1. Oliver gets pneumonia + Isaac caretaker
2. Isaac has a panic attack & calls Keiko
3. Oliver's condition gets worse + Isaac spirals into panic
4. Oliver wakes up on a vent + Isaac sick from stress
5. Recovery + The whole group shows up for Oliver
Jordan cooks El dinner + stomachache from overeating & sake
Spirit lashes out while stressed + breaks her sobriety (coming soon)
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The flow of customers. The cacophony of voices and the coffee machine and the blender. The repetition of the same typical customer-service routine.
Smile.
Say hello.
Take the order.
Make the order.
Say, "Have a good day!"
But all it took was one entitled bitch—showing up in her skin-tight pink yoga pants and compression jacket, blonde hair extensions framing her face, looking like a younger version of Spirit's own mother—who ruined everything.
She came in, and Spirit had been unfortunate enough to be at the register. In a huff, she spat out her order faster than Spirit could put it in the computer, and in excruciating detail no less.
"I want a venti iced mocha latte. Quad blonde ristretto shots. Half-caf. Two pumps brown sugar, one sugar-free vanilla, half a pump toffee nut. Half oat, half heavy cream. Light ice. Extra cinnamon. Cold foam, but light. Add one packet of raw sugar. Double-cup it. Don't shake it too much, and I want a fetta wrap."
It had all been said in one breath, and when Spirit kept her smile on and tried to ask her to repeat, the girl huffed and rolled her eyes.
"Seriously? I'm in a time crunch here! Are you deaf or stupid? I gave you my order."
"Miss, I just want to be sure I understand your order so I can-"
"Should I speak slower?" she scoffed.
Spirit wanted to bite back, Yeah, that's literally what I'm asking you to do, you plastic-brained bimbo. Her jaw was starting to clench so tightly while forcing a smile that she couldn't even say anything for a minute.
"Are you retarded?" the bitch suddenly spat.
God, I hate people like this. Spirit took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Miss. But really, I just want to hear your order one more time, just to make sure it's exactly to your liking."
The girl groaned and rolled her eyes, and then repeated her order in a patronizing manner, slow and exaggerated. Spirit could practically feel the vein in her neck starting to bulge, but she just wrote down the exact order.
"Alright then. Can I get your name?"
"Caileigh. Spelled c-a-i-l-e-i-g-h. Got that?" she asked as if talking to a child.
Spirit nodded. "Your order will be out soon."
She went to stand right by the pick-up counter, staring at Spirit the entire time she worked on the drink. Spirit made it perfect, exactly as the girl had asked.
When the drink was done, Spirit called Caileigh's name. The girl picked up her drink. Took a sip.
Before Spirit could walk away, the drink hit her shoulder.
Coffee and cream exploded all over her clothes and hair and the floor, ice cubes down her shirt. She gasped, stumbling and slipping on the liquid, bracing against the counter.
"You really are stupid!" the girl yelled. "Are you kidding me? This is disgustingly sweet! How much sugar did you put in this?"
Spirit just stared at her, mouth agape.
Then, she lost it.
"The fuck is your problem?!" she yelled, storming around the counter to get in the girl's face. The girl's eyes widened as she was made abruptly aware of how much taller Spirit was than her, almost a full-foot height difference. "I made your goddamn order exactly the way you ordered it! Why is it 'so sweet'? You asked for brown sugar, regular sugar, mocha, toffee, cold foam, and even though sugar-free vanilla is 'sugar-free', it's still fucking sweet! You think I'm stupid? More like you're a conceited bitch with a stick so far up your ass that everything that comes out of your filler-fattened mouth is absolute shit!"
By then, Spirit's boss had come out, yelling at Spirit for 'causing a scene' and 'disrespecting the customers'.
Spirit scoffed at her boss. "Oh my FUCKING GOD! Don't give me that 'the customer is always right' BULLSHIT!"
"Do you want to be fired?!"
"No need. I fucking quit!" She ripped off her coffee-stained green apron and threw it at her manager. "I don't need to take this shit anymore!"
And that was that.
Still lost in the blur of events, Spirit got to her car and drove with astonishing calmness all the way to her dorm building. She made her way up all of the stairs, and all the way down to her shitty dorm, and shut the door with a slight slam.
She stood there. Hand on the knob. Staring at nothing.
Then, it hit her.
She just quit her job.
Her thoughts came in a rush. The only reason she had that job was because her job at the music store at the mall was barely enough to cover her car's gas and a phone bill, much less food and hygiene products and medicine and everything else a person needs on a regular basis to just live. What was she gonna do? Apply to another job? It was pure luck that she'd gotten that job in the first place!
Her chest felt tight, her breaths going shallower and shallower till she felt herself holding the air in her chest, not daring to inhale or exhale, her whole body trembling.
When she managed a breath at last, she stormed over to her bed, grabbing her pillow and shoving her face into it, screaming at the top of her lungs. It was a scream that made her throat hurt, her head throbbing. "FUCK!" she yelled. "DAMMIT!"
Breathing hard, she lowered the pillow, throwing it back onto the bed.
Her fists clenched with anger. She imagined herself grabbing that bitch by her extensions, shoving her to the ground, wailing on her with her fists over and over and over and-
Spirit stopped. Her chest hurt. A migraine was starting to pulse horribly in the back of her head, making her wince.
She still had coffee all over her, making her skin and hair feel sticky.
She wanted to shower.
And, with a jolt, she realized she wanted something else too.
Something she hadn't wanted in years, but desperation to rid herself of the gnawing anxiety and the pain in her head and chest. She couldn't quite put a name to the desire for a moment. Then, it came to her, along with a hurricane of memories and caution and fear and guilt.
Ignore the thought, she told herself. It's been years. Don't let yourself go back. Don't. Please.
But she felt horrible, and she wanted the feeling gone. A little, she bargained with herself. A little bit. It'll be fine. She chuckled wetly, feeling dangerously close to tears, way too many emotions fighting against each other as she walked to her door again.
Several doors down the hall was a girl named Val. The chick was some kind of an arts major, and was well known in the dorms for one thing.
Spirit knocked on Val's door. A groan answered her, followed by a few thumping foot steps. The door opened, and Spirit got a face-full of smoke. The girl's pupils were dilated so wide that Spirit wondered just how high it was possible for one person to get.
She almost chickened out. Almost just made a crummy excuse about having the wrong door.
Instead, she pulled out her wallet. "Got anything to drink?"
The girl smiled around the vape in her mouth. "Hell yeah, I do," she chuckled, words slurring slightly. "Come in. Pick your poison."
-- -- --
Birdie stood outside the Starbucks, leaning against her car, staring at the entrance as she waited for Spirit. Doesn't her shift end at five today? she wondered, checking the time on her phone. It was almost 5:30, and Spirit still wasn't out yet.
She had all but begged Spirit to come out with her to get dinner. Nothing too extravagant, but some Chinese food at a local place she liked because of their egg-drop soup.
Curiously, she made her way to the entrance, wondering what was taking Spirit so long. A few customers glanced up at the sound of the door's bells as she came, some doing double-takes at her outfit that consisted of an ankle-length skirt made up of layers and layers of mis-matching fabrics and bandanas, and a white off-the-shoulder micro-top that exposed most of her abdomen, which she decorated with golden swirls of henna drawn up her side, matching the gold extensions in her waist-long braids.
She walked up to the register, standing in front of the teen-guy behind the counter, staring for a bit too long at Birdie's top.
"Is Spirit here?" she asked, snapping his attention back to her face.
He shook his head, but before he could say anything, a stern-faced woman who had just come out of the back room came over and said, "You know Spirit?"
Birdie nodded, eyes wide and head slightly tilted, voice soft and curious. "I thought her shift ended at five today. Was it earlier?"
The woman sneered. "She quit."
Birdie tensed at the venom in the woman's voice before the words even registered. "She. . . what?"
"Quit," the woman said. "After causing a scene this morning that had a customer threatening lawsuits." She scoffed. Then she looked Birdie up and down. "Whatever. You see her anytime soon, tell her I'm glad to be rid of her. She was one of the worst employees I've ever had."
Birdie felt something hot and angry rise up within her, but she quashed the feeling down and just smiled sweetly. "I hope that spiders lay eggs in your ears while you sleep, and that both sides of your pillow are always warm."
She turned on her heel and left without waiting for any kind of response.
She left and went back to her car, pulling out her phone and trying to call Spirit like she had several times already.
No answer.
She frowned, setting her GPS to Spirit's dorm.
The drive wasn't too long. Birdie hummed along to about four Queen songs before she was pulling into the dingy building's parking lot. She saw Spirit's car parked several spots away from hers.
She walked in and found the stairs, bracing herself with a deep breath before traversing them all. She was tired and her legs were burning by the time she reached the top floor. She wondered if the elevator in this building would ever get to working before they graduated.
Birdie walked over to Spirit's dorm, knocking a little beat against the wood. "Heyyy," she said softly. "You in there? I heard that you quit your job today." She paused for a moment, waiting for some kind of response. "You okay?"
No response. Though, faintly, Birdie could hear what sounded like a shower running.
She tried the doorknob. Locked. She pouted, reaching into the pockets she'd sewn into her skirt herself, and pulling out a hair pin.
When she and Spirit were kids, they'd play hide-and-seek-tag, and Spirit tended to lock herself in a room, so Birdie watched tutorials on how to literally pick locks, much to Spirit's utter shock when they'd played once many years ago.
Birdie had never lost the skill, frequently having locked herself out of rooms in her own apartment on accident.
The door clicked, and Birdie walked in, immediately noticing the open bathroom door.
She frowned, shutting the door behind herself as she walked over.
"Spirit?" she called. She peeked into the bathroom.
She gasped. The pin fell from her fingers.
The sight before her sent a torrent of memories rushing through her mind. Memories of Spirit crying while hungover and miserable. Memories of several times she'd shown up to check on her best friend, only to find her passed out with some cheap alcohol she'd bought off a rando in her shitty neighborhood.
Nothing could've prepared her to see anything like that again. But here she was, staring wide-eyed at her best friend who was sitting in the corner of her shower, fully-clothed as water drenched her hair and body, a two glass bottles by her leg, the one closest to her limp hand was half-full of some brownish liquid, and the other completely empty.
The bottles weren't exactly big, but is was a lot of straight alcohol for one person to drink nonetheless.
Birdie stared, shocked. Spirit's head hung, wet hair shielding her face though Birdie knew she was entirely unconscious.
Tears filled her eyes.
Her voice came out soft. Small. Scared.
"Oh, Spirit."
She stepped forward, moving to first turn off the shower. Spirit didn't react.
She crouched down in front of her best friend, reaching forward to cup her face and tilt her head up. Spirit groaned, eyes opening into unfocused, shiny slits.
"Why did you do this, Spirit?" Birdie whispered, voice cracking softly, fingers pushing wet hair away from Spirit's flushed face. "I know why you're upset, but this is too much. You can't do this again. Please, Spirit, I can't— Please, I can't watch my best friend do this again." She sobbed, fully crying now. "I don't want you to ruin everything you've worked so hard to make better for yourself. You can't go back now because of one little setback."
Spirit just blinked, her brain too fried with alcohol to actually comprehend anything. It was a numbness that truly got rid of all the feelings she didn't want to feel.
Numbness.
Birdie couldn't get through that numbness.
When Spirit only groaned, eyes closing again, Birdie sighed, deciding it would be better to talk later. She gently let Spirit's head sag again.
She wondered how she'd possibly be able to carry her from the shower to her bed when Spirit suddenly made a strange noise. A gurgle? A cough?
Birdie realized what was happening a second too late, and Spirit vomited all over herself, her already damp clothes now soaking up the regurgitated liquid.
Birdie gagged, slamming a hand to her mouth and turning away.
Crap, she thought. She wanted to help, but another gurgle came from Spirit and Birdie all but ran out of the room, the intense wave of sympathy nausea giving her no other choice
Outside of the bathroom, hearing Spirit groan and cough within, Birdie felt herself starting to shake with sobs. "Damn it, Spirit," she cried softly. "Not again."
The flow of customers. The cacophony of voices and the coffee machine and the blender. The repetition of the same typical customer-service routine.
Smile.
Say hello.
Take the order.
Make the order.
Say, "Have a good day!"
But all it took was one entitled bitch—showing up in her skin-tight pink yoga pants and compression jacket, blonde hair extensions framing her face, looking like a younger version of Spirit's own mother—who ruined everything.
She came in, and Spirit had been unfortunate enough to be at the register. In a huff, she spat out her order faster than Spirit could put it in the computer, and in excruciating detail no less.
"I want a venti iced mocha latte. Quad blonde ristretto shots. Half-caf. Two pumps brown sugar, one sugar-free vanilla, half a pump toffee nut. Half oat, half heavy cream. Light ice. Extra cinnamon. Cold foam, but light. Add one packet of raw sugar. Double-cup it. Don't shake it too much, and I want a fetta wrap."
It had all been said in one breath, and when Spirit kept her smile on and tried to ask her to repeat, the girl huffed and rolled her eyes.
"Seriously? I'm in a time crunch here! Are you deaf or stupid? I gave you my order."
"Miss, I just want to be sure I understand your order so I can-"
"Should I speak slower?" she scoffed.
Spirit wanted to bite back, Yeah, that's literally what I'm asking you to do, you plastic-brained bimbo. Her jaw was starting to clench so tightly while forcing a smile that she couldn't even say anything for a minute.
"Are you retarded?" the bitch suddenly spat.
God, I hate people like this. Spirit took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Miss. But really, I just want to hear your order one more time, just to make sure it's exactly to your liking."
The girl groaned and rolled her eyes, and then repeated her order in a patronizing manner, slow and exaggerated. Spirit could practically feel the vein in her neck starting to bulge, but she just wrote down the exact order.
"Alright then. Can I get your name?"
"Caileigh. Spelled c-a-i-l-e-i-g-h. Got that?" she asked as if talking to a child.
Spirit nodded. "Your order will be out soon."
She went to stand right by the pick-up counter, staring at Spirit the entire time she worked on the drink. Spirit made it perfect, exactly as the girl had asked.
When the drink was done, Spirit called Caileigh's name. The girl picked up her drink. Took a sip.
Before Spirit could walk away, the drink hit her shoulder.
Coffee and cream exploded all over her clothes and hair and the floor, ice cubes down her shirt. She gasped, stumbling and slipping on the liquid, bracing against the counter.
"You really are stupid!" the girl yelled. "Are you kidding me? This is disgustingly sweet! How much sugar did you put in this?"
Spirit just stared at her, mouth agape.
Then, she lost it.
"The fuck is your problem?!" she yelled, storming around the counter to get in the girl's face. The girl's eyes widened as she was made abruptly aware of how much taller Spirit was than her, almost a full-foot height difference. "I made your goddamn order exactly the way you ordered it! Why is it 'so sweet'? You asked for brown sugar, regular sugar, mocha, toffee, cold foam, and even though sugar-free vanilla is 'sugar-free', it's still fucking sweet! You think I'm stupid? More like you're a conceited bitch with a stick so far up your ass that everything that comes out of your filler-fattened mouth is absolute shit!"
By then, Spirit's boss had come out, yelling at Spirit for 'causing a scene' and 'disrespecting the customers'.
Spirit scoffed at her boss. "Oh my FUCKING GOD! Don't give me that 'the customer is always right' BULLSHIT!"
"Do you want to be fired?!"
"No need. I fucking quit!" She ripped off her coffee-stained green apron and threw it at her manager. "I don't need to take this shit anymore!"
And that was that.
Still lost in the blur of events, Spirit got to her car and drove with astonishing calmness all the way to her dorm building. She made her way up all of the stairs, and all the way down to her shitty dorm, and shut the door with a slight slam.
She stood there. Hand on the knob. Staring at nothing.
Then, it hit her.
She just quit her job.
Her thoughts came in a rush. The only reason she had that job was because her job at the music store at the mall was barely enough to cover her car's gas and a phone bill, much less food and hygiene products and medicine and everything else a person needs on a regular basis to just live. What was she gonna do? Apply to another job? It was pure luck that she'd gotten that job in the first place!
Her chest felt tight, her breaths going shallower and shallower till she felt herself holding the air in her chest, not daring to inhale or exhale, her whole body trembling.
When she managed a breath at last, she stormed over to her bed, grabbing her pillow and shoving her face into it, screaming at the top of her lungs. It was a scream that made her throat hurt, her head throbbing. "FUCK!" she yelled. "DAMMIT!"
Breathing hard, she lowered the pillow, throwing it back onto the bed.
Her fists clenched with anger. She imagined herself grabbing that bitch by her extensions, shoving her to the ground, wailing on her with her fists over and over and over and-
Spirit stopped. Her chest hurt. A migraine was starting to pulse horribly in the back of her head, making her wince.
She still had coffee all over her, making her skin and hair feel sticky.
She wanted to shower.
And, with a jolt, she realized she wanted something else too.
Something she hadn't wanted in years, but desperation to rid herself of the gnawing anxiety and the pain in her head and chest. She couldn't quite put a name to the desire for a moment. Then, it came to her, along with a hurricane of memories and caution and fear and guilt.
Ignore the thought, she told herself. It's been years. Don't let yourself go back. Don't. Please.
But she felt horrible, and she wanted the feeling gone. A little, she bargained with herself. A little bit. It'll be fine. She chuckled wetly, feeling dangerously close to tears, way too many emotions fighting against each other as she walked to her door again.
Several doors down the hall was a girl named Val. The chick was some kind of an arts major, and was well known in the dorms for one thing.
Spirit knocked on Val's door. A groan answered her, followed by a few thumping foot steps. The door opened, and Spirit got a face-full of smoke. The girl's pupils were dilated so wide that Spirit wondered just how high it was possible for one person to get.
She almost chickened out. Almost just made a crummy excuse about having the wrong door.
Instead, she pulled out her wallet. "Got anything to drink?"
The girl smiled around the vape in her mouth. "Hell yeah, I do," she chuckled, words slurring slightly. "Come in. Pick your poison."
-- -- --
Birdie stood outside the Starbucks, leaning against her car, staring at the entrance as she waited for Spirit. Doesn't her shift end at five today? she wondered, checking the time on her phone. It was almost 5:30, and Spirit still wasn't out yet.
She had all but begged Spirit to come out with her to get dinner. Nothing too extravagant, but some Chinese food at a local place she liked because of their egg-drop soup.
Curiously, she made her way to the entrance, wondering what was taking Spirit so long. A few customers glanced up at the sound of the door's bells as she came, some doing double-takes at her outfit that consisted of an ankle-length skirt made up of layers and layers of mis-matching fabrics and bandanas, and a white off-the-shoulder micro-top that exposed most of her abdomen, which she decorated with golden swirls of henna drawn up her side, matching the gold extensions in her waist-long braids.
She walked up to the register, standing in front of the teen-guy behind the counter, staring for a bit too long at Birdie's top.
"Is Spirit here?" she asked, snapping his attention back to her face.
He shook his head, but before he could say anything, a stern-faced woman who had just come out of the back room came over and said, "You know Spirit?"
Birdie nodded, eyes wide and head slightly tilted, voice soft and curious. "I thought her shift ended at five today. Was it earlier?"
The woman sneered. "She quit."
Birdie tensed at the venom in the woman's voice before the words even registered. "She. . . what?"
"Quit," the woman said. "After causing a scene this morning that had a customer threatening lawsuits." She scoffed. Then she looked Birdie up and down. "Whatever. You see her anytime soon, tell her I'm glad to be rid of her. She was one of the worst employees I've ever had."
Birdie felt something hot and angry rise up within her, but she quashed the feeling down and just smiled sweetly. "I hope that spiders lay eggs in your ears while you sleep, and that both sides of your pillow are always warm."
She turned on her heel and left without waiting for any kind of response.
She left and went back to her car, pulling out her phone and trying to call Spirit like she had several times already.
No answer.
She frowned, setting her GPS to Spirit's dorm.
The drive wasn't too long. Birdie hummed along to about four Queen songs before she was pulling into the dingy building's parking lot. She saw Spirit's car parked several spots away from hers.
She walked in and found the stairs, bracing herself with a deep breath before traversing them all. She was tired and her legs were burning by the time she reached the top floor. She wondered if the elevator in this building would ever get to working before they graduated.
Birdie walked over to Spirit's dorm, knocking a little beat against the wood. "Heyyy," she said softly. "You in there? I heard that you quit your job today." She paused for a moment, waiting for some kind of response. "You okay?"
No response. Though, faintly, Birdie could hear what sounded like a shower running.
She tried the doorknob. Locked. She pouted, reaching into the pockets she'd sewn into her skirt herself, and pulling out a hair pin.
When she and Spirit were kids, they'd play hide-and-seek-tag, and Spirit tended to lock herself in a room, so Birdie watched tutorials on how to literally pick locks, much to Spirit's utter shock when they'd played once many years ago.
Birdie had never lost the skill, frequently having locked herself out of rooms in her own apartment on accident.
The door clicked, and Birdie walked in, immediately noticing the open bathroom door.
She frowned, shutting the door behind herself as she walked over.
"Spirit?" she called. She peeked into the bathroom.
She gasped. The pin fell from her fingers.
The sight before her sent a torrent of memories rushing through her mind. Memories of Spirit crying while hungover and miserable. Memories of several times she'd shown up to check on her best friend, only to find her passed out with some cheap alcohol she'd bought off a rando in her shitty neighborhood.
Nothing could've prepared her to see anything like that again. But here she was, staring wide-eyed at her best friend who was sitting in the corner of her shower, fully-clothed as water drenched her hair and body, a two glass bottles by her leg, the one closest to her limp hand was half-full of some brownish liquid, and the other completely empty.
The bottles weren't exactly big, but is was a lot of straight alcohol for one person to drink nonetheless.
Birdie stared, shocked. Spirit's head hung, wet hair shielding her face though Birdie knew she was entirely unconscious.
Tears filled her eyes.
Her voice came out soft. Small. Scared.
"Oh, Spirit."
She stepped forward, moving to first turn off the shower. Spirit didn't react.
She crouched down in front of her best friend, reaching forward to cup her face and tilt her head up. Spirit groaned, eyes opening into unfocused, shiny slits.
"Why did you do this, Spirit?" Birdie whispered, voice cracking softly, fingers pushing wet hair away from Spirit's flushed face. "I know why you're upset, but this is too much. You can't do this again. Please, Spirit, I can't— Please, I can't watch my best friend do this again." She sobbed, fully crying now. "I don't want you to ruin everything you've worked so hard to make better for yourself. You can't go back now because of one little setback."
Spirit just blinked, her brain too fried with alcohol to actually comprehend anything. It was a numbness that truly got rid of all the feelings she didn't want to feel.
Numbness.
Birdie couldn't get through that numbness.
When Spirit only groaned, eyes closing again, Birdie sighed, deciding it would be better to talk later. She gently let Spirit's head sag again.
She wondered how she'd possibly be able to carry her from the shower to her bed when Spirit suddenly made a strange noise. A gurgle? A cough?
Birdie realized what was happening a second too late, and Spirit vomited all over herself, her already damp clothes now soaking up the regurgitated liquid.
Birdie gagged, slamming a hand to her mouth and turning away.
Crap, she thought. She wanted to help, but another gurgle came from Spirit and Birdie all but ran out of the room, the intense wave of sympathy nausea giving her no other choice
Outside of the bathroom, hearing Spirit groan and cough within, Birdie felt herself starting to shake with sobs. "Damn it, Spirit," she cried softly. "Not again."
Please let me know in the comments who do you think is the sickee of this fic and if you guessed it correctly by the end.
-----------------------------------------
"I'm thinking-" Bella yawned mid sentence, climbing on the bed and collapsing on top of Luke, who was reading a book, with no regards for it, "of going to New Mexico-" another yawn, "Thursday."
"This Thursday?" Luke lowered his mystery novel — Dark Places, by Gillian Flynn and he had been chewing the top of the pen he was annotating it with — "baby, I don't think I can get two days off in such a short notice..."
"No," Bella squirmed, nestling between his legs and using his stomach as a pillow, "I didn't think you could, I'm thinking of going..."
There was a minute of silence, Bella nearly napping on him, oblivious to Luke's distraught face.
"Are you mad at me?" He asked in a confused tone, poking the top of her head with his book, "what did I do...?"
"Uhm-What?" Bella rubbed at her eyes, perking up, "no, I'm not mad at you," she shrugged, "I was just thinking I miss my mom and I'm still feeling a bit guilty that you thought of buying her a house before I did, to be honest. I can work from there and I'll be back Sunday night..."
"Yeah, but if you gave me a bit more warning, I could tag along-"
"No, Luke," Bella rolled off of him, seemingly realized she was not gonna be able to use him as a mattress, not when he was so restless, "I need some mom-daughter time... Besides, I don't think you should leave Vin alone. Yesterday I walked on him crying during a soap commercial..."
Luke scoffed, annoyed at his best friend's presence and then guilty for feeling like that, "I get that, but Vin doesn't need a babysitter..."
"Neither do I," Bella grinned, leaning in to peck his cheek, "it's just gonna be the weekend, babe. I was talking with Vin and he mentioned missing the lake house, you guys could head there Friday, have an all boys weekend. It'll be fun."
Luke's whole face scrunched up, suspicion clear on his face, "I don't know... Sounds like you wanna get rid of me."
"Maybe I do," Bella snorted, snuggling up against his side, "we've been too attached at the hip, this will be good."
"We have not," Lucas argued, but settled back against the pillows, letting Bella press her cheek to his bicep, opening the book he had been holding shut, with his thumb serving as bookmarker.
"Don't pout," Bella teased him, "read for me."
"I will pout if I want to," Luke grumbled, flipping a page and starting to narrate the novel.
--------------------
"She should've called by now," Luke scoffed, glaring at his phone, while Vin hummed, moving around the kitchen.
"Didn't you talk to her during lunch?" Vince asked, voice muffled since he had his head in the fridge, retrieving a bunch of items. He planted a pack of beers on the table before Luke.
"Yes, and?"
"Jesus, Luke, you weren't that clingy even when you guys were dating," Vin snorted, opening a can and rubbing his hands together, looking around the room, in search of his phone, "by the way, did you pack?"
"Do I have to go?"
"Of course you have to go," Vince sounded offended, "one, you're the driver," he gestured wildly at the beer can in front of him, "because I plan on sleeping the whole way there and I don't trust the others to drive. And second, what are you gonna do here all alone the whole weekend? Bell is not in town, I won't be in town, Leo and Jon are tagging along... Do you have other friends I don't know about?"
"I have several friends you don't know about," Luke huffed, folding his arms on the counter and nesting his chin on them, "I'm a very friendly person."
"You are, yeah," Vince took a swing of his beer, "but they're more acquaintances than friends."
"Why can't Leo be the driver? Aren't we literally taking his car?" Luke sounded grumpy and Vince snorted, unable to help it. It was endlessly amusing that sometimes all it took was something going against his wishes for Luke to go back to that guy he had met seven, nearly eight, years ago.
"Fine, Leo drives," Vince rolled his eyes, "you're still tagging along. I'll throw you over my shoulder if I have to."
---------------
Vince nearly had to.
They had driven over to Jonah and Leo's — or rather, Luke drove, while Vince nursed a headache since he was hungover to hell and back after basically drinking alone while Luke bitched the night before — and gotten all the way to the garage, before Luke suddenly stopped.
"Oh, hell no."
"Uh?" Vince rubbed his eyes, looking around, confused. It took him a second to register what the issue was.
Max was leaning against Leo's white SUV, hands shoved in his acid stained jeans, wearing an oversized band t-shirt and his snake was wrapped around his arm. Vince thought he looked great, good enough to eat, an opinion that Luke obviously didn't share.
"I am not spending a whole weekend with this asshole," Luke complained, parking the car.
"Hello to you too," Max rolled his eyes, lowering his sunglasses, and Vince tuned Luke's bitching out in order to appreciate the view. He hadn't seen Max's snake yet and he looked at it curiously, the pet seemed to be absolutely content just wrapped around Max's forearm, deep red pattern almost camouflaging with his tattoos.
"Morning!" Leo's voice echoed in the garage and Vince groaned when it caused a stab of pain to go through his skull. He hadn't expected to be this hungover from a six pack, but apparently he was getting old.
Jonah seemed to share Vince's cranky mood, but that might've been just his usual resting bitch face. He was a couple steps behind Leo, fiddling with JD's carrier.
"We're gonna stop to drop JD at Chuck's first," Leo told them the itinerary, opening the trunk of his car so they could load the bags, "then I'll take first round of driving and we switch, Luke?"
"Fine," Lucas still looked terribly upset, which caused Jonah to snort.
They all got in the car, Vince got the passenger seat because they couldn't fit three men in the backseat if he was there and even then it was a tight fit. It would be better when Leo and Luke switched.
Jonah not only had been delegated to the backseat, but to the middle too, so Max and Lucas weren't sitting side by side. He planted JD's carrier on Luke's lap in an effort to keep her away from Max's snake, even though the blonde said, "Snakey isn't venomous, relax."
"You named your snake, Snakey?" Luke scoffed, while Leo let out an amused huff. Vince slid down his seat, fishing his sunglasses from the neckline of his shirt and planting it on his face with a satisfied groan. He should've taken some Advil before leaving, his head was pounding bloody murder.
Chuck was waiting outside of his building when they stopped by, exchanging a couple words with Leo and hinting not so subtly that he'd love to be invited to their next road trip. Jonah let out an amused huff as soon as they drove off.
"Looks like everyone wants a piece of you, baby," he crooned, leaning over the backseat to plant a kiss on Leo's cheek and Luke tugged at his belt loops, like a kid, saying, "stay on your seat."
There was minor bickering during the first half of the trip. Vince would know, since he was such a light sleeper, but he thankfully managed to nap at least forty minutes uninterrupted.
He woke up twice, once because he was starting to feel carsick due to the hangover, but it was nothing that rolling down his window and drinking some water didn't fix and another time because Max's snake had slithered onto Jonah's lap and Jon was talking in a way too high pitch, while Luke did his best impression of napping against the opposite window, as if Vin wasn't able to tell he was faking by just catching a glimpse of his face on the side mirror.
He was sound asleep, so much so he was dreaming, when Luke's voice cut through the haze, "wakey, wakey..." A humid finger teasing his ear-
"Cazzo!" Vince jerked awake, slapping Luke's hand away from his ear, while his best friend giggled like a kid. Jon was a couple of steps ahead, head low as he talked with Leo, who was handling the snake and Max was nowhere to be found.
"Welcome to the land of the living," Luke grinned, brightly, "c'mon let's get some food into you."
The thought of food was as far from appetizing as possible, even nauseating, and it probably showed on his face, because Luke pursed his lips and Max, coming around the vehicle holding a crate to put his pet in, scoffed, "remind me what happens when you don't eat, Monacelli?" He didn't wait for an answer, eyebrows raised in a petulant way, "that's right, you faint like a damsel in distress. No one told you to drink last night, suck it up and eat."
"Dickhead," Vin whispered, much to his chagrin, because Luke heard and beamed.
It took them a moment to get settled — Snakey safely put away in his crate, wallets retrieved — and order. Max was studying the menu as if it was a bomb and Luke rolled his eyes dramatically.
"I'm gonna have the bacon burger," he listed, "with a sunny egg and Uh- a Pepsi..."
"Get a juice, the caffeine is gonna make your ADHD worse than it already is," Jonah reprimanded him, while Vince grimaced at the mental image of Luke's lunch, forehead resting heavily on his hand.
"I think I'll just have, uhm- fries," Max mumbled, causing Leo and Vince to frown at him.
"You'll be starving by the time we get to the cabin," Vince said, while Leo pouted.
"Surely there's something else you can stomach besides just fries."
"Fries aren't even that safe," Vin pointed out, "greasy. At least, get a salad with it."
"Does the baby want mashed potatoes?" Luke teased, except no one found it funny and he deflated like a balloon, picking up his phone and staring at it.
Vince rolled his eyes, "fries and a salad? Maybe chicken?"
"I'm having the grilled chicken," Jonah vouched, attempting to reassure Max, who looked skeptical.
In the end Max, Leo and Jon had the same dish, while Luke had that greasy bomb of his and Vince glared at his simple sandwich, stomach feeling testy, even if he knew his friends were right and he had to eat if he didn't want his blood sugar to crash later.
"Can you finish for me?" Max whispered, as soon as Leo got up to use the bathroom and Vince didn't have the heart to say no, even if he felt already stuffed with just half his meal.
They finished the meal and Luke told them all to use the bathroom because he was not stopping — with a glare sent Max's way, which caused Leo to his at him and tell Lucas to stop being a dick — and they exchanged seats, back inside the car.
Now Luke was driving, which meant Leo was on the passenger seat in order to avoid getting carsick. Jonah moved to the seat behind the driver, so he had a clear view of Leo, and Max was relegated the middle, since Vince needed the other window to stick out his elbow otherwise they didn't all fit.
It had been such a dumb idea to take just one car, but Vince couldn't even complain because it had been his idea, in order to make the trip as affordable as possible, since both him and Max were teachers and had a teacher's salary. Not that he had said that part out loud, because then Max wouldn't have come out of sheer pride and Lucas would've smacked him for thinking numbers when he could've easily paid for the whole trip himself.
Just a bad idea all around, and it was getting worse.
About twenty minutes into the drive, Vince could feel his stomach complaining about the meal. It hadn't been heavy, but he was still hungover as hell and he wasn't sure if it would stay down.
Max squirmed next to him, pressing a burp into his fist, which was covered up by the music playing — Leo's pick and Vince wanted to strangle him. The Mean Girls musical was already annoying to begin with, made worse by a headache.
Jonah was texting someone and Vin didn't want to look his way, because he was pretty sure it was Wendy. They were all avoiding the topic of the nuclear breakup, Max caught in the destruction.
"Can you go easy on the turns?" Max's voice was dripping with annoyance, as he looked pointedly at Luke.
"I am," Luke scoffed, glaring at him in the rearview mirror, "I'm the best driver out of us."
"That would be Vince, not you," Jonah corrected, not bothering to look up from his phone.
"You're not the best anything," Max scoffed, squirming again. Vince gulped down the aftertaste flooding his mouth, sparing his ex-boyfriend a glance. He was pale.
"Really?" He asked in a low voice, just for Max, "I thought you'd be safe, it wasn't anything heavy..."
Max's cheeks turned crimson and he looked away, "I'm fine."
"Do we gotta pull over?" Vin whispered, to which Max answered loudly:
"No, we don't have to pull over."
"If we pull over we're gonna get to the cabin at night," Luke complained, causing Vince to roll his eyes and Jonah to snap at him.
"Keep your eyes on the road, Lucas!"
"I am looking!" Luke bit back, then killed the music and Vince could've moaned out of relief. His headache was getting worse and he was sweating, feeling claustrophobic and overstimulated.
Max leaned his head back against the seat, arms crossed and Vince eyed him suspiciously. A gurgle came out of his stomach, loud enough that Vin and Jonah heard, but not the men on the front.
Vince's own stomach seemed to be bloating up, it was pressing painfully against his jeans and he regretted picking those pants. He should've come in sweatpants.
He squirmed, tugging on it and causing Max to huff, "stop moving around, Vin."
"Sor-urp-sorry," his cheeks burned as a burp interrupted him mid phrase. The car did another swerve as they continued to drive uphill. Was Luke doing those sharp turns on purpose or had he just forgotten how to drive?
Max muffled another burp in his hand, paling even more and tugging on the neck of his shirt.
"Lucas," Jonah's voice was clipped, tense, "I think you should pull over."
"I can't," Luke sounded defeated, not annoyed, which was a welcome change, "there's no shoulder, we gotta get out from the mountain part..."
"I'm fine," Max scoffed, offended over Jonah advocating on his behalf. Vince swallowed another queasy burp, keeping most of his face out of the window to get some fresh air. The beers had been a mistake, the next burp came up smelling like it and he recoiled.
"Luke, really, find a place to pull over-"
"I am FINE!" Max cried out, despite the sweat matting how his hair, only for Jonah to glare at him.
"LEO is gonna throw up, it's not about you!" He said, sharply, just as Leo let out a groan and hunched forward on the passenger seat, hands frantically reaching for the glovebox.
He pulled out a plastic bag just in time, Luke's own hand trying to aid him into holding it open, as Leo retched loudly and then there was the horrible noise of liquid meeting wrinkly plastic.
Max's mouth was open in a comical O, while Vince gulped down the saliva flooding his mouth, keeping his face now firmly out of the window, no matter if he was basically acting like a dog.
"Oh, buddy," Luke cooed, the car swerving once as he steadied his grip, so one of his hands could be entirely at Leo's disposal, "I'm gonna try to pull over soon, I swear-"
"D'you'avenotherbag?" Max's words were sticking together and he hand hunched into himself, a hand firmly pressed to his mouth, "please...?"
Vince gagged, shutting his eyes in a feeble hope to avoid what he knew was gonna happen next.
"Here, here, here-" Luke, sounding frantic, chorused by Leo losing more of his lunch with a nauseating belch that turned solid-
"Take the bag!" Jonah cried out, his voice climbing to shrill levels, and then there was a guttural belch coming from Max-
Vince didn't hear the rest of it. His own stomach was messed up to begin with, and as soon as the smell hit him, he was done for.
He retched violently out of the window, but nothing came up, because of course not. He had never been lucky throwing up. His ears went deaf and his head drummed, whole body feeling like it was burning. He was sweating like a pig.
The car sped up, instead of slowing down, doing some wild turn that had Vince's head spinning and him groaning. Was Luke trying to kill him?
"Vin, get your head inside! You'll be decapitated like this!" Luke said, while Jonah tugged the back of his shirt, shoving a plastic bag on Vince's lap with rushed, clumsy movements. He had his other hand curled into a white knuckled fist, pressed to his mouth, whole face so ashen he was nearly grey.
Vince fell back down on his seat, opening the plastic bag and staring at his bottom. Blood was drumming in his ears and he could taste last night's beers, but all that kept coming up were frothy burps. He wanted the sandwich out of his stomach now.
In a desperate attempt to not feel so horribly nauseous, Vince shoved a finger down his throat. The effect was instantaneous, a rush of warm beer and clumps of bread fell inside the bag. The car swerved again, his stomach cramped, sweat causing the shirt to cling to his back... Max heaved loudly, more vomit falling inside his bag.
Someone was speaking, but Vince could barely hear over the headache and nausea. He coughed the bits stuck to his throat and gagged again, a more watery wave, then pressed his forehead to the back of the passenger's seat, panting over his open bag.
Slowly, the car came to a stop, but Vince didn't move, waiting for the dizziness to subside.
"Vin'move," Max poked his side and Vince forced himself to nod, spitting the ropey saliva out and snatching his bag closed. He opened the door and stumbled out of the vehicle, quickly followed by Max, who braced against his knees and brought an impressive wave of vomit all over the grassy side of the road.
Luke had run around the car, opening Leo's door and was now kinda crunched over, talking with their friend. Vince had the distinct feeling that Leo was crying, but he wasn't sure, the sunlight was piercing.
He tied a knot to end of his bag and circled the car, so he wasn't so close to the busy road. Luke was coaxing Leo out of car, wrapping an arm around the blonde, whom now Vince could see wasn't crying, but was definitely distraught.
"You good?"
Leo sent him a scathing look over the stupid question, sitting on the ditched driver's seat and letting his head hang. He let out a belch, unabashed, probably feeling too sick to care.
"Okay, okay, okay, I- Shit, okay," Luke mumbled, frantically, "I got this."
Vince raised a skeptical brow, but Max voiced his thoughts, "you don't got shit."
"Shut up, Daniels," Luke said, although he barely seemed to be paying attention. He rubbed a hand over his face, "Vince? Are you good now?"
He raised a hand and shook it from side to side, in a more or less gesture, "dunno, stomach's still iffy."
"Okay, take- Take your time," Lucas grimaced then, "Jon?"
Jonah was still inside the car, which couldn't be good idea, considering three grown men had just puked inside of it. Granted, Vince didn't think any of it had gotten to the upholster, by some miracle, but there was no way that car smelled alright-
"ShIT, JON-" Luke exclaimed, voice rising with urgency and he jumped forward, opening the door and trying to yank Jonah out. He was half a second too slow, hand getting caught in the crossfire as Jonah suddenly gagged and puked all over his lap, shoes and yep, the fucking mat.
"God," Max groaned, far away, turning around and folding by the middle as the sight triggered another wave from him. Vince made a face, averting his eyes from the mess.
Leo looked green as a pickle, but still there was a concerned twist to his mouth and the clear desire to step closer to help, even if he knew he'd be no help.
"Stay seated," Vin bossed stepping forward to help, causing Leo to roll his eyes.
Luke was down in a crouched down position near the backdoor, his singular clean hand holding Jonah by the shoulder, the other one held up in the air. Jon was still retching violently, a puddle forming on the grass.
"Jesus," Vince groaned, "how can I help?"
"Get Daniels," Luke gestured with his vomit covered hand, "get him to stop spewing."
"Oh look, he care-ERghk-" Max tried to mock, interrupted by another violent heave. Vin snorted, walking back to the guy.
"Hey," he spread his legs apart so they were more or less the same height, meeting Max's eyes. There were pained lines around it and he had an arm firmly wrapped around his middle, "talk to me."
"That stupid-" Max panted, a gross line of droll hanging from his bottom lip, "chicken."
"Are we talking food poisoning or just your usual fucked upness?" Vince planted a hand on Max's back, rubbing up and down and feeling a twinge of worry as he could feel the blonde trembling.
"Dunno."
"Great," Vince sighed, running over the events. It could be food poisoning. Max, Leo and Jonah were all puking and all of them had had the chicken... So had he, Vin realized, he had eaten the last of Max's meal.
His stomach immediately soured and he raised a hand to muffle a sick, nauseated burp. He wasn't even sure if he was actually sick or just queasy at the idea of food poisoning.
"M'good now," Jon panted ahead, voice hoarse enough to sound like he had chain smoked his whole life, "fuck, my- My everything."
"We can fix that, don't worry," Luke reassured him, wiggling his hand to try and get the bits of vomit off of it and rounding the car to get to the trunk, "new pants and shoes?"
"Got on my shirt too..." Jonah sounded humiliated.
Leo let out a groan, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, just as Max jerked with an empty heave and groaned loudly.
"Fuck, it's cramping," he whimpered, reaching behind him and clutching Vin's shirt. Vince moved his hand up, stroking Max's sweaty nape and then pulling back his hair with one hand, the other one holding him by the arm.
"I don't think it's food poisoning, Max," Vince said, wishing he was right. His head was still throbbing and everything was too loud, too bright. Hangover, nothing else, he told himself.
"Leo?" Jonah called, worried, "Leo, how are you?"
"Uhmm," Leo mumbled, holding on the driver's door, "dizzy..."
"Leo's carsick," Vince should not have felt as relieved about that as he was, "I think we just had really, really, shit luck..."
Eventually, Luke managed to coax Jonah and Leo both out of the car and help Jonah undress from his destroyed pants, shirt and shoes, much to the guy's mortification, putting him into a fresh new set.
"Look at you, Luke, all ready to be a dad," Vince teased him, sitting on the ground on the side of the road, watching as Luke used one of their water bottles to wash the mat that Jon had destroyed, "handling it like a champ."
"It's gonna go to his head," Max warned, head hanging between his knees and face pinched. He was the one worse off now. Jonah was just embarrassed and cranky, but otherwise he was fine, Leo felt fine now on solid ground and Vince was still nursing a killer headache, but at least the water was helping with that and the nausea had receded to just queasiness.
"Fuck off, Daniels," Luke's voice was strained as he shook the mat to get the last bits off of it, grimacing, "okay, I say- Back on the road?"
"Just leave me here to die," Leo groaned, resting his head on Jonah's shoulder, "if I get back on the road I'm gonna puke again."
"No, you won't, you took more meds," Luke argued, "you'll be asleep in no time."
"I don't feel sleepy," Leo sounded just as annoyed as Jon looked, "Max is gonna hurl again too, let's just wait."
Clearly Lucas wanted to argue, Vince could tell — and hell, he didn't even blame his best friend, he agreed with him. It was getting dark and soon the side of the road not only would be freezing, but finding the cabin would become such a fucking chore — but he just made a face and stuffed his now clean hands onto his pockets, "yeah, wait, I can wait. I'm patient."
Vince snorted, "are you?"
Max let out a groan next to him, then scooted closer and then pressed himself to Vin's side, apparently feeling sick enough he no longer wanted to keep the obligatory ex-boyfriend distance they were keeping. Vince stiffened for a second, then relaxed, putting a hand on Max's nape and rolling his thumb in an attempt to make the guy feel better.
"I am," Luke swore, staring ahead.
Vin counted twenty seconds before Luke started to thump his foot, quick, like an annoyed bunny. He snorted, cradling his head. He wasn't sure where he had put his sunglasses, but he missed them.
"Vince, can you handle meds? I have Tylenol," Luke had moved, unable to stand still, and was going through his backpack, "I have pepto too, Daniels. Would it help?"
Max's head snapped at his name and he took a second to process the question, "oh yeah, thanks."
"Catch," Luke flung the bottle at his head and Max didn't move a muscle to grab it, only scoffing.
"Do I look like an athlete to you?"
Vince caught it before the pink bottle could smack Max's head — and he pretended he didn't know Luke had a ridiculously amazing aim, star quarterback, everyone — and opened the bottle, offering it to Max.
Luke paced again. Side to side of the car, then circling it, then again-
"You think he's gonna explode if we make him wait longer?" Leo whispered, causing Jonah to chuckle and Vince to smile.
"I'd test it, but I do wanna get back in the car. At least it was comfy, these rocks are hurting my ass."
"Oh no, your best asset!" Vince clutched his chest with fake despair, causing Max to chuckle and elbow him.
"My best assets are my arms, I'll have you know," he scoffed and Vin's smile just widened.
"No, it's your ass, baby, I'd know," Vince rebuked, causing Max's cheeks to dust pink and Jonah to groan loudly.
"No one wants to know, Vince!"
"Okay, are you guys ready to get back in the car!?" Luke exclaimed, having circled it for the fifth time, hands up in the air in an exasperated manner, "c'mon people!"
"Oh," Leo grinned, standing up slowly like an old man, "just had a déjà vu."
Vince caught his drift, smiling right back at him as they said in unison, "yes, captain!"
Lucas glared at them, "you know what, next time one of you puke, I'm not stopping. Assholes."
The flow of customers. The cacophony of voices and the coffee machine and the blender. The repetition of the same typical customer-service routine.
Smile.
Say hello.
Take the order.
Make the order.
Say, "Have a good day!"
But all it took was one entitled bitch—showing up in her skin-tight pink yoga pants and compression jacket, blonde hair extensions framing her face, looking like a younger version of Spirit's own mother—who ruined everything.
She came in, and Spirit had been unfortunate enough to be at the register. In a huff, she spat out her order faster than Spirit could put it in the computer, and in excruciating detail no less.
"I want a venti iced mocha latte. Quad blonde ristretto shots. Half-caf. Two pumps brown sugar, one sugar-free vanilla, half a pump toffee nut. Half oat, half heavy cream. Light ice. Extra cinnamon. Cold foam, but light. Add one packet of raw sugar. Double-cup it. Don't shake it too much, and I want a fetta wrap."
It had all been said in one breath, and when Spirit kept her smile on and tried to ask her to repeat, the girl huffed and rolled her eyes.
"Seriously? I'm in a time crunch here! Are you deaf or stupid? I gave you my order."
"Miss, I just want to be sure I understand your order so I can-"
"Should I speak slower?" she scoffed.
Spirit wanted to bite back, Yeah, that's literally what I'm asking you to do, you plastic-brained bimbo. Her jaw was starting to clench so tightly while forcing a smile that she couldn't even say anything for a minute.
"Are you retarded?" the bitch suddenly spat.
God, I hate people like this. Spirit took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Miss. But really, I just want to hear your order one more time, just to make sure it's exactly to your liking."
The girl groaned and rolled her eyes, and then repeated her order in a patronizing manner, slow and exaggerated. Spirit could practically feel the vein in her neck starting to bulge, but she just wrote down the exact order.
"Alright then. Can I get your name?"
"Caileigh. Spelled c-a-i-l-e-i-g-h. Got that?" she asked as if talking to a child.
Spirit nodded. "Your order will be out soon."
She went to stand right by the pick-up counter, staring at Spirit the entire time she worked on the drink. Spirit made it perfect, exactly as the girl had asked.
When the drink was done, Spirit called Caileigh's name. The girl picked up her drink. Took a sip.
Before Spirit could walk away, the drink hit her shoulder.
Coffee and cream exploded all over her clothes and hair and the floor, ice cubes down her shirt. She gasped, stumbling and slipping on the liquid, bracing against the counter.
"You really are stupid!" the girl yelled. "Are you kidding me? This is disgustingly sweet! How much sugar did you put in this?"
Spirit just stared at her, mouth agape.
Then, she lost it.
"The fuck is your problem?!" she yelled, storming around the counter to get in the girl's face. The girl's eyes widened as she was made abruptly aware of how much taller Spirit was than her, almost a full-foot height difference. "I made your goddamn order exactly the way you ordered it! Why is it 'so sweet'? You asked for brown sugar, regular sugar, mocha, toffee, cold foam, and even though sugar-free vanilla is 'sugar-free', it's still fucking sweet! You think I'm stupid? More like you're a conceited bitch with a stick so far up your ass that everything that comes out of your filler-fattened mouth is absolute shit!"
By then, Spirit's boss had come out, yelling at Spirit for 'causing a scene' and 'disrespecting the customers'.
Spirit scoffed at her boss. "Oh my FUCKING GOD! Don't give me that 'the customer is always right' BULLSHIT!"
"Do you want to be fired?!"
"No need. I fucking quit!" She ripped off her coffee-stained green apron and threw it at her manager. "I don't need to take this shit anymore!"
And that was that.
Still lost in the blur of events, Spirit got to her car and drove with astonishing calmness all the way to her dorm building. She made her way up all of the stairs, and all the way down to her shitty dorm, and shut the door with a slight slam.
She stood there. Hand on the knob. Staring at nothing.
Then, it hit her.
She just quit her job.
Her thoughts came in a rush. The only reason she had that job was because her job at the music store at the mall was barely enough to cover her car's gas and a phone bill, much less food and hygiene products and medicine and everything else a person needs on a regular basis to just live. What was she gonna do? Apply to another job? It was pure luck that she'd gotten that job in the first place!
Her chest felt tight, her breaths going shallower and shallower till she felt herself holding the air in her chest, not daring to inhale or exhale, her whole body trembling.
When she managed a breath at last, she stormed over to her bed, grabbing her pillow and shoving her face into it, screaming at the top of her lungs. It was a scream that made her throat hurt, her head throbbing. "FUCK!" she yelled. "DAMMIT!"
Breathing hard, she lowered the pillow, throwing it back onto the bed.
Her fists clenched with anger. She imagined herself grabbing that bitch by her extensions, shoving her to the ground, wailing on her with her fists over and over and over and-
Spirit stopped. Her chest hurt. A migraine was starting to pulse horribly in the back of her head, making her wince.
She still had coffee all over her, making her skin and hair feel sticky.
She wanted to shower.
And, with a jolt, she realized she wanted something else too.
Something she hadn't wanted in years, but desperation to rid herself of the gnawing anxiety and the pain in her head and chest. She couldn't quite put a name to the desire for a moment. Then, it came to her, along with a hurricane of memories and caution and fear and guilt.
Ignore the thought, she told herself. It's been years. Don't let yourself go back. Don't. Please.
But she felt horrible, and she wanted the feeling gone. A little, she bargained with herself. A little bit. It'll be fine. She chuckled wetly, feeling dangerously close to tears, way too many emotions fighting against each other as she walked to her door again.
Several doors down the hall was a girl named Val. The chick was some kind of an arts major, and was well known in the dorms for one thing.
Spirit knocked on Val's door. A groan answered her, followed by a few thumping foot steps. The door opened, and Spirit got a face-full of smoke. The girl's pupils were dilated so wide that Spirit wondered just how high it was possible for one person to get.
She almost chickened out. Almost just made a crummy excuse about having the wrong door.
Instead, she pulled out her wallet. "Got anything to drink?"
The girl smiled around the vape in her mouth. "Hell yeah, I do," she chuckled, words slurring slightly. "Come in. Pick your poison."
-- -- --
Birdie stood outside the Starbucks, leaning against her car, staring at the entrance as she waited for Spirit. Doesn't her shift end at five today? she wondered, checking the time on her phone. It was almost 5:30, and Spirit still wasn't out yet.
She had all but begged Spirit to come out with her to get dinner. Nothing too extravagant, but some Chinese food at a local place she liked because of their egg-drop soup.
Curiously, she made her way to the entrance, wondering what was taking Spirit so long. A few customers glanced up at the sound of the door's bells as she came, some doing double-takes at her outfit that consisted of an ankle-length skirt made up of layers and layers of mis-matching fabrics and bandanas, and a white off-the-shoulder micro-top that exposed most of her abdomen, which she decorated with golden swirls of henna drawn up her side, matching the gold extensions in her waist-long braids.
She walked up to the register, standing in front of the teen-guy behind the counter, staring for a bit too long at Birdie's top.
"Is Spirit here?" she asked, snapping his attention back to her face.
He shook his head, but before he could say anything, a stern-faced woman who had just come out of the back room came over and said, "You know Spirit?"
Birdie nodded, eyes wide and head slightly tilted, voice soft and curious. "I thought her shift ended at five today. Was it earlier?"
The woman sneered. "She quit."
Birdie tensed at the venom in the woman's voice before the words even registered. "She. . . what?"
"Quit," the woman said. "After causing a scene this morning that had a customer threatening lawsuits." She scoffed. Then she looked Birdie up and down. "Whatever. You see her anytime soon, tell her I'm glad to be rid of her. She was one of the worst employees I've ever had."
Birdie felt something hot and angry rise up within her, but she quashed the feeling down and just smiled sweetly. "I hope that spiders lay eggs in your ears while you sleep, and that both sides of your pillow are always warm."
She turned on her heel and left without waiting for any kind of response.
She left and went back to her car, pulling out her phone and trying to call Spirit like she had several times already.
No answer.
She frowned, setting her GPS to Spirit's dorm.
The drive wasn't too long. Birdie hummed along to about four Queen songs before she was pulling into the dingy building's parking lot. She saw Spirit's car parked several spots away from hers.
She walked in and found the stairs, bracing herself with a deep breath before traversing them all. She was tired and her legs were burning by the time she reached the top floor. She wondered if the elevator in this building would ever get to working before they graduated.
Birdie walked over to Spirit's dorm, knocking a little beat against the wood. "Heyyy," she said softly. "You in there? I heard that you quit your job today." She paused for a moment, waiting for some kind of response. "You okay?"
No response. Though, faintly, Birdie could hear what sounded like a shower running.
She tried the doorknob. Locked. She pouted, reaching into the pockets she'd sewn into her skirt herself, and pulling out a hair pin.
When she and Spirit were kids, they'd play hide-and-seek-tag, and Spirit tended to lock herself in a room, so Birdie watched tutorials on how to literally pick locks, much to Spirit's utter shock when they'd played once many years ago.
Birdie had never lost the skill, frequently having locked herself out of rooms in her own apartment on accident.
The door clicked, and Birdie walked in, immediately noticing the open bathroom door.
She frowned, shutting the door behind herself as she walked over.
"Spirit?" she called. She peeked into the bathroom.
She gasped. The pin fell from her fingers.
The sight before her sent a torrent of memories rushing through her mind. Memories of Spirit crying while hungover and miserable. Memories of several times she'd shown up to check on her best friend, only to find her passed out with some cheap alcohol she'd bought off a rando in her shitty neighborhood.
Nothing could've prepared her to see anything like that again. But here she was, staring wide-eyed at her best friend who was sitting in the corner of her shower, fully-clothed as water drenched her hair and body, a two glass bottles by her leg, the one closest to her limp hand was half-full of some brownish liquid, and the other completely empty.
The bottles weren't exactly big, but is was a lot of straight alcohol for one person to drink nonetheless.
Birdie stared, shocked. Spirit's head hung, wet hair shielding her face though Birdie knew she was entirely unconscious.
Tears filled her eyes.
Her voice came out soft. Small. Scared.
"Oh, Spirit."
She stepped forward, moving to first turn off the shower. Spirit didn't react.
She crouched down in front of her best friend, reaching forward to cup her face and tilt her head up. Spirit groaned, eyes opening into unfocused, shiny slits.
"Why did you do this, Spirit?" Birdie whispered, voice cracking softly, fingers pushing wet hair away from Spirit's flushed face. "I know why you're upset, but this is too much. You can't do this again. Please, Spirit, I can't— Please, I can't watch my best friend do this again." She sobbed, fully crying now. "I don't want you to ruin everything you've worked so hard to make better for yourself. You can't go back now because of one little setback."
Spirit just blinked, her brain too fried with alcohol to actually comprehend anything. It was a numbness that truly got rid of all the feelings she didn't want to feel.
Numbness.
Birdie couldn't get through that numbness.
When Spirit only groaned, eyes closing again, Birdie sighed, deciding it would be better to talk later. She gently let Spirit's head sag again.
She wondered how she'd possibly be able to carry her from the shower to her bed when Spirit suddenly made a strange noise. A gurgle? A cough?
Birdie realized what was happening a second too late, and Spirit vomited all over herself, her already damp clothes now soaking up the regurgitated liquid.
Birdie gagged, slamming a hand to her mouth and turning away.
Crap, she thought. She wanted to help, but another gurgle came from Spirit and Birdie all but ran out of the room, the intense wave of sympathy nausea giving her no other choice
Outside of the bathroom, hearing Spirit groan and cough within, Birdie felt herself starting to shake with sobs. "Damn it, Spirit," she cried softly. "Not again."
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"Holy shit,” El gasped upon entering Jordan’s apartment, dropping her several bags in the entryway and making her way to the kitchen. “What is that smell?!” Her eyes were wide already, but they widened even more at the sight of Jordan.
It’s not like she’d never seen Jordan cook before. But from her memory, El could only recall ever seeing Jordan make pancakes or soups or simple pastas. Not to mention, Jordan typically did this while dressed like Adam Sandler. But now, Jordan had a literal wok on her stove, and was stir-frying some sort of noodle dish. . . while wearing a crop top and tight white biker-shorts that only reached the bottom of her ass. On her upper hips, peeking out of the shorts, El could see the lacy straps of a new sky-blue thong.
Eliana felt her whole face burn at the sight, and she smiled, coming up behind Jordan and slapping the taller girl’s ass. “Goddamn,” she chuckled, causing Jordan to smile and laugh.
“Like what you see?”
“Depends,” El said, looking over Jordan’s shoulder to the food. “What on God’s green earth is that incredible smell?”
Jordan chuckled again, kissing Eliana’s temple. “My Nana finally shared her yakisoba recipe with me,” she said. “And her spicy shrimp recipe. So, I thought we could have a nice dinner, a movie, some sake—“
”Sake?” Eliana’s eyes widened, and she let out a surprised laughter, smiling widely. “Jeez, am I dying? Is it my birthday?” Then, cheekily, El let a hand circle Jordan’s waist, her finger sneaking under the lacy thong strap. “Is the sake gonna play a role in this?”
In response, Jordan turned her head and captured Eliana’s smile in a kiss. That was the only answer the girl needed.
Eliana decided to freshen up, neatly putting away the stuff she dumped in the hallway and going into Jordan’s shower. She came out with her hair damp, her cheeks pink from warm water, and wearing—to fit the obvious mood—a cozy yet sexy pink blouse with a cute mini-skirt.
It was Jordan’s turn to widen her eyes, having to stop as she was setting up her little glass dining table just to stare at the purple-haired girl.
“Like it?” El asked, chuckling.
Jordan, speechless, grinned and put down everything in her hands, walking over to Eliana. Her hands circled the purple-haired girl’s waist, and she kissed her deeply, earning a pleased hum from El.
“Maybe I didn’t think this whole thing through,” Jordan smiled against her lips. “I don’t think I wanna wait through a whole dinner to have you for dessert.”
El’s face burned at the smooth line, and she pulled back enough to look Jordan in the eye. “What if I have you as my appetizer instead?”
Jordan’s brain short-circuited for a second before she came back to her senses, capturing her girlfriend’s lips and lifting her so that the shorter girl had to wrap her legs around her waist, and Jordan gladly walked to the bedroom.
— — —
“This is so freaking delicious,” Eliana swooned, already on her second plate of Yakisoba. She stuffed her mouth with a shrimp and noodles, smiling adorably as she ate.
“Nana is gonna love you,” Jordan said, spending more time admiring her girlfriend than eating. “She’ll make sure you’re never hungry again.”
Eliana chuckled, meeting Jordan’s eyes. “Maybe we should visit her. She lives with your parents, right? We could visit your family on our next break from classes.”
Jordan smiled at the idea. “Kei and Amber could come too,” she said.
“Mhm,” El nodded, mouth full again. Jordan had to refrain from laughing.
She was pleasantly a bit more than tipsy after she and Eliana finished most of the bottle of sake. El’s hair was still slightly messy from their brief… detour to the bedroom. Jordan could wait to go back.
El polished off one more serving of shrimp and another cup of sake before deciding she was full. Her pink blouse was slightly cropped, and as she stood to bring her dishes to the sink, Jordan couldn’t help but smile at the cute bit of belly peeking out from under it. Unable to resist, she poked it. “I love when your lil food baby comes to visit.”
Eliana cringed slightly. “I don’t know what’s to love about it.”
“Kawaii,” she chuckled with, her Japanese carrying a hint of her American accent. “Aishiteru wa.”
Eliana gave her a wide smile. “I love you too.” The world was wonderfully fuzzy and warm around the edges. Her smile was crooked and happy.
Jordan, unable to resist, put her hands on Eliana’s waist, making the girl step closer. Jordan was still sitting, and she grinned as she leaned forward and started leaving light kisses on Eliana’s belly.
“Shouldn’t we clear the dishes?” the purple-haired girl chuckled, though she had little desire to actually do any dishes at the moment.
“Too cute,” Jordan mumbled, hands slipping under Els blouse, up her back.
Eliana sighed, grabbing Jordan’s chin, making her look up. She bent down and kissed her sweetly. Jordan sighed happily against her lips, kissing back and standing to hug herself closer to Eliana.
They started stumbling back to the bedroom, both pleasantly drunk on sake, giggling while already staring to take each other’s clothes off… again.
El fell back onto the bed in her underwear and bra. Jordan still had her shorts and bra on, but her shirt was gone before they’d left the dining area.
Almost everything was perfect.
Almost.
Because as much as Eliana was loving what was going on, having her girlfriend on top of her right after stuffing herself was putting uncomfortable pressure on her gut. Without a choice, she turned her head away from Jordan to blow out a burp that crawled up her throat, tasting like garlic and shrimp. She grimaced slightly as a cramp hit her.
"Jor," she murmured as Jordan started to kiss down her neck , down to her collarbones.
"Hmm?" the girl hummed, mistaking hearing her name for a pleading gasp.
"Jor, w-wait-" Jordan suddenly moved her mouth to El's chest, her own upper body suddenly resting completely on El's bloated stomach. "Jordan, sto-Urgk!" she was cut off by a loud gag, abrupt enough that it startled Jordan into stopping, her eyes going wide.
"El, what-?"
She didn't have time to finish asking the question before Eliana suddenly pushed her off in a rush to clamber off the bed, running into Jordan's bathroom and slamming the door shut.
Jordan sat there on the bed, still as a statue and so utterly confused. The hell had just happened??
She sat there, half-naked, just staring at the bathroom door, unsure of what was happening or what to do until she heard her girlfriend heaving from inside the bathroom.
She got up and quickly walked to the bathroom door. It wasn't locked, so she let herself in.
Eliana was all but hugging the toilet, her freshly-washed purple hair all around her face, hanging limply, several strands covered in vomit and a couple of her tips even touching the swirling water, Jordan grimaced and cooed, grabbing a claw-clip from the counter. "Oh no, baby," she sighed as she gentled Eliana's hair up into a quick bun, mentally noting to wash her hair for her once she was empty.
Eliana's whole body jerked with another heave, followed by a little sob. Jordan got on her knees beside her, one arm around her shoulders and her other holding a dampened hand-towel that she used to wipe vomit and drool from Eliana's chin. "You're okay, baby."
Eliana sobbed again, her cheeks flushed from exertion, embarrassment, and sake. She mumbled something Jordan didn't understand at first.
"What was that?"
Eliana sobbed again. "Y-Yer'food," she slurred. "Mmm'sry. I promise I loved th-the food. I didn'wanna throw up."
She was crying from guilt?
Oh, Jordan thought, a realization suddenly washing over her. El's a lightweight. How much sake did she drink?
Eliana wasn't even gagging anymore, her stomach no longer aching from being over-stuffed. She slumped to the side so that Jordan could hug her, chuckling softly. "You're okay, baby girl. I'm not upset." She reached over to flush the toilet.
Eliana sniffed grossly. "You're not?"
Jordan just chuckled again, kissing Eliana's forehead. "Not at all, El. Now, how about I clean your hair real quick, and then we cuddle and sleep."
El pouted a little. "Wha'bout sex?" she slurred.
Jordan shook her head. "Another time, baby. I think you're a little too toasted right now."
She took most of Eliana's weight as she helped the girl up and over to the sink.
Jordan cleaned the vomit out of Eliana's hair as quickly as she could, and then patted it mostly dry with a towel before bringing Eliana back to the bedroom.
She helped Eliana out of her underclothes and into her favorite oversized hoodie and pajama shorts. Then she brought her to bed where she curled up instantly, cuddling into the blankets with a pleased sigh.
Jordan's head was also spinning from the alcohol, but she could certainly handle it a little better. She also took off her lingerie, and put on a t-shirt with a more comfortable pair of panties. Then she climbed into the covers of her bed as well.
Eliana rolled over and cuddled into her chest, her head settling into the crook under Jordan's chin. Jordan smiled, kissing the top of her head repeatedly while delicately tracing shaped on Eliana's back with her nails. Before long, she heard her breathing steady out into soft snores.
Her own eyes grew heavier as she was wrapped up in Eliana's warmth. She wasn't the least bit upset about the night not going where she planned for it to.
Sometimes, cuddling together is all the intimacy two people need.
Though, she mentally noted before dozing off, next time I make her dinner, I'll water down her drinks.
"Holy shit,” El gasped upon entering Jordan’s apartment, dropping her several bags in the entryway and making her way to the kitchen. “What is that smell?!” Her eyes were wide already, but they widened even more at the sight of Jordan.
It’s not like she’d never seen Jordan cook before. But from her memory, El could only recall ever seeing Jordan make pancakes or soups or simple pastas. Not to mention, Jordan typically did this while dressed like Adam Sandler. But now, Jordan had a literal wok on her stove, and was stir-frying some sort of noodle dish. . . while wearing a crop top and tight white biker-shorts that only reached the bottom of her ass. On her upper hips, peeking out of the shorts, El could see the lacy straps of a new sky-blue thong.
Eliana felt her whole face burn at the sight, and she smiled, coming up behind Jordan and slapping the taller girl’s ass. “Goddamn,” she chuckled, causing Jordan to smile and laugh.
“Like what you see?”
“Depends,” El said, looking over Jordan’s shoulder to the food. “What on God’s green earth is that incredible smell?”
Jordan chuckled again, kissing Eliana’s temple. “My Nana finally shared her yakisoba recipe with me,” she said. “And her spicy shrimp recipe. So, I thought we could have a nice dinner, a movie, some sake—“
”Sake?” Eliana’s eyes widened, and she let out a surprised laughter, smiling widely. “Jeez, am I dying? Is it my birthday?” Then, cheekily, El let a hand circle Jordan’s waist, her finger sneaking under the lacy thong strap. “Is the sake gonna play a role in this?”
In response, Jordan turned her head and captured Eliana’s smile in a kiss. That was the only answer the girl needed.
Eliana decided to freshen up, neatly putting away the stuff she dumped in the hallway and going into Jordan’s shower. She came out with her hair damp, her cheeks pink from warm water, and wearing—to fit the obvious mood—a cozy yet sexy pink blouse with a cute mini-skirt.
It was Jordan’s turn to widen her eyes, having to stop as she was setting up her little glass dining table just to stare at the purple-haired girl.
“Like it?” El asked, chuckling.
Jordan, speechless, grinned and put down everything in her hands, walking over to Eliana. Her hands circled the purple-haired girl’s waist, and she kissed her deeply, earning a pleased hum from El.
“Maybe I didn’t think this whole thing through,” Jordan smiled against her lips. “I don’t think I wanna wait through a whole dinner to have you for dessert.”
El’s face burned at the smooth line, and she pulled back enough to look Jordan in the eye. “What if I have you as my appetizer instead?”
Jordan’s brain short-circuited for a second before she came back to her senses, capturing her girlfriend’s lips and lifting her so that the shorter girl had to wrap her legs around her waist, and Jordan gladly walked to the bedroom.
— — —
“This is so freaking delicious,” Eliana swooned, already on her second plate of Yakisoba. She stuffed her mouth with a shrimp and noodles, smiling adorably as she ate.
“Nana is gonna love you,” Jordan said, spending more time admiring her girlfriend than eating. “She’ll make sure you’re never hungry again.”
Eliana chuckled, meeting Jordan’s eyes. “Maybe we should visit her. She lives with your parents, right? We could visit your family on our next break from classes.”
Jordan smiled at the idea. “Kei and Amber could come too,” she said.
“Mhm,” El nodded, mouth full again. Jordan had to refrain from laughing.
She was pleasantly a bit more than tipsy after she and Eliana finished most of the bottle of sake. El’s hair was still slightly messy from their brief… detour to the bedroom. Jordan could wait to go back.
El polished off one more serving of shrimp and another cup of sake before deciding she was full. Her pink blouse was slightly cropped, and as she stood to bring her dishes to the sink, Jordan couldn’t help but smile at the cute bit of belly peeking out from under it. Unable to resist, she poked it. “I love when your lil food baby comes to visit.”
Eliana cringed slightly. “I don’t know what’s to love about it.”
“Kawaii,” she chuckled with, her Japanese carrying a hint of her American accent. “Aishiteru wa.”
Eliana gave her a wide smile. “I love you too.” The world was wonderfully fuzzy and warm around the edges. Her smile was crooked and happy.
Jordan, unable to resist, put her hands on Eliana’s waist, making the girl step closer. Jordan was still sitting, and she grinned as she leaned forward and started leaving light kisses on Eliana’s belly.
“Shouldn’t we clear the dishes?” the purple-haired girl chuckled, though she had little desire to actually do any dishes at the moment.
“Too cute,” Jordan mumbled, hands slipping under Els blouse, up her back.
Eliana sighed, grabbing Jordan’s chin, making her look up. She bent down and kissed her sweetly. Jordan sighed happily against her lips, kissing back and standing to hug herself closer to Eliana.
They started stumbling back to the bedroom, both pleasantly drunk on sake, giggling while already staring to take each other’s clothes off… again.
El fell back onto the bed in her underwear and bra. Jordan still had her shorts and bra on, but her shirt was gone before they’d left the dining area.
Almost everything was perfect.
Almost.
Because as much as Eliana was loving what was going on, having her girlfriend on top of her right after stuffing herself was putting uncomfortable pressure on her gut. Without a choice, she turned her head away from Jordan to blow out a burp that crawled up her throat, tasting like garlic and shrimp. She grimaced slightly as a cramp hit her.
"Jor," she murmured as Jordan started to kiss down her neck , down to her collarbones.
"Hmm?" the girl hummed, mistaking hearing her name for a pleading gasp.
"Jor, w-wait-" Jordan suddenly moved her mouth to El's chest, her own upper body suddenly resting completely on El's bloated stomach. "Jordan, sto-Urgk!" she was cut off by a loud gag, abrupt enough that it startled Jordan into stopping, her eyes going wide.
"El, what-?"
She didn't have time to finish asking the question before Eliana suddenly pushed her off in a rush to clamber off the bed, running into Jordan's bathroom and slamming the door shut.
Jordan sat there on the bed, still as a statue and so utterly confused. The hell had just happened??
She sat there, half-naked, just staring at the bathroom door, unsure of what was happening or what to do until she heard her girlfriend heaving from inside the bathroom.
She got up and quickly walked to the bathroom door. It wasn't locked, so she let herself in.
Eliana was all but hugging the toilet, her freshly-washed purple hair all around her face, hanging limply, several strands covered in vomit and a couple of her tips even touching the swirling water, Jordan grimaced and cooed, grabbing a claw-clip from the counter. "Oh no, baby," she sighed as she gentled Eliana's hair up into a quick bun, mentally noting to wash her hair for her once she was empty.
Eliana's whole body jerked with another heave, followed by a little sob. Jordan got on her knees beside her, one arm around her shoulders and her other holding a dampened hand-towel that she used to wipe vomit and drool from Eliana's chin. "You're okay, baby."
Eliana sobbed again, her cheeks flushed from exertion, embarrassment, and sake. She mumbled something Jordan didn't understand at first.
"What was that?"
Eliana sobbed again. "Y-Yer'food," she slurred. "Mmm'sry. I promise I loved th-the food. I didn'wanna throw up."
She was crying from guilt?
Oh, Jordan thought, a realization suddenly washing over her. El's a lightweight. How much sake did she drink?
Eliana wasn't even gagging anymore, her stomach no longer aching from being over-stuffed. She slumped to the side so that Jordan could hug her, chuckling softly. "You're okay, baby girl. I'm not upset." She reached over to flush the toilet.
Eliana sniffed grossly. "You're not?"
Jordan just chuckled again, kissing Eliana's forehead. "Not at all, El. Now, how about I clean your hair real quick, and then we cuddle and sleep."
El pouted a little. "Wha'bout sex?" she slurred.
Jordan shook her head. "Another time, baby. I think you're a little too toasted right now."
She took most of Eliana's weight as she helped the girl up and over to the sink.
Jordan cleaned the vomit out of Eliana's hair as quickly as she could, and then patted it mostly dry with a towel before bringing Eliana back to the bedroom.
She helped Eliana out of her underclothes and into her favorite oversized hoodie and pajama shorts. Then she brought her to bed where she curled up instantly, cuddling into the blankets with a pleased sigh.
Jordan's head was also spinning from the alcohol, but she could certainly handle it a little better. She also took off her lingerie, and put on a t-shirt with a more comfortable pair of panties. Then she climbed into the covers of her bed as well.
Eliana rolled over and cuddled into her chest, her head settling into the crook under Jordan's chin. Jordan smiled, kissing the top of her head repeatedly while delicately tracing shaped on Eliana's back with her nails. Before long, she heard her breathing steady out into soft snores.
Her own eyes grew heavier as she was wrapped up in Eliana's warmth. She wasn't the least bit upset about the night not going where she planned for it to.
Sometimes, cuddling together is all the intimacy two people need.
Though, she mentally noted before dozing off, next time I make her dinner, I'll water down her drinks.
Birdie is Ace, right? I think you mentioned all of the characters’ sexualities before. Is Birdie completely turned off by romance and physical affection as a whole? Or just the physical stuff, but she’s still interested in romance?
Just curious cuz I wonder what her type would be, and off there’s maybe potential for her to no longer be the only single member of the group? Cuz, I mean, I love a single queen, but she is literally SURROUNDED by all of these lovey-dovey dorks.
Also, I sense very strong lessssssssbian vibes from her??👀 Or maybe pan?
Hello, anon!
So, yes, I did share the characters’ sexualities here in this post. However, I will still answer ur questions here!!😁
Genuinely makes me so happy to have someone curious in my girlie Birdie. I honestly feel bad that I don’t post her more often 😅
Anywho, I’m a forgetful idiot who forgot that in the sexualities post, I said I’d be making a new oc to eventually become Birdie’s partner🥲 But yess, she’s Ace and lesbian!!
As for what type of ace she is, she is pretty much turned off by most means of physical affection. To her, it just makes no sense.
Birdie’s mindset in a nutshell: Why show affection by randomly squishing the things you use to eat with together? It’s weird. And sex??? Gross!!
In a relationship, she’d be fine with hand holding, hugging, and even cuddling. Cheek/hand/head kisses? That’s okay. Not much else.
I hope this answered your questions, Anon!! And honestly, thank you for asking this cuz maybe now my forgetful a** will actually put in the effort to give Birdie a gf 😂!!
Five days of having a tube breathe for him. Five days of discomfort and pain, being unable to voice his complaints.
Five days on the ventilator, before they finally deemed his lungs strong enough to work on their own again. By then, he was almost pneumonia free. They would've discharged him if he hadn't had two more rounds of antibiotics.
When Oliver was finally allowed to leave the hospital, he didn't show the least bit of resistance towards his parents insisting that he finish his recovery at home.
He really only agreed so easily because he felt bad for how badly he'd scared them. If that were the case, he'd likely would have gone back to the dorms and gone right back to pulling all-nighters just to catch up with all the work class and newspaper work he'd missed, even if his mom insisted that she'd contacted the university to inform them of the situation.
So, three days after discharge, he now found himself in his childhood bedroom too tired to scroll on his phone and not really in the mood to watch tv. The aftermath of pneumonia was not pleasant. Several times, he had to put in more effort than he cared to just to take a few deep breaths that made his head spin from the oxygen. He'd been exhausted, his muscles so used to not moving while on the ventilator that it was almost painful to use them.
His doctor had explained how pneumonia recovery took a while. By next week, he knew that breathing would be less of a task, and his energy levels will go back up again soon.
I would kill for a cup of coffee, he thought. Then, he grimaced as he recalled that it was a cup of coffee that had put him in this situation in the first place.
Isaac had called Dan at the university's newspaper himself to explain why Oliver wouldn't be able to work on his assignments, only to hear from Dan that apparently Oliver was just one of several staff members who had called in sick with pneumonia. Ryan, the freshman who had been fetching coffee for the staff the night before Oliver got sick, had apparently not bothered to check whose mugs were whose, or even to rinse and/or wash before re-filling them. Felicity, the other staff member who had been coughing a bit while working, apparently had bacterial pneumonia herself, and her mug had been passed around to several people.
Long story short, Ryan left the Uni's newspaper staff.
But, despite being one of several, Oliver of-fucking-course had to have been the only one who had it bad enough to require a goddamn hospital stay and a goddamn ventilator. The unfairness made him genuinely mad. Fuck my fuck-ass-shit-quality immune system!
He let out an annoyed huff at his own thoughts, deciding not to think about it anymore. He thought about maybe sleeping, but although he was tired, he wasn't tired enough to actually sleep.
He thought about what he wanted at that moment. Honestly, he didn't have to think long.
I want my friends.
So, he grabbed his phone off his nightstand and sent a text in the group chat.
Me: Heyyy
Kei-K.O.: Hi, Oliver! How're you doing?
Issy 💕: Heyy, bby! What's up?
Bye-Bye-Birdie: Hiiiiiiiiiii !!!✌️✌️✌️
Jorrrr: Hey, pookie! You alr?
Spirit {Big sis}: Wassup, lil dude?
Eli-belly: Hi!
Aiden {Spirit's bf 👀👀}: How's it going, Ollie?
Queen_Amber👑🎭: Heyyy! Hru??
Oliver couldn't help but smile at just how quickly the messages rolled in. God, he loved his friends.
Me: I'm fine. Doing better. Tbh, just kinda bored 🥲
He knew they were probably all busy, but he missed them all too much to really care.
Me: Can u guys come over?
Me: 🥲🥲🥲
Issy 💕: Ofc!!!! I'm omw! 😙
Kei-K.O.: Sure thing! I'm finishing an assignment rn, but I'll head over right after. Do you guys want pizza?
Bye-Bye-Birdie: Bleh! 🍕🤮
Kei-K.O.: Besides you, Birdie 🙄. I can get you fries or something. Everyone else?
Eli-belly: Amber & Jor are both with me rn. They said pizza is good👍
Bye-Bye-Birdie: I'm coming over, too. With blankets. LOTS of blankets!!!!!😁😁😁
Spirit {Big sis}: I'll be there in 10.
Aiden {Spirit's bf 👀👀}: Oliver, you want anything?
Me: Not rlly. Just you guys.
Jorrrr: Awwwww!!😊😊😊
Spirit {Big sis}: 😁
Issy 💕: Love ya, bby! See u in a bit!!
Oliver smiled at his phone before deciding to actually try and get up from bed.
He'd only done it a few times in the last three days since he left the hospital, each time to go to the bathroom, and usually with at least a little help from his dad.
Sitting up was already physically taxing. He groaned as he managed to get his elbows beneath himself. His arms shook as he pushed himself up the rest of the way, having to push himself back against the headboard as he caught his breath. His chest still ached a bit.
He coughed a couple times before taking a deep breath, bracing himself to actually stand up. He kicked his covers aside and shifted his legs off of his bed. It took him a whole minute just to stand up, using his bedside table for support. His legs shook, though not as badly as they did on his first day after discharge.
He took slow, careful steps out of his bedroom. He kept a hand against the wall as he made his way through his house. Eventually, he found his way to the living room, which was right by the open kitchen where his mom was chopping something that looked like pickled beets on the kitchen island.
Her eyes widened when she saw him. She put down her knife, all but running to him. "Oliver, sweetie, what're you doing up? What's wrong?" She asked, worried, taking his hand. He smiled at her a little.
"I'm fine, mom," he assured her. "My friends are coming over to spend some time with me. Is that okay?"
The worry on her face morphed into something else. Something relieved and happy. "Of course it's fine, sweetheart. Are you guys going to want anything to eat?"
"Kei said he's bringing pizza."
"Well, our fridge is fully stocked with everything from cookies to fruit, so you and your friends can take what you want as you please."
"Thanks, mom," he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
She patted his hand, smiling. "Alrighty then. Were you heading to the couch?" She looked at his other hand that was still braced against the wall for support. "Want some help, or were you planning on taking the wall with you?"
He laughed a little, which made him cough a couple of times but just little coughs.
She helped him make the rest of the walk to the couch. Then she went back to the kitchen to keep making what he assumed was her favorite salad recipe, judging by what he'd seen her chopping.
He took the remote and began searching for a movie to watch. Upon trying to decide what all of his friends would most likely all be in the mood to watch, he settled on 'Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone'.
A knock came from the front door, and Oliver saw his dad emerge from his office to go answer it. The man did a double take when he spotted his son outside of his bedroom, a relieved and genuinely happy smile gracing across his face.
The man went to answer the door, and after a minute or so, he came back with Oliver's beaming boyfriend behind him.
"Hi!" Oliver said, his whole face lighting up upon seeing Isaac's smiling face. He hadn't realized just how badly he'd missed him until that very moment.
Isaac wasted no time walking over to the couch where Oliver was sitting, taking the spot beside him and embracing him in the tightest hug he could manage without having to worry about maybe accidentally hurting him.
Oliver hugged him back, relaxing into his warmth. There was something about Isaac that was warmer and more comforting than any bed or blanket could possibly be. He smiled when he felt Isaac press soft kisses to his hair.
Not long after getting cuddled up together on the couch (a fluffy sky-blue blanket tossed over them, courtesy of Oliver's dad), Birdie, Eliana, Amberlynn and Jordan all arrived together, all of them either getting settled on the other couch in the living room, or on the carpeted floor with couch-cushions and the multitude of blankets Birdie had actually brought.
Aiden actually got there three minutes before Spirit, explaining that they were coming in separate cars but he'd just narrowly made it past a red light, whereas Spirit couldn't pass it before it went red. She arrived and immediately went to give Oliver a hug. As she leant down to do so, she shoved Isaac's face in the opposite direction, making him yelp and try to turn his head. He settled for licking her palm, which she then wiped off using his perfectly-styled hair. They stuck their tongues out at each other, which made Oliver laugh, a sound that had everyone in the room smiling.
Keiko arrived last, carrying three pizza boxes and two extra boxes, one with fries and the other with chicken wings. In minutes, everyone had a plate and the movie was playing. Jordan and Eliana cuddled up on the other couch, Birdie burrito-rolled in about three blankets on the floor, Keiko and Amberlynn on Oliver's dad's armchair, and Aiden and Spirit cuddled up with several blankets and pillows on the floor as well.
Oliver looked at all of them, not focused on the movie. Every time they laughed or smiled, it made him smile. He felt like the luckiest person in the world to be surrounded by friends like this. Friends who showed up and cared about him.
Family.
He hadn't realized there were tears in his eyes till Isaac kissed one running down his cheek. "You alright, Olive?" he whispered so the others wouldn't hear. Oliver looked at him and smiled, kissing him softly. "Better than ever," he told him.
The blonde smiled at that, kissing him back. He cuddled Oliver even tighter, occasionally pressing more kissed to his nape or face. Oliver melted into him, feeling warm and safe, and better than he'd felt in far too long.
Five days of having a tube breathe for him. Five days of discomfort and pain, being unable to voice his complaints.
Five days on the ventilator, before they finally deemed his lungs strong enough to work on their own again. By then, he was almost pneumonia free. They would've discharged him if he hadn't had two more rounds of antibiotics.
When Oliver was finally allowed to leave the hospital, he didn't show the least bit of resistance towards his parents insisting that he finish his recovery at home.
He really only agreed so easily because he felt bad for how badly he'd scared them. If that were the case, he'd likely would have gone back to the dorms and gone right back to pulling all-nighters just to catch up with all the work class and newspaper work he'd missed, even if his mom insisted that she'd contacted the university to inform them of the situation.
So, three days after discharge, he now found himself in his childhood bedroom too tired to scroll on his phone and not really in the mood to watch tv. The aftermath of pneumonia was not pleasant. Several times, he had to put in more effort than he cared to just to take a few deep breaths that made his head spin from the oxygen. He'd been exhausted, his muscles so used to not moving while on the ventilator that it was almost painful to use them.
His doctor had explained how pneumonia recovery took a while. By next week, he knew that breathing would be less of a task, and his energy levels will go back up again soon.
I would kill for a cup of coffee, he thought. Then, he grimaced as he recalled that it was a cup of coffee that had put him in this situation in the first place.
Isaac had called Dan at the university's newspaper himself to explain why Oliver wouldn't be able to work on his assignments, only to hear from Dan that apparently Oliver was just one of several staff members who had called in sick with pneumonia. Ryan, the freshman who had been fetching coffee for the staff the night before Oliver got sick, had apparently not bothered to check whose mugs were whose, or even to rinse and/or wash before re-filling them. Felicity, the other staff member who had been coughing a bit while working, apparently had bacterial pneumonia herself, and her mug had been passed around to several people.
Long story short, Ryan left the Uni's newspaper staff.
But, despite being one of several, Oliver of-fucking-course had to have been the only one who had it bad enough to require a goddamn hospital stay and a goddamn ventilator. The unfairness made him genuinely mad. Fuck my fuck-ass-shit-quality immune system!
He let out an annoyed huff at his own thoughts, deciding not to think about it anymore. He thought about maybe sleeping, but although he was tired, he wasn't tired enough to actually sleep.
He thought about what he wanted at that moment. Honestly, he didn't have to think long.
I want my friends.
So, he grabbed his phone off his nightstand and sent a text in the group chat.
Me: Heyyy
Kei-K.O.: Hi, Oliver! How're you doing?
Issy 💕: Heyy, bby! What's up?
Bye-Bye-Birdie: Hiiiiiiiiiii !!!✌️✌️✌️
Jorrrr: Hey, pookie! You alr?
Spirit {Big sis}: Wassup, lil dude?
Eli-belly: Hi!
Aiden {Spirit's bf 👀👀}: How's it going, Ollie?
Queen_Amber👑🎭: Heyyy! Hru??
Oliver couldn't help but smile at just how quickly the messages rolled in. God, he loved his friends.
Me: I'm fine. Doing better. Tbh, just kinda bored 🥲
He knew they were probably all busy, but he missed them all too much to really care.
Me: Can u guys come over?
Me: 🥲🥲🥲
Issy 💕: Ofc!!!! I'm omw! 😙
Kei-K.O.: Sure thing! I'm finishing an assignment rn, but I'll head over right after. Do you guys want pizza?
Bye-Bye-Birdie: Bleh! 🍕🤮
Kei-K.O.: Besides you, Birdie 🙄. I can get you fries or something. Everyone else?
Eli-belly: Amber & Jor are both with me rn. They said pizza is good👍
Bye-Bye-Birdie: I'm coming over, too. With blankets. LOTS of blankets!!!!!😁😁😁
Spirit {Big sis}: I'll be there in 10.
Aiden {Spirit's bf 👀👀}: Oliver, you want anything?
Me: Not rlly. Just you guys.
Jorrrr: Awwwww!!😊😊😊
Spirit {Big sis}: 😁
Issy 💕: Love ya, bby! See u in a bit!!
Oliver smiled at his phone before deciding to actually try and get up from bed.
He'd only done it a few times in the last three days since he left the hospital, each time to go to the bathroom, and usually with at least a little help from his dad.
Sitting up was already physically taxing. He groaned as he managed to get his elbows beneath himself. His arms shook as he pushed himself up the rest of the way, having to push himself back against the headboard as he caught his breath. His chest still ached a bit.
He coughed a couple times before taking a deep breath, bracing himself to actually stand up. He kicked his covers aside and shifted his legs off of his bed. It took him a whole minute just to stand up, using his bedside table for support. His legs shook, though not as badly as they did on his first day after discharge.
He took slow, careful steps out of his bedroom. He kept a hand against the wall as he made his way through his house. Eventually, he found his way to the living room, which was right by the open kitchen where his mom was chopping something that looked like pickled beets on the kitchen island.
Her eyes widened when she saw him. She put down her knife, all but running to him. "Oliver, sweetie, what're you doing up? What's wrong?" She asked, worried, taking his hand. He smiled at her a little.
"I'm fine, mom," he assured her. "My friends are coming over to spend some time with me. Is that okay?"
The worry on her face morphed into something else. Something relieved and happy. "Of course it's fine, sweetheart. Are you guys going to want anything to eat?"
"Kei said he's bringing pizza."
"Well, our fridge is fully stocked with everything from cookies to fruit, so you and your friends can take what you want as you please."
"Thanks, mom," he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
She patted his hand, smiling. "Alrighty then. Were you heading to the couch?" She looked at his other hand that was still braced against the wall for support. "Want some help, or were you planning on taking the wall with you?"
He laughed a little, which made him cough a couple of times but just little coughs.
She helped him make the rest of the walk to the couch. Then she went back to the kitchen to keep making what he assumed was her favorite salad recipe, judging by what he'd seen her chopping.
He took the remote and began searching for a movie to watch. Upon trying to decide what all of his friends would most likely all be in the mood to watch, he settled on 'Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone'.
A knock came from the front door, and Oliver saw his dad emerge from his office to go answer it. The man did a double take when he spotted his son outside of his bedroom, a relieved and genuinely happy smile gracing across his face.
The man went to answer the door, and after a minute or so, he came back with Oliver's beaming boyfriend behind him.
"Hi!" Oliver said, his whole face lighting up upon seeing Isaac's smiling face. He hadn't realized just how badly he'd missed him until that very moment.
Isaac wasted no time walking over to the couch where Oliver was sitting, taking the spot beside him and embracing him in the tightest hug he could manage without having to worry about maybe accidentally hurting him.
Oliver hugged him back, relaxing into his warmth. There was something about Isaac that was warmer and more comforting than any bed or blanket could possibly be. He smiled when he felt Isaac press soft kisses to his hair.
Not long after getting cuddled up together on the couch (a fluffy sky-blue blanket tossed over them, courtesy of Oliver's dad), Birdie, Eliana, Amberlynn and Jordan all arrived together, all of them either getting settled on the other couch in the living room, or on the carpeted floor with couch-cushions and the multitude of blankets Birdie had actually brought.
Aiden actually got there three minutes before Spirit, explaining that they were coming in separate cars but he'd just narrowly made it past a red light, whereas Spirit couldn't pass it before it went red. She arrived and immediately went to give Oliver a hug. As she leant down to do so, she shoved Isaac's face in the opposite direction, making him yelp and try to turn his head. He settled for licking her palm, which she then wiped off using his perfectly-styled hair. They stuck their tongues out at each other, which made Oliver laugh, a sound that had everyone in the room smiling.
Keiko arrived last, carrying three pizza boxes and two extra boxes, one with fries and the other with chicken wings. In minutes, everyone had a plate and the movie was playing. Jordan and Eliana cuddled up on the other couch, Birdie burrito-rolled in about three blankets on the floor, Keiko and Amberlynn on Oliver's dad's armchair, and Aiden and Spirit cuddled up with several blankets and pillows on the floor as well.
Oliver looked at all of them, not focused on the movie. Every time they laughed or smiled, it made him smile. He felt like the luckiest person in the world to be surrounded by friends like this. Friends who showed up and cared about him.
Family.
He hadn't realized there were tears in his eyes till Isaac kissed one running down his cheek. "You alright, Olive?" he whispered so the others wouldn't hear. Oliver looked at him and smiled, kissing him softly. "Better than ever," he told him.
The blonde smiled at that, kissing him back. He cuddled Oliver even tighter, occasionally pressing more kissed to his nape or face. Oliver melted into him, feeling warm and safe, and better than he'd felt in far too long.
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Just DoorDashed myself a Monster and a banana from a gas station cuz I may be broke but i have free will and I gotta stay up late tonight because not only am I planning to post the final part of Oliver's pneumonia series tonight, but I really gotta studyyyyy.
I am buzzed on caffine, and ready to work to the bone RAHHHHH!!
1. Oliver gets pneumonia + Isaac caretaker
2. Isaac has a panic attack & calls Keiko
3. Oliver's condition gets worse + Isaac spirals into panic
4. Oliver wakes up on a vent + Isaac sick from stress
5. Recovery + The whole group shows up for Oliver (coming soon)
Jordan cooks El dinner + stomachache from overeating (coming soon)
Spirit lashes out while stressed + breaks her sobriety (coming soon)
Oliver stirred slightly. He felt wrong. He didn’t know why.
Hiss-click. Hiss-click.
He felt heavy. His chest felt strange. Parts of his body were sore and stiff, and his throat. . .
His throat.
Something was in his throat.
Oliver’s eyes flew open, wide with panic as he gagged and coughed around the strange tube in his mouth, strapped to his face. His arms moved to pull at it, but he was too weak and couldn’t even grip it with his stiff fingers. He sobbed and screamed, all sounds muffled by the plastic. He couldn’t breathe. Shit, he couldn’t fucking breathe!
He twitched, hands trembling, back lifting off the mattress. He felt trapped in his own body. He wanted to get out. He had to get out! Another strangled sound came from him, snot and tears and drool collecting where his mouth was closed around the tube.
A chair toppled over, the sound making him jump and whimper.
“Baby—! Hey, hey, sweetheart, it’s okay.”
The voice made Oliver still for a second. Through the tears blurring in his eyes, he looked up at the blurry figure standing over him. He blinked a few times, his mom’s face becoming clear. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her black waves were pulled back into the messiest bun he’d ever seen. Still, she smiled at him gently, laying one hand on his chest and pushing back his hair with the other. “You’re alright, baby boy. Just relax.” She gently rubbed his chest over the blanket. “Relax your chest. The tube is breathing for you.”
Oliver stared at his mom as he followed her instructions. As she said, he didn’t have to breathe for himself. He could literally feel air being pushed in and out of his lungs without him actually actively breathing. It was strange and incredibly uncomfortable. He swallowed around the tube, his face pinching in pain.
“Grace? Is he awake?” another voice asked, and Oliver’s eyes filled with even more tears.
His mom looked over her shoulder and nodded. Seconds later, Oliver saw his dad standing beside her. He looked even more disheveled than she did.
“Hey, Ollie,” his dad said softly.
Oliver whimpered around the tube as he started crying again at the sight of his parents.
“Easy, Ollie,” his dad said softly, grabbing Oliver’s shaking hand, though his own voice became thick with emotion. Oliver had definitely inherited his dad’s crybaby tendencies. “Easy. You’re okay.”
“Lance, go tell the nurse he’s awake,” Grace instructed. His dad nodded, sniffing as he left.
His mom grabbed a towel from somewhere and gently dried Oliver’s face. In minutes his dad came back with a familiar nurse—Anaiya.
She came over to him, speaking gently as she checked his vitals. He flinched when she checked his eyes with a light pen. Then, he gagged and coughed, sputtering around the tube when he tried to speak. His mom used the towel to dab around his mouth again.
“Don’t talk right now, honey,” Anaiya said softly. “The ventilator is just giving your lungs a little rest, okay?”
Ventilator.
He was told this might happen.
Suddenly, the memory of what had happened flooded his mind. The terror of not being able to breathe, Isaac screaming and crying his name, all of the nurses, his friends rushing in, Isaac screaming, Isaac sobbing, Isaac’s cries and the sound of his racing heart monitor being the last things he heard before everything went dark. . .
Once again, he felt his eyes filling with tears.
Isaac.
He wanted Issac.
He wanted his best friend to be here with him.
Where is Isaac? He suddenly thought, looking around the room and realizing none of his friends were there.
Again, he tried to talk. It made the pain in his throat worse.
“Hold on,” Anaiya said, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a blank notepad and a pen. She laid the notepad under his hand, and then helped him get a grip on the pen. “Go ahead and write whatever you want to say.”
Though he couldn’t see the pad while laying down, his hand moved anyway, shakily writing just one word.
Issac?
Grace read the word and smiled softly, looking her son in the eye as she continued to pet his hair away from his face. “He just went home to get some rest, sweetheart. He’ll be back before you know it. Your friends, too.”
He nodded, shutting his eyes. He could go back to sleep, right? He heard the Hiss-click of the ventilator as it breathed for him, not really listening as Nurse Anaiya said something to his parents about. . . bruising? The adrenaline rush that came with his earlier panic faded almost instantly, pulling him quickly back into sleep.
— — —
Birdie knocked on the door to Isaac’s apartment, a bag from the pharmacy in her hand.
Spirit answered the door, looking tired and worried.
“How is he?” Birdie asked, but she felt as if she already knew the answer.
Spirit sighed and stepped aside so Birdie could come in. “Well, I’d suggest that you avoid his room and bathroom for a while,” Spirit told her, grimacing slightly.
Before Birdie could ask what she meant, Amberlynn came out of Isaac’s room with his sheets and duvet all balled up, carrying them to his laundry room. Realization dawned on Birdie’s face and she busied herself in his kitchen, pulling stuff out of the bag, sorting the gatorade in his fridge and searching for his medicine cabinet, doing whatever she could to still be helpful while avoiding anywhere where there’s vomiting.
Spirit went back to Isaac’s room, where Jordan and El were already both putting new sheets on Isaac’s bed, and then to his bathroom. He was draped over the toilet, head sagging with exhaustion as he sobbed and weakly heaved over the bowl. Keiko was crouched beside him, wiping his face with a cooled rag.
“Should we get him back in bed?” Keiko asked.
Spirit shook her head. “Not yet. Just another minute, they’re still setting up the fresh sheets.”
He nodded, turning his focus back to Isaac. “Hey, dude. How’re you holding up right now.”
Isaac said nothing, staring at the swirling water that rippled wherever his tears landed in it. His face was red from crying and fever.
After passing out during his panic attack, a nurse helped them bring him out of the room. He woke up in minutes, on a spare bed conveniently left in the hallway, just outside the room, his red eyes searching wildly for Oliver. The nurse asked them all to wait outside the room. The frantic voices emanating through the door only instilled more fear, and Isaac’s face became devoid of all color, another panic attack already starting.
So, for Isaac’s sake, Spirit took him home.
He refused at first, yelling and crying and stating that he wasn’t leaving Oliver. Spirit damn-near had to drag him out of the hospital. After that, he went quiet. Within an hour, he was burning up with a stress fever.
Eliana, Jordan, Birdie and Amberlynn all drove over from the university together after Spirit called them, all of them staying with Isaac as he laid on his bed and stared at the wall like a statue. They all waited for news on Oliver to come from Keiko.
The news that Oliver was stable but on a ventilator hadn’t made Isaac say anything. He just teared up, crying silently into his pillow. He cried till he slept.
Keko left the hospital when Oliver’s parents got there, coming over to Isaac’s place around nine at night.
Around 11, Birdie went out to pick up stuff from the 24-hour pharmacy, and not long after she left, Isaac woke up from a nightmare, gasping for breath and vomiting all over his sheets. They got him to the bathroom in time to bring up the rest of whatever was in his stomach.
That brings them to now. Spirit and Kai looked at each other, frowning deeply. None of them had ever seen Isaac like this. To Spirit, it reminded her of herself in high school, only without the desire to drown herself in cheap alcohol to numb the pain and fear. Instead, the only thing Isaac was drunk on was the exhaustion that comes with one panic attack after another and another and another in just a few days. Panic attacks were a helluva drug.
Isaac swayed, and Keiko shifted himself so Isaac could sag against him. Jordan called from the bedroom that the bed was made up, so Keiko spoke to Isaac again. “Ready?”
Isaac, again, said nothing. But, at least, he shrugged ever so slightly.
“Need help?” Spirit asked Keiko.
He shook his head, hugging Isaac to his side. “I’ve got him.”
Spirit nodded, walking out of the bathroom.
Jordan and El weren’t in the bedroom anymore. She found them, as well as Birdie and Amberlynn, in Isaac’s living room, all silent. They all looked up at Spirit as she walked over. Jordan was curled up on El’s side on one end of the couch, and Amberlynn had taken the other end. Birdie sat on a beanbag on the floor. Spirit walked to the middle of the floor and all but flopped down, star-fished on Isaac’s hard-wood floor.
“Pillow,” Jordan mumbled, and a cushion landed on Spirit’s face a second later. With a sigh, she put it under her head.
“How is he?” Amberlynn asked.
Spirit stared up at the spinning ceiling fan. “Honestly. . . I don’t know. I just hope he sleeps through the rest of the night. God knows, he needs the rest.”
Silence fell over them all again. Spirit didn’t know when she fell asleep, but she woke up with two blankets tossed over her around five in the morning, when it was still dark. Birdie was snoring on the bean bag, and Jordan and Eliana had fully stretched out on Isaac’s couch together. Amberlynn was gone, but she had a likely suspicion that Keiko had brought her to Isaac’s guest room so they could both sleep there.
A sound made Spirit jolt. The sound of keys jingling, and Isaac’s front door shutting.
She looked across the dark room and saw Isaac’s bedroom door wide open. She cursed under her breath, getting to her feet and rushing to the front door, and all but running out of his apartment and down the hallway.
In the hallway, she saw Isaac as he was about to press the button for his apartment’s elevator, wearing a hoodie over his pajamas and flip-flops on his feet. He froze when he saw Spirit, frowning when he realized he was caught. Wet streaks on his face told Spirit that he’d been crying again.
She sighed, walking the rest of the way over to him. She stopped, holding out her hand. “Keys. Now.”
He cursed, mumbling something under his breath as he handed his car keys over to her.
She nodded over her shoulder. “C’mon, Isaac. Just go back to bed and sleep a little longer. I promise, later today we’ll go back to the hospital to see Oliver.”
“I have to see him,” Isaac mumbled.
“You will—”
“No, I have to see him now,” Isaac repeated, speaking a little louder as his emotions got the better of him. “I have to— Please, I need to see him.” His eyes were once again filling with tears, his breaths becoming shaky and quick.
“Shit,” Spirit cursed, pocketing Isaac’s key so she could put both of her hands on his shoulders, stepping right in front of him. “Isaac, calm down. Everything is fine. Oliver’s fine, Isaac, so just—”
“No, n-no nonono—” he started trembling. “He- He’s not okay. He’s d-dying.” He shook his head, looking at Spirit with tearful, angry, terrified eyes. “I-I saw,” he whined, voice wavering with emotion. “He’s dying, Spirit. I have to— I need to go, right now.”
She shook her head. “Isaac, he’s fine.”
“B-but I saw—”
“His parents would’ve called Kei if anything happened to him,” she explained. “Isaac, you had a nightmare. He’s stable now. He’s fine.”
Isaac’s bottom lip trembled. She was astonished that he had any tears left. “But he. . .”
“He’s fine,” she repeated, her voice softening, her grip on his shoulders loosening as she moved, pulling him closer. She held him close, squeezing him tightly for who knows how long. He buried his face in her neck, his arms tentatively coming around her middle as he returned her embrace. She felt his body shake with soft sobs. She’d certainly never been a sympathy crier, but at this moment, she felt tears stinging in her eyes as well.
She had no idea how long they stayed like that. Eventually, she coaxed him back to his apartment. Everyone was still asleep as they walked through to his bedroom.
“Get some more sleep,” she told him as he climbed back under his sheets. “I promise, we’ll see him in just a few more hours. But you really need to rest, Isaac.”
He nodded, curling up around his pillow. She was about to leave when he called her name quietly. She looked at him, finding him looking at her with puffy, exhausted eyes. “Can you stay?” he asked, sounding so uncharacteristically small.
She nodded, walking over. She climbed onto his bed, on top of the covers, sitting back against his headboard. Under any other circumstances, she would’ve teased him for being clingy, as he would’ve done the same to her, but this wasn’t clinginess. It was vulnerability, plain and simple.
So she stayed. She stayed as his breathing slowly evened out. She stayed for hours, watching the color of the light change from orange to yellow through the seam of the curtains in Isaac’s room. She stayed, silently nodding her head at Keiko when he stuck his head in at some point to check on Isaac.
She stayed. As long as he needed her, she stayed.
— — —
Isaac put his yellow visitor sticker on this shirt, walking alongside the rest of his friends towards Oliver’s room. He actually found himself walking a few paces ahead of them, or maybe they were all hanging back.
They found Grace and Lance, Oliver’s parents, in the hallway waiting for them. Grace looked as if she hadn’t slept a wink all night, and her husband didn’t look much better. They were going home to rest for a bit now that they knew Oliver was stable, and in good hands. Before they left, Grace pulled Isaac into a hug. “I forgot to thank you for taking care of him,” she said. “He’s so lucky to have you in his life, honey.”
Down the hallway, at the door to Oliver’s room, Isaac froze, his chest twisting. He knew that Oliver was on a ventilator now. Still, knowing that, he didn’t think he was prepared for it.
But still, more than anything, he wanted to see Oliver. To be with him.
“Go ahead,” Spirit said, and Isaac turned to look at her and the rest of his friends.
“We’ll wait out here for a bit,” Amberlynn told him.
Looking at them, he allowed himself to smile. He nodded and looked back at the door, and he took a deep breath before pushing it open.
The room was silent besides a mechanical Hiss-click Hiss-click sound. Isaac froze upon seeing Oliver.
He looked impossibly small in his bed, hooked up to wires and, of course, the ventilator sticking out of his mouth. His eyes were barely open as he stared up at the ceiling, and for a second Isaac wondered if he was sedated.
But then, without even thinking, Isaac whispered, “Olive?”
Oliver’s eyes widened, he tried to move his head, though the ventilator no doubt hindered his ability to do that. Isaac was at his bedside in seconds, taking Oliver’s hand and tearfully smiling down at him. “Hey, baby,” he said, his voice breaking with emotion.
Oliver made a sound that Isaac had a strong feeling was his name. Isaac only sobbed louder, still smiling, which made Oliver’s eyes fill with tears as well. Isaac lifted Oliver’s hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “I’m here, Olive,” he whispered in the quiet of the room. “I’m right here.”
Oliver stirred slightly. He felt wrong. He didn’t know why.
Hiss-click. Hiss-click.
He felt heavy. His chest felt strange. Parts of his body were sore and stiff, and his throat. . .
His throat.
Something was in his throat.
Oliver’s eyes flew open, wide with panic as he gagged and coughed around the strange tube in his mouth, strapped to his face. His arms moved to pull at it, but he was too weak and couldn’t even grip it with his stiff fingers. He sobbed and screamed, all sounds muffled by the plastic. He couldn’t breathe. Shit, he couldn’t fucking breathe!
He twitched, hands trembling, back lifting off the mattress. He felt trapped in his own body. He wanted to get out. He had to get out! Another strangled sound came from him, snot and tears and drool collecting where his mouth was closed around the tube.
A chair toppled over, the sound making him jump and whimper.
“Baby—! Hey, hey, sweetheart, it’s okay.”
The voice made Oliver still for a second. Through the tears blurring in his eyes, he looked up at the blurry figure standing over him. He blinked a few times, his mom’s face becoming clear. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her black waves were pulled back into the messiest bun he’d ever seen. Still, she smiled at him gently, laying one hand on his chest and pushing back his hair with the other. “You’re alright, baby boy. Just relax.” She gently rubbed his chest over the blanket. “Relax your chest. The tube is breathing for you.”
Oliver stared at his mom as he followed her instructions. As she said, he didn’t have to breathe for himself. He could literally feel air being pushed in and out of his lungs without him actually actively breathing. It was strange and incredibly uncomfortable. He swallowed around the tube, his face pinching in pain.
“Grace? Is he awake?” another voice asked, and Oliver’s eyes filled with even more tears.
His mom looked over her shoulder and nodded. Seconds later, Oliver saw his dad standing beside her. He looked even more disheveled than she did.
“Hey, Ollie,” his dad said softly.
Oliver whimpered around the tube as he started crying again at the sight of his parents.
“Easy, Ollie,” his dad said softly, grabbing Oliver’s shaking hand, though his own voice became thick with emotion. Oliver had definitely inherited his dad’s crybaby tendencies. “Easy. You’re okay.”
“Lance, go tell the nurse he’s awake,” Grace instructed. His dad nodded, sniffing as he left.
His mom grabbed a towel from somewhere and gently dried Oliver’s face. In minutes his dad came back with a familiar nurse—Anaiya.
She came over to him, speaking gently as she checked his vitals. He flinched when she checked his eyes with a light pen. Then, he gagged and coughed, sputtering around the tube when he tried to speak. His mom used the towel to dab around his mouth again.
“Don’t talk right now, honey,” Anaiya said softly. “The ventilator is just giving your lungs a little rest, okay?”
Ventilator.
He was told this might happen.
Suddenly, the memory of what had happened flooded his mind. The terror of not being able to breathe, Isaac screaming and crying his name, all of the nurses, his friends rushing in, Isaac screaming, Isaac sobbing, Isaac’s cries and the sound of his racing heart monitor being the last things he heard before everything went dark. . .
Once again, he felt his eyes filling with tears.
Isaac.
He wanted Issac.
He wanted his best friend to be here with him.
Where is Isaac? He suddenly thought, looking around the room and realizing none of his friends were there.
Again, he tried to talk. It made the pain in his throat worse.
“Hold on,” Anaiya said, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a blank notepad and a pen. She laid the notepad under his hand, and then helped him get a grip on the pen. “Go ahead and write whatever you want to say.”
Though he couldn’t see the pad while laying down, his hand moved anyway, shakily writing just one word.
Issac?
Grace read the word and smiled softly, looking her son in the eye as she continued to pet his hair away from his face. “He just went home to get some rest, sweetheart. He’ll be back before you know it. Your friends, too.”
He nodded, shutting his eyes. He could go back to sleep, right? He heard the Hiss-click of the ventilator as it breathed for him, not really listening as Nurse Anaiya said something to his parents about. . . bruising? The adrenaline rush that came with his earlier panic faded almost instantly, pulling him quickly back into sleep.
— — —
Birdie knocked on the door to Isaac’s apartment, a bag from the pharmacy in her hand.
Spirit answered the door, looking tired and worried.
“How is he?” Birdie asked, but she felt as if she already knew the answer.
Spirit sighed and stepped aside so Birdie could come in. “Well, I’d suggest that you avoid his room and bathroom for a while,” Spirit told her, grimacing slightly.
Before Birdie could ask what she meant, Amberlynn came out of Isaac’s room with his sheets and duvet all balled up, carrying them to his laundry room. Realization dawned on Birdie’s face and she busied herself in his kitchen, pulling stuff out of the bag, sorting the gatorade in his fridge and searching for his medicine cabinet, doing whatever she could to still be helpful while avoiding anywhere where there’s vomiting.
Spirit went back to Isaac’s room, where Jordan and El were already both putting new sheets on Isaac’s bed, and then to his bathroom. He was draped over the toilet, head sagging with exhaustion as he sobbed and weakly heaved over the bowl. Keiko was crouched beside him, wiping his face with a cooled rag.
“Should we get him back in bed?” Keiko asked.
Spirit shook her head. “Not yet. Just another minute, they’re still setting up the fresh sheets.”
He nodded, turning his focus back to Isaac. “Hey, dude. How’re you holding up right now.”
Isaac said nothing, staring at the swirling water that rippled wherever his tears landed in it. His face was red from crying and fever.
After passing out during his panic attack, a nurse helped them bring him out of the room. He woke up in minutes, on a spare bed conveniently left in the hallway, just outside the room, his red eyes searching wildly for Oliver. The nurse asked them all to wait outside the room. The frantic voices emanating through the door only instilled more fear, and Isaac’s face became devoid of all color, another panic attack already starting.
So, for Isaac’s sake, Spirit took him home.
He refused at first, yelling and crying and stating that he wasn’t leaving Oliver. Spirit damn-near had to drag him out of the hospital. After that, he went quiet. Within an hour, he was burning up with a stress fever.
Eliana, Jordan, Birdie and Amberlynn all drove over from the university together after Spirit called them, all of them staying with Isaac as he laid on his bed and stared at the wall like a statue. They all waited for news on Oliver to come from Keiko.
The news that Oliver was stable but on a ventilator hadn’t made Isaac say anything. He just teared up, crying silently into his pillow. He cried till he slept.
Keko left the hospital when Oliver’s parents got there, coming over to Isaac’s place around nine at night.
Around 11, Birdie went out to pick up stuff from the 24-hour pharmacy, and not long after she left, Isaac woke up from a nightmare, gasping for breath and vomiting all over his sheets. They got him to the bathroom in time to bring up the rest of whatever was in his stomach.
That brings them to now. Spirit and Kai looked at each other, frowning deeply. None of them had ever seen Isaac like this. To Spirit, it reminded her of herself in high school, only without the desire to drown herself in cheap alcohol to numb the pain and fear. Instead, the only thing Isaac was drunk on was the exhaustion that comes with one panic attack after another and another and another in just a few days. Panic attacks were a helluva drug.
Isaac swayed, and Keiko shifted himself so Isaac could sag against him. Jordan called from the bedroom that the bed was made up, so Keiko spoke to Isaac again. “Ready?”
Isaac, again, said nothing. But, at least, he shrugged ever so slightly.
“Need help?” Spirit asked Keiko.
He shook his head, hugging Isaac to his side. “I’ve got him.”
Spirit nodded, walking out of the bathroom.
Jordan and El weren’t in the bedroom anymore. She found them, as well as Birdie and Amberlynn, in Isaac’s living room, all silent. They all looked up at Spirit as she walked over. Jordan was curled up on El’s side on one end of the couch, and Amberlynn had taken the other end. Birdie sat on a beanbag on the floor. Spirit walked to the middle of the floor and all but flopped down, star-fished on Isaac’s hard-wood floor.
“Pillow,” Jordan mumbled, and a cushion landed on Spirit’s face a second later. With a sigh, she put it under her head.
“How is he?” Amberlynn asked.
Spirit stared up at the spinning ceiling fan. “Honestly. . . I don’t know. I just hope he sleeps through the rest of the night. God knows, he needs the rest.”
Silence fell over them all again. Spirit didn’t know when she fell asleep, but she woke up with two blankets tossed over her around five in the morning, when it was still dark. Birdie was snoring on the bean bag, and Jordan and Eliana had fully stretched out on Isaac’s couch together. Amberlynn was gone, but she had a likely suspicion that Keiko had brought her to Isaac’s guest room so they could both sleep there.
A sound made Spirit jolt. The sound of keys jingling, and Isaac’s front door shutting.
She looked across the dark room and saw Isaac’s bedroom door wide open. She cursed under her breath, getting to her feet and rushing to the front door, and all but running out of his apartment and down the hallway.
In the hallway, she saw Isaac as he was about to press the button for his apartment’s elevator, wearing a hoodie over his pajamas and flip-flops on his feet. He froze when he saw Spirit, frowning when he realized he was caught. Wet streaks on his face told Spirit that he’d been crying again.
She sighed, walking the rest of the way over to him. She stopped, holding out her hand. “Keys. Now.”
He cursed, mumbling something under his breath as he handed his car keys over to her.
She nodded over her shoulder. “C’mon, Isaac. Just go back to bed and sleep a little longer. I promise, later today we’ll go back to the hospital to see Oliver.”
“I have to see him,” Isaac mumbled.
“You will—”
“No, I have to see him now,” Isaac repeated, speaking a little louder as his emotions got the better of him. “I have to— Please, I need to see him.” His eyes were once again filling with tears, his breaths becoming shaky and quick.
“Shit,” Spirit cursed, pocketing Isaac’s key so she could put both of her hands on his shoulders, stepping right in front of him. “Isaac, calm down. Everything is fine. Oliver’s fine, Isaac, so just—”
“No, n-no nonono—” he started trembling. “He- He’s not okay. He’s d-dying.” He shook his head, looking at Spirit with tearful, angry, terrified eyes. “I-I saw,” he whined, voice wavering with emotion. “He’s dying, Spirit. I have to— I need to go, right now.”
She shook her head. “Isaac, he’s fine.”
“B-but I saw—”
“His parents would’ve called Kei if anything happened to him,” she explained. “Isaac, you had a nightmare. He’s stable now. He’s fine.”
Isaac’s bottom lip trembled. She was astonished that he had any tears left. “But he. . .”
“He’s fine,” she repeated, her voice softening, her grip on his shoulders loosening as she moved, pulling him closer. She held him close, squeezing him tightly for who knows how long. He buried his face in her neck, his arms tentatively coming around her middle as he returned her embrace. She felt his body shake with soft sobs. She’d certainly never been a sympathy crier, but at this moment, she felt tears stinging in her eyes as well.
She had no idea how long they stayed like that. Eventually, she coaxed him back to his apartment. Everyone was still asleep as they walked through to his bedroom.
“Get some more sleep,” she told him as he climbed back under his sheets. “I promise, we’ll see him in just a few more hours. But you really need to rest, Isaac.”
He nodded, curling up around his pillow. She was about to leave when he called her name quietly. She looked at him, finding him looking at her with puffy, exhausted eyes. “Can you stay?” he asked, sounding so uncharacteristically small.
She nodded, walking over. She climbed onto his bed, on top of the covers, sitting back against his headboard. Under any other circumstances, she would’ve teased him for being clingy, as he would’ve done the same to her, but this wasn’t clinginess. It was vulnerability, plain and simple.
So she stayed. She stayed as his breathing slowly evened out. She stayed for hours, watching the color of the light change from orange to yellow through the seam of the curtains in Isaac’s room. She stayed, silently nodding her head at Keiko when he stuck his head in at some point to check on Isaac.
She stayed. As long as he needed her, she stayed.
— — —
Isaac put his yellow visitor sticker on this shirt, walking alongside the rest of his friends towards Oliver’s room. He actually found himself walking a few paces ahead of them, or maybe they were all hanging back.
They found Grace and Lance, Oliver’s parents, in the hallway waiting for them. Grace looked as if she hadn’t slept a wink all night, and her husband didn’t look much better. They were going home to rest for a bit now that they knew Oliver was stable, and in good hands. Before they left, Grace pulled Isaac into a hug. “I forgot to thank you for taking care of him,” she said. “He’s so lucky to have you in his life, honey.”
Down the hallway, at the door to Oliver’s room, Isaac froze, his chest twisting. He knew that Oliver was on a ventilator now. Still, knowing that, he didn’t think he was prepared for it.
But still, more than anything, he wanted to see Oliver. To be with him.
“Go ahead,” Spirit said, and Isaac turned to look at her and the rest of his friends.
“We’ll wait out here for a bit,” Amberlynn told him.
Looking at them, he allowed himself to smile. He nodded and looked back at the door, and he took a deep breath before pushing it open.
The room was silent besides a mechanical Hiss-click Hiss-click sound. Isaac froze upon seeing Oliver.
He looked impossibly small in his bed, hooked up to wires and, of course, the ventilator sticking out of his mouth. His eyes were barely open as he stared up at the ceiling, and for a second Isaac wondered if he was sedated.
But then, without even thinking, Isaac whispered, “Olive?”
Oliver’s eyes widened, he tried to move his head, though the ventilator no doubt hindered his ability to do that. Isaac was at his bedside in seconds, taking Oliver’s hand and tearfully smiling down at him. “Hey, baby,” he said, his voice breaking with emotion.
Oliver made a sound that Isaac had a strong feeling was his name. Isaac only sobbed louder, still smiling, which made Oliver’s eyes fill with tears as well. Isaac lifted Oliver’s hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “I’m here, Olive,” he whispered in the quiet of the room. “I’m right here.”
“I smell plastic,” Oliver complained about the nasal cannula, scrunching up his nose.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Spirit scoffed, poking the tip of his nose. “Ya got plastic tubes up your nostrils.”
“Did you just boop me?”
She shrugged.
A gameshow Oliver had never heard of was playing on mute on the TV in his room. Sitting up against several pillows with cards on his lap, he’d been letting Spirit teach him how to play I Declare War, and she was kicking his ass at it.
“I’m sick. Go easy on me,” he pouted. She smirked, and put down a card to counter his 10-of-diamonds.
Her card was an Ace.
He groaned. “You suck.”
“Love ya too.”
They continued to play. Oliver managed to steal back a few more cards, but ultimately ended up losing again. Again-again. For the fifth time.
Spirit, for no one’s eyes but his (and he’d never bring it up if he wanted to avoid the wrath of the hot-head) did a stupid little victory dance that had him bursting out laughing. He laughed a little too hard for his lungs to handle and started coughing though, making Spirit stop suddenly, guilt flashing across her face.
He held up a hand when she started to reach for the call button beside his bed, chuckling between wheezes and coughs. "I'm fine,” he managed at last, still smiling. “It’s just a bit of coughing.”
She frowned. Those coughs didn’t sound good.
Before she could say anything though, the door to Oliver’s room opened, three people all coming in with bags of food.
“Panera is here!” Isaac said, striking a pose with a to-go bag in one hand and Oliver’s favorite blueberry-lavender lemonade in the other. When he threw out one of his arms for the pose, he nearly decked Birdie in the face, but his arm went high enough and she was short enough that she ducked easily. The blonde cringed and apologized.
Aiden chuckled from behind them, his glasses perched on top of his head, pushing his hair back in a way that had Spirit staring longer than she intended to, earning a poke in the side and a cheeky smirk from her bed-ridden gremlin of a friend.
“Got you your green tea,” Birdie said, handing the iced drink to Spirit. “And brownies for all!” She held up the bag she was holding.
All the bags and drinks wound up on the little counter in the corner of the room, Birdie and Spirit rummaging through everything while Aiden hugged Spirit from behind, chin resting on top of her hair. Isaac busied himself with adjusting the overbed table for Oliver, and making sure he was sitting up comfortably.
“Hi,” Oliver said with a tired smile, watching Isaac fuss. Isaac returned the smile, leaning in to kiss Oliver’s forehead (kisses on the lips were out of the question till he was pneumonia-free). Isaac’s smile faltered slightly, not liking one bit how warm Oliver still was, but he knew the antibiotics still had to run their course.
“Hey, Olive. Are you feeling alright?”
Oliver nodded, taking a deep breath real quick when his chest started to feel heavy. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Just tired.”
“Not nauseous?”
Oliver shook his head.
Spirit came over with a little cardboard bowl of soup, a plastic spoon, and Oliver’s lemonade. He smiled and thanked her as she put them on the table for him.
Isaac walked away to grab his own food, spending a minute looking at each of the sandwiches before finding his Italian sub. He took the chair by Oliver’s bed; the chair Spirit had been sitting in before.
Birdie got comfy on the floor with her grilled cheese, and Spirit and Aiden took the little couch in the room. Oliver watched his friends, chuckling as Spirit dunked the corner of her veggie sandwich in Aiden’s strangely orange-colored soup that he couldn’t recall the name of.
Oliver reached for his spoon. His stomach felt weird, but he chalked it up to just being hungry. However, as he looked down at the soup in front of him, he felt something uneasy in his gut. He frowned, putting down the spoon and grabbing his lemonade instead.
He took a few sips before grabbing the spoon again, deciding to try the soup. He tried it with a noodle and a carrot the first time, but chewed that one bite for a bit too long. It settled in his stomach like a brick. After that, he just took little sips of the broth.
“You okay?” Isaac asked softly, making Oliver jolt and he wondered if he spaced out. Oliver frowned, wondering where Isaac’s sandwich was. A quick look at the rest of his friends told him they’d all finished eating, and his soup was still almost full.
He frowned, putting down his spoon and pushing the overbed table back a bit. “Not hungry,” he mumbled.
Isaac bit the inside of his cheek, frowning at Oliver. “Can you take just a few more bites, baby?”
Oliver shook his head, feeling his cheeks flush at all the eyes suddenly on him. He sighed, laying back against the pillows and turning on his side, away from them. The movement jostled his chest and he coughed a few times. He figured it was another small fit, but the coughs only got harsher and wetter, making his chest ache.
“Olive?” Isaac said, his voice panicked.
Oliver tried to answer. Instead, he wheezed.
“Shit,” Isaac cursed, hitting the emergency button by the bed. Oliver heard his friends’ panicked voices as he coughed. The door opened and suddenly there were gloved hands helping him sit up, coaxing him to lean forward and someone took the tubes out of his nose. He felt the familiar feeling of the mask covering his mouth and nose. Something was pushed into his IV. He kept coughing, but it was starting to slow. The mask pushed more oxygen into his system than the nasal cannula did, and whatever was put in his IV was making him start to feel numb. His eyes drooped slightly.
One of the nurses—a sweet, young nurse named Anaiya—spoke to him calmly as she eased the mask’s straps around his head. “Let’s keep this on for a bit, okay sweetie?” she said, easing him back against the pillows. She used the remote to lower the bed into a more comfortable position.
Oliver was still awake, but his entire body felt heavy and tired. The other nurses left, but Anaiya stayed, walking over to Isaac and the others.
He tried to listen, but his head felt fuzzy and it was getting harder to keep his eyes open. He let out a couple of small coughs, and let himself fall asleep.
-- -- --
Oliver woke up with the mask still on, and someone standing beside his bed.
“Isaac?” he mumbled, blinking blearily in the dimmed room. Why’s it so dark?
“Hey,” the person said, but the voice wasn’t Isaac’s. Oliver blinked a few more times before Keiko’s face became clear. “How’re you feeling?”
Oliver just blinked for a second before looking around the room, frowning behind the mask. “Where. . . Isaac. . ?”
Keiko gave him a small, worried smile. “He’ll be back soon. How does your chest feel?”
Oliver pouted. He took a deep breath to try and figure out an answer to that. “Okay. But. . . heavy.”
“Not painful?”
Oliver shook his head. “I feel. . . weird. Tingly.”
“That’ll be the sedative,” Keiko sighed. Something grave crossed his face, and Oliver felt the nervousness practically rolling off of his friend in waves.
“Kei?”
Keiko sighed. “There’s something you need to know,” he said softly. “There’s no point in beating around the bush about this. Your doctor came in not too long ago and explained to us that if you go into respiratory failure again, there’s a chance you’ll end up on a ventilator. It’s, like, a tube that breathes for you.”
Oliver felt his blood run cold. Just picturing it terrified him. Was he that sick?
Thinking about it made his stomach churn. His head spun and he suddenly gagged behind the mask. Keiko moved quickly, grabbing an emesis bin left beside the bed and helping Oliver sit up. He managed to pull the mask off in time before Oliver brought up the pathetic amount of soup he’d eaten.
He groaned, and Keiko gave him a cup of water to rinse his mouth with.
“Here, lay back.” Keiko helped him settle against the pillows once more, and then put the mask back on properly.
“Why’re you here?” Oliver asked tiredly. “Didn’t you have classes today?”
Keiko shrugged. “Atticus said he’d record the lecture for me. I was needed here.”
Silence stretched. Oliver listened to the steady beeping of his heart monitor. He felt tired and scared and he wanted. . .
“Where’re my parents?” he asked in a small voice. “You guys called them, right?”
Keiko nodded. “I think your parents said they were on some kind of trip. They’re still trying to get a flight back, but almost everything is booked.”
Oh, right, Oliver thought. He remembered his parents talking about wanting to take one of those around-the-world cruises. They’d been planning and saving up for this kind of trip since he was accepted into college. And now I’m ruining their dream trip, he thought guiltily.
“Want to talk to them? I can call them for you if you-”
“No.” He shook his head, staring up at the ceiling. “No, I don’t wanna.” They’ll be worried about me and they’ll be so nice and assuring. But they should be having fun together, not dealing with my sickness.
With a deep breath—made much easier by the mask—Oliver looked at Keiko and asked, “Where’s Isaac, Keiko?”
He hesitated, looking like he didn’t want to say anything, and Oliver frowned at him. Then, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Birdie took him outside for some fresh air after he… he had a few panic attacks while you were out,” he admitted. Oliver’s eyes widened as Keiko continued, “Spirit called me after the first. He had more… intense one after the doctor came and told us about the possibility of the ventilator. He was shaken, but refused to leave you, so we coaxed him into taking a quick walk outside.”
In all the years that he’d known Isaac, since they were just little kids, his best friend had never had a panic attack. Hell, the guy rarely even cried! Oliver himself had a few panic attacks throughout the years, but Isaac had always been sturdy. Optimistic. Far braver than he could ever hope to be.
Had he scared him that badly?
Tears filled his eyes, guilt weighing on him like a ton of bricks. “I hate this,” he whimpered, shoulders shaking as he started to cry.
Keiko put a hand on his arm, rubbing softly. “I know,” he said. “It sucks, I know.”
-- -- --
“Spirit wants to know what tea flavor you want,” Birdie said softly, phone in one hand and Isaac’s hand in her other.
Isaac shook his head. “I don’t want tea.”
Birdie typed that. Then Spirit responded.
“She says you’re getting a tea whether you want it or not.”
Isaac didn’t have the energy to be snarky or quippy in response. He just shrugged. Birdie typed something else before pocketing her phone and looking up at Isaac. Side-by-side with him, she probably looked like a middle schooler. She had to tilt her head pretty far up just to look at his face.
The skin around his eyes was red, rubbed raw. He was pale, but thankfully not as pale as he was earlier. Birdie squeezed his hand, and he looked at her. She stopped walking, so he stopped as well.
She hugged him.
He sighed, hugging back and fighting not to cry anymore. He doubted he had any more tears left anyway. It had been a stressful few days.
Birdie didn’t say anything, but her sheer presence was comforting enough. The beads in her newly-done braids jingled and clacked together whenever she moved. Isaac couldn’t help but chuckle as a breeze blew by, making the beads shift, the sound reminding him of a wind chime. Honestly, Birdie herself was just as calming as a wind chime. Human wind chime.
“You feel okay enough to go back in?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, letting go of her.
She took his hand again and they walked back into the building, showing the lady at the desk their visitor stickers as they went. There was a little cafe by the lobby, and Spirit and Aiden were sitting in the lobby with drinks in hand, talking. The couple stood as soon as they saw Birdie and Isaac.
Spirit walked over holding out a cup to him. “It’s green tea with lemon. Drink it. It’ll help, I promise.” Her voice was softer than normal, lacking the usual bite that somehow always managed to seep into all of their conversations.
He nodded, taking the cup without a word, giving her a small smile. “Thanks.”
“Keiko texted,” Aiden said to Isaac. “Oliver’s awake. He’s asking for you.”
Isaac felt something simultaneously lift and twist in his chest, and he nodded, unceremoniously handing the tea back to Spirit and starting towards the elevator. It took everything he had to not run.
The elevator moved too slow. He felt jittery, and when it stopped on the right floor, he was out before the doors even fully opened.
He took quick, long steps down the hallways until he got to Oliver’s room.
Oliver’s eyes were red-rimmed from crying and he still had the mask on, but he was sitting up against the pillows. Awake. Isaac could see the small smile on his face despite the mask.
Keiko was sitting in the chair beside the bed, but moved himself and the chair out of the way so Isaac could get to him, hugging him as tight as he could, careful so as to not hurt him somehow.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” Oliver mumbled, voice scratchy from coughing.
Isaac shook his head, pulling away and leaning back in to press a long, loving kiss against his forehead. “Don’t be sorry, baby,” Isaac whispered against his skin. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Are you okay?”
Isaac froze for a second, then pulled away. Oliver looked worried about him. His eyes widened, filling with more tears, but he nodded, blinking the tears away. “I’m okay, Olive. Just worried, that’s all.”
Oliver didn’t look like he believed him.
Isaac heard his friends’ hushed voices, followed by the sound of the door clicking shut. He looked over his shoulder and saw that they’d all left, giving him and Oliver privacy.
“Isaac,” Oliver mumbled, getting the blonde’s attention again. “I’m cold.”
Isaac frowned, leaning in again to kiss Oliver’s forehead, but this time he was feeling how warm he was. He was borderline hot! Did his fever go up? Just the thought was enough to make Isaac’s chest clench and his eyes sting.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to get you any more blankets, baby. Your fever is still really high.”
Oliver pouted, but nodded. “I’m gonna be okay, Isaac,” Oliver assured. “It’s just pneumonia. I basically have a cold on steroids.”
Isaac couldn’t help but chuckle a little. He nodded, but the worry didn’t ease.
Noticing, Oliver sighed and, despite the ache in his body, forced his limbs to push himself over to the side a bit. Issac’s eyes widened “What’re you—?” Oliver reached up and curled his fingers in the front of Isaac’s shirt.
“Cuddle me,” he said, more of a demand than a request.
After a moment of hesitation, Isaac did as told and carefully climbed in beside Oliver, laying on his side on the edge to give Oliver the most space. Carefully, as if Oliver were made of glass, he put his arm around his boyfriend and buried his face against his side, not wanting to put any weight on Oliver’s chest. Oliver kissed the top of his head, his hand coming to rest on Isaac’s back, rubbing softly.
Oliver could feel Isaac trembling, and it broke his heart.
Isaac stayed exactly where he was, curled carefully around Oliver’s side. He didn’t dare to move. Especially when he heard Oliver’s breaths even out, the sedative and general exhaustion pulling him back into sleep.
For a while, the only sound in the room was the steady beep…beep…beep of the heart monitor and the soft flow of oxygen through the mask.
Issac’s nerves were still buzzing from earlier. Every little sound Oliver made had his chest tightening.
But Oliver was breathing.
That’s what mattered.
He was breathing.
Isaac gave in to his own exhaustion, letting his eyes close for just a second.
-- -- --
Oliver stirred.
He felt heavy and sluggish from sleep. His head was pounding and his mouth felt dry, but something else was off…
He shifted, making Isaac stir a little as well. “Ol…” he trailed off, still half asleep.
Oliver shifted again, grimacing as he blinked sleepily at the dimmed room. What’s wrong with me?
He coughed. Just once, and it was just a little cough. Still, it was enough to wake Isaac up a little more. Listening to the sudden silence, Isaac frowned.
“Oliver?”
The heart monitor was beeping. It wasn’t entirely silent, but one sound was wrong…
Oliver gasped.
Isaac shot up onto one elbow, dipping the bed under his arm and making Oliver groan from the movement as he tried in vain to suck in a full breath, the mask doing fuck-all.
“No,” Isaac gasped, bolting out of the bed and frantically hitting the emergency button by the bed.
A wet, rattling sound escaped Oliver.
Isaac let out an agonized sound that barely sounded human.
The heart monitor began to speed up.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Oliver—?” Isaac’s voice cracked.
Nurses barged in. Oliver’s eyes were wide, glassy with fear and tears. His mouth was agape, frozen that way as he tried and failed to pull air into his lungs.
A nurse told Isaac to get back. He stumbled, falling flat on his as as he watched the nurses frantically work.
He could hear as Oliver tried to pull in another breath.
It rattled horribly in his chest.
Isaac felt something in his chest snap.
The heart monitor shrieked faster.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
“His sats are dropping.”
“Get a crash cart over here!”
Oliver made a horrible choking sound.
Isaac’s vision tunneled.
He couldn’t breathe.
The room spun.
His heart slammed painfully against his ribs.
Not again not again not again—!
Someone was talking to him.
“Isaac!”
He barely heard it.
“ISSAC!”
A hand grabbed his shoulders.
Keiko.
“Isaac, look at me!”
Isaac shook his head violently, gasping for air that wouldn’t come.
“He’s dying,” Isaac choked. “He’s dying—”
“He’s not,” Keiko said firmly, though the tears forming in his own eyes made Isaac believe otherwise.
Across the room Oliver was coughing weakly, desperate gasps growing terrifyingly weaker, nurses crowding around him.
“His oxygen’s still dropping.”
“Get the vent—”
Isaac couldn’t hear the rest.
His chest locked.
His hands started shaking uncontrollably.
“I can’t— I can’t—” he gasped, clawing at his own shirt. He tore the neckline a little.
“Isaac, breathe! Jesus fuck, we need to get him out of here.” A different voice. Spirit.
“I can’t breathe—”
Keiko grabbed his face, forcing him to focus.
“Breathe with me.”
Isaac shook his head again, tears streaming down his face.
Across the room Oliver made a strangled, desperate sound.
Isaac’s vision blurred.
“I can’t—” he whimpered, voice slurring with tears.
The room spun harder.
His lungs refused to work.
No. His lungs worked. Oliver was the one struggling to breathe, lungs not working, dying—
Keiko cursed, hugging Isaac and trying to pull him to his feet..
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He wasn't, really. He ate plenty of things and he was more than a decent cook, he knew how to use spices and tried different dishes regularly... Except certain things were just icky.
Like fucking snails and slugs that Jonah ate. To this day just thinking about the fact he had eaten that once made him nauseated and sometimes even made Leo genuinely gag at the memory. He couldn't understand how Jon could possibly eat that.
On his day to day, though, this was not an issue. They meal prepped for the week — Leo did most of the cooking, Jonah bought the ingredients and cleaned the mess — in order to avoid the constant stream of junk food and deliveries. Leo did it partially because of the sheer amount of money that got drained away through deliveries, but Jon only was a part of it because of the health benefits. Either way, it was a win.
Today he was in the office, with his packed lunch. Nothing fancy, a poke bowl he had made twins with Jon's, with shredded chicken as well as all sorts of summery ingredients, such as cherry tomatoes, kiwi, mangoes, bell peppers and a generous scoop of cream cheese and gohan. It was a colorful, beautiful plate and he had been salivating over it the whole morning, his stomach was growling loudly as he went to the break room by lunch hour and fished out the bowl from their shared fridge.
"What are you doing tomorrow night, Leo?" Chuck asked, leaning on the opposite wall to him, as he waited for his meal to microwave. Another good thing about Leo's option was that he didn't need to heat it up.
"Nothing," Leo shrugged, "stay in, why?"
"It's a Friday, wanna grab a beer and watch the baseball game?"
Leo opened a pleased smile. While Lucas and Vin both played baseball and had joined the community team with Leo and his coworkers, only Chuck cared enough to actively watch the games, like Leo did.
"Sure! Absolutely!"
The microwave beeped and Leo waited for Chuck to retrieve his food container, as they moved to the lounge area to eat together. They were talking about teams and Leo was excitedly gesturing with his fork, when Dean skipped into the room and plopped on the chair next to Leo, with a pleased smile on.
"What are we talking about?" He asked, not one bit embarrassed or shy and Leo blushed on his behalf, wondering what life must be like for such extroverted people such as Dean or Lucas or Bell, who could just butt into conversations without feeling self conscious...
Granted, he wouldn't say Bella was extroverted, but she was certainly forward and immune to feeling embarrassed. It was a skill.
As he mused over this, Leo munched on the food absently minded, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork and the biting it- Only for his teeth to slide as he got a chewy piece that was just fat.
Immediately his appetite was out of the window and his body got covered in goosebumps. He gagged before his brain could fully compute what was happening, dropping his fork in a haste as he cupped a hand over his mouth and shot up from the table, running towards the toilets.
Vaguely, he heard Dean yelling after him, but his stomach had flipped with revulsion and Leo skipped inside the staff bathroom, pushing a stall open and dropping to his knees just as he coughed the half chewed piece and retched with enough force to bring up a mouthful of something chunky and vile.
His mind kept hiccupping over what he had just felt in his mouth, stuck in the sensation, and Leo gagged out of disgust, planting his elbows on the toilet seat as his whole body lurched forward.
There was a thump on his back and he coughed up another stream of vomit, blindly reaching over his head to reach the flush, but the toilet flushed before he could find it. He coughed, trying to clear his throat of the slimy feeling, stomach still bubbling and threatening to send up the rest of his chick- Uuurgh, the rest of his lunch.
"Jesus," Chuck breathed out, voice spooked, "what the hell happened?"
Leo collapsed onto his ass, groaning and hanging his head as he tried to catch his breath. His stomach was aching from the violent heaving, still churning with vestigial nausea, "uhm-" he gulped down, then muffled a wet belch in his hand, frothy enough that he leaned to the side to spit the ropey saliva in the bowl, "chick- HIC-" he jerked with a hiccup and squeezed his eyes closed, trying to shut up his mind, "lunch- Gross-"
"Your lunch was gross?" Chuck snorted and Leo sat back down, tilting his head up to look at the guy. Chuck had tan, reddish skin and extremely dark, straight hair that was always brushed back. He was stocky, clearly frequenting the gym, but not particularly tall like Leo or Dean.
"Yeah..."
"You're like a child, Wagner," Chuck laughed, stepping back, now sufficiently calmed down over Leo's wellbeing, "maybe you should go home and nurse that stomachache."
"It's fine," Leo rolled his eyes, grabbing on the stall wall to pull himself up. His stomach gurgled, unhappily, and he froze in a hunched over position, taking slow breaths in order to avoid lurch right back to the bowl, "just... Just grossed out..."
"Go home," Chuck shooed him with a hand gesture, "work from home, we have those home office days for this exact reason. No one wants your pukey ass in the office in case you have a bug."
"I don't have a bug," Leo groaned, but he would be lying if the idea of going home wasn't enticing, not because he was sick, but because he felt exposed and raw. Besides, Jon was probably home, he wasn't scheduled for today... Hopefully?
"Go home, Leo," Chuck was now serious, "that's the most ridiculous way anyone has ever gotten sick in this office."
Leo flipped him off as he stumbled back to the sinks, washing his mouth and face. Just swishing water around in his mouth was enough to make him gag and he shuddered with revulsion, "yeah okay, I'll go home," he wiped his chin with his hand, feeling too weak to reach for the paper towels less than two feet away. Chuck grabbed a handful of them with a little huff.
"Thank you," the older guy said in an amused tone, walking out of the bathroom.
Leo gathered his stuff back in his office, then went back to the garage, passing by Sandy, who cooed over him, all "Oh, you poor thing, feel better," rubbing his arm in a reassuring manner and that made Leo turn a deep crimson shade. Damn office gossip, she hadn't even been there when he threw up!
On the drive over, he gagged twice more at a red light, as his brain insisted on recalling the damn chicken, but Leo valiantly swallowed it back down.
He was pouty and cranky by the time he made it inside their apartment, not even JD meowing at his presence seeming to cheer him up.
"What is it, baby?" Jon cooed, following the cat out of the room, and then paused, eyebrows raised, "shouldn't you be at the office?"
He was leaning against the wall that marked the end of their hallway, wearing sweatpants with a compression wifebeater on top, but over all of it he sported a silk mustard yellow robe, with matching slippers. Leo snorted at the sight.
"Clearly, I am not," he answered, dropping his suitcase by the door and crossing the room in order to topple in Jonah's arms, sending his husband stumbling back and chuckling.
"Oh, hi, hello," his voice came muffled by Leo's hair in his mouth and he sputtered, squirming to pull him into a correct hug, "what's wrong, angel?"
"Don't steal my petname," Leo grumbled, turning his head to inhale Jonah's perfume and feeling the previous disgust start to melt away. Jonah always smelt like a damn dream, like the most squeaky clean person in the world, no matter how many hours after a shower it was.
"What. Is. Wrong?" Jon punctuated each word with a kiss to Leo's temple and the blonde grinned, turning his head so he could catch the last one in his mouth and then pulled back just a smidge.
"I threw up, Chuck sent me home."
"And you just kissed me?" Jonah raised an unimpressed eyebrow, glaring at him, causing Leo to snort.
"I'm not sick, the chicken in the lunch was-" instead of saying what it was, Leo gagged and shuddered, making Jonah laugh.
"Oh, you diva," he grabbed Leo's face, pressing a kiss to his pout, "chicken was icky in your tummy, yeah?"
"You're soooo mean to me," Leo whined, squinting at him, and biting down a smile as Jonah tugged him closer and he promptly went, happily being squished into a hug.
Jonah didn't make a move to get them to the couch or the bedroom, instead they stayed standing in the middle of the living room, not that either one seemed to mind. His husband rubbed a hand up his back, fingers running through his hair as Leo melted into a puddle.
"Jon?"
"Yeah?" His breath tickled Leo's ear and he smiled, pressed himself even closer, if possible.
“I smell plastic,” Oliver complained about the nasal cannula, scrunching up his nose.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Spirit scoffed, poking the tip of his nose. “Ya got plastic tubes up your nostrils.”
“Did you just boop me?”
She shrugged.
A gameshow Oliver had never heard of was playing on mute on the TV in his room. Sitting up against several pillows with cards on his lap, he’d been letting Spirit teach him how to play I Declare War, and she was kicking his ass at it.
“I’m sick. Go easy on me,” he pouted. She smirked, and put down a card to counter his 10-of-diamonds.
Her card was an Ace.
He groaned. “You suck.”
“Love ya too.”
They continued to play. Oliver managed to steal back a few more cards, but ultimately ended up losing again. Again-again. For the fifth time.
Spirit, for no one’s eyes but his (and he’d never bring it up if he wanted to avoid the wrath of the hot-head) did a stupid little victory dance that had him bursting out laughing. He laughed a little too hard for his lungs to handle and started coughing though, making Spirit stop suddenly, guilt flashing across her face.
He held up a hand when she started to reach for the call button beside his bed, chuckling between wheezes and coughs. "I'm fine,” he managed at last, still smiling. “It’s just a bit of coughing.”
She frowned. Those coughs didn’t sound good.
Before she could say anything though, the door to Oliver’s room opened, three people all coming in with bags of food.
“Panera is here!” Isaac said, striking a pose with a to-go bag in one hand and Oliver’s favorite blueberry-lavender lemonade in the other. When he threw out one of his arms for the pose, he nearly decked Birdie in the face, but his arm went high enough and she was short enough that she ducked easily. The blonde cringed and apologized.
Aiden chuckled from behind them, his glasses perched on top of his head, pushing his hair back in a way that had Spirit staring longer than she intended to, earning a poke in the side and a cheeky smirk from her bed-ridden gremlin of a friend.
“Got you your green tea,” Birdie said, handing the iced drink to Spirit. “And brownies for all!” She held up the bag she was holding.
All the bags and drinks wound up on the little counter in the corner of the room, Birdie and Spirit rummaging through everything while Aiden hugged Spirit from behind, chin resting on top of her hair. Isaac busied himself with adjusting the overbed table for Oliver, and making sure he was sitting up comfortably.
“Hi,” Oliver said with a tired smile, watching Isaac fuss. Isaac returned the smile, leaning in to kiss Oliver’s forehead (kisses on the lips were out of the question till he was pneumonia-free). Isaac’s smile faltered slightly, not liking one bit how warm Oliver still was, but he knew the antibiotics still had to run their course.
“Hey, Olive. Are you feeling alright?”
Oliver nodded, taking a deep breath real quick when his chest started to feel heavy. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Just tired.”
“Not nauseous?”
Oliver shook his head.
Spirit came over with a little cardboard bowl of soup, a plastic spoon, and Oliver’s lemonade. He smiled and thanked her as she put them on the table for him.
Isaac walked away to grab his own food, spending a minute looking at each of the sandwiches before finding his Italian sub. He took the chair by Oliver’s bed; the chair Spirit had been sitting in before.
Birdie got comfy on the floor with her grilled cheese, and Spirit and Aiden took the little couch in the room. Oliver watched his friends, chuckling as Spirit dunked the corner of her veggie sandwich in Aiden’s strangely orange-colored soup that he couldn’t recall the name of.
Oliver reached for his spoon. His stomach felt weird, but he chalked it up to just being hungry. However, as he looked down at the soup in front of him, he felt something uneasy in his gut. He frowned, putting down the spoon and grabbing his lemonade instead.
He took a few sips before grabbing the spoon again, deciding to try the soup. He tried it with a noodle and a carrot the first time, but chewed that one bite for a bit too long. It settled in his stomach like a brick. After that, he just took little sips of the broth.
“You okay?” Isaac asked softly, making Oliver jolt and he wondered if he spaced out. Oliver frowned, wondering where Isaac’s sandwich was. A quick look at the rest of his friends told him they’d all finished eating, and his soup was still almost full.
He frowned, putting down his spoon and pushing the overbed table back a bit. “Not hungry,” he mumbled.
Isaac bit the inside of his cheek, frowning at Oliver. “Can you take just a few more bites, baby?”
Oliver shook his head, feeling his cheeks flush at all the eyes suddenly on him. He sighed, laying back against the pillows and turning on his side, away from them. The movement jostled his chest and he coughed a few times. He figured it was another small fit, but the coughs only got harsher and wetter, making his chest ache.
“Olive?” Isaac said, his voice panicked.
Oliver tried to answer. Instead, he wheezed.
“Shit,” Isaac cursed, hitting the emergency button by the bed. Oliver heard his friends’ panicked voices as he coughed. The door opened and suddenly there were gloved hands helping him sit up, coaxing him to lean forward and someone took the tubes out of his nose. He felt the familiar feeling of the mask covering his mouth and nose. Something was pushed into his IV. He kept coughing, but it was starting to slow. The mask pushed more oxygen into his system than the nasal cannula did, and whatever was put in his IV was making him start to feel numb. His eyes drooped slightly.
One of the nurses—a sweet, young nurse named Anaiya—spoke to him calmly as she eased the mask’s straps around his head. “Let’s keep this on for a bit, okay sweetie?” she said, easing him back against the pillows. She used the remote to lower the bed into a more comfortable position.
Oliver was still awake, but his entire body felt heavy and tired. The other nurses left, but Anaiya stayed, walking over to Isaac and the others.
He tried to listen, but his head felt fuzzy and it was getting harder to keep his eyes open. He let out a couple of small coughs, and let himself fall asleep.
-- -- --
Oliver woke up with the mask still on, and someone standing beside his bed.
“Isaac?” he mumbled, blinking blearily in the dimmed room. Why’s it so dark?
“Hey,” the person said, but the voice wasn’t Isaac’s. Oliver blinked a few more times before Keiko’s face became clear. “How’re you feeling?”
Oliver just blinked for a second before looking around the room, frowning behind the mask. “Where. . . Isaac. . ?”
Keiko gave him a small, worried smile. “He’ll be back soon. How does your chest feel?”
Oliver pouted. He took a deep breath to try and figure out an answer to that. “Okay. But. . . heavy.”
“Not painful?”
Oliver shook his head. “I feel. . . weird. Tingly.”
“That’ll be the sedative,” Keiko sighed. Something grave crossed his face, and Oliver felt the nervousness practically rolling off of his friend in waves.
“Kei?”
Keiko sighed. “There’s something you need to know,” he said softly. “There’s no point in beating around the bush about this. Your doctor came in not too long ago and explained to us that if you go into respiratory failure again, there’s a chance you’ll end up on a ventilator. It’s, like, a tube that breathes for you.”
Oliver felt his blood run cold. Just picturing it terrified him. Was he that sick?
Thinking about it made his stomach churn. His head spun and he suddenly gagged behind the mask. Keiko moved quickly, grabbing an emesis bin left beside the bed and helping Oliver sit up. He managed to pull the mask off in time before Oliver brought up the pathetic amount of soup he’d eaten.
He groaned, and Keiko gave him a cup of water to rinse his mouth with.
“Here, lay back.” Keiko helped him settle against the pillows once more, and then put the mask back on properly.
“Why’re you here?” Oliver asked tiredly. “Didn’t you have classes today?”
Keiko shrugged. “Atticus said he’d record the lecture for me. I was needed here.”
Silence stretched. Oliver listened to the steady beeping of his heart monitor. He felt tired and scared and he wanted. . .
“Where’re my parents?” he asked in a small voice. “You guys called them, right?”
Keiko nodded. “I think your parents said they were on some kind of trip. They’re still trying to get a flight back, but almost everything is booked.”
Oh, right, Oliver thought. He remembered his parents talking about wanting to take one of those around-the-world cruises. They’d been planning and saving up for this kind of trip since he was accepted into college. And now I’m ruining their dream trip, he thought guiltily.
“Want to talk to them? I can call them for you if you-”
“No.” He shook his head, staring up at the ceiling. “No, I don’t wanna.” They’ll be worried about me and they’ll be so nice and assuring. But they should be having fun together, not dealing with my sickness.
With a deep breath—made much easier by the mask—Oliver looked at Keiko and asked, “Where’s Isaac, Keiko?”
He hesitated, looking like he didn’t want to say anything, and Oliver frowned at him. Then, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Birdie took him outside for some fresh air after he… he had a few panic attacks while you were out,” he admitted. Oliver’s eyes widened as Keiko continued, “Spirit called me after the first. He had more… intense one after the doctor came and told us about the possibility of the ventilator. He was shaken, but refused to leave you, so we coaxed him into taking a quick walk outside.”
In all the years that he’d known Isaac, since they were just little kids, his best friend had never had a panic attack. Hell, the guy rarely even cried! Oliver himself had a few panic attacks throughout the years, but Isaac had always been sturdy. Optimistic. Far braver than he could ever hope to be.
Had he scared him that badly?
Tears filled his eyes, guilt weighing on him like a ton of bricks. “I hate this,” he whimpered, shoulders shaking as he started to cry.
Keiko put a hand on his arm, rubbing softly. “I know,” he said. “It sucks, I know.”
-- -- --
“Spirit wants to know what tea flavor you want,” Birdie said softly, phone in one hand and Isaac’s hand in her other.
Isaac shook his head. “I don’t want tea.”
Birdie typed that. Then Spirit responded.
“She says you’re getting a tea whether you want it or not.”
Isaac didn’t have the energy to be snarky or quippy in response. He just shrugged. Birdie typed something else before pocketing her phone and looking up at Isaac. Side-by-side with him, she probably looked like a middle schooler. She had to tilt her head pretty far up just to look at his face.
The skin around his eyes was red, rubbed raw. He was pale, but thankfully not as pale as he was earlier. Birdie squeezed his hand, and he looked at her. She stopped walking, so he stopped as well.
She hugged him.
He sighed, hugging back and fighting not to cry anymore. He doubted he had any more tears left anyway. It had been a stressful few days.
Birdie didn’t say anything, but her sheer presence was comforting enough. The beads in her newly-done braids jingled and clacked together whenever she moved. Isaac couldn’t help but chuckle as a breeze blew by, making the beads shift, the sound reminding him of a wind chime. Honestly, Birdie herself was just as calming as a wind chime. Human wind chime.
“You feel okay enough to go back in?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, letting go of her.
She took his hand again and they walked back into the building, showing the lady at the desk their visitor stickers as they went. There was a little cafe by the lobby, and Spirit and Aiden were sitting in the lobby with drinks in hand, talking. The couple stood as soon as they saw Birdie and Isaac.
Spirit walked over holding out a cup to him. “It’s green tea with lemon. Drink it. It’ll help, I promise.” Her voice was softer than normal, lacking the usual bite that somehow always managed to seep into all of their conversations.
He nodded, taking the cup without a word, giving her a small smile. “Thanks.”
“Keiko texted,” Aiden said to Isaac. “Oliver’s awake. He’s asking for you.”
Isaac felt something simultaneously lift and twist in his chest, and he nodded, unceremoniously handing the tea back to Spirit and starting towards the elevator. It took everything he had to not run.
The elevator moved too slow. He felt jittery, and when it stopped on the right floor, he was out before the doors even fully opened.
He took quick, long steps down the hallways until he got to Oliver’s room.
Oliver’s eyes were red-rimmed from crying and he still had the mask on, but he was sitting up against the pillows. Awake. Isaac could see the small smile on his face despite the mask.
Keiko was sitting in the chair beside the bed, but moved himself and the chair out of the way so Isaac could get to him, hugging him as tight as he could, careful so as to not hurt him somehow.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” Oliver mumbled, voice scratchy from coughing.
Isaac shook his head, pulling away and leaning back in to press a long, loving kiss against his forehead. “Don’t be sorry, baby,” Isaac whispered against his skin. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Are you okay?”
Isaac froze for a second, then pulled away. Oliver looked worried about him. His eyes widened, filling with more tears, but he nodded, blinking the tears away. “I’m okay, Olive. Just worried, that’s all.”
Oliver didn’t look like he believed him.
Isaac heard his friends’ hushed voices, followed by the sound of the door clicking shut. He looked over his shoulder and saw that they’d all left, giving him and Oliver privacy.
“Isaac,” Oliver mumbled, getting the blonde’s attention again. “I’m cold.”
Isaac frowned, leaning in again to kiss Oliver’s forehead, but this time he was feeling how warm he was. He was borderline hot! Did his fever go up? Just the thought was enough to make Isaac’s chest clench and his eyes sting.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to get you any more blankets, baby. Your fever is still really high.”
Oliver pouted, but nodded. “I’m gonna be okay, Isaac,” Oliver assured. “It’s just pneumonia. I basically have a cold on steroids.”
Isaac couldn’t help but chuckle a little. He nodded, but the worry didn’t ease.
Noticing, Oliver sighed and, despite the ache in his body, forced his limbs to push himself over to the side a bit. Issac’s eyes widened “What’re you—?” Oliver reached up and curled his fingers in the front of Isaac’s shirt.
“Cuddle me,” he said, more of a demand than a request.
After a moment of hesitation, Isaac did as told and carefully climbed in beside Oliver, laying on his side on the edge to give Oliver the most space. Carefully, as if Oliver were made of glass, he put his arm around his boyfriend and buried his face against his side, not wanting to put any weight on Oliver’s chest. Oliver kissed the top of his head, his hand coming to rest on Isaac’s back, rubbing softly.
Oliver could feel Isaac trembling, and it broke his heart.
Isaac stayed exactly where he was, curled carefully around Oliver’s side. He didn’t dare to move. Especially when he heard Oliver’s breaths even out, the sedative and general exhaustion pulling him back into sleep.
For a while, the only sound in the room was the steady beep…beep…beep of the heart monitor and the soft flow of oxygen through the mask.
Issac’s nerves were still buzzing from earlier. Every little sound Oliver made had his chest tightening.
But Oliver was breathing.
That’s what mattered.
He was breathing.
Isaac gave in to his own exhaustion, letting his eyes close for just a second.
-- -- --
Oliver stirred.
He felt heavy and sluggish from sleep. His head was pounding and his mouth felt dry, but something else was off…
He shifted, making Isaac stir a little as well. “Ol…” he trailed off, still half asleep.
Oliver shifted again, grimacing as he blinked sleepily at the dimmed room. What’s wrong with me?
He coughed. Just once, and it was just a little cough. Still, it was enough to wake Isaac up a little more. Listening to the sudden silence, Isaac frowned.
“Oliver?”
The heart monitor was beeping. It wasn’t entirely silent, but one sound was wrong…
Oliver gasped.
Isaac shot up onto one elbow, dipping the bed under his arm and making Oliver groan from the movement as he tried in vain to suck in a full breath, the mask doing fuck-all.
“No,” Isaac gasped, bolting out of the bed and frantically hitting the emergency button by the bed.
A wet, rattling sound escaped Oliver.
Isaac let out an agonized sound that barely sounded human.
The heart monitor began to speed up.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Oliver—?” Isaac’s voice cracked.
Nurses barged in. Oliver’s eyes were wide, glassy with fear and tears. His mouth was agape, frozen that way as he tried and failed to pull air into his lungs.
A nurse told Isaac to get back. He stumbled, falling flat on his as as he watched the nurses frantically work.
He could hear as Oliver tried to pull in another breath.
It rattled horribly in his chest.
Isaac felt something in his chest snap.
The heart monitor shrieked faster.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
“His sats are dropping.”
“Get a crash cart over here!”
Oliver made a horrible choking sound.
Isaac’s vision tunneled.
He couldn’t breathe.
The room spun.
His heart slammed painfully against his ribs.
Not again not again not again—!
Someone was talking to him.
“Isaac!”
He barely heard it.
“ISSAC!”
A hand grabbed his shoulders.
Keiko.
“Isaac, look at me!”
Isaac shook his head violently, gasping for air that wouldn’t come.
“He’s dying,” Isaac choked. “He’s dying—”
“He’s not,” Keiko said firmly, though the tears forming in his own eyes made Isaac believe otherwise.
Across the room Oliver was coughing weakly, desperate gasps growing terrifyingly weaker, nurses crowding around him.
“His oxygen’s still dropping.”
“Get the vent—”
Isaac couldn’t hear the rest.
His chest locked.
His hands started shaking uncontrollably.
“I can’t— I can’t—” he gasped, clawing at his own shirt. He tore the neckline a little.
“Isaac, breathe! Jesus fuck, we need to get him out of here.” A different voice. Spirit.
“I can’t breathe—”
Keiko grabbed his face, forcing him to focus.
“Breathe with me.”
Isaac shook his head again, tears streaming down his face.
Across the room Oliver made a strangled, desperate sound.
Isaac’s vision blurred.
“I can’t—” he whimpered, voice slurring with tears.
The room spun harder.
His lungs refused to work.
No. His lungs worked. Oliver was the one struggling to breathe, lungs not working, dying—
Keiko cursed, hugging Isaac and trying to pull him to his feet..
