Kind of Nauseous

“What hurts?” Mallory and the man asked in tandem, their eyes briefly flickering up to each other before quickly focusing back onto Kellen. His breathing was noticeably labored as he tried to form a coherent thought. 

“Everything,” he croaked, “...head hurts.” 

“There’s a reason we oldheads tell you dumbasses to wear your damn helmets,” the older man said sternly but not unkindly, tapping his own. “Can you tell me your full name and where you are? Does your neck hurt?”

Kellen inhaled sharply in overwhelm, finally opening his eyes a sliver. “Kellen Clark…the skatepark. No.” He started to push himself up again, more determined this time. “Told you, ‘m good…let me up.” His thin arm trembled as he rose to a sitting position and brought his palm to his forehead. Mallory gasped; the side of his face that had been pressed into the ground bore a nasty friction burn--but more concerning was the blood trickling down his temple and cheek from somewhere in his hairline. His elbow and knuckles were also scraped up and bleeding. “Fuck…”

“Y-your head is bleeding,” she choked out. Kellen looked at her through half-lidded eyes, hazy and unfocused. His face was growing paler by the second, and he dragged his hand away from the center of his forehead and towards his temple, coming away wet with blood. He stared at his bloodied palm, blinking multiple times. Mallory didn’t notice the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he started to rapidly swallow, or the way his head swayed back and forth as he tried to maintain his sense of balance. But the older skater did. 

“Get out of the way, he’s going to puke,” He warned, scooting quickly to Kellen’s side. Mallory flinched in surprise and scrambled backwards from in front of him, unable to bring herself to help him as he doubled over his own lap with a half-formed gag and covered his mouth. The remarkably level-headed stranger gently guided him to the side, away from his own legs. “You’re good, kid,” he repeated softly, looking back over his shoulder to glare at everyone still watching.

A loud retch careened Kellen forward, forcing him to shift his hips and catch himself on his hand. Mallory inched further away, breath halting as her heart began to race faster. She couldn’t tear her eyes off of him as he jolted with a burp and a liquidy wave of pale vomit splattered onto the ground in front of him, splashing the top of his bare hand. He moaned, cutting his own rising complaint short with a gurgling noise as more puke rushed up his throat and cascaded to the concrete. The crowd of bystanders surrounding him quickly dispersed in a frenzy of shouts and screams as people frantically rushed to escape the sight and sound. She was completely frozen in place, seized by panic and at a loss for what to do. Mallory wasn’t the best with vomit on a good day; least of all when it was coming from the love of her life in a high stakes situation. 

“Did you drive here?” It took her a few seconds to realize the man currently filling the position she should be in was addressing her. She shook her head, pressing a hand to her chest as hyperventilation threatened to take over. “Well, call a friend who can take you guys to the ER. His head is bleeding a lot,” he gestured to the blood dripping from the tips of Kellen’s curls, bright red droplets joining the vomit covering the ground. “It might not be as bad as it looks, but it’s too hard to tell where it’s coming from.”

“W-who do I call?” She cried helplessly, cringing away as her sort-of-boyfriend heaved up another slurry of his stomach contents, breaking into a harsh coughing fit as he choked on the mouthful of liquid.

He threw up a hand in frustration. “I don’t know, lady. Figure it out!” 

Mallory finally snapped out of her paralysis at his exasperated tone and pulled her phone out of her pocket with a trembling hand. Her fingers were shaking so severely that it took several attempts to unlock it. When she finally managed it, she hovered over her contacts uselessly. She didn’t have the number of anyone he knew. She cursed under her breath and clicked on the only person she could think of--Sarah. Her roommate, who was unabashed in her disdain towards Mallory’s situationship and fiercely protective.

Sarah picked up the phone on the second ring. “Hey girl--”

“Sarah,” Mallory couldn’t get through her name before her voice dissolved into a sob, “Kellen--I need you to p-pick us up.” 

“What? Kellen? What happened, where are you?” Sarah barked, and Mallory heard the jingle of keys in the background. She sucked in a heaving breath, choked for a response. “Mallory!”

“The skatepark--” she inhaled again, “He hit his head--fuck, he needs to go to the hospital, please--” 

Sarah let out a string of curses over the phone. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

--

Kellen’s vomiting had abated by the time Mallory ended the phone call, his wet sniffles punctuated by an occasional aborted heave as he fought to regain control over himself. He exhaled a shaky groan and finally sat back, drawing his knees towards his chest and absent-mindedly wiping the back of his vomit covered hand against the side of his jeans. He instantly winced in disgust when he realized he’d done it. He seemed more alert now, the initial shock of his impact fading. “Mallory,” he panted, “I’m--mnnh--’m okay. Stop,” the word came out garbled as spit coated the inside of his mouth and he spat between his feet. “Stop crying.” With his eyes fully open now, she could see the pupils in his hazel eyes were blown wide, but luckily the same size. That was a good sign, right?

Mallory looked wide-eyed between him and the tattooed man, monitoring his expression. His cool-headed demeanor through all of this made his judgement feel trustworthy. When he made eye contact with her, he nodded slowly, an encouragement to calm down. It was still impossible to take Kellen at face value with the blood coating the side of his face and coagulating in his dark auburn hair. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and scooted clumsily back towards him, her clunky rollerblades impeding the movement. 

“But you threw up,” she whimpered, “and you’re bleeding.” Her voice was fragile, and Kellen’s knee was shaking when she reached him and laid her hand on it. The smell of vomit beside them and clinging to him made Mallory’s stomach turn, but she tried to force it to the back of her mind. “You could have a brain injury.”

Kellen reached the hand he hadn’t puked on towards his affected temple, but their helper quickly interjected before he could make contact.

“Don’t even think about it. She’s right,” he snapped.

Kellen mumbled something under his breath but ultimately obeyed, letting his hand fall back down. He stared at the ground for a few seconds, slowly tensing when his situation seemed to dawn on him. “I’m in the way,” he muttered to himself, preparing himself to try and get to his feet. “Where’s my board?”

“Easy,” the man said quickly, “take it slow. I’ll get your board in a second.” He reached out to grab Kellen’s arm and support him, but the younger man shrugged him off.

“I-I’ve got it,” he tripped over his words, embarrassment flooding through him now that he’d returned to himself for the time being. He shifted onto his hands and knees and pushed himself up with agonizing difficulty. His long, skinny legs shook like tall buildings trying to withstand the force of an earthquake when he finally righted himself. Mallory stood on equally unsteady feet, nearly falling right back down while she fought to balance on her inline skates. She made the quick decision to take them off so she could walk alongside him better, bare socks on concrete be damned. Kellen ducked his head down when he noticed the stares from every direction. “Fucking hell…” he grumbled, color returning to his face in the form of a red blush across his cheeks. Her heart twisted with pity, but seeing him stand on his own brought her immense relief. 

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll never see any of them again,” she snaked her arm around his waist when he stumbled off-balance from moving his head towards the ground. “Just keep walking.”

--

Kellen hadn’t spoken the entire drive, intently focused on staying awake per Mallory’s instruction. She’d barely taken her eyes off of him except to exchange non-verbal check-ins with Sarah in the rearview mirror. They were about halfway to the ER when Mallory noticed it. In her hypervigilance, she picked up on a sluggish swallow from him that seemed to catch halfway down his throat, and the stifled burp that followed from the subtle puff of his cheeks and jerk of his ribcage. 

“You okay?” She whispered, keeping her voice as low as possible. 

Kellen shut his eyes and exhaled through his nose, clenching the fabric of his jeans between his fingers. “My head’s…spinning,” he admitted under his breath, thick brows furrowing in concentration. The arm he was using to hold a rag to his bloodied head was shaking. Before Mallory could respond, a deep hiccup burst out of him, breaking the silence in the car. Sarah’s eyes darted to the rearview, wide with alarm over the unexpected noise.

“Do not throw up in my car,” she warned, “I don’t have bags and I swear to God, I will--” 

“Sarah, pull over,” Mallory cut her off, leaning away from Kellen as he dropped the rag from his head and let out an involuntary belch, “Kellen, please don’t. Please don’t!” 

He swayed back and forth and pressed his hand into the headrest in front of him, trying to stabilize himself amidst a wave of vertigo. “‘I…I don’t feel well,” he slurred weakly in response. There was a sudden thickness to his voice, his salivary glands starting to work overtime.

“Fuck!” Sarah swore, “I can’t believe I agreed to this, oh my God.” She hit the brakes hard as she pulled off onto an illegal shoulder and the tires screeched against asphalt. Throwing open the car door was as far as Kellen got before he curled over with an empty heave, straining against his seatbelt. It was the only thing preventing him from falling out of the car, but too restrictive to allow him to aim fully over the ground. When a spurt of bile came, most of it hit the outer door frame of the car. Mallory and Sarah both shrieked in horror and exited the car in a frenzy. Sarah started pacing back and forth, hands clasped tightly on the back of her neck. “What the fuck, Mallory,” she cursed when she saw Mallory standing in place, “go help him!” 

Mallory looked wildly between the car and her roommate. “I--I can’t, I can’t,” she gasped, bringing her hands to her ears to block out the sounds. It had been bad enough to watch him vomit in an open space. The thought of being in a trapped space with him while he was throwing up, or worse, trying to get him out of the car and risk getting puked on…nausea sprung to life inside her at the mental image.

Sarah’s eyes bulged, blazing with rage. “You owe me,” she growled, marching determinedly towards the other side of the sedan. 

-

It took everything Sarah had not to turn away from the sad sack in front of her. She was not a squeamish woman by nature; it was her burning dislike for this man that made it hard to see him in such a vulnerable state. Feeling empathy for Kellen was…novel to her. It wasn’t like he’d ever been unkind to her personally; but the endless back and forth games he was always playing with her friend made him impossible to like. Anger bubbled up like acid. She shouldn’t have been the one standing here. Under her frustration, though, was a nagging fear. What if he was in more danger than they thought? The massive scrape on his face and clotted blood in his hair was scary enough without this. Maybe they should have called an ambulance instead, but who could afford that?

He hadn’t brought up much other than the initial bile. Tears of exertion were streaming down his face from the force of his heaving. He was barely keeping himself up, the seatbelt doing most of the work. “Kellen, you’ve got to get out of the car,” she said firmly, taking a tentative step towards him when there was a lull in his efforts to expel whatever was still lingering in his gut. She was nothing if not a problem solver. “Unbuckle your seatbelt, grab the door to hold yourself up and get out. You can do it.”

To Kellen’s credit, he managed to do as she said and extricate himself from the vehicle. Standing was not in the cards though, as he quickly sat down on the pavement and ducked his head between his legs, spitting. Sarah winced. “Hey, you’re gonna vomit on yourself,” she warned, moving closer. “At least get on your hands and knees or something.”

“C-can’t,” Kellen gasped, “‘m so fuckin’ dizzy, my head--” he burped, a grating noise that started empty but cut off wetly. “Can’t move, ‘m sorr--urgh--y.”

Sarah, against every instinct screaming at her to leave him and go smack her roommate out of her trance instead, knelt down beside him and laid a hand between his bony shoulder blades. She was still human. “It’s…it’s not your fault,” she sighed, “get it over with, I guess. We’ll deal with it afterwards.” 

The first wave came laboriously. And as she had predicted, it didn’t land in an ideal location. The retch that brought it up was drawn out and slow, and she tilted her head up to look at the sky in despair when Kellen puked up a mouthful of thick vomit that didn’t quite have the trajectory to hit the pavement. Instead, it poured out over his chin and splattered his t-shirt. He choked on the viscous fluid and attempted to lean forwards to aim the next wave away from himself. Saliva streamed from his mouth, rendering him unable to properly breathe as he sat slack-jawed and waiting. 

“Fuck,” Sarah groaned under her breath when the smell hit her. And it was going to be permeating her car after he was finished. Every emotion under the sun was flitting through her. Anxiety that he could be severely injured. Annoyance that anytime he appeared in her life, it was to be a nuisance. Anger that she was the one forced to deal with it. Empathy to see another person suffering like this. She pushed him gently forwards while he struggled to keep his head up.

Kellen made a sound like he was going to speak, but was silenced by his own heave as he rocked forwards and let up the next pitiful stream of sickness. This time it landed squarely between the pavement and his groin, splashing the ground and one of his inner thighs with a disgusting brown color. “Shit,” he slurred, “s-sorry.” His voice was choked and high-pitched, like he was about to start crying. “Where’s Mal-hic!”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Listen, I love that girl but she is not what you need right now. When you stop throwing up--” she cringed when he interrupted her with a retch from the bottom of his stomach, sounding painfully empty. “Dude…you gotta breathe before you pass out or something. It’s getting scary.”

Kellen coughed a few times in an attempt to clear his throat, clutching the unwounded side of his head as if every cough was a jackhammer to his skull. “Sorry,” he repeated quietly, eyes fluttering closed where he sat. “I’m so…tired.” 

She hissed in exasperation and grabbed his shoulder. “No no no, no you are not,” She snapped, “we really have to go. God, fuck, I-I’ll give you my jacket, okay? Puke on that in the car if you have to.” What the hell was she even saying? That was her favorite one. All of this for her roommate’s dumbass fling. “But you owe me a handle of Grey Goose for this. And two cases of Busch apple. And an eighth, minimum.”

She was pretty sure she heard him give a weak laugh at that. Despite her annoyance a relieved smile briefly tugged at her lips. “Come on, get up.”

“I’m not gonna puke on your jacket,” he croaked. His voice was wobbling, but he didn’t sound seconds from bursting into tears anymore, eased by the moment of levity. He lifted his head the best he could, but quickly dropped it back down.  “I…” he trailed off, sucking in a breath, “I can’t…”

Sarah moved to his front, turning her face away from the sight of the vomit splattered down his shirt and chin. “I know. I’ll help.” She extended a hand towards him, grimacing at how clammy his palm was when he accepted the gesture. At least it was clean. “Seriously though, get puke on my seats and I’ll end you. Not even my friends would get away with that.”

“Aww, we’re not friends?” He asked drowsily, sarcasm weaved through every word. 

“No, we are not,” she replied flatly, pulling him to his feet. Kellen had half a foot on her easily, but he was thin as a board and light as a feather; it didn’t take much effort to help him up. He stumbled sideways and caught himself on the car door, knees wavering as he started to lower himself into the seat. “Good,” she mumbled, wrinkling her nose when she caught herself praising him. Gross. Once he was sitting, she grabbed her coat from the back of the car and tossed it on his lap. He blinked down at it, throat bobbing uncomfortably. “...Keep it clean if you can,” she sighed woefully, hoping beyond hope that he would be able to uphold his promise not to soil it. 

Mallory finally appeared from the other side of the car and wordlessly started to climb into the front passenger seat. Sarah looked at her irritably. “Girl, no. You need to sit back there with him and make sure he doesn’t accidentally kill himself or fall asleep.” 

Her friend shot her a sulking glare. Her lower eyelids were swollen, irritated by tears. “But--”

“He’s your boyfriend, I can’t do all of this myself,” Sarah cut her off. She was losing patience. Kellen started to protest the label, but she shushed him. “Don’t start. We’re going.” 

--

Mallory begrudgingly made her way into the back again, visibly cringing away at the sight of Kellen’s vomit coated shirt and chin. She rolled down her window halfway as Sarah pulled back onto the road, pressing her forehead into the top of the glass. It should have been her there helping him. Jealousy sparked in her chest. He was going to remember this; that she had shied away while Sarah ran to his aid. Her roommate didn’t even like him, where did she get off on showing him her caring side? 

She shifted her head to glance at him. He was pale still, eyes only halfway open with his head tilted back against the headrest. “Are you doing okay?” She finally murmured uncertainly, sliding a bit closer and fighting the overwhelming desire to plug her nose. 

“Yeah,” he replied hoarsely, making a face at the sound of his own voice. “Jus’...dizzy. Tired.”

“Are you feeling sick? Nauseous?” She quizzed, heart rate kicking up a notch. 

“What do you think?” Kellen said brusquely, “you’re…” he breathed in deeply and bit back a soft burp that petered out in his throat, “not helping.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” Her voice cracked guiltily, “I’m really sorry, I’m trying to help, I should have been there--”

Kellen didn’t turn to look at her, but she could see the scowl deepening on his face as she blubbered the apology. “Mal, just..stop talking,” he groaned, “I don’t care.”

“Don’t care about what?”

“I don’t care that you weren’t there.”

She froze. That was even worse than if he was mad. He didn’t care at all? Maybe he was even glad that Sarah was the one there instead of her. She crossed her arms instead of reaching towards him. “Kay,” she muttered, lapsing into uneasy silence. Kellen replied with a long sigh in lieu of words. Sarah met her eyes in the mirror and furrowed her eyebrows, giving Mallory a confused look that screamed what are you doing? Mallory glared in return. She blinked away the burning feeling at the back of her eyes. No. He was hurt; this was no time to be assuming ulterior motives.

The rest of the drive was blissfully uneventful, marked only by occasional muffled groans from Kellen, his inner ear locked in a stalemate with the inertia from the car. Sarah parked the car and quickly got out, but Mallory was faster. She darted around the side of the car to open Kellen’s door, blocking Sarah’s way. “I’m closer to his height,” she explained quickly, “It’ll be easier for me to help him.”

Sarah shrugged. “Sure. Watch the puke, though. It’s all over him.”

Kellen locked eyes with Mallory as she hovered over him nervously, hesitant to touch him. His expression was unreadable, but he was just as tense. His pupils responded sluggishly to the changing light, the large dark pits nearly overtaking his hazel irises. It was slightly uncanny, and she recoiled at the sight. “I can walk by myself,” he finally grumbled when she didn’t reach out, unbuckling his seatbelt and fighting not to slump over the seat from that small motion alone.

“N-no, I can help!” She insisted when he attempted to push past her and stand. She grabbed his elbow, not letting go when he flinched. “Come on, we’ll take it nice and slow.” She made brief eye contact with her roommate, who looked immensely uncomfortable as she stood off to the side and watched the stilted interaction. 

“I, uh--I’m gonna get a head start to the front desk and let them know you’re coming,” Sarah said, taking off at a light jog without waiting for a reply. Mallory nodded in approval, eyes burning into Kellen as he stood swaying at her side, hazily tracing Sarah’s path as she left.

“What, are you gonna miss her?” She couldn’t stop herself from making the snide comment, incensed by the way his gaze was following the other woman. 

Kellen grunted in confusion, at war with his own two feet as they made their way towards the ER. “Huh--wha? Who?” When he finally processed what she was getting at, he clicked his tongue against his teeth and hissed in annoyance. “Jesus…’m not fuckin’ doing this with you right now,” he ground out, sounding markedly woozy. “My head…hurts.”

Mallory swallowed down the urge to snap back, and tried not to think about the vomit on his clothing that was inches from her as his lanky frame sank deeper into her side.

"Yes," Angie's eyes finally met his and Jonah could read the confusion in them, a spark shining from within that he couldn't pinpoint.

"Are you-" okay? He had already asked that, so Jonah interrupted himself, "hungry?"

"Oh, yes," Angie nodded, the serious expression from before melting away, "can we have whoppers?"

Jonah snorted, rolling his eyes and nodding, "yeah, sure," he gestured for her to follow, "you wanna have fast food."

"Yessss," Angie beamed at him, bouncing on her feet as she followed him to the elevator and Jonah couldn't help smiling at her antics, all the worry from before seemingly forgotten.

Leo was waiting for them outside of the car, and since they had parked in the street instead of the parking lot he had sunglasses on, hands stuffed in his pockets and Jonah bit down a dreamy sigh.

"Everything good?" The blonde asked, twirling the car keys around his finger, "where to now?"

"Burger King," Jonah stepped closer, just enough he could steal a quick peck, "the lady's choice."

"Ooh, good one," Leo raised his hand to high five Angie, then they were off.

They stopped on the drive-through and ate in the park outside of their apartment, while Angie told them in a soft, conspiratory voice all that had happened that morning, Leo's eyes getting bigger and bigger until his shocked expression caused Jonah to laugh.

"I talked with Wendy after," Jonah said, as Leo stole some of his fries, appetite untouched by the fact he had had donuts earlier.

"Oh?" Angie leaned in, interested, her burger she had been starving for, already forgotten. Jonah picked it up, since hers had more cheddar than his.

"She's really sorry," he threw Leo a meaningful look that said later and the blonde nodded. Angie didn't catch on that, "I think Sophia broke her."

"Oh," Angie pouted, completely missing that Jonah was saying it as a positive, as in finally she's coming to her senses, "I mean, she was really mean to Wendy, yeah..."

Leo made a face, but refrained from commenting, sucking the ketchup from his thumb, "is she okay?"

"No," Jon shook his head, finished the rest of Angie's burger, "but she'll be."

He truly believed that. Wendy was resilient and he was so so relieved that she had seen reason, he felt nearly dizzy.

"Do you think her and Vince..." Leo trailed off and Angie perked up, curious, while Jonah shrugged.

He felt stuffed, so he leaned back on the bench, arms spread out to relieve some of the pressure on his middle. His sister was watching him like a hawk, eyes pausing on every square inch of him and he felt weird, like a bug under a microscope.

"Dunno."

"Weren't they really in love?" Angie asked, balling up their trash and jumping up, "why wouldn't they get back together?"

Leo's cheeks turned pink, his eyebrows climbed and Jonah could tell he had so many opinions on the matter and was chewing on them. He poked his husband's side to urge him to speak up.

"She was really mean to Vince, Ange," Leo said, carefully picking his words as if Wendy and Angelina were related or saw each other so often that he'd offend her with his honesty, "I don't think Vince has to forgive her... Or that he can."

"If they were in love," Angie pouted, looking upset at the prospect, even though it was not her relationship, "I don't see why not."

Jonah's stomach churned and he wasn't sure if it was all the grease he could still feel coating his mouth or the subject manner. He tuned them out, brain annoyingly insisting on making this about them, him and Leo, not Wendy and Vince. As if there was any comparison to be made.

Shut up, he told himself.

Leo seemed to sense his distress somehow, because he reached across the bench and laid a hand on Jonah's knee, squeezing it, "wanna head inside?"

They were not Wendy and Vince, Jonah scoffed, taking Leo's hand and twirling his wedding band, admiring it.

"Yeah."

Once inside, Jonah smiled uneasily as he watched Angie chase JD around, the cat meowing indignantly at his sister's attempts of petting her. Normally he'd be amused by this, certain that JD could easily disappear or hiss if she was that bothered, but right now the amusement was barely palpable as he could feel his stomach churning, struggling with the greasy lunch they had just had.

"What's with the long face?" Leo asked, throwing his arms around Jonah from behind, slotting his chin on his chin on his shoulder, "what made you grumpy?"

"I'm not-" he gulped down, his belly gurgled and pressed against his pants. He wanted to lie down and strip from these clothes, but he needed to be a decent host to Angie, it was so rare she visited...

"You're a little pale," Leo's voice dropped to a whisper, brows meeting with concern as he moved from Jonah's back to get a good look of his face, "what's wrong?"

"Just a little indigestion," Jonah's voice came out thick, as he felt a gurgle roll through his belly and gas try to climb up his throat, "I'm fine."

Leo raised an skeptical eyebrow and opened his mouth to say something, but Jon beat him to it, shaking his head, "I'm fine, Leo. Angie's here."

His husband's lips pressed into a thin, annoyed line and he looked around the room, eyes pausing on Angie in a way that made Jonah feel annoyed, because he could tell in that minute Leo wanted his sister-in-law gone. Not that Jon didn't share that feeling, but for a split second he felt defensive, it was not the girl's fault his stomach was giving him grief.

"Leo," he said, preemptively, as if Leo would ever, in a million years, dismiss Angie or purposefully say something to upset her. As if reading his mind, the blonde turned to glare at him, eyes rolling.

"Relax."

"Uhm-" Angie had successfully managed to capture JD, so she was now sitting on the middle of the living room, petting the cat, eyeing them in a way that was obvious she had caught on that half a second interaction, "is it okay if I go draw or... Uh, do you guys wanna hang out...?"

Jonah felt vindicated, then guilty when he saw the way Leo lit up. He just felt gross, uncomfortable and gassy and he really didn't want to be a host right now, let alone an understanding husband, or even a person, his own thoughts were pissing him off.

"What are you working with?" Leo asked, stepping closer and plopping on the ground unceremoniously, so he could pet JD and they could talk in a lower tone. Jonah sucked in a breath as a cramp went through his intestines.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," he mumbled, so low he doubted either one of them had heard him, not that it mattered because Angie had lit up like a Christmas tree at Leo's interest in her art and they had forgotten about him.

He was annoyed about that too.

As soon as Jonah made it inside the ensuite, he removed his sweater and shut the door behind him, reaching to unbutton his pants as he walked to the bathroom.

Leo hadn't been lying, he did look pale, rich complexion suddenly looking a little ashy, perspiration dotting his face.

He didn't feel like he needed to use the bathroom, but nevertheless he kicked off his jeans and sat on the toilet, a leg bouncing nervously as Jonah stared ahead, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin, grossed out by the constant whining he could feel from his tummy. He hated how bloated he already looked, belly resting on his thighs, taut to the touch and crampy.

A minute passed, nothing happened, so he pulled up his boxer briefs and walked back to the room. exchanging them for just pajama pants and falling onto the bed with a groan. The burger they had had rolled inside of him and Jonah muffled a burp in his fist, shuddering with revulsion at the aftertaste it brought up.

He had ditched a shirt, so Jon planted a hand on top of his stomach, leaning his head back on the pillows and curling his legs. Under his palm, he could feel the vicious writhing of his guts.

Another sickly little burp rolled up, popping in his mouth before he managed to even blow it out and he made a face, getting up from the bed and back into the bathroom so he could spit in the sink, since the taste was making him nauseous.

Jonah moved back to the room, but this time he didn't collapse dramatically onto the pillows, only sat on the edge, an arm wrapped around his middle, trying to gauge if he was feeling queasy enough he should sit in the bathroom instead.

His palms were damp and his guts slippery, somehow. A whine came from his belly, wet and long, rumbling right under his navel. He pressed his fingers there, then gagged out of sheer disgust when the pressure caused a bunch of bubbles to move around.

He groaned, resting his elbows on his knees and let out a watery burp, aimed at the rug right under his feet. His back was clammy with sweat and their room was cold, since Jonah hadn't bothered with the heater, so now he started shivering slightly.

"Hey," the bedroom door opened just a bit and Leo pushed his face into the gap, "how are- Oh, okay," the blonde frowned, opened the door further and stepped inside, shutting it behind him, "are you nauseous?"

"Yes," Jonah nodded, gulping down, "and more."

Leo's face scrunched up as he wondered what more could mean, then opened with realization, "diarrhea?"

"Not yet," Jonah's cheeks burned with embarrassment, "I don't even- Maybe it's just gas. I don't know, I'm just not feeling well..."

Leo had circled the bed, so he could crouch in front of Jonah, planting a hand on his knee, "what do you need?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, then muffled a belch in his hand, gulping down after, "sleep it off, probably."

"You're sleepy?" Leo reached in, planted his hand to Jonah's forehead and he leaned his head into it, because Leo felt dry, unlike him who felt all sticky and clammy.

"Not really," his voice came out muffled by Leo's wrist. His stomach chose that moment to let out a loud, whine. So loud that Leo pulled back, eyebrows raised.

"Wow," he grimaced, "don't you wanna try the bath-"

"Already did," Jonah rocked, wrapping an arm around his belly in a feeble attempt of both muffling its gross noises and bloated appearance, while his other hand was clenched in a fist, that he used to muffle another wet burp. His chest was burning.

"How about tea?" Leo's fingertips traced his forearm, a mindless soothing gesture Jon wasn't sure he was even aware he was doing, "or meds? We have TUMs, I just checked."

"How- Where's Angie?" He answered, instead, hating being sick around her. Leo scoffed.

"Your adult sister?" He huffed, impatiently, "she's in the balcony, drawing. She said the trees of the park are pretty and it's looking like it's gonna rain, she wants to capture that."

Good, so she wasn't worried nor offended by his absence. Or grossed out.

Jonah nodded, curtly, then leaned forward and planted his forehead to Leo's shoulder, bringing up another belch that made his mouth water, cheddar kicking his ass, "I'm going to vomit."

Leo took a second to realize he was being serious, "Oh- What, now?" He pulled back, causing Jon's head to loll without the support, "get up, baby-"

"No, not now," Jonah gulped down, "but- But soon. I don't think it's settling..."

"Like I said," Leo's voice was just a little clipped, "we have meds, angel. What would help? You're the doctor."

Jonah moaned, "I don't know," talking was making him queasy and existing was annoying him, he wanted to curl up, but moving felt risky, "I-URorup-" a thick, wet burp came up, causing Leo to lean back with a groan.

"Straight on my face? Jonah, what the fuck-"

"So'rurp-urp-" he suddenly seized with a burpy fit, stomach churning violently, and pressed a hand to his mouth as they got wetter, "I'm-"

"Going to puke," Leo decided, grabbing his bicep, "c'mon, love, let's go to the bathroom-"

Another loud gurgle came up and Jonah groaned, whole body getting covered with queasy goosebumps as he nodded and grabbed Leo's shirt to hoist himself up. Goddamn fucking whopper.

They stumbled together inside the bathroom and Jonah didn't lower himself to his knees, hearing an annoyed sigh from Leo, "you're gonna make a mess, Jon..."

"I..." He planted both hands on the wall in front of him, head hanging on the space between his arms as he drooled inside the toilet, "hol'on-"

A hand rested on his back, fingers curling on his nape in a steady hold, "get that mess out of your tummy, angel."

Jonah huffed out a laugh, shutting his eyes, "won't come up..."

"Okay, uhm-" Leo's hands was suddenly on his belly and Jonah recoiled at the touch when he already felt so gross and vulnerable, pressing around, "damn, you look so round."

He sorta felt like crying at the comment, which was ridiculous, but it must've shown on his face, because then Leo let out a huff, "oh, angel," a kiss pressed to his naked shoulder, "as if I care. Your tummy is adorable."

"I don't think-" he spat in the water and rubbed his face, straightening up. His stomach rolled, more burning in his chest, "Don't think I'm gonna be sick."

Leo squinted at him, "I don't believe that," he said, but shrugged, "let's settle you in bed with a bucket."

"Gross," Jonah mumbled, to himself, as he followed Leo back out of the bathroom.

He curled up on the bed, feeling every little bit as whiny and dramatic as he could possibly be, watching Leo move around the room to settle it for him. A glass of water put on the bedside table, the blankets tugged from under his form with a huff, the bathroom bin on the floor near his head-

"Leo, would you-"

"Duh," the blonde rolled his eyes, crawling on the bed and pausing just enough he could open his own jeans, but he didn't remove them. Jonah rolled on the mattress, so he could press his face to his husband's lap and groaned as his upset stomach continued to roll around.

Leo's fingers started scratching his scalp and Jonah sighed, "I feel terrible."

"It'll pass as soon as it digests, baby," Leo sounded unconcerned, thumb stroking Jonah's cheek, "try to nap."

"I'm not sleepy," Jon closed his eyes nonetheless, "we abandoned Angie."

"She's a grown up, she doesn't need supervision," Leo chuckled, then his other hand moved down Jonah's naked back, resting on his belly, "want me to rub your tummy?"

"No," Jonah gulped down, cheeks puffing out with another belch, "it's too sensitive."

"Cheap fast food is too bad on your poor, fancy belly, uh?"

"Yes," Jonah scoffed, "greasy and horrible."

"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-"

"Uhmm?" Luke mumbled, lifting an arm to rub his eye and narrowly missing elbowing her, "Bell?"

"Hey," she pressed a kiss to his cheek, "you slept in."

"Whaa-" A yawn, him rolling on the bed and taking her with. Bella unwrapped herself, so she could move to lie nearly on top of him, "what time is it?"

"Uhm," she reached over him, grabbing his phone on the bedside table, "nine thirty."

"Wow," Luke was still slow, brain powering up, He reached in to grab a curl of hers, kinda dizzy and loopy from sleep, "it's late..."

"Please," Bella made sure to let her tone drip disdain about the "late" hour. She squirmed on top of him, smiling devilishly as she could feel a hard on pressed to her thigh, less about him being horny and a whole lot more due to the fact he had just woken up. Didn't matter in her books, a boner was a boner.

Luke blinked slowly, nearly falling right back asleep and she wouldn't have it, so she leaned in and pressed a kiss over his lips, "wakeee uuup, Luke."

"M'wake," he planted a hand on her back, heavy, and slid it up to her nape, fingers curling on her hair as he pulled her in. Although he kissed her back, he didn't initiate anything else and Bella let out a huff, moving her face so she could kiss his neck and then down his chest.

"Wake. Up," she punctuated her words with a little bite pressed to his skin, he had little moles scattered all over his back and chest and she played connect the dots with her mouth.

Luke was ticklish, so Bella smiled as she kissed him near the ribs and could feel his breath hitch, trying to suppress a full body shudder. Her hands curled on the waist of his sweatpants, inching them down to give her more exposed skin.

He wasn't hairy, almost no chest hair — he had to have some flaw, Bella thought with a snort — but there was a bit of peach fuzz that grew between his pecs and went down his normally flat stomach, thickening up under his navel and disappearing into his pants. Fine enough that it wasn't noticeable unless he was freshly showered and wet, the hairs darkening. Bella blew on the soft hair, hands pressed one to each side of him, mouth branding him right next to the navel-

A whine came from his stomach, so loud that Bell pulled back, with a startled chuckle, "oh, wow. Are you hungry?"

She folded her hands over his belly and planted her chin on top of them. Luke, who had scooted up slightly on the pillow, looked a whole lot more awake... And embarrassed too. He shook his head, rubbing his eye with one hand, in a way that reminded her of a sullen teenager, "no... Kinda queasy, actually."

Ah.

"Oh shit," Bella jumped away, so she wasn't all but lying on top of him, "why didn't you say something? I was all over you, that couldn't feel good..."

"You all over me always feels good," he rolled his eyes, "actually, the pressure was kinda nice..."

She had some sort of problem, like a Luke-addiction, Bella decided, because no way he was actually as cute as she thought he was right now. Luke-aholic.

"C'mere, you big baby," she moved so she wasn't fully on top of him, more on his side, but still with a leg dropped over his hip — the boner was gone, bummer — and her right hand could rub his stomach.

It wasn't bloated, but now that she was applying some pressure, it seemed sloshy and achy. Her husband's face pinched with discomfort, frustration too at the derailed morning plans.

"What exactly are you feeling?"

Luke grimaced, rubbing his chest with an uneasy expression that Bella knew well, "is it reflux? You didn't eat before bed." God, they were getting old, she bit down a smile.

"Seems like it," he shuddered, muffling a little burp in his hand, "stomach's just bleh."

"Just bleh, eh?" Bella grinned, stealing a kiss, "you're so adorable, I could chew you like a toy."

He snorted at her wording, then winced as a gurgle went through his belly, right under her palm, "I probably just need to get up and eat something light, to get rid of the acid."

"Hmmm," she wasn't convinced, but Bella didn't voice it. She trailed her fingers down his abs quadrants, faded and soft, he wasn't shredded like he had been in New Mexico and she preferred him like this. Her index circled his navel, nails scratching him, and she pressed on his right side, over the faint scar of his appendectomy. Sometimes she could barely believe that had happened, that whole stretch of their lives where they weren't together seemed like a fever dream.

"Ugh, hold on," Luke sat up on the bed, pushing her hand away from his middle and snapping her out of her thoughts, "gotta burp..." His voice was clipped, with pain or nausea, she wasn't sure, "can you-" a gulp, "thump-"

"Like this?" She thumped the middle of his back in a rhythmic manner and Luke nodded, a hand pressed to his mouth as he muffled a string of watery burps. Bella cringed.

"Baby, those are really wet... Are you gonna be sick?"

He shook his head, "stomach- acid," he shuddered, standing up abruptly and rushing to the bathroom, leaving Bella behind. She took a second to follow, expecting to find him curled up by the toilet, but instead he had spat up in the sink and was now washing the bowl and his pale face.

"Ugh," Luke said as she leaned against the door, drying his face with the hand towel, "I feel like crap."

"You don't think it's a bug?" Bella stretched a hand ahead of her, he was just close enough she could trace invisible patterns on his back with the tip of her nails.

"Don't think so," Luke braced against the sink, staring at the bowl, "my stomach hurts."

Bell stepped closer, pressed her mouth to his shoulder and slid an arm around his middle, knuckled brushing softly over his belly, "I think you're just old, Captain."

It earned her a huff, that pinched expression fading to give away to a boyish smile, "yeah, maybe," he blew out a burp under his breath, then grabbed her wrists and pulled her closer, arms crossed over his chest and her front pressed to his back, "I love you."