Let Go. I'll Catch You.

Welcome to 2,500 words of self-indulgent drivel inspired by being sick this weekend. Does this story have a purpose? Not really. Did I have fun writing it? Yes. 

Also, the next chapter of Omission will be up in the next two days. It was impossible to write while sick and I wanted to get this down while I edited Omission. I hope you enjoy!

It started with a threatening rumbling in Riley's stomach, and that curious sensation of not feeling quite right, but also not being able to pinpoint exactly what felt wrong. 

Well, it really started the two days before when Andy had insisted on sharing a glass of orange juice with him (or rather, shoving it in his face), and the kid falling ill with the stomach flu less than 12 hours later.

Riley laid in bed longer than usual that morning, trying to figure out what was wrong before his quaking stomach lurched sent him up and running to the bathroom.

The question of what was wrong was answered now, at least. Though that was a microscopic consolation as his stomach continued to heave, despite being long past empty at this point. Sweat broke out across his body and his body ached. With every fiber of his being, Riley wanted to crawl back into his bed and sleep until whatever this was had run its course.

But he could only rest his forehead on the toilet's cool porcelain and pant heavily, spitting out bile and saliva as he tried not to focus on how disgusting the toilet seat probably was.

Riley didn't trust his stomach to not betray him in the time it would take to get back to his room and into bed. He didn't want to deal with trying to hide stained carpet along with hiding how atrocious he felt, so he stayed hunched over the toilet.

By now, however long it had been since he'd broken land-speed records to get to the bathroom, his shirt was saturated with sweat stuck to his back. Riley's skin felt clammy and he felt stuck on a pendulum that swung wildly between way too hot and way too cold.

"Are you done yet?" Riley felt the reverberation of each loud knock in his guts and he could have sworn his sister's aggressive voice split his skull. "You've been in there forever!"

Riley tried to answer, but the tumultuous storm in his stomach only led to more sputtering and retches instead of words.

"Ri, sweetheart, are you okay?" this knock was softer. His mom was outside the bathroom now, which meant that any chance of keeping this a secret was, for lack of a better term at the moment, flushed down the toilet.

"Audrey said you've been in there for awhile." Riley inwardly snarked "snitch" at his sister before trying to gather himself with deep lungfuls of air. He may not be able to hide the fact that he's sick from his Mom, but that didn't mean she had to know the extent of it.

With all his strength, Riley pushed himself up from the bathroom floor, ignoring the dizziness and his vision threatening to white out. Opening the door, the first thing he saw was his Mom's slightly worried expression twist into full-on alarm.

"Aw, baby, what's wrong?" She reached out and put her hand to his clammy forehead, and it took everything Riley had to not pull back and slam the door shut. The thought of anyone, especially his Mom, knowing he was sick sent a fresh round of nausea to his volatile stomach.

Much the same way Riley got his answer to what was wrong from rushing to the toilet to vomit, his Mom got her answer as he jerked away from her touch and twisted back to the toilet, falling to his knees and being sick all over again.

This time, the misery of heaving out his insides was accompanied by shame pumping through his veins with every heavy thrum of his racing pulse. He wasn't accustomed to anyone seeing him sick. At all. Riley took care of himself when he was sick. And he hadn't died yet.