Sickly Sides

4

Remus:

I smile as Logan's face relaxes again, he fell asleep a little while ago and I'm having a difficult time staying still. He's asleep on my arm and every time I shift he makes a noise of discomfort.

I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, I start to play this game I downloaded where you pop pimples on some digital characters' faces.

Logan starts to groan and shift, he wraps his arm around his stomach, uh-oh.

"Logie?" I whisper softly, "Is everything okay?"

He continues to shift, I think he's still asleep. That is until he opens his eyes.

"Oh no..." he hisses before he stands up and stumbles into the bathroom.

     I rush in after him, just in time to catch him retching into the toilet. He continues to heave his stomach's contents for the next several minutes. He's trembling when he stops, his breathing is coming out in ragged gasps. I head over and brush his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

     "You think you're done?" I ask him softly.

     He nods, "Nothing...left..." he croaks out.

"Okay," I pull a washcloth off of his shelf and get it wet, "You wanna wipe your mouth?"

He nods, his hand shakes as he reaches for it, he roughly drags it across his mouth. Throwing it into the hamper when he's done, he flushes the toilet.

"You wanna get back into bed now?"

He nods and attempts to stand up, his legs are too shaky for me to trust his ability to walk.

"C'mere," I scoop him up slowly.

"I'm sorry," he says in a scratchy whisper as I carry him back to bed.

I look at his face in confusion, "For what? You didn't do anything wrong."

He shakes his head, "I...did...that," he gestures feebly toward the bathroom.

"That wasn't your fault, baby." I wait for back lash at the nickname, but he doesn't even react, "You didn't do that on purpose, you're sick. And I'm not bothered by it."

He nods as I place him back beneath the sheets, I go back to his bathroom to grab the trash can. Placing it gently by the bedside I head toward the door.

"I'm gonna go get you something to drink, okay?"

     He nods, his eyelids half closed.

     When I get down to the living room I see Deceit has Patton curled up in his lap.

     "How's Logan?" He says quietly as to not wake Patton.

     "He just threw up, I'm gonna get him something to drink," I reply heading to the kitchen.

     "You're doing okay with him?" Deceit asks, "You're taking care of him?"

     "Yeah, he struggled a bit at first. But he's too tired to fight me right now."

     Dee nods and goes back to playing with Patton's hair.

     In the kitchen I fill up a glass of water and grab a can of sprite from the fridge. I head back upstairs, when I come back in Logan's crying.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" I rush over to him.

He tries to answer, but he can't speak through the sobs that keep tearing their way through his already raw throat. His breathing starts to become shallow.

"Hey, hey," I pull him into my chest, "It's gonna be okay," he keeps crying, but latches onto me rather tightly.

     "Breathe, baby. It's gonna be alright," I sit down on the edge of the bed, swiftly transferring Logan from the bed to my lap.

He continues to cry, his face buried in my shoulder and his arms latched around my waist. I start to run my hand up and down his back. I don't know what else to do, Logan's never cried in front of me before.

After a few minutes the sobbing dies down, he looks up at my face, his cheeks tinted pink, "Apologies," he readjusts his tie, "I don't know what came over me."

I kiss his forehead, which is still burning up, "What had you so upset?"

     He shakes his head, "It was illogical."

     "Don't do that, baby. I can still call you that?" He nods. "Tell me what upset you, please?"

     He takes another breath, "I feel really..." he pauses, I assume he's searching for a word, "pathetic. You just witnessed me helplessly expel my previous meal, and you've seen me fall today, and shiver, and...and..." he pauses and takes another deep breath, "now you've seen me cry."

     I pull him tighter against me, "You're not pathetic, baby. You're sick. Everybody gets sick. Your body's fighting something. It can't do everything at once, and that frustrates you. And sometimes when emotions get to be too much your body needs to get rid of them through tears. You were crying out of frustration? Right?"

     He nods, "That's an accurate statement."

     "See, it's perfectly normal. Don't feel bad about it," I reach for the water, "You wanna rinse your mouth now?"

     He nods again, "Please."