Misc RH OC Scraps

[PHOTOSHOOT] Emotion Sickness

Dorian entered his portrait photography class, and as his eyes swept over the room, he noted a distinct lack of red curly hair. He  checked his phone. Still nothing. It was strange that Aiden hadn't texted him all day. And now he wasn't in class. Maybe that wouldn't have meant much if it was an English class, but this was photography, and Aiden loved being photographed. It wasn't like him to skip it. Dorian was slightly worried. 

The teacher, frenzied and carrying several clipboards, spotted Dorian and made a beeline for him. "I know you usually work with Aiden Ochre but he's out sick today. You'll work with Harlow Myrtle. They're about the same height so you shouldn't have to adjust your set or anything, just your camera settings or your lighting for the different skin tones... HEY," she yelled across the room, "Watch where you're swinging that light!" She rushed off to deal with the other students. 

Now Dorian was very worried. He was barely able to focus enough to get through the project with Harlow. The resulting photos were definitely not his best work. Crap. He still had two classes to get through. He texted Aiden asking if he was alright. 

Half an hour later he got a reply— "no," without punctuation or further explanation. 

He tried to stay calm. Aiden was really dramatic, his sickness probably wasn't even that bad and he was blowing it out of proportion! And besides it wasn't like Dorian could do much to help a sick person, he wasn't a doctor. But he still felt a heavy weight in his chest. 

As soon as classes were done for the day, Dorian ran to Aiden's dorm. He didn't usually run anywhere. But at least the desperate sound of his feet hitting the floor distracted him from his worries, and he got some good deep breaths in while trying to catch his breath. He thrust open the door.

Aiden wasn't immediately visible in the room. But he could hear him. Absolutely horrible retching noises came from the direction of the bathroom. 

Oh, so it was that kind of sick.

He didn't want to shock Aiden, so he called out tentatively. "Aiden? What's wrong?" 

The retching stopped, but it was replaced by quick and labored breathing in the vein of hyperventilation, and Aiden's voice sounded like it took a lot of effort to get out. "Don't— come over here— I look— so awful." 

As if he was going to listen to that. He had to check on him. See how bad it was. So he could help. So he did go over there. 

Aiden was crumpled on the tile floor, leaning heavily against the side of the bathtub. He had a blanket around his shoulders but it didn't stop him from shivering— trembling, really. When he turned his head to look at Dorian, he could see the bags under his eyes as if he'd been there since the previous night. His hair was tangled. He probably hadn't been able to brush it. Aiden had always been short and thin. But now he looked frail. Like he needed to be protected.

His breaths came faster when he saw Dorian, and tears welled up in his eyes. He didn't have to say it. I told you not to look. 

Dorian crouched down next to him. "What do you need?" 

Aiden looked like he was about to reply, but instead another retching sound came out, and he had to quickly lean his head over the bathtub. Dorian held his hair back while he vomited. Once he was done and the breaths came back, Dorian tried to rub his back comfortingly, but Aiden pushed him away. Actually it was more like he tapped his hand against Dorian's chest, and he stopped of his own accord. Aiden wasn't strong enough to push anything away at the moment. 

"Get Bebe."

"But isn't there something I can—"

"Get. Bebe. And get out." Aiden didn't look at him. He hid his face.