Something's Off

Sick

Danny

Dylan led Danny to the kitchen, going out of his way to make him a decent breakfast, despite Danny tiredly insisting that just something simple was fine. Honestly, he just wanted to go back to bed; he felt drained and shaky, though he chalked it up to last night, with the throwing up and staying up late and everything.

"You haven't been eating right, so you need something healthier than just poptarts." Dylan reasoned as he scrambled eggs for Danny.

Danny let Dylan win, knowing that he couldn't argue with that logic. After all, Dylan was only trying to help, the least Danny could do was let him. As Dylan finished cooking and slid the eggs onto a plate, Danny noticed something was off.

"Hey, are you going to eat? You didn't make anything for yourself."

Dylan shrugged, handing Danny the plate and a fork. "Not hungry." He said flatly.

That was definitely off. "You sure? You always eat breakfast."

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Shut up and eat your eggs."

Danny frowned, but let it go and started eating.

Damn, these were some good eggs.

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Dylan

Dylan had lied; he was starving.

He cleaned the kitchen, trying not to pay attention to his gnawing hunger. It wasn't like he was trying to starve himself, Dylan just couldn't bring himself to eat. He felt disgusted with himself, dirty, sinful. He'd been perving out over Danny and his suffering constantly, and he felt like the most awful person on earth because of it.

Dylan watched Danny finish his food when the kitchen was clean, taking undeniable pleasure in watching Danny eat. He shuddered internally at himself, feeling even grosser.

God, he was the worst. Only perverts got off on people eating.

Perverts like Dylan.

Danny stood up, wobbling a little. Dylan narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Danny, paying closer attention. The lead singer was pale, and visibly shaking. Dylan immediately walked to Danny's side, ready to catch him if needed.

"You okay?" Dylan asked, hiding the worry in his tone.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. Fine." Danny said, a little incoherently, causing Dylan to worry more.

"You're pale."

"It's just from what happened last night." Danny said dismissively, turning to the cabinet and fishing out a box of poptarts.

"You're shaking."

"Blood sugar?" Danny said uncertainly, opening a package of poptarts and taking a large bite.

"I don't think that's how it works."

Danny quickly finished off the first two poptarts, then opened another package and began eating, not responding to Dylan until he finished the first one in the package.

"I'm fine, really."

"I don't think so."

Danny shrugged, then bit into another poptart.

Dylan bit his lip, noticing that Danny was overeating, and fought off the temptation to just let him keep going.

"You shouldn't be eating that much, it'll make it worse."

Danny shook his head. "No, its, uh, blood sugar."

Dylan sighed, then picked up the box of poptarts and stuffed them back in the cabinet, ignoring Danny's complaints.

"Go lay down." Dylan ordered.

Danny shook his head, then reached for the cabinet where the poptarts were hidden. Dylan gently pushed his hand away.

"Bed. Now."

Danny huffed, but finally walked to his bunk. Dylan sighed, leaning back against the counter. He'd check on Danny later, but for right now all he could do was send him to bed.

Dylan heard sudden thumping, like someone running down the hall, then somebody hurling their guts out.

Dammit, Danny. He just had to eat all those goddamn motherfucking poptarts.

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Danny

Danny clung to the toilet, retching and bringing up everything he just ate. He was so busy suffering, he almost didn't notice when someone started rubbing his back and pulling his hair out of his face.

Dylan stayed silent, just helping Danny as he emptied his stomach. After a few minutes, Danny finally stopped hurling and leaned back against Dylan tiredly, worn out by throwing up. Dylan wordlessly helped Danny to his feet as the world became hazy, leading him to the sink to rinse out his mouth.

Danny started getting dizzier and more confused as Dylan led him back to his bunk, not even able to tell if reality was real anymore. Dylan helped him into bed, pulling the covers over Danny, then positioning him so that he'd be comfortable.

Then Dylan kissed Danny's forehead.

"I love you." He mumbled quietly, then got up and walked off.

Huh. Danny thought as he dozed off. I must be already asleep. There's no way he'd say that in real life.