No need to get all mushy (PUF fanfiction | English version)

Avocado

Nemecsek was sitting in his bed with his back against a large, avocado-patterned pillow, listening to Csónakos' account of his trip to Croatia with the Leszik-Weisz-Richter trio. He was having fun, bursting out in a titter several times, although he had to try to rein the chortle so that the uncontrolled, joyful cachinnation that was so typical of him didn't turn into an unpleasant coughing fit. At such times, he was a little annoyed, but he did his best to let go of his frustration as quickly as possible. After all, he was used to it: some nasty illness usually knocked him off his feet at least twice a year, compulsing him to stay in bed for weeks. Weak lungs, weak immune system - he had to learn to live with it, and that was that. At least he was lucky that his friends came to visit him regularly at those times so that he wouldn't die of boredom.

Csónakos was just describing how Weisz had grimaced when he had accidentally swallowed some seawater, when Nemecsek felt that certain, unmistakable sensation of nausea rolling over him.

"Damn it!" he thought.

That was really the last thing he needed. After all, he was having so much fun listening to Csónakos. Would it really have been such a big favor to ask of fate to let him feel like a healthy person with completely normal body functions for at least an hour? The blond man clutched the snow-white bed sheet tightly, closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. No, it surely wasn't noticeable at all.

"I'm serious, he swallowed a milliliter of slightly salty water, and his face got so distorted that you could hardly recognize him. I reckon that it's only a child that a guinea pig and a capybara have spawned together that might look like that. Not even back in the day, when his mouth was filled with that nasty fucking putty, did he look like that... You all right, mate?" Csónakos interrupted the story as he noticed Nemecsek's suffering.

The blond opened his eyes anxiously.

"Yes... that is no... or not entirely, but it's not that bad, it's just... " he began, and then, seeing the extremely sensible expression that his friend, who had gotten somewhat confused, presented him with, he tried again, using complete sentences to explain the situation:

"So, the thing is that these medications that I take for my lungs are not entirely compatible with my digestive system, and basically..."

"My God, I couldn't have put it in a more stupid way," Nemecsek smacked his forehead in thought, but luckily, Csónakos saved him of more embarrassment:

"Are you saying that you need to shoot the cat?" he proposed, although Nemecsek's complexion that was growing paler by the minute already proved that he had hit the nail on the head.

"Yes, that's one way to put it. And since you may not want to witness the episode that is going to play out shortly, we might as well say goodbye for now."

"Say goodbye my ass!" Csónakos said indignantly, "I'd rather stay here so that I can help if need be."

Nemecsek merely shrugged and tried to get out of the bed as quickly as possible, although he knew that a "thank you" or something similar would have been in order. It was not as if he didn't appreciate the fact that Csónakos didn't leave him to his own devices. On the contrary, he was partly happy about it, since he knew very well that when he was on his own in such situations, a certain dread often seized him, making him wonder if the moment when he didn't manage alone, became too weak, collapsed, was unable to breathe or whatnot finally had come. At the same time, he felt that he didn't want such a fuss to be made about him and his friends to have to constantly look out for him. In short, he was embarrassed, which manifested itself through the fact that even though Csónakos signaled to him with an outstretched arm that if Nemecsek's legs did not obey him, he was there for support, the blond hardly looked at him. He merely did his best to pace out of the room.