Are You Okay? // Colby Brock

Sicker Than A Bowl Of Oatmeal

Prompt: Colby refuses to admit he's sick even when he keeps getting worse. It gets to the point where he needs to tell someone, and needs help, fast. 

COUGH, COUGH.

Wiping his nose, Colby covers his mouth as best he can with his elbow, trying to muffle the sound of his coughing. He's under the sheets in his bed, it's about eleven o'clock in the morning and he just woke himself up coughing. Not only that, but in the night he had a runny nose, pounding headache, a sore throat and his stomach kept churning uncomfortably. Despite how much time he spent trying to go to sleep, the looming threat of bile rising in his throat kept him on his toes, and he only fell asleep when he got too tired to consciously keep himself awake.

He's sweating profusely, despite the fact that he's shirtless and only in his boxers, and everything feels... wrong. He feels bad and sluggish and...

Sick.

Colby groans and squeezes his eyes shut, wincing as the headache pounds at his forehead. He's not sick, he just isn't. He never gets sick and-and nows not the time for his body to become infected with God knows what.

So no, he's not sick. Just... allergies. Yeah, allergies. 

Colby takes a minute to sit up, swinging his legs over the side of his bed, his chest heaving as he pants from the effort. Not because he's sick, no, but because he... overworked himself at the gym yesterday! Yeah, that must be it.

Colby stands up and sways for a second, lightheaded from the sudden movement. His arms shoot out in an attempt to balance himself and it works, for the most part. As soon as he's not swaying, he drags himself over to the bathroom to brush his teeth and whatnot.

He turns on the light and wipes his eyes before meeting his reflection in the mirror and he inhales sharply at the sight. He has visible bags beneath his eyes, his skin is obviously clammy and irritated, his nose is red and eyes bloodshot and his hair is a mop on his head further displaying how he feels. How the hell is he supposed to convince everyone he's fine and not raise suspicion when he looks like a walking corpse?

Sighing, Colby rubs his face before grabbing his toothbrush and brushing his teeth. After that, he splashes his face with water in an attempt to make himself seem less... unwell before he stumbles back into his bedroom to get dressed. He grabs a pair of sweatpants and puts it on, not bothering to grab a shirt as he tries to make his hair... not messy.

After being content about his appearance, Colby grabs his phone and slowly makes his way out of his bedroom, going to the kitchen to grab an Advil or something. You know, for the allergies.

Still sweating, Colby successfully makes his way down the stairs without passing out and as soon as he gets to the main floor, he makes a beeline for the kitchen. Swinging open their communal medicine cabinet, Colby rummages through the pill bottles until he finds one with 'Advil' on it. Popping open the lid, Colby pours two pills into the palm of his hand and screws the lid back on, distributing the bottle back into the cupboard. Closing the door, Colby goes to the sink and turns on the water, popping the pill in his mouth before leaning forward and gulping back a mouthful of the tap water. 

Leaning back, Colby wipes his mouth and blinks a few times, turning off the tap before he turns to the fridge with a quizzical expression. Almost wondering if he can take it, Colby's stomach churns and he decides against eating anything. Not because he's sick, just to be safe.

Trudging back upstairs, Colby collapses backwards onto his bed and catches his breath, still sweating and trembling from exertion. He doesn't even realize he fell asleep until he woke up.