave and it follows with a long stream of vomit exiting out his mouth and splattering in the toilet water. You have to close your eyes to not be sick yourself.

In-between spells of emptying his stomach, Harry mutters, "You can leave me in here alone. Don't want you seeing me like this." He is absolutely crazy to think you'd leave him in such a vulnerable state. You love Harry and him being sick doesn't stray you away from being by his side in such a situation.

"Harry, I am not leaving you. I don't care if you're sick. You've seen me sick many times and took care of me each of those times. So I'm taking care of you." you calmly say back. Honestly, Harry feels so sick that he doesn't try and argue with you. If he's being truthful, he's actually thankful you're with him, comforting him, because he hates being sick alone. He may not admit that out loud but its true. Something else that happens when Harry's sick, alone or with someone there with him, he gets emotional. An uncontrollable emotion that follows during or after getting sick. One thing he hates most about this situation right now is looking weak in front of you. He's always so strong and being this vulnerable in your eyes suck.

What Harry doesn't know is that you like this side of him. Not the sick version of course but the weak side. It shows he isn't perfect and you honestly don't think you could even date someone who puts themselves out as such.

Harry forcefully throws up a few more times until he's just dry heaving with nothing more to expel. "I think you're done babe." you tell Harry softly as he's dry heaving with no results.

Harry just shakes his head weakly and replies, "I still feel sick though. My stomach hurts so bad." Tears are rolling down his face and his hands that grip the sides of the toilet seat are slightly shaking.

"I know but I think the toilet is making you feel more sick." You reach over him to flush his puke down the toilet so he doesn't have to look at it a minute longer. Harry sits up straight and turns his head back slowly to look at you. This is the first time you have seen his face clearly since he's gotten sick tonight and the first thing you notice is how red his eyes are, probably from all the gagging and dry heaving, and you see the wetness of his cheeks due to crying. Along with the bit of vomit that his on the corner of his pink lips and line of sweat on his forehead. You feel horrible for him. You'd hate to be in his position but almost wish the roles were reversed, just to take his discomfort away. That's how much you love him. You'd do just about anything for Harry. Even if that means take his food poisoning away from him and have it yourself.

You reach for some toilet paper and rip a piece off to wipe his mouth clean. While wiping his vomit covered mouth, Harry just sits and stares at you. He feels so little right now. Almost like he's a small child who's just been sick and their mum is cleaning them up. Even though Harry is embarrassed he got sick on what was supposed to be a lovely date night where you both ate non contaminated food, watched film after film, trying not to fall asleep, or maybe had some romantic intimacy at the end of the night, he actually feels happy right now. Not happy his stomach is upset but happy he got lucky enough to have a caring girlfriend that is by his side during his ugliest moments. He thinks he may have just fell more in love with you. Seeing how compassionate you are towards him when he's sick.

When you finish wiping around his mouth and a little bit of nasty drainage from his nose, Harry becomes emotional again. Like stated previously, he always gets quite emotional when he's sick but that's not the only cause of his emotions right now. He is also crying because he's thinking about how much he truly loves you and how he never thought he'd find someone with your level of compassion.

You throw away the soiled tissue and pull Harry forward so you can embrace him in a warm hug. You don't really understand why he's crying so much. Is it because his stomach is still hurting or he's embarrassed? "Why are you crying Harry?" you question him then continue, "It's alright. I'll give you medicine to make you feel better. Don't worry about that."

While rubbing both hands up and down his sweaty back, Harry says through soft sobs, "I just love you so much. How did I get so lucky. I've had partners in the past to push me away when I was sick and you didn't. You stayed and took care of me." He lifts his head so he can view your face when he mutters out the rest. "I'm gonna marry you one day you know. Want to call you my wife. Want to have lots of babies with you. Be with you till I'm a hundred. Promise I do."

His words have brought tears to your eyes. Knowing how grateful Harry is that you're taking care of him when he's sick means so much. You didn't think twice before helping him when he said he felt sick, so it must be the true love you feel for this man crying in your hold. With a shaky smile and watery eyes, you look at him in his glossy green eyes and say, "I would kiss you right now but I have a feeling your breath smells like puke so I'll pass. Love you so much Harry and of course I took care of you. I love you and that's what you do for the people you love. Take care of them in their weakest moments."

You hold him for a few more minutes on the bathroom floor until your bum gets sore from the hard tiles. You help Harry stand to his feet and walk him to your bedroom located up the stairs of your house. Then you help him slide into bed and tell him you'll be right back with some medicine and a glass of water.

A few minutes later, you come back with the upset stomach tablets and water for Harry to take and ease his turning tummy. Once he's taken the medicine, you go grab your mini trash bin in your bathroom and place it beside the bed incase he feels like he's gonna throw up again. Then you turn all the lights off and crawl under the warm blankets with your boyfriend. Without hesitation, Harry scoots over and places his head on your chest. He's past the point of being scared to look weak. He just wants comfort and the one thing that brings him the most is you. The love of his life. "Thank you for taking care of me tonight." Harry whispers with a hoarse voice.

"You don't need to thank me babe. I was glad to be there for you. I know you don't like getting sick and I was happy to at least make the experience a little bit better. Now go to sleep and if you feel sick again, the bin is on the floor beside the bed for you. Also don't be afraid to wake me up if you feel nauseous. I want to be there to comfort you." you reply back in a whispered tone. You kiss the top of his messy curls and Harry relaxes into your hold on him. Feeling safe and secure in your loving arms. Then you both fall fast asleep.

Thankfully Harry didn't get sick anymore through-out the night and the medicine you gave him seemed to have worked. The next day he was just exhausted form exerting so much energy being sick the day before but other than that, his stomach felt calm. You made him homemade chicken soup and cuddled him in bed, watching his favorite movies all day. Loving every second you get to spend with Harry before he has to leave and go on his world tour in a months time.