salembutnotthecat

[salembutnotthecat]

hyperfixated on a non-sickfic project and the parasites in my brain will not let me write anything else until it is done (it is almost done)

in short i am slowly but surely writing fic. i just have to ✨obey the parasites(tm)✨

[salembutnotthecat]

i’d actually requested this a while ago, and iirc it didn’t really fit with the timeline back then? when luke and vince weren’t talking.

i’d asked for a fic where lucas and vin watch leo take care of jon during a vertigo episode. like maybe they’re at jon and leo’s place and leo isn’t back from work yet when jonah gets hit with an episode. and both of them are lowkey freaking out. and leo comes in and takes over effortlessly and manages to calm jonah down so much better than either of them did

but if you’d not written this for some other reason then please feel free to ignore it! 🍄

This is probably my favorite fic so far. Maybe. Possibly. It's also long.

------------------------

“Hey, Monacelli,” Vince raised his head and saw Max tapping lightly on the half open door of his classroom. It was halfway through the day and Vince’s classes were already over. From what he had glanced at the overall teachers’ schedule, Daniels still had two more classes to teach, but Vince could go home… But that just seemed a little depressive. 

His parents were busy and his sisters were in class, so going home just meant being alone and he’d much rather stay in school and finish going over the kids’ papers. 

“Yeah?” Vince lowered his red pen and the blonde man pointed over his shoulder, to the sunny patio behind him. 

“Your boyfriend’s here,” Max said in a smug tone and Vince’s blood immediately boiled over. 

He could count in one hand the amount of transphobic shit he had witnessed with Wendy, but Vince wasn’t stupid. He was aware Doveport was fairly conservative and had been bracing for a bigoted comment for a while now.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, you asshole, I have a girlfriend,” he said sharply, dropping the pen immediately and Max jumped back, startled. 

“Uhm, okay, sorry for assuming? But there’s some guy in the parking lot waiting for you,” he shrugged, seeming offended, “geez,” the blonde turned around with an exasperated eye roll and power walked away, leaving a befuddled Vince behind. 

Vin grimaced, realizing he had assumed the worst for absolutely no reason and making a mental note to apologize to the other teacher, before the reality of some dude caught up with him. Weird, but a good surprise, Vince thought, packing up his bag and locking up his classroom. 

He fully expected to find Luke in the parking lot and was not wrong, the guy was sitting on the hood of his green jeep, sunglasses on and chuckling about something. What Vince did not expect was to see Jon standing right next to him, also wearing sunglasses and a jacket, smiling. 

Hell must have frozen over, Vince thought with a smirk, watching the two laugh. It wasn’t rare to see Jonah and Lucas laughing together, even if the two wanted everyone to think they hated each other, but today they looked particularly relaxed. 

“What is going on…?” Vince asked, opening a huge smile of his own when Luke promptly jumped from the hood of the car in order to tackle him into a hug. He squeezed the guy back, half hugging Luke with one arm as they pulled apart, in order to look at Jonah, “Jon?” 

“Hi,” Jonah gave him a small wave, “so uhm- Wendy showed me your birthday gift to her and uh- I wanted - I was wondering-”

It was so weird to watch Jon fumble with his words. Vince frowned, confused, then looked at Luke for an explanation. His best friend was blushing on Jon’s behalf, with a smile so gigantic Vince could see his molars. 

“Oh my god, Jonah!” He exclaimed after a minute, “he wants to buy Leo a ring.”

It took Vince a second, but then he let go of Lucas, all but yelling “YOU’RE GONNA PROPOSE TO LEO!?” and rushing to pull Jon into a hug. 

The other man stiffened, but he had no chance to fight Vince off, nor did he even want to and he melted into the hug for a minute, muffling a chuckle and mumbling a little sheepish “yeah… And I wanted your jewelry recommendation. I really liked Wendy’s birthday present and I think Leo would have my head if I got him a Cartier.” 

“And he wants our help to pick,” Lucas completed the unspoken truth and Jonah glared at him, turning a shade darker with a blush. 

“Shut up-”

“Yeah! YEah, of course, of course!” Vince interrupted the bickering, all but bouncing on his feet, his voice breaking and going up a note,  “Leo’s going to explode with happiness-”

It took Vin a moment to calm down and then yet another moment as they figured out the logistics of it all. Vince still had his motorcycle, so they decided he should just stick with it and drive ahead of them, Luke and Jon following in the jeep. 

The local jewelry shop where Vince had bought Wendy’s birthday was also owned by Italians. The old owner was a friend of Vin’s mom and he lit up as the three men walked into his store. 

“Back for more so soon, Vicenzo?” he asked in a thick italian accent, “I told you, there’s no coming back from the first diamond you get her.” 

“No,” Vince shook his head, planting his hands on Jonah’s shoulders and shaking him like a rattle toy, “today I’m here just as a helper. My friend wants to buy his man a ring.” 

“Hi, I’m Jonah,” Jonah tried to shrug Vince off, offering his hand to the owner.

“Niccolo Fanucci, it’s a pleasure.”

Luke was already inspecting the rings on display, crouching down to get a better look at them, “Leo wouldn’t want anything too flashy,” he said, tunnel vision fully on, “so what are you thinking? Yellow, silver? Tungsten?” 

Jonah wrinkled his nose, “tungsten?” he scoffed, “I’m not buying my fiance a tungsten ring.” 

“What’s wrong with them?” Vince frowned, completely out of his depth. Buying Wendy her birthday gift had taken him hours and he still wasn’t convinced he had done a good job. Probably had, Jonah wouldn’t be there if he didn’t think the quality and design were good enough. 

“Tungsten is extremely durable, almost impossible to scratch-” Luke shrugged and Jonah glared at him. 

“And cheap,” he said sharply, “I want a real ring for Leo.”

“How real?” Vince raised his eyebrows, noticing Niccolo — the owner — visibly perk up as it became clear Jon was down for purchasing the whole store if needed. 

“The best. I want a diamond. Or a bunch,” Jonah leaned over the display, as Niccolo hurried to get his best stuff out of the safe, as well as his design magazines. 

“You want personalized, son?” the man asked and Jon shook his head. 

“No time, I want to propose before his birthday,” he explained, “and that’s next month.”

“We could design something in time,” the man shrugged, opening the bunch of magazines, “how’s this boy of yours? Flashy? Shy?”

“Shy,” Luke got up from his crouched down position, “Leo would rather die than walk around with a huge sparkly ring, Jon, you know that.”

Jonah pouted, “but I want it to be a wedding ring,” he stressed, “I want everyone to know he’s married from across the court.”

“Lawyer?” Niccolo raised an eyebrow, shutting his magazine and throwing it to the side, opening a much older one, “is he traditional?” 

“More or less…” Jonah shook his head, while Vince interrupted him, nodding. 

“Yes,” he flicked at Jon’s ear, “he’s shy and not flashy at all. He also doesn’t wear jewelry, so it has to be comfy.”

“It has to be yellow,” Jon didn’t argue with Vince, despite grimacing. 

Luke frowned, “he’s blonde and super pasty, white gold would look prettier-”

“I want yellow gold, I want it to be clear it’s a wedding band.” 

“Don’t be silly,” Niccolo shook his head, “it can be white gold or platinum and still look like a wedding band.”

“He’s in a straight dominated field where men wear rings, if he has a silver band people will assume it's just some ring,” Jonah groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “this is pretty.”

“Absolutely not,” Vince and Luke chorused, looking at the yellow band Jon was pointing at, with three baguette diamonds in the peak. 

“Alright, so yellow gold,” Niccolo flipped through the pages, “and not flashy, but flashy enough people know.”

“It has to be something he likes,” Jonah sighed, studying the rings, “he’s gonna wear it until he dies, so.”

Luke let out a snort, “or not,” he mumbled, only to immediately recoil and jump back as Jon turned to face him like a snake, “because he might get a new one!” he exclaimed, hands raised as if his friend was gonna hit him, “relax!” 

“Shut up, you don’t know Leo enough. What do you think, Vin?” Jonah turned away from Luke and Vince grinned, noticing the other man pout behind Jon. 

“I think I agree with you about the yellow,” he shrugged, “but the diamonds are a bit much, man. Let’s focus on how thick it is, how about?” 

Jonah didn’t know it could take so long to pick a ring. He had expected it would take more than a couple of minutes, after all he was a perfectionist and not willing to compromise in this matter, but at every little thing he said, Luke and Vince had twenty different arguments. 

Finally, after about two hours of back and forth, they settled on a yellow gold ring, with a brushed finish instead of smooth polish and with a baguette small diamond sitting in the middle of it. 

“Now you need to pick the thickness,” Niccolo said, “wait a minute while I get my kit. Sit around, Vincenzo knows where the coffee is. Have a torrone.”

Jonah snorted quietly to himself, he had never been to a jewelry shop that offered a torrone or any type of sticky, sweet food. But then again he had never been in a locally owned shop. 

He walked outside, hearing as Vince and Luke bickered over the gem cut — Vince still thought the pear one was prettier, Luke was team no gem and partial to some design fussiness on the band — and then pressed his forehead to the brick wall outside the store and picked out his phone. 

There wasn’t a text from Leo, they had last spoken that morning, when Jonah had lied through his teeth that he had a surgery to watch that evening and so they couldn’t have lunch together. 

Jonah rolled his shoulders, letting out a breath. He felt stiff all over from stress, the huge weight of picking something that could make or break his proposal making him sweat. He felt nauseous too, but in all truth he had been feeling sick to his stomach with nerves ever since Leo got his promotion and Jon made up his mind about proposing. 

That had always been his plan, after all. Wait until his boyfriend got the promotion that would put them on equal pay, so Leo wouldn’t have a breakdown over wedding prices or feeling like he was being given anything when Jackie inevitably tried to hijack the bill…

“You okay?” Luke planted a hand on his elbow. 

Lucas was almost levitating with how happy he was. It was like he was the one getting married, the dude simply didn’t seem able to stop smiling, even now looking a little concerned and holding a paper cup of coffee. 

“Yeah,” Jonah wiped the sweat off and straightened up, “Niccolo is back?”

“Yep, we’re just waiting for you,” Luke chugged the rest of the coffee that his hyper ass definitely didn’t need and squeezed Jon’s bicep in a cuteness aggression fit, shoving him further inside the store. 

The old owner was holding a large hoop, with a bunch of silver rings on it. Upon Jonah arriving, he opened the hoop, so he could remove the rings one by one, “you said he’s traditional and shy, but not so traditional —” the man said, barely looking up, with that certainty of someone who’s been doing their job their entire life, “and you’ll have a diamond on the band, so you need some thickness, especially if you don’t want the bling to stand out that much…” 

He carefully pushed two bands towards Jon, “try these on and tell me what you think, son.”

Jonah went to grab it, only for his hand to completely miss it. He blinked a couple times, feeling Vince grab him by the elbow.

“Jon, hey- You wanna sit down?”

“No, I’m fine,” Jon shook his head, swallowing down the heightened nausea and grabbing the ring on the left. It was too large on his hand, he had thinner pianist fingers, but the important part was the width, “looks a bit bulky… What size is the rock again?”

Niccolo grabbed a tiny piece of sticker paper and measured, cutting it out and then planting the paper in the middle of the band, “this size.”

“Yeah, no…” Jon shook his head, “not this one.”

“That’s a 5.5mm, try the 4.5mm one,” Niccolo took the ring back, once again doing the paper trick, “that’s a more old fashioned groom width.”

“I think it looks better,” Luke said, as if someone asked him, poking his head in. Jonah nodded, suddenly feeling too woozy. He darted out a hand to grab on something… Anything… Then landed on Vince’s forearm and squeezed. 

“That’s the one,” Jon determined, dead set on getting the bloody ring before vertigo took him out, “uhm- Luke, can you…?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can,” Lucas stepped in front of him, smiling to the confused old man, “I’m buying.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Jon overheard Niccolo say, but there was a ringing in his ears starting to drown everything out. He squeezed Vince’s arm, “help me outside…”

Vince helped him the couple of steps it took for them to get to the door, then he wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled Jon almost off his feet, dragging him to a bus stop bench. 

Jonah crumpled, spreading his legs and grabbing on the plastic of the bench with all his force, breathing through his mouth, “Fuck,” he sighed, cold sweat spreading down his back, “of all days…”

“I’m sorry, man,” Vince squeezed his nape, “help me here, what do I do?”

“No-nothing…” Jonah leaned forward even more, as his stomach rolled, the world turning into a complete blur. He let out a whimper, feeling like he was falling forward, except the ground never met his face, he just kept falling, falling-

“Should he be lying down!?” Vince’s voice broke through the fog, “I don’t know what to do, you’re the one who’s good with sick people!” 

“Not sick like this!” Luke’s voice answered and Jonah groaned, blindly trying to grab at Luke and shut him up.

“Ssssstop-” Jonah slurred, realizing his mouth felt super sticky and his pants humid. Oh no. Had he wet himself? 

Mortification caused Jon to open his eyes, only to realize the wet spot was just the fact he had puked the McBacon he had had with Luke on their way to Doveport all over the ground and his pants. 

The sight of the chunky brown mess caused his stomach to flip again and Jonah heaved once more, the movement ruining the sliver of balance he had regained and sending the world spinning on its axis once more. 

“ — My place?” Vince, his voice much closer now, as if he was talking in his ear. Jon let his head roll towards the sound and his cheek met something soft- Vince’s thigh? Stomach? 

“I guess!?” Lucas, sounding more than a little nervous, “should we call Leo? Wendy? Hell, your mom?!”

Jon groaned. He wanted none of these people, except maybe Wendy. He desperately wanted Leo’s comfort and the fact his boyfriend wouldn’t be freaking out like the two idiots, but that would mean telling Leo what he was doing in fucking Doveport and-

“Noo,” he slurred, his voice muffled by something, probably Vince’s shirt, “no k- no calling-” his stomach was done with his words and Jonah coughed again, as liquid rushed up his throat and world tilted completely to the left, then right-

“I’m calling Leo,” Lucas, all decisive, “there’s no way this is normal, right? I’m calling him.” 

“The fuck will Leo do if this isn’t?” Vince, sounding far away now. Jonah tried to cling to his voice and make himself responsive, but he just… Couldn’t. When he tried to open his eyes again, he realized he was in a completely different place. 

A pink room?

The black spots clumped in front of his eyes and Jonah let out a whimper, scared and humiliated, and then darkness swallowed him up.

-----------------------------

“Where is he?” Leo’s heart was hammering in his ears. He didn’t suppose anything was scarier than hearing the person you loved the most was completely down for the count, hours away. 

Luke’s call had come at the very end of his day, just as he was packing up to go home. Leo had never made it home, he picked it up on the elevator and felt his heart plummet down to his stomach. 

During the four hours of drive he had plenty of time to think, but had actually done none of that. His head was spinning, nothing made sense, but he didn’t actually give a shit about puzzling things together until he got a look on Jon, because from the way Luke described it, all panicked, it sounded like his worst case yet. 

In fucking Doveport.

He hadn’t been to Vince’s new place yet and for a second Leo felt completely out of place, standing outside of the small one bedroom apartment. Then Luke stepped out of the bedroom, the front of his shirt with a huge wet spot on it and looking visibly worried and Leo’s confusion melted straight into worry.

“He’s here, but he’s really out of it,” Luke leaned on the doorway as Leo walked past him, storming into Vince’s bedroom. 

Jonah was a sight to behold. His six foot tall boyfriend was curled up on his side, almost in a fetal position and looking terribly tiny.

“God, Jon…” Leo walked closer, sitting on the bed and touching the other man’s naked shoulder. Luke and Vince had stripped him down to just his boxers, but he had no fever, in fact he felt cold and clammy to the touch, “why did you dumbasses remove his clothes?”

“Uhm- He kinda, hurled all over ‘em?” Vince scratched at his cheeks, seeming embarrassed, “we didn’t know what to do, once we got them off every time we tried to move him to get him dressed he just seemed to get worse…”

“Great, that’s just fucking great,” Leo scoffed, scooting closer and stroking Jon’s cheek, pushing his tight curls back, “did you get any water in him? When did-”

“It was around 4 PM,” Luke answered, while Vince shook his head to the previous question. 

Leo glanced at his watch. 9:26 PM. Amazing.

“Get me some water, the meds that are in my car, in the glovebox, and a straw. And an empty bowl. And a big sweater, he’s fucking freezing,” he glared at the two, before returning his gaze back to Jon, stroking his head again, “Jonah…” he whispered, leaning in, “angel, I need you to wake up.”

His boyfriend was completely out. His breath smelled sweet, causing Leo’s nose to wrinkle, and he was shivering violently. Leo smoothed a hand down his naked back, moving even closer and feeling Jonah’s steady heartbeat. 

“Hey, Jon,” he pressed his hand in, instead of shaking him, “baby, wake up.”

It took another minute of gentle pushing and calling until Jon’s eyes slipped open. He was out of it and his eyes rolled back, taking another thirty seconds to fully focus on Leo.

“Oh no,” he groaned, curling up more, “not you.”

“Yeah, me,” Leo rolled his eyes, pushing the flash of hurt he felt at Jonah’s words away and grabbing the items Luke had planted on Vince’s bedside table, “I need you to drink some water, okay?”

“Won’t stay down…” Jonah whispered, closing his eyes again, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows as if he was in pain, “Leo, I don’t feel well…”

“I know, angel, I know,” Leo’s heart squeezed in sympathy and he leaned in, planting a kiss on his boyfriend’s brow, “trust me here, okay?” he squeezed Jon’s arm, before turning slightly around in order to dissolve the little pink pill that was supposed to help with the vertigo episodes in the glass of water. 

Technically speaking, Leo was aware he shouldn’t do this. Wendy had scolded him once about it… But so far it worked like a charm every time and Leo was not about to listen to Wendy when the matter was Jon. 

“Okay, just a tiny sip,” he held the straw between his fingers, pushing it in Jonah’s mouth and grabbing the man’s pillow in order to tilt his body up just enough he could swallow without choking, “just one, baby.”

It took some prodding, but eventually Jonah took what Leo counted as a fourth of the water. He glanced at his watch again. 09:41 PM. 

“Try to keep this down and we’ll try the rest in a bit,” Leo whispered, draping Vince’s older sweater around Jonah’s naked shoulders and continuing to pet his hair. 

Luke entered the room, every bit like a dog with his tail between his legs, “is he okay…?”

“He will be,” Leo rolled his tense shoulders, then turned his head until his jaw clicked, holding all the tension on his mouth, “what the fuck is he doing in Doveport?”

Luke and Vince exchanged a look, then they both shrugged.

Leo squinted at them, “well?”

“I called him,” Vince said, his whole face turning red, “I called them both, I’m sorry, I just- I was having a bit of a breakdown over Wendy and Jonah just came over to say I’m stupid and-”

“And he brought Luke?” Leo didn’t buy this for a second, but most importantly, the fact Vince was lying to his face only made him feel more furious, “okay.”

“He did! Because he knows I’m the only one who can get through Vince!” Luke sounded so smug about the lie, Leo stared at him, unimpressed. He let his eyes drift away from the dark haired men, looking around the room. 

Jonah’s clothes were folded on top of Vince’s little office table, alongside other papers and all sorts of school items, like stickers and scissors. One of Vin’s bedroom walls was painted dusty pink. 

“You called Jonah first?” Leo asked, feeling his blood turn to ice in his veins, as Vince nodded enthusiastically. 

“I mean, it was about Wendy,” he said, as if that explained everything. Leo nodded, looking over his shoulder. Outside the window he could see Luke’s green jeep parked all crooked in front of the place.

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed through his teeth, turning mechanically and grabbing the glass of water, “Jon, let’s try another sip, baby.”

It took nearly one hour to have Jon fully draining the glass and by then Leo was in full automatic pilot. If he thought too much about the lies, then his thoughts turned a dark, spiraling path that he didn’t enjoy and he didn’t want to indulge. 

Because lies or no lies, he knew Jonah would never do any of the things his brain kept sprouting up. Break up with him. Cheat. 

“I’m fine,” Leo overheard Luke say across the house, as Vince ordered all of them food from the living couch, “no, Bell, I’m really fine, I promise. I’m with Vin, Leo and Jon.”

Leo gulped down the knot in his throat and glanced down, to Jonah napping near his thigh, still all curled up. At least now he had quit shivering violently and none of the medicine had made it back up, so it was well into his bloodstream. 

They were out of the woods, as soon as Jon woke up he’d feed him another round of meds and then- 

“Leo?” Jonah whispered, curling up even more and pressing his forehead to the blonde’s knee, “Leo?”

“Hey,” Leo leaned in, folding in half and forcing his voice past the lump in his throat, “I’m here.”

“Uhm,” Jon let out a little pleased noise, then opened his eyes, “I wanna go home.”

“In a little bit,” Leo kissed his cheek, squeezing his arm, “let’s try sitting up first, okay? It’s a long trip, you really don’t wanna be in the car in case you’re not feeling your best-”

“Leo,” Jonah frowned at him, pushing himself up and letting out a moan, getting a gray cast as he paled, “what’s wrong?”

“My boyfriend is sick?” Leo rolled his eyes, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice, “how’s sitting up?”

“It’s fine,” Jonah raised a shaky hand to his face, rubbing the sleep off his eyes, “I wanna go home.”

“We’re leaving in a bit,” Leo said more firmly, pushing back and collecting his dignity. He felt terrible, equal parts worried and furious and intrigued and terrified – “drink some water, will you?”

Jonah obeyed, frowning, but he was right. He really was as fine as he was going to get so soon, even if weak and shaky, clearly nauseous still. 

Leo managed to keep him down for another one hour and a half, but by the time midnight rolled on — Vince flipping through the TV channels clearly trying to be a decent host, while Lucas had passed out on the floor next to the couch, his head tipped back as he snored —, Jonah glared at him and said in a firm voice, “I wanna sleep in my bed. Can we please go home?”

Leo nodded, rubbing his eyes and trying to feel a little less sleepy himself. He wasn’t so sure he could drive, but he was feeling too proud to admit to that. 

 “Are you sure?” Vince yawned, stumbling up as he saw Leo helping Jonah put on his clothes – they had already been washed and dried long before, “you can stay the night, guys, take my bed and I’ll take the couch and-”

“No, we’re leaving,” Jonah shook his head, holding tightly on the wall to stay upright, “thank you, for everything, but no.”

Vin didn’t look one bit pleased, “this is a horrible idea, it's super late... Leo tell him it’s a horrible idea-”

“We’re going,” Leo couldn’t feel a shred of sympathy for Vince. He was trying, but failing miserably. Now that Jonah was up and stubborn as ever, concern was quickly getting replaced with simple, unmitigated fury. 

“Please call me when you get there,” Vince hung at the door, “please? I’m gonna be up.”

“We’ll call,” Jonah agreed, stumbling to Leo’s car and bracing against it, breathing through his mouth. For a split second Leo considered staying, ignoring Jon’s stubbornness and his own pride and the anger and fear bubbling at the pit of his stomach and just stay and think all of this through in the morning- 

“Goodnight guys,” Vince said in a small voice and Jonah waved, opening a little secret smile to the guy and Leo’s second thoughts burst like a bubble. 

They needed to head home and only then he’d be able to think things through clearly.

Leo’s fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel as they hit the road, Jon curling up against the window and watching the cars zoom past them. Headlights turning into lines of yellow and white and red.

“Why were you there?” Leo asked, one hour into the trip, when he could no longer hold it in. He turned up the heater, just a bit, noticing Jon was trembling again.

His boyfriend shrugged, but didn’t say anything, and Leo squeezed the steering wheel with a bit more force. 

“Jonah,” he said, his voice dropping, “I need you to talk with me, because I’m freaking out-”

“I can’t tell you,” Jonah’s voice was shot, “I can’t, okay? You just have to trust me-” 

“You already lied to me today, so cut the crap and tell me what were you doing in Doveport and not in surgery like you said-”

“Vince told you!” Jon exclaimed and Leo looked away from the road, his eyes wide in complete shock and anger. 

“You mean the lie he told me!? Do you think I’m stupid?!” Leo forced himself to look ahead, “Vince cannot lie to save his life and you want me-”

“It wasn’t a-”

“He called you first, but it was Luke’s jeep outside, not your car. In his story, you picked up Luke,” Leo hissed, starting to see red, “you lied to my face this morning, Jonah, so this was not some random, panicked call you got in the middle of your day. This was premeditated and-”

“Can’t you just please trust me?” Jonah glared at him, “Leo, what reason do you have not to trust me-”

“The fact that you’re LYING!?” Leo exclaimed, pulling the car to the dust shoulder and causing Jon to let out a whine at the sudden motion. He couldn’t drive like this, barely paying the road any attention. 

Jon was breathing through the dizziness when Leo turned to him, panting as he tried to keep his emotions at bay, “Jon, just be honest with me-”

“Please, please just drop it. It’s nothing bad-”

“Are you cheating on me?” Leo said without thinking and felt pathetic as he heard the words said out loud. He knew this wasn’t it, he knew it deep in his bones that whatever Jonah did, it would never be that. 

It didn’t stop the intrusive thought from continuously sprouting up.

Jonah’s head snapped and he glared at Leo, all vulnerability slipping away for a second and being replaced with anger, “oh my god, listen to yourself, Leo! You really think, I- God, you’re being fucking- You’re ruining everything,” he pushed the passenger door open and pushed himself out, causing Leo to jump out of the car as well. 

“I don’t know what to think! You’ve been acting weird for days and now you’re lying to me and your little buddies are all helping in the lie and I’m here, fucking nursing you-” 

“I DIDN’T FUCKING ASK YOU TO COME!” Jon yelled, hitting the car with a hand and Leo jumped at the explosion, his eyes wide and his heart speeding up, only to suddenly stop as Jonah’s shoulders shook and he folded in, grabbing on the top of the car with both hands and letting his head hang. 

Leo took a second, trying to make any sense of the scene in front of him, but then his body was moving before his mind caught up. Grabbing Jon by the shoulder, feeling his whole frame shake with sobs. 

“Jon- Shit, shit, shit, Jonah I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Leo mumbled frantically, his thoughts clearing up due to the searing certainty he had just messed up severely, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby, shit-” he cupped Jonah’s face and tried to wipe away the tears, only for the other man to shove his hands away. 

“Stop- Stop fucking t-touching me-” Jonah groaned, stumbling and falling sit on the passenger side, his legs still out of the car, covering his face with his hands as he continued to cry, “I can’t be-believe you think I- I would never- I-”

“No, I know, I know,” Leo sunk to his knees, mind reeling as he ignored Jon’s plea to stop touching him and grabbed his boyfriend’s wrist, “Jon, I’m so sorry, I’m an ass, I know you wouldn’t-”

Jonah’s whole frame shook with a sob and he angrily shoved Leo back, but in his movement the blonde got a decent look at his face and his heart broke in a billion pieces. Jonah looked genuinely hurt, tears streaming down his face and clinging to his chin, green eyes all red due to the crying-

“I’m so sorry,” Leo leaned in, pressing his forehead to Jonah’s and cupping his face, “baby, please stop crying-”

“I- I was-was,” Jonah pulled back, angrily wiping the tears and Leo let out a whine at the loss of contact. 

“I don’t wanna know,” he cut him off, “you’ll tell me later, a- another day,” Leo forced himself to say, “it’s fine, I don’t wanna-”

“I was buying your fucking proposal ring,” Jonah spat, glaring at him, his voice raspy, “and now you ruined it.”

Leo’s ears rang and he fell back on his ass in the humid grass, feeling like suddenly he was the one who had vertigo. He opened and closed his mouth, then felt tears springing up, “my proposal ring?” the question didn’t even sound like his voice.

Jonah scoffed, nodding, “yeah. You jackass, your proposal ring. Happy now? I was gonna propose at your birthday and they were just helping me and now you fucking ruined it and-”

“Yes,” Leo answered, without thinking and causing Jon’s mouth to snap shut, then open again, then shut in a tight line.

“No,” he glared at the blonde, “I’m not-”

“I’ll ask then,” Leo rolled his eyes, moving forward so he was resting on just one knee in front of the car door, “you can’t un-propose, you bought me a ring, I- I’ll ask. Are you gonna say no?”

Jonah frowned, clearly stuck between the rock and the sword, because he really didn’t want to propose on the side of the road, with his head throbbing from crying and puking, still wanting to strangle Leo and feeling wounded as fuck- With the ring on the pocket of his jacket… But there was simply no world or reality where he said no to Leo asking him to marry him. 

“You can’t steal my proposal,” Jonah scoffed, grabbing the box in his pocket and grossly sniffling, wiping the tears with the back of his hand, “you’re such a dick,” he opened the box. 

“You’re a romantic,” Leo grinned, then chuckled, “I can’t see the ring, it’s too dark.”

“SEE!” Jonah exclaimed, angry, “it’s a horrible proposal and you’re the one who ruined-” he never quite finished the complaint, as Leo leaped and kissed him, pushing Jon flat on his back inside the car. 

“I don’t need to see the ring,” Leo groaned, kissing him again and again, "the answer is always yes, Jon. Ring, no ring, it's always yes.”

#i simply adore this fic #the dynamics are amazing as usual #its not centric to this fic alone but I genuinely adore how well you do characters #your characters are all so amazing and i love all the storylines you come up wiht #i really liked this fic a lot personally #i love your characters so hard #i love how you write

[salembutnotthecat]

More Yulya/Novak and him being an absolute idiot eating gluten? Maybe in an important date, so he decides to just Suck It Up?

novak being an absolute idiot is my favorite flavor of request/fic, so i deeply appreciate this

also i've been missing these two so i'm so excited to write this

some background info: most figure skating competitions (international level) have banquets and stuff after the event itself. so i decided what better way for novak to be an absolute moron who thinks he's invincible. also wanted to introduce some more characters.

tw emeto, food intolerance, stomach pain (the obligitory 'novak is an idiot and won't tell his fiancée girlfriend' warning as well)

Novak can't say he dislikes the fact that even though he came with her, he can't spend most nights with Yuliya.

Sure, Yuliya might have been able to spend those nights in his hotel room, but neither of them really wanted to test that theory. Not right now, not when Yuliya is only in her second season back into competition.

Novak also can't say he's happy things turned out the way they did with the Mavericks. He really isn't happy that he had to step away from playing, and he's even less happy about the fact that the Mavericks lost their conference game and were done for the season. Novak is sure he's taking to it harder because he was there, on the sideline, he should have been able to play. But he can't play, he knows he can't. And it kills him.

But what he is happy about is being able to travel with Yuliya. Being able to go with her to Sheffield for the European Championships. Marina was more than happy to take Elya for the week. Novak would have brought her, but she was nine now. She was in school, more important schooling than had this happened when he was still playing.

Novak tried to think of the bright side. He tried to think of the positive things that went in with all of this mess. And that made it so much better.

Yuliya qualified to compete at the European Championships. Truth be told, Novak was incredibly impressed. Not that he didn't have the highest level of faith he could possibly have in the woman he asked to marry him, but he also knew from her that qualification was no easy task.

He was ecstatic she invited him to come with. Sure, having separate hotel rooms wasn't ideal, but he still saw her doing what she loved, and he still spent time with her.

"Do you want to come with me?" She had asked that evening, as she got ready in his hotel room.

Novak had shut his laptop, abandoning the thesis paper he was working on. It wasn't due for weeks and he was far enough ahead.n That was another thing he was thankful for, no longer playing meant he could finish his master's degree. Not that it mattered now, but it would be useful. If he ever needed it anyway.

"Come with you where?" Novak asked.

"To the banquet?" Yuliya said, "It's honestly pretty fun. Hey, can you fix this?"

She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her hair away, Novak went to fix the collar of her dress. Or, whatever it was.

"Am I allowed to?" Novak asked, "I don't want you to-"

"Trust me, they don't care," Yuliya said, "At least, they never had before. Kirill's going to be there, Zalatoi said he might as well. He's not feeling so hot after his program which is to be expected. Wyatt too, I'm sure Wyatt will ask you all about Jayden but-"

"Yeah, I can go," Novak said, "You're lucky my mom convinced me to pack something nice."

That was how he ended up here. Sitting at a table with Yuliya. With Yuliya's friends. Other European skaters. It felt like another gala dinner, or a wedding reception. But it also didn't.

There was a lot of conversation. And Novak was pleasantly surprised how many people wanted to talk to him. He would never tell Yuliya, but he had been incredibly worried that everyone would either ignore him or not want him there. Novak wasn't much of an extrovert, but it was nice to just have people around who at least seemed tolerant of him being here.

He hadn't even realized dinner came, hadn't realized he's eaten either. But before he knew it, the staff was taking plates away. Including from him.

Yuliya was engrossed in a conversation with a girl from Bulgaria. Melina, Novak thought Yuliya had introduced her. Novak was more than happy to sit back and just listen to the conversations around him.

Kirill was talking to Yuliya and Melina. Something about World Championships, something about a place he went, they were talking vacations and sights before Novak knew it.

As time slipped away, Novak found it harder and harder to keep up with the conversation around him. He checked his watch, but forgot the time almost as soon as he looked away. It didn't matter, really.

Novak felt... weird. He didn't know how to explain it. Not immediately.

"Hey, I'll be right back," He whispered in Yuliya's ear, kissing her cheek lightly.

Novak excused himself from the table with a casual smile, excusing it as needing a quick bathroom break. He made his way through the lively crowd, the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter fading as he stepped into the quiet of the restroom.

Leaning against the cool marble sink, Novak took a moment to collect himself. His stomach churned uncomfortably, and he realized with a pang of regret that he must have eaten something that didn't agree with him. That was the only thing he could think of. After all, it was possible. He hadn't really been paying attention to what he was eating, and he definitely didn't want to make a deal out of it by saying anything. Unless this was something else, but it didn't feel like anything else. Really, it didn't feel like much of anything.

Splashing some water on his face, Novak tried to push the discomfort aside.

As Novak stood in front of the mirror in the restroom, took a few breaths, he couldn't shake off the sense of unease that had settled over him like a heavy fog.

Physically, he felt a knot of discomfort coiling in his stomach, a nagging sensation that something wasn't right. It was like a subtle but persistent ache, a dull throb that intensified with every passing minute. His mouth felt dry, he tasted the faintest trace of blood, he'd been biting his cheek of a little bit, he assumed. Maybe, then, it was anxiety. Being in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people. Sure he knew Yuliya's friends by legal definition, but they were her friends. Not his.

Despite these unsettling sensations, Novak tried to muster a sense of determination. He couldn't let this ruin Yuliya's night, not when she was so excited about the event. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his posture and splashed some water on his face, hoping to wash away both the physical discomfort and the mental fog.

As he returned to the banquet hall, the sights and sounds of the lively gathering seemed to come into sharper focus, though the knot in his stomach persisted. Novak resolved to push through, putting on a brave smile for Yuliya's sake. She wanted him here, he knew she did. He wasn't going to let her down.

Novak returned to the table with a practiced smile, hoping to blend back into the lively conversations seamlessly. Yuliya, ever perceptive, glanced at him with a gentle concern in her eyes.

"Everything okay? You were gone for a bit," she asked softly, her concern laced with a touch of worry.

Novak waved off her concern with a casual shrug. "Just needed a breather, all good," he reassured her. Yuliya nodded understandingly and turned back to her conversation with Melina, the topic shifting to upcoming competitions and training routines.

As the evening progressed, Novak's condition worsened despite his attempts to hide it. The knot in his stomach tightened, and waves of nausea washed over him with increasing frequency. At one point, he tied back his hair without thinking about it. The vibrant conversations around him blurred into an indescernable mix of voices, making it difficult for him to focus.

As he sat there, he only felt worse. As quickly as he realized something wasn't right, things took a turn for a worst. The need to be sick was urgent now, a desperate plea from his body to rid itself of whatever had caused this turmoil.

Yuliya was engrossed in a discussion with another skater, unaware of Novak's sudden departure. However, Kirill, who sat nearby, noticed Novak's hurried exit and the strained expression on his face.

Concerned, Kirill excused himself from the conversation and discreetly followed Novak to the restroom.

As Novak leaned heavily against the bathroom sink, his hands trembling slightly, he was hit with a wave of intense nausea that seemed to consume him from the inside out. The once-faint discomfort had escalated into a full-blown ordeal, his stomach twisting and churning as if in protest against whatever had triggered this sudden sickness.

Before he could register the severity of his condition, he turned quicker than he thought he could, dashing for one of the stalls, completely forgetting to shut the door, heaving uncontrollably. The taste of bile and the acrid scent filled the small restroom, adding to his misery. Each retch was accompanied by a sharp pang of pain, his body convulsing with the effort to expel whatever had upset his stomach so drastically.

Just as he struggled to catch his breath between bouts of vomiting, the bathroom door creaked open, and Kirill's concerned face appeared in the mirror's reflection. Kirill didn't hesitate, immediately taking action to check on Novak.

"Hey, easy there," Kirill said softly, placing a hand on Novak's back in a comforting gesture.

Novak spit, coughed, tried to catch his breath. Before getting so sick he fell to his knees.

"Ah shit, one of those," he hears Kirill say behind him.

Yuliya told him something about Kirill. But Novak couldn;t remember what it was. It was enough for Novak to know Kirill wasn't mad, at least.

Novak's face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead despite the coolness of the restroom. His whole body trembled with exhaustion and the exertion of being violently ill. He felt weak and drained, his muscles protesting with every movement.

"Here," Kirill reached around, loosening a few buttons on Novak's chest without thinking.

"I-I don't know what happened," Novak managed to gasp out between breaths, his voice hoarse and strained. The sudden onset of sickness had caught him completely off guard, leaving him entirely shaken.

"It's okay, sometimes these things happen," Kirill reassured him, patting his back gently. "Just focus on breathing for now. Take small sips of water when you can."

Novak moved over. He didn’t want to tell Kirill to get his hands off him, but the touch was an annoyance at best. So, he simply moved over. He leaned against the stall wall, trying to steady his ragged breathing. The taste of bile lingered in his mouth, a bitter reminder of his body's revolt.

“This just happened?” Kirill asked.

Novak nodded, “I don’t… know why. Please don’t tell Yuliya.”

Kirill nodded in understanding, "I won't say anything if you don't want me to," he assured Novak, “But maybe you should consider telling her. She'd want to know you're not feeling well."

Novak hesitated, torn between wanting to keep Yuliya in the dark to avoid ruining her night and the practicality of getting some rest. "I... I'll think about it," he replied vaguely, not wanting to commit to either course of action just yet.

Kirill gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping back slightly, giving Novak some space. "Take it easy. If you need anything, just let me know. And here, take this so you don’t exactly smell like you just puked up your dinner when you talk to Yuliya.”

Kirill grabbed a pack of gum from his pocket and handed it over. before leaving the restroom to give Novak some privacy.

Alone in the restroom, Novak took a few moments to compose himself. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts, trying to come up with a plausible excuse to leave the banquet without causing undue concern. Finally, he decided on a simple explanation that wouldn't raise too many questions.

When Novak returned to the table, Yuliya immediately noticed the tired lines etched on his face. "Everything alright?" she asked, her concern evident in her voice.

Novak managed a weak smile, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, mom’s just trying to call.”

Yuliya nodded understandingly, her expression softening with concern. "Do you need to go?" she asked, ready to accommodate his needs.

"I think I should," Novak replied, relieved that his excuse seemed to work. "Sorry to cut out early."

Yuliya shook her head, her concern evident. "Don't apologize, your mom comes first. Take care of whatever it is, okay? I’ll come up in a bit anyway.”

Novak nodded gratefully, excusing himself from the table and making his way back to his hotel room.

-

Novak was exhausted. He wasn't sure how he ended up so terribly spent, but here he was.

He intended to put on something more comfortable and lay down. By now, his stomach was killing him and he was unbearably nauseous. A million things ran through his head as to why he was so sick. It was so sudden. He felt fine earlier, really he did. He felt fine until after dinner.

At some point, Novak dozed off. It didn't last long. Before Novak knew it, he stumbled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom, his body heaving with the familiar sensation of sickness. He barely made it to the toilet in time, the sound of retching echoing in the confined space. Each wave of nausea was accompanied by a rush of adrenaline, his heart racing with the intensity of the sickness that seemed to have no end.

Meanwhile, Yuliya had returned to the hotel room, her footsteps quiet as she entered. Concern etched her features as she noticed Novak's absence from the room. His phone was on the nightstand. She walked over and plugged it in for him.

"Novak?" she called out softly, her voice tinged with worry.

The sound of vomiting from the bathroom answered her question before Novak could. With a sinking feeling in her chest, Yuliya hurried to the bathroom door, pushing it open to find Novak hunched over the toilet, his face pale and beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

"Novak, what's wrong?" Yuliya's concern was evident as she knelt down beside him, one hand pushing back some hair that got in the way. The sight of him in such distress tugged at her heart, her worry for his well-being overriding any inconvenience or plans for the evening.

Novak glanced up at her, his eyes filled with a mix of embarrassment and discomfort.

"I... I don't know," he admitted hoarsely, the truth of his situation laid bare in front of Yuliya. "I've been feeling off since the banquet, and it just keeps getting worse."

Yuliya's gentle touch and comforting presence offered some solace to Novak as he struggled through another bout of sickness. Yuliya hated to leave him, but knew he hated her being so close when he wasn't feeling well. She stepped out, she changed out of her nice dress. She came back with a water bottle, just as Novak coughed up one last mouthful of whatever was making his stomach so pissed off.

Once the episode passed and Novak sat back, his breathing still ragged.

"Kirill was worried about you," Yuliya said, standing to grab a cup from the sink, pouring some water in the cup.

"Yeah, he followed me, for some reason," Novak said.

"Kirill has a chronic vomiting condition," Yuliya said, "It's like a sixth sense, he knows when someone is going to throw up."

"Wait how did-"

"I texted Marina," Yuliya said, "Asked her if she and Elya were okay after what you told me."

"Fuck, why?" Novak sighed.

"Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well, you didn't have to come to the banquet if-"

"I was feeling fine earlier," Novak said, "Genuinely, I don't know what happened. I ate dinner with you guys and just started feeling shitty."

Yuliya sighed, sitting next to Novak without a word. Novak looked to her, confused by her sudden silence.

Yuliya lightly faceplanted into his shoulder. Novak would have been worried, more worried about her than how terrible he felt. But Yuliya started laughing.

"You are so stupid," she scolded gently, her tone laced with exasperation but also a deep caring for his well-being.

Novak winced slightly at her words, knowing she was right but not wanting to admit it fully.

"You had what I did, didn;t you?" Yuliya asked, "What… most of us had."

"I did but I mean," Novak said, "I didn't think about it and even if I had I didn't want the trouble of-"

"Zalatoi is complicated, he has to eat both gluten free and vegetarian or else he ends up like you," Yuliya said, "Kirill always substitutes the actual meal for a few sporadic rounds of lighter things, like a soup or salad or whatever they have. They are used to it, babe."

"I know, I know," he muttered, his gaze downcast as he felt a pang of guilt for causing such a scene.

Yuliya sighed, reaching for a towel to dampen with cool water and handing it to Novak. "Here, wipe your face. Then we can lay down and cuddle to make up for you giving me a heart attack and a half.," she said, her voice softening as she resumed her comforting gestures.

As Novak cleaned himself up, Yuliya couldn't help but feel a mixture of frustration and fondness towards him. His tendency to downplay things and brush off concerns had always been a source of mild irritation, but she knew it came from a place of not wanting to make a fuss or draw attention to himself.

"We'll make sure you're okay before anything else," Yuliya assured him, her hand resting on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture. It would have been nice to stay that way.

But it was Yuliya. Yuliya lightly smacked the back of Novak's head. "For fucks sake, next time pay more attention to what you eat."

"Oh," Novak said, "Well, if I do that, then I get to miss out on your excellent bedside manner and caregiving."

Yuliya smiled, "Keep talking and I'll drag you to bed, literally. Across the floor."

"You're hot when you're annoyed," Novak told her, smirking slightly.

Yuliya went to speak, but as always such a gesture left her speechless for a moment. She smiled again.

"Yeah, I know," Yuliya teased, "You're ugly when you aren't sending me into cardiac arrest."

"I'm what now?"

"Jokes on you," Yuliya interrupted, "You practically always send me into cardiac arrest."

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #emetophilia #the chronicles of novak daskalov being a fucking idiot #food intolerance tw

[salembutnotthecat]

idk if you still take requests buuuut…. could you do prompts for characters taking care of each other while sick / depressed? thank youu (also I love your writing)

ofc and thank you for the compliment i really appreciate it :)))

"𝙞'𝙢 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚…" 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨

have fun with these :) | tag me if you use any | if yall want more prompts like this, jus drop an ask

“You’re burning up…”

“I’m right here if you need anything, okay?”

“I’m fine.” “You’re not ‘fine’.”

“Is there anything I can get you?”

“Stop, let me do it.”

“Let me help you.”

“How do you feel?”

“Should I get you some water?”

“Try to eat something. Anything.”

“I don’t care if I get sick too.”

“Are you dizzy?”

“It’s fine; I can handle a few germs.”

“I’ll make you something to eat, alright?”

“I’m not going to leave you here like this.”

“I’ll go draw you a bath.”

“I’ll get you some medicine.”

“Do you want food, water or some ice?”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I got you, okay?”

“Just sleep. I’m here for you.”

“Why are you acting like everything is fine?”

“Hey, are you still with me?”

“I’ll hold your hair if you need me to.”

“Do you want me to help you eat?”

“I’ll carry you to bathroom, okay?”

“I called out sick for you.”

"Remember to take your medicine on time, alright?"

"I can run to the pharmacy if you need anything."

"Tell me if the room is too bright or too cold."

“I’ll stay with you until you feel better.”

"I won't leave your side until you're better, promise."

"Don't tough it out; let me take care of you."

[salembutnotthecat]

just a friendly reminder

MY ASK BOX IS OPEN

(please literally begging)

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emeto writer #emetophilia

[salembutnotthecat]

can we get a part two perhaps?😳😳👉👈🍄

Part two of Vince having the flu!!

-----------------

Vince let out a choked up sob and struggled to roll on his side, only to feel a hand grab his bicep and forcefully pull on him, helping him hang over the edge of the bed to cough up yet another stream of bile and frothy water. 

He coughed, feeling the acid sting his nose, then fell on his back, panting breathless. Bella and Luke’s bedroom ceiling had glow-in-the dark stars. They were twirling. 

“I think we should go to a hospital,” Luke’s voice filtered through, sounding distant, and then something cold was pressed to his forehead and Vince let out a humm at the sensation of having his mouth wiped clean. 

“No’spital,” he mumbled, blinking heavily, “why the stars…?” 

“Uh?” Luke appeared in front of his sight and Vince squinted, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Unlike the simple stars, Lucas’ face was covered in worried lines, “what did you say?” 

“Sup with the stars?” Vince forced a deep breath, resting a hand on his unsettled stomach and Luke glanced up, as if only then realizing his ceiling had stickers on it. 

“Oh, Bell put them there to help with my insomnia,” he explained and Vince raised his eyebrows. 

“Did it?”

“Yeah, I count them in order to get sleepy,” Luke shrugged, settling back down, “let’s try the water again.”

“Please,” Vince rasped, curling up, “no. I can’t take more…”

“You haven’t kept any liquid down in six hours,” Luke glared at him, “I really think you need a doctor, Vin.” 

“Itsssjust the flu,” Vince sighed, rolling on his side and wrapping an arm around his stomach. Despite the fact it was painfully empty, it was still rolling and distended with a bloat. He closed his eyes, pressing his face to what he assumed was Luke’s pillow and trying to give in the dark spots that kept dancing in his vision. 

He wanted Wendy. 

Not that Luke wasn’t doing a great job of fussing over him, he really was, but Wendy was just different. Her touch was different and she felt more certain in her actions. All the worry Luke had, Wendy had in confidence and it put him at ease. 

But she had already taken care of him five weeks before, with a stomach flu no less. He wasn’t going to put her through that ordeal again, on her birthday night. And Luke was fine, Luke was great. 

“I know I’m great,” Lucas huffed, pressing the cold washcloth to his forehead again and Vin let out a groan, pressing his lips closed. 

“What did you say to her…?” Vince asked, not for the first time that night. He had asked this at least twice already, but had been too busy in throes of nausea to pay attention then. 

Luke let out an unhappy noise, “that you weren’t feeling too hot, but I was gonna look out for you,” he said in a nonchalant tone, “that you said she should stay and enjoy her party.”

“Uhmmm… Good,” Vince sighed. It was good, he didn’t want Wendy to spend her birthday watching him flip flop between puking his guts and crying on the toilet as his bowels revolted against him… But that didn’t mean he didn’t want her there. 

His stomach squeezed again and Vince groaned, biting down a gag as he felt acid creep up his throat. He didn’t want to puke anymore, not only was he sore and exhausted, but keenly aware that every noise he made pushed Luke further into the notion of just calling an ambulance. 

Luke scratched his back, oblivious to his plight, “you said you caught this from another teacher? Where the hell had this teacher been to?” Luke mumbled darkly, “purgatory? Dante’s 9th circle-”

Vince scrambled to sit up as his belly contracted involuntary, but this time his stomach was faster than he could be and hot, watery puke shot out his mouth, covering the front of the oversized gym shirt he was wearing, borrowed from Luke. 

This was the second shirt he ruined tonight, the first one being Luke’s party button up, during the elevator ride out of the rooftop. 

Vince let out a disgusted sob, tears stinging his eyes and heard as Luke shushed him like a toddler, combing his fingers through his sweaty hair, “Vin, Vin, it’s fine. It’s alright, I can wipe this clean, don’t worry-”

“I’m sorry- I’m so tired… I’m sorry,” Vince groaned, his words slurring together and Luke scoffed, wiping the vomit from his chin and neck. 

“Dude, it’s basically just water,” he shrugged, “you’re fine. I promise, it’s no big deal.” 

Vince sniffled at that, allowing Luke to push his arms up and prop him against the headboard, stripping his shirt. His mind drifted, the stars in the ceiling twirling in a nauseating vortex and he closed his eyes to avoid them, thinking of Luke at the age of seventeen, repeating these same words to his dying mom, probably as she got sick, weak as a kitten. 

He hated himself for putting his friend in the same position. 

“I should- I shouldn’t be here,” Vince groaned, hiccuping as his next sob got stuck in his chest, “I shouldn’t have come-”

“Oh shut up,” Luke scoffed, “I don’t wanna hear it, shut up forever.”

“Ruined your night, Wen’s night-” Vince mumbled feverishly and then winced when he felt Luke flick at his ear, he opened his eyes in pain, “Ow?!”

“I said shut up forever,” Lucas glared at him, his light green eyes were droopy, exhausted, but still very awake, “I want you here. And you made Wendy’s night, she’s been so down this whole week, Vin… And then you get here and she lights up like a freaking Christmas tree.”

That was really not as reassuring as Luke thought it was, Vince thought, pressing his overheated head back against the headboard and groaning. 

“I’m fucking it all up, right?” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, practically gone from all the heaving, “with her.”

Luke didn’t answer and Vince forced his eyes open, feeling a new wave of nausea at his best friend’s conflicted face. As if Luke was fighting himself not to agree. 

“Shit,” Vince groaned, rubbing at his face, shivering violently, “shit.”

“Hey, no,” his best friend snapped into action as he heard the choked up, squeezy tone of Vince’s voice, “you’re not fucking it up,” he said and Vince let out a snort, tearing up and shaking his head. 

“I am, I know I am- I’m gonna lose her and I don’t know- I don’t know what to do,” his chest squeezed and he sucked in a breath, trying to fight the panic clawing inside of him, “i love her and I- I-”

“Vin,” Lucas grabbed his face, squishing his cheeks, forcing their eyes to meet, “you’re not ruining it just because you have different goals.” 

Vince let out a shuddery breath, closing his eyes and feeling a tear slide down the slope of his nose, “you wouldn’t. If it was Bell, you wouldn’t-”

“I wouldn’t,” Luke nodded, agreeing, all open, “but we’re Luke and Bell, not Vince and Wendy. You’re my best friend, you’re my brother, but you’re not me… And if you’re happy in Doveport, then you and Wen can work through this, right?” 

Vince shook his head, all but sobbing, his feverish thoughts going in circles, “what if we can’t? What if-”

“What if you can?” Luke glared at him, patting his cheek in a way that made Vince think of their football days, staring at his captain on the field, “what if you come here and you resent her? What if she moves there and she resents you? I know- I know I want you here, Vince, but not if you’re unhappy… And I don’t think Wendy wants you here like that either.”

“You don’t- You don’t think I’m childish?” Vince curled up, turning his face away from his best friend’s grip and glaring at the side table, trying to collect himself, “moving home?”

“No,” Lucas squeezed his arm, “I think… I think you’re incredibly blessed to have people who love you so much, in so many different places. And I think you have to pick what feels right and we’re not gonna love you any less. I won’t and dude… She fucking loves you. She’s not gonna stop either.”

Vince nodded, sliding down and turning on his side, sniffling, “do you think- Do you think coming today was stupid?” he asked quietly, “probably gave her the flu, on her birthday.”

“Gave her the flu?” Luke teased him, “Vince, you might as well have kissed me with tongue by now, you fucking biological weapon,” he moved on the bed, crawling on it and wrapping himself like an octopus around Vince, “I’m glad you came. And I think Wendy would rather have you here for an hour than not at all.” 

“Even if I gave her the plague.”

“Even if you gave her the plague,” Luke mumbled, sounding tired, “if Bella catches me cuddling you shirtless you’re a dead man, by the way.” 

“I’ll welcome the sweet relief of death,” Vince scoffed, closing his eyes as his head continued to throb, the ceiling stars imprinted behind his lids.

#i love all of your writing soup #but this??? THIS?? this is everything #i love your characters so hard #i love how you write #like rip vince and all but also god i love it #this is so well done i cant explain how much i’ve re read it in the past… however long #its been at least two re reads plus the initial read #BUT ANYWAY i love this so much and it always makes me smile seeing your fics on my dash #sickfic #emeto #emeto fic

[salembutnotthecat]

Vampires feeding off someone who has a cold, and then that vampire ends up with the cold (im a sncientist) for a few days???

Also,

Them searching out someone with a cold so they can get it and feel human for a few days

#im not a fan of colds but i adore the idea of sick vampires #especially when its from something like feeding off someone who is sick #fun fact i wrote a singular sick vampire fic #is this ✨a sign✨ to revisit? who knows

[salembutnotthecat]

swear im still here im just in a writers block rn but im working on it 😂

[salembutnotthecat]

💞 Concerned caregivers dialogue:

1. "He won't tell me what's wrong."

2. "I don't think he's feeling well."

3. "What's up with ____? He keeps disappearing."

4. "Do you think he needs a hospital?"

5. "I've never seen him like this."

6. "Can you pull over? ____ isn't doing too hot back here."

7. "Can you drive us home? ____ is feeling really bad."

8. "Does he seem off to you?"

9. "He says he's dizzy."

10. "Can you help me stand him up?"

11. "Do you think we should wake him up?"

12. "He's been in the bathroom a while. Do you think I should go check on him?"

13. "He can't keep anything down. I don't know what to do."

14. "Does he feel warm to you?"

15. "What flavor of Gatorade does he like? I'll run out and get some."

16. "You need to eat. It won't do ____ any good if you don't keep your strength up."

17. "I know you're worried about him, but I'm starting to worry about you."

18. "When's the last time he ate?"

19. "Hey, I can sit with him. Why don't you go get some air?"

20. "I think his stomach's bothering him."

[salembutnotthecat]

Acknowledging that someone doesn't feel good is nice but acknowledging that it's specifically the character's stomach that doesn’t feel good >

part 2

Okay onto the dialogue prompts

(As always not realistic these just neat to me, feel free to use/change wording ect)

(Also I meant to go in a different direction but half the list got deleted and I had to redo it.)

A

"You're stomach isn't feeling well is it?"

"It must be really churning."

"I know your tummy doesn't respond well to nerves but...."

"Your poor tummy really isn't feeling great is it?"

"Sorry your belly isn't doing good."

"I know you stomach is in knots but you should try eat/drink something."

"Is your stomach still churning?"

"I don't think your stomach is handling the news all too well."

(Best with context of character having frequent tummy issues/sensitive stomach ect) "Your stomach is never a bother for me."

“You should change into something loose to keep the pressure off your belly.”

“I think I know why your stomach is gurgling so much, the sauce from dinner had (insert ingredient) in it.”

“If the smell of my perfume is bothering your stomach too much I can change.”

“What did you eat to upset it so bad?”

“You know I’ve heard that cuddles are the best cure for a turning tummy.”

“What’s troubling your belly so much?”

“I didn’t think that (insert food/smell/news/who knows) would make your stomach have such a bad reaction.”

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner about your belly feeling so sick?”

“Are you sure you just have butterflies in your tum and not something worse?”

“Maybe your stomach would feel better if it was churning more than just stomach acid around.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t know that (insert food) would hurt your tummy so badly.”

“Does your tummy always get this knotted frequently?”

“It’s no surprise you need to throw up, stress/nerves always goes to your stomach.”

“Anyone’s stomach would feel icky after (insert what ever) don’t feel bad about it.”

“I don’t mind looking after you or your poor belly.”

“I don’t think even medicine can help your stomach, it would be better be sick and get it over with” (better if they don’t feel better after being sick)

”holding it in will just make your belly feel worse.”

(While placing hand on sickie's stomach)

B

“Feels like something really bad is going on in here."

“Even I can feel how upset your tummy is."

“I think I just felt your whole stomach flip."

“Your tummy feels really gurgly, I honestly think you will throw up soon.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt a belly so sick before.”

“Did your stomach just flutter?”

“Dinner is definitely not sitting to well in there.”

“You’re not overreacting, it’s definitely churning.”

“You sure you aren’t going to puke, I can feel a lot of movement.”

“I can feel your heartbeat in your stomach, that’s definitely not a good sign.”

”Woah stomachs should not gurgle like that.”

[salembutnotthecat]

🥴 Sickee commentary when vomiting begins/is about to begin:

"Sorry, I'll clean it up..."

"Ugh, I don't think I'm done."

"I hate this. I can't—" *throws up some more*

"Don't touch me. P-Please."

"Get outta here. I don't want you to see me like this."

"I think it's coming."

"m'sorry. I know you can't stand puke..."

*covers hand with mouth* "I need a bin."

*retching painfully with little results* "Why can't... I stop?"

"C-Can you go get [preferred caretaker]?"

*spitting* "I think I'm done..."

"Sorry you had to see that."

*tearfully* "I'm so nauseous but nothing's happening."

*during a brief reprieve* "I've never felt this sick."

"This is torture."

*pressing on midsection and stifling burps* "Ugh, sorry. My stomach..."

"C-Can you get me some water?"

"Oh no, I missed..."

*moans and rests head on toilet seat waiting to see if there's more*

"This is so not what I needed today."

You can find caretaker responses when vomiting begins <<here

[salembutnotthecat]

Can you please do one based off the acknowledging a sick tummy 🥺 this time for sickie instead saying it plz 😊

Thank you for giving me a reason to make a part two to one of my favourite posts anon :)

Sorry if it’s doesn’t have the same vibe to the original

part 1

Okay onto the dialogue prompts

A:

1. “My stomach really doesn’t feel so good all of a sudden.”

2. “No my belly really wants dinner out…like right now!”

3. “Something is really not agreeing with my stomach.”

4. “it’s just a little upset tummy, I’ll be fine *stomach growls* “okay maybe more then a little upset…”

5. Wait no, butterflies don’t feel like this.”

6. “I thinks I ate(inserts ingredient), it’s really messing up my stomach.”

7. “My stomach is all fluttery, and not in the good way.”

8. “My tummy being a little wish-washy but I’ll be okay.”

9. “I don’t know what just happened/ what I ate but it’s made my stomach feel so icky..”

10. “My tummy is still feeling a little/really funny.”

11. “My stomach feels really sick and I don’t know what to do about it.”

12. “My tummy has gone all squirmy.”

13. “Promise you won’t laugh? My tummy really hurts.”

14. “Are you laughing at me and my poor tummy?”

15. “Nerves always go straight to my stomach.

16. “I don’t know why my stomach has suddenly become so knotted”

17. “I think my stomach is trying to warn me to never eat/do that again”

18. “Im really stressed and stress does nothing good for my belly.”

19. “I haven’t eaten anything today and my tummy is paying for it.”

20. “Can… can I get a hug, my tummy is really hurting”

21. “My stomach can’t really handle bad news that well, it really upsets it.”

22. “Would you be mad if I told you that I ate (insert food character isn’t meant to eat) and now my tummy hurts?”

23. “Sorry I’m not focusing, my stomach is really bothering me right now.”

24. “No it’s just… my stomach really isn’t doing okay right now”

25. “My stomach just thought it would be a great idea to get sick at a time like this.”

B: with their own hand on their stomach

1. “It feels so bad I can feel churn under my palm.”

2. “I’ve been rubbing it all day but nothing will calm it down.”

3. “Do you think it was (insert what ever) that is hurting me so bad?”

4. “Wait a sec, my belly really isn’t doing so good.”

5. “I don’t like the way I can feel it bubbling.”

6. “I’m feeling way to much movement for anything good to come.”

7. “I should not be able to feel my stomach moving like that.”

8. “Oh wow that was a painful cramp”

C: with caretakers hand on their stomach

1. “Please tell me I’m not crazy and it’s actually churning.”

2. “Be careful, it’s still really sensitive.”

3. “Can you feel that?”

4. “Do you really think you can settle all this?”

5. “I think your touch is the only thing helping the ache.”

6. “You really shouldn’t touch it, it feels like a mess.”

7. “Please be gentle, my stomach is still feeling a little delicate.”

[salembutnotthecat]

Sick Prompts 1

Angry sickies: 

1. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me… I was fine this morning.” 2. “Leave me alone.” 3. “Don’t touch me again unless you want me to puke on you.” 4. “Can you shut up? My head is killing me.” 5. “I told you I didn’t feel good, and you made me come here anyway.” 6. “This is ridiculous, how are you not sick and I am?”

Sad Sickies:

7. “Please don’t leave me in here alone.” 8. “It hurts so bad… please make it stop.” 9. “I think I need to throw up…” 10. “Is there any Pepto left?” 11. “Can you just sit with me until it’s over?” 12. “My stomach really hurts, I don’t think I can make it tonight…”

In-Denial Sickies:

13. “I don’t get sick.” 14. “I have a stomach of steel.” 15. “It’s not a fever, I’ve been in the sun…” 16. “I’m not going to throw up, for the last time.” 17. “I don’t think it’s food poisoning. We ate the same thing, and I don’t feel bad at all.” 18. “It’s just allergies.” 19. “I don’t get sick on rides/in the car/on boats (specify)”

Tactile Sickies:

20. “Will you rub my back?” 21. “Can you feel my head to see if I have a fever?” 22. “Will you play with my hair?” 23. “I’m freezin’, can we cuddle?”

Don’t Touch Me Sickies

24. “Don’t touch my stomach right now.” 25 “Please stop touching me… I’m so gross.” 26. “You’re making me hot, I can’t sleep…” 27. “Your hands are freezing, don’t touch me.”

Queasy Sickies

28. “I don’t know what I was thinking… I shouldn’t have ordered that.” 29. “Um… I think I need a bin.” 30. “I think I’m going to be sick soon.” 31. “Something’s messing with my stomach.” 32. “My stomach’s bothering me.” 33. “I don’t feel so hot.” 34. “Ugh, I think I should probably get to a bathroom.”

Sniffly Sickies

35. “Can we get actual tissues instead of these paper towels? My nose hurts.” 36. “I can’t breathe.” 37. “I’m freezing and sweating at the same time…” 38. “Please don’t look at me.” 39. “My head’s killing me…” 40. “My throat hurts so bad I can’t even drink water.” 41. “Do you have a cough drop?”

My Fav Drunk Sickies

42. “Um, I think… I think I had too much.” 43. “What was in that? I don’t feel great…” 44. “I think I need’ta sit.” 45. “I need to get out of here, I’m gonna throw up.” 46. “I just need to eat something and I’ll be ok.” 47. “It’s not fun anymore, I’m dizzy…”

Caretakers!

48. “Just relax, you’re going to be fine…” 49. “Calm down, you’re going to make it worse.” 50. “Well, just take care of yourself then, if you don’t want me touching you.” 51. “Do you think you can stomach some water?” 52. “We need to get this fever down.” 53. “Do you want me to rub your back/stomach?” 54. “Don’t cry. Where do you hurt?” 55. “Keep your head in the trashcan until you’re done.” 56. “If you don’t stop soon, we’re going to the ER.” 

#please someone send prompts #im dying to either continue existing ships or introduce new kids #please for the love of all things holy and unholy send me requests !! #i just want to write

[salembutnotthecat]

tw emeto, treatment, mentions of serious illness, single dialogue mention of another character suffering an overdose, self doubt

for all of those lovely readers who have been so eagerly waiting to figure out what’s up with kostya, here is your fic.

*kotyonok means kitten, there is other Ukrainian dialogue in the fic but it is answered to in english

if you have requests/comments/questions/concerns, send an ask (please i beg)

Kostya wants to hide in his hoodie the minute Amanda comes into the room.

Well, technically, legally, it’s Lana’s hoodie. Lana’s hoodie from high school at that. When he played sports, Kostya couldn’t remember which one right now.

“I’m sorry Kostya,” She said.

Kostya was sure that Amanda was a wonderful woman outside of the hospital. Really. But right now, shes the last person he wants to see. In fact, he tells himself he hates her. And in this kind of moment he does.

“It’s procedure,” Kostya said, giving in.

Amanda nodded, “Has anything changed?”

Kostya thought for a second. Anymore his thoughts were hazy. Days and nights blurred together. He couldn’t think.

Thankfully he doesn’t have to. Lana looks at him and offers a reassuring smile, “You want me to start?”

Kostya nodded, pulling up his sleeve so Amanda had access to the vein she needed.

“So, then Lana,” Amanda said, “Anything new? The same?”

“The things I know about are the fatigue, the nausea, the lightheadedness, and the lack of appetite,” Lana said, shrugging.

It’s enough for Kostya to take over, “Headaches, sensitivity, cold a lot, lots of feeling like I might pass out but…”

“Have you passed out at all since last week’s appointment?” Amanda asked.

“Sunday afternoon,” Lana answered. Lana heard Kostya sigh defeatedly and click his tongue. “We went grocery shopping. And yes, yes I know he shouldn’t go out more than he needs to but-“

“It’s alright Lana,” Amanda said, “What happened?”

“He was fine… like at the store and everything, it was after we put everything up he just…” Lana tried to explain.

“I remember getting dizzy and grabbing the counter, next thing I know you somehow moved me and I was waking up on the couch.” Kostya said.

Amanda frowned, “Sounds like overexertion.”

Kostya nodded slowly.

“What about everything else?” Amanda said, “Bruising? Nosebleeds? Or your gums when you brush your teeth?”

Kostya nodded, “They don’t happen as much. Well, I mean I was anemic before this all happened so I’m used to bruising and my gums bleeding. I had a nosebleed… I think Monday?”

“Did you feel dizzy or anything after?” Amanda asked, getting Kostya set up.

“Dizzy, but I sat down and Lana grabbed some water so I was fine,” Kostya said.

“I think you’re down to get another round of blood work next week,” Amanda said, “We’ll see how the disease is behaving. Better, worse, the same. And we’ll adjust your treatment accordingly.”

Kostya nodded, “I’m just ready for it to be over… I don’t like feeling sick all the time.”

“Unfortunately thats what the aplastic anemia does,” Amanda shrugged, “It’s not cancer. But things like leukemia and others… well, they do the same. But, that’s why you get these sessions.”

Kostya nodded again, “I know. I just…. Hate it.”

-

The sterile hospital room was filled with the soft hum of machinery as Kostya settled into the treatment chair.

At first, Lana's touch was gentle and comforting, his hand softly petting Kostya's hair as they waited for the treatment to begin.

At the start. There was small conversation. Kostya hated silence when he was here. He hated it.

“How’s your album coming?” Kostya asked, shifting to look up at Lana.

“Slowly,” Lana said, “Lex is great. Soren too. The girls are phenomenal. But it’s still not the same without you.”

“Hopefully after next week’s blood work they might clear me to go to the studio and work again,” Kostya shrugged. He really hoped they would. He missed working in the studio. Missed going with Lana. Missed everything.

Lana continued stroking his hand over Kostya’s bangs, “Hopefully. But I promise, nobody is upset about you not being able to work. Well, nobody but you.”

“It just sucks,” Kostya said, “I mean Lex was back after three months and I’ve been out for six… it sucks.”

“I know,” Lana said, “But Lex’s situation was different than yours is right now. Neither were worse or better. But they are different.”

“Still, feels shitty that he was able to go back to both music and paramedic work in less time than I’ve been away because of-“

“You have aplastic anemia,” Lana said, “You get chemotherapy three times a week. Lex suffered an overdose that miraculously did minimal long term damage. You both lucked out to an extent, he’s alive and functional as before and you have this, not leukemia. But what you’re going through takes more out of you than Lex’s circumstances did to him.”

Kostya nodded. Lana was right. It wasn’t fair to compare his circumstances to Lex, he knew that. But it still messed with him more than he wanted to admit.

Lana continued petting his hair and Kostya leaned into the affection, grateful for Lana's comfort.

As the clock ticked on and the treatment round progressed, Kostya's symptoms started to show up.

First there was no conversation on Kostya’s end. Lana was talking, Lana always talked to fill the silence. The chemicals coursing through his veins left him feeling dizzy and nauseous, a familiar yet unwelcome sensation that he had grown accustomed to enduring.

Lana noticed the subtle shift in Kostya's demeanor, the way his breathing became shallow and his complexion paled.

He continued for a little bit, talking and petting Kostya’s hair. But as soon as he felt sweat on Kostya’s forehead, he stopped. Sensing that physical contact might exacerbate Kostya's discomfort, Lana withdrew his hand, giving Kostya space while still remaining by his side.

Kostya appreciated Lana's understanding, knowing that Lana was trying to support him in the best way possible.

"You're doing great, kotyonok," Lana whispered, offering words of encouragement as Kostya closed his eyes, trying to focus on something other than the queasiness in his stomach.

But Kostya's condition continued to deteriorate despite Lana's efforts to provide comfort. His nausea intensified, accompanied by waves of dizziness that left him feeling disoriented and weak. He struggled to maintain his composure, his hands gripping the armrests of the treatment chair tightly as he tried to ride out the discomfort.

Lana's concern deepened as he watched Kostya's distress escalate.

"Kotyonok, you look like you’re going to be sick…" Lana said gently, his voice filled with worry.

Kostya forced a weak smile, trying to mask the severity of his symptoms. "I'm okay, Lana," he replied, his voice trembling slightly.

He hoped that convincing himself he wouldn't be sick would somehow keep the nausea at bay, but deep down, he knew it was a losing battle.

Lana's voice faded into the background as Kostya's focus shifted to the overwhelming urge to throw up. He clenched his jaw, trying to hold back the inevitable, but his body had other plans.

As the minutes passed, Kostya's condition only worsened. The queasiness in his stomach became unbearable, and he could feel the telltale signs of an impending bout of vomiting.

Lana heard Kostya’s breaths grow more shallow. Panicked. He was already on his feet grabbing the basin when Kostya finally spoke up.

"I-I think I need..." Kostya's words were cut off as he leaned over the basin, retching uncontrollably as the contents of his stomach emptied in a violent upheaval.

Lana's heart ached at the sight of Kostya's suffering. He wanted nothing more than to take away his pain and discomfort.

"It's okay, kotyonok. Let it out," Lana murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He knew that this was part of the harsh reality of chemotherapy, a necessary but grueling process that took a toll on Kostya's already fragile health.

Instinctively, Lana found himself starting to rub Kostya’s back. A lapse in judgement. Kostya reached far enough to nudge Lana’s hand off of him, hoping that was the last of the vomiting but knowing there was more.

Lana's heart sank as Kostya nudged his hand away, a silent indication of his discomfort with physical contact during moments of nausea. Lana immediately withdrew, cursing himself for the lapse in judgment. He knew better than to touch Kostya during these moments, but his concern had momentarily overridden his better judgment.

"Oh kotyonok… I'm sorry," Lana whispered, stepping back and giving Kostya the space he needed to cope with the intense nausea.

He felt a pang of guilt for adding to Kostya's distress, even unintentionally.

Kostya continued to retch into the basin, his body convulsing with each wave of sickness. Lana watched helplessly, wishing there was more he could do to ease Kostya's suffering.

After what felt like an eternity, Kostya's stomach finally settled, leaving him exhausted and drained. He leaned back in the treatment chair, his breathing labored and his face pale.

Kostya felt dizzy. Almost lightheaded even. Throwing up took more energy out of kostya than he was sure he had, and the thought of getting up and getting out to the car, let alone going home, felt like more than Kostya could handle.

And yet he wanted nothing more than to go back home. To lay down in his room. To be anywhere but here and sleep all this off.

His breathing was the first thing he noticed. It was shallow, breathless. More than usual. Definitely because of the lack of energy, existing alone was taking too much energy.

“Hey… kotyonok, you okay?” Lana asked softly.

Kostya shook his head, “meni… meni ne po sobi…”

Even though it was his mother tongue, the words felt so foreign coming out.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Lana said softly, grabbing Kostya’s hand and rubbing his thumb on the back of Kostya’s hand, “But we can go home soon and you can sleep this off.”

Kostya shifted, pulling the hood up, covering his eyes. Lana's worry deepened as he observed Kostya's exhausted state. The toll of the vomiting was evident, and Lana wished he could do more to alleviate Kostya's discomfort.

Just then, a gentle knock on the door signaled the arrival of a nurse. Amanda is back.

"Excuse me, Kostya," Amanda said softly as she entered the room, her voice carrying a reassuring tone. "We're almost done with your treatment. I know it's been tough, but you're doing great."

“He got sick, and he’s exhausted,” Lana said.

“Ya mozhу hovoryty za sebe,” Kostya said.

“You’re so tired you’re speaking Ukrainian,” Lana said, “I don’t doubt Amanda is smart but I highly doubt she can speak Ukrainian. I don’t think she’ll be much help if you speak for yourself.”

“I can see that,” Amanda said softly, “Are you still nauseous Kostya?”

Kostya managed a weak nod.

The nurse approached Kostya's chair, carrying a small tray with a cup of water and a packet of anti-nausea medication.

“I have some medication here that should help with the nausea," she explained, handing the packet to Kostya. "It might make you feel a bit drowsy, but it should provide some relief."

Kostya accepted the medication gratefully, pulling his hood back and swallowing it with a sip of water. He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes as he hoped for the medication to take effect soon.

"Thank you, Amanda," Lana said softly, as Amanda started getting Kostya ready to go, "We appreciate everything you do."

Amanda smiled warmly. "It's my pleasure. Just remember to take it easy for the rest of the day, Kostya," she advised before leaving the room.

As the effects of the medication started to kick in and Kostya's nausea gradually subsided, Lana felt a sense of relief wash over him.

“Do you want to wait it out?” Lana asked, “Or do you want me to help you out of here?”

Kostya hummed, thinking, before sighing softly, “Ya khochu piti…”

“Okay, we can leave,” Lana said, helping Kostya stand. “I’ve got you. I promise.”

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #emetophilia

[salembutnotthecat]

These made me think of one core memory of my early school years (i was like 8 or 9). I was prompted to follow a prompt that was like “a person wakes up in an unfamiliar place with no memory of what happened” or something. Elementary school me gave the character a concussion and was very heavy on the concussion stuff (yes, emeto included) and my teacher pulled me aside to basically in teacher terms go “what the actual fuck is this” and its a memory that cracks me up to this day.

I’ve just always Been Like This(tm)

My mom found some of my old schoolwork notebooks from when I was about 7-9 years old, and many of the stories I had written were quite whumpy, especially considering my age and them being stories for school. Despite being maybe a page long in a child’s big handwriting, they had robberies and bullying and capturing someone and even “who did this to you” lmao I see I’ve always been like this

[salembutnotthecat]

tw emeto, suspected food induced illness, scat, mentions/references to treatment and chronic illness

this is sort of a prequel to this fic but also could happen at any point in their timeline

*kotyonok means kitten, lyubov means love, and moya lyubov is my love

at the request of an anon: kostya and lana are both originally ukranian, however they live in adelaide, australia

if you have any questions/requests/comments, feel free to send them my way!

Lana and Kostya didn’t have many rules in their apartment.

Sure, there was the basics. Do what you can, when you can to help keep the house in order. Clean up after yourself. Food was fair game unless otherwise specified.

Truthfully, the rules in place in the house were simply common sense. But, there were a few other rules. Ones for each other, with each other.

For Lana, personal rules were simple. He didn’t like Kostya coming up behind him without saying something. If Lana was in his room and the door was closed, Kostya was expected to leave Lana alone until otherwise prompted. Kostya wasn’t allowed to fix Lana’s collars or help him with his tie if he had an award appearance to go to.

Kostya had rules too. His were longer, all pretty unspoken. But all things considered, Lana was fine with it. If he had treatment, Lana was expected to not interact much with him until Kostya seemed okay. Kostya was always overwhelmed by everything after it was said and done, not to mention how terribly nauseous treatment made him. Lana didn’t mind to leave his boyfriend be. Which made the other rule make sense. If Kostya was getting sick, Lana was not allowed to touch him. Not that Lana blamed him, being stuck in a hospital with nurses and doctors and techs with their hands all over during those rough moments would traumatize anyone. And Lana was allowed to be near Kostya, of course.

Then there was the weird rule. Most couples, if one picked up food on the way home it was simply expected they bring something for their partner. Not in their house. Well, not for Kostya.

Sure, Kostya would bring Lana food or snacks he knew his boyfriend liked. But Lana didn’t bring Kostya anything on Kostya’s preference. Especially not on treatment days. It always overwhelmed Kostya. Kostya would panic of Lana brought him anything. Because Kostya was just wired to think he needed to eat immediately if someone brought him something. Even if eating immediately when something was brought only left Kostya heaving off and on for hours until everything calmed down.

So Lana never brought food home for Kostya. In fact, Lana even rarely brought food in the house if he went to grab something. And even if he didn’t, he would always tell Kostya before he made anything that he would grab something. If for nothing else than respect for Kostya.

Of course, Kostya never told him to do that. It was an unspoken rule, an expectation. One Lana knew Kostya would abide by in a heartbeat if the roles were reversed.

So when Lana stopped on his way home to get dinner, knowing Kostya’s treatment was a little longer today and not knowing how Kostya was feeling, he didn’t think much of it. It was normal, especially days like today.

Kostya barely texted him, instead sleeping off most of the symptoms according to the few texts Lana got early that afternoon. Lana wished he could’ve called to check on Kostya, but he was right in the middle of album release promotion. Kostya knew that, Kostya was fine without the calls. Lana just hated being so disconnected from him.

But, Lana was starting to think a little more of what exactly he grabbed as he and Kostya are in bed. Kostya’s head was in Lana’s lap. Lana pet his hair carefully. They were sort of watching a movie. There was a movie on, anyway.

Lana was writing in his notebook with his free hand. Kostya was on his phone, probably texting back everyone he missed during the day. They were together but separate, in a way they were simply comfortable in.

It’s Kostya, actually, who makes Lana second guess if stopping for something was a good idea.

“Hey, you okay, moya lyubov?” Kostya asked, “Your stomach sounds like shit.”

Lana froze for a moment, caught off guard by Kostya's observation. He had been so focused on trying to ignore his own discomfort that he hadn't even realized his stomach was growling audibly.

"Oh, it's probably just stress or something," Lana replied with a forced nonchalance, hoping Kostya wouldn't press further, “It’s been a lot with the album release and planning everything, nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over kotyonok.”

Kostya raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You sure thats all it is? Have you eaten tonight?" he questioned, his concern evident in his eyes.

Lana nodded, offering a reassuring smile. "I got some dinner on the way home. When you told me you were sleeping of side effects I figured it would be better if I didn’t eat here.”

Kostya offered a small smile, “You don’t have to do that…”

“I know,” Lana shrugged, “But I want to.”

Kostya studied Lana's expression for a moment, sensing that something was off but deciding not to push the issue for now.

"Well, busy day then. Why don't we call it a night? We can both use some rest lyubov…" he suggested, trying to steer the conversation away from Lana's discomfort.

"Sounds good," Lana agreed readily, grateful for the excuse to avoid further discussion about his own condition. He gently stroked Kostya's hair, the rhythmic motion soothing for both of them.

“Do you want to stay together or..?” Kostya asked.

“Well, I don’t feel like moving,” Lana asked, “But are you up for it? I know treatment days sometimes…”

“No, I’m good, besides,” Kostya said, “This is comfortable.”

They settled into bed, Kostya resting his head on Lana’s shoulder. Lana's mind, however, was preoccupied with thoughts of what he had eaten earlier and the subtle but persistent unease in his stomach.

As they drifted off to sleep, Lana couldn't help but feel guilty for not being completely honest with Kostya. But in that moment, he just wanted to focus on anything else. He couldn’t do that to Kostya. He wouldn’t.

-

The darkness of the night enveloped the room as Lana stirred from his sleep, a deep sense of unease settling in his stomach.

At first, he tried to ignore it, shifting slightly in bed and willing himself to go back to sleep. But as minutes passed, the discomfort intensified, gnawing at him with increasing intensity.

Lana's breaths became shallow and rapid, his body tensing as waves of nausea washed over him.

He clutched the sheets tightly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead despite the coolness of the room. Kostya’s room was always cold. Something about cold rooms making nausea less intense, or something. Something Kostya learned before his treatment plan allowed him to be home.

But Lana doesn’t think it has any merit. He is overwhelmingly warm. The room feels suffocating and gets worse by the second. He didn't want to disturb Kostya. Not when he knew how rare it was for him to have a restful night.

But as the nausea grew unbearable, Lana knew he couldn't stay in bed any longer. With a quiet groan, he carefully slipped out from under Kostya's sleeping form, trying not to jostle him. He tiptoed across the room, his footsteps barely making a sound on the carpeted floor.

Every step sent a jolt of pain through Lana's body, his stomach twisting and churning with each movement. He reached the bathroom door just in time, his hand trembling as he fumbled for the light switch. The sudden brightness made his head spin, and he braced himself against the sink, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

Lana knew he was about to get sick, and there was no avoiding it now. He leaned over the toilet, gripping the edges tightly as he emptied the contents of his stomach in violent heaves.

The nausea was relentless, waves of pain and dizziness crashing over Lana in rapid succession. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to block out the discomfort even as tears of exertion and frustration welled up.

Lana could feel his chest heaving. He heard his own gasping. It was so weird, really. Usually it was Kostya up in the middle of the night. Kostya’s side effects got worse at night. Usually it was Kostya, kneeling on the floor at some ungodly hour, trying to catch his breath. It’s usually Kostya who’s too hot… well, no. No Kostya got cold. Lana doesn’t know why he’s going over this list in his head, but he is.

Lana considers himself lucky though. Even though its him tonight, he still feels lucky. With Kostya, it was an all night ordeal. Not that Lana minded, he didn’t mind at all. But Kostya’s stomach was usually such a wreck he couldn’t even leave the bathroom for hours. Lana knew it hadn’t been hours, of course.

But it still felt like forever. After what felt like an eternity, Lana's stomach finally settled, leaving him almost entirely spent. He rinsed his mouth, splashed some water on his face, and took a moment to compose himself before quietly slipping back into bed beside Kostya, hoping he could at least get some rest before the morning.

-

Lana's fitful sleep was interrupted once again, this time by a more urgent sense of discomfort. He groaned softly, shifting in bed as a wave of nausea swept over him once more.

His stomach churned ominously, and Lana realized with a sinking feeling that this wasn't just a one-time episode.

As he tried to sit up, Lana felt a different kind of pressure building up, a sense of urgency that made his heart race with anxiety. He knew what was coming next, and it wasn't going to be pleasant.

With a sense of resignation, Lana stumbled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom, his steps faltering as he reached the toilet. He braced himself for another round of vomiting, but as he retched, he felt a different sensation—a sharp cramp in his abdomen that signaled something else entirely.

"Oh no," Lana muttered to himself, the realization dawning on him.

As soon as Lana was sitting down, he feels what seems like chunky liquid rush out of him, splashing in the toilet.

That was definitely not good.

He felt sweat start to stick his bangs to his face, the little curls he had sticking to his cheeks. The feeling made him all the more uncomfortable. He brushed his hand over his face. He curled down, perching his elbows on his knees and covering his face.

Everything is suddenly too bright. He turned on the light. He knows he did, he knows he did it reflexively. But now he hates himself for it. The headache that he didn’t remember existing earlier is now almost as debilitating as everything else.

Lana doesn't feel well at all. Something is really wrong and for a moment he doesn’t know what it is.

The spell passes in time. Lana reached behind him to flush the toilet, but even that brings more upset to his stomach. Now he’s just nauseous as hell.

He cleaned up himself. Tried to put himself back together. Anything to go lay down again. He’d probably go to his own room this time. He felt thoroughly disgusting, he knew Kostya would understand. His own bed sounded better than subjecting Kostya to… well, this.

But standing makes him dizzy, and all he can do is lean against the wall and slide down, pulling his knees to his chest.

It was then that Kostya, stirred from his sleep by Lana's absence. The absence of warmth and weight next to him finally registers, and he’s up. He stays where he is for a moment, figuring maybe Lana just went to his own room. But, when he hears noise, he gets up.

The light seeped through the crack in the door. Kostya knew that probably wasn’t a good sign before he even approached the closed bathroom door, concern etched on his face as he listened to Lana's labored breathing from the other side.

"Lana? Moya lyubov… are you okay?" Kostya called out softly, not wanting to startle him.

Lana didn't respond immediately, still catching his breath after the ordeal. He mustered the strength to reply weakly,

"I'm... I'm okay, Kostya. Just... give me a minute."

Kostya hesitated, torn between respecting Lana's privacy and wanting to make sure he was truly okay. He stayed on the other side of the door, his hand hovering over the handle as he waited for any sign of distress from Lana.

And then he heard it—the sound of Lana retching. Without a second thought, Kostya pushed open the door, his concern overriding any sense of hesitation or discomfort.

"You poor thing," Kostya murmured softly, his heart aching at the sight of Lana's distress.

He knelt beside Lana, offering a gentle hand on his back as Lana continued to retch into the toilet.

Lana was pale, sweat beading on his forehead as he struggled with the intense nausea. Each heave seemed to wrack his body, leaving him exhausted and weak.

Kostya hated seeing Lana this way. Lana was always quite a violent vomiter. He always had been as long as Kostya knew him. The type of retches Kostya was sure started in his feet and worked their way up quickly.

Well, logically Kostya knew that wasn’t exactly possible. He knew that very well. But it stilled pained Kostya every time he heard Lana throw yp.

Lana retched again, Kostya could feel the way rhe force left Lana shaking. It was as if something in his body was desperately trying to get out, and Kostya couldn't help but feel a pang of worry.

"Kostya, I'm sorry," Lana managed to gasp out between retches, his voice filled with frustration and discomfort.

"Shh, Don't apologize, Lana," Kostya replied soothingly, his tone filled with empathy. "You're going through a lot right now. Just focus on getting through this."

Lana retched again. The waves were less abundant. But Kostya was almost certain that just meant he was heaving even more violently.

Kostya reached for a nearby washcloth, dampening it with cool water before gently wiping Lana's clammy forehead. He wanted to do anything he could to provide some relief, even if it was just a small gesture of comfort.

As Lana's vomiting subsided momentarily, Kostya helped him sit back against the bathroom wall, offering a little plastic cup of water to rinse his mouth and soothe his parched throat. Lana accepted it gratefully, taking small sips between deep breaths.

"You don't have to stay in here with me, kotyonok," Lana said weakly, gesturing towards the door. "I'll be okay."

Kostya shook his head, refusing to leave Lana's side.

“Lana, moya lyubov,” Kostya said, chuckling softly, “I’ve been sick for… what, a year now? I’m usually the one losing everything I consumed, multiple times a week even. And you have never ignored me or left me alone. Why on earth would I leave you?”

“Because I…” Lana started.

“I’m not going anywhere. No matter what,” Kostya interrupted.

“But what if I’m sick?” Lana asked, “You’ll get sick and-“

Kostya shook his head, sitting next to Lana and nudging him to lean his head on his shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on top of Lana’s head before stroking his cheek.

“Okay? So?” Kostya said, “If it’s between staying… well, less sick, or helping you. Then I will happily get sick if it means staying with you. I’ll always choose you in a heartbeat.”

[salembutnotthecat]

tw emeto, suspected food induced illness, scat, mentions/references to treatment and chronic illness

this is sort of a prequel to this fic but also could happen at any point in their timeline

*kotyonok means kitten, lyubov means love, and moya lyubov is my love

at the request of an anon: kostya and lana are both originally ukranian, however they live in adelaide, australia

if you have any questions/requests/comments, feel free to send them my way!

Lana and Kostya didn’t have many rules in their apartment.

Sure, there was the basics. Do what you can, when you can to help keep the house in order. Clean up after yourself. Food was fair game unless otherwise specified.

Truthfully, the rules in place in the house were simply common sense. But, there were a few other rules. Ones for each other, with each other.

For Lana, personal rules were simple. He didn’t like Kostya coming up behind him without saying something. If Lana was in his room and the door was closed, Kostya was expected to leave Lana alone until otherwise prompted. Kostya wasn’t allowed to fix Lana’s collars or help him with his tie if he had an award appearance to go to.

Kostya had rules too. His were longer, all pretty unspoken. But all things considered, Lana was fine with it. If he had treatment, Lana was expected to not interact much with him until Kostya seemed okay. Kostya was always overwhelmed by everything after it was said and done, not to mention how terribly nauseous treatment made him. Lana didn’t mind to leave his boyfriend be. Which made the other rule make sense. If Kostya was getting sick, Lana was not allowed to touch him. Not that Lana blamed him, being stuck in a hospital with nurses and doctors and techs with their hands all over during those rough moments would traumatize anyone. And Lana was allowed to be near Kostya, of course.

Then there was the weird rule. Most couples, if one picked up food on the way home it was simply expected they bring something for their partner. Not in their house. Well, not for Kostya.

Sure, Kostya would bring Lana food or snacks he knew his boyfriend liked. But Lana didn’t bring Kostya anything on Kostya’s preference. Especially not on treatment days. It always overwhelmed Kostya. Kostya would panic of Lana brought him anything. Because Kostya was just wired to think he needed to eat immediately if someone brought him something. Even if eating immediately when something was brought only left Kostya heaving off and on for hours until everything calmed down.

So Lana never brought food home for Kostya. In fact, Lana even rarely brought food in the house if he went to grab something. And even if he didn’t, he would always tell Kostya before he made anything that he would grab something. If for nothing else than respect for Kostya.

Of course, Kostya never told him to do that. It was an unspoken rule, an expectation. One Lana knew Kostya would abide by in a heartbeat if the roles were reversed.

So when Lana stopped on his way home to get dinner, knowing Kostya’s treatment was a little longer today and not knowing how Kostya was feeling, he didn’t think much of it. It was normal, especially days like today.

Kostya barely texted him, instead sleeping off most of the symptoms according to the few texts Lana got early that afternoon. Lana wished he could’ve called to check on Kostya, but he was right in the middle of album release promotion. Kostya knew that, Kostya was fine without the calls. Lana just hated being so disconnected from him.

But, Lana was starting to think a little more of what exactly he grabbed as he and Kostya are in bed. Kostya’s head was in Lana’s lap. Lana pet his hair carefully. They were sort of watching a movie. There was a movie on, anyway.

Lana was writing in his notebook with his free hand. Kostya was on his phone, probably texting back everyone he missed during the day. They were together but separate, in a way they were simply comfortable in.

It’s Kostya, actually, who makes Lana second guess if stopping for something was a good idea.

“Hey, you okay, moya lyubov?” Kostya asked, “Your stomach sounds like shit.”

Lana froze for a moment, caught off guard by Kostya's observation. He had been so focused on trying to ignore his own discomfort that he hadn't even realized his stomach was growling audibly.

"Oh, it's probably just stress or something," Lana replied with a forced nonchalance, hoping Kostya wouldn't press further, “It’s been a lot with the album release and planning everything, nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over kotyonok.”

Kostya raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You sure thats all it is? Have you eaten tonight?" he questioned, his concern evident in his eyes.

Lana nodded, offering a reassuring smile. "I got some dinner on the way home. When you told me you were sleeping of side effects I figured it would be better if I didn’t eat here.”

Kostya offered a small smile, “You don’t have to do that…”

“I know,” Lana shrugged, “But I want to.”

Kostya studied Lana's expression for a moment, sensing that something was off but deciding not to push the issue for now.

"Well, busy day then. Why don't we call it a night? We can both use some rest lyubov…" he suggested, trying to steer the conversation away from Lana's discomfort.

"Sounds good," Lana agreed readily, grateful for the excuse to avoid further discussion about his own condition. He gently stroked Kostya's hair, the rhythmic motion soothing for both of them.

“Do you want to stay together or..?” Kostya asked.

“Well, I don’t feel like moving,” Lana asked, “But are you up for it? I know treatment days sometimes…”

“No, I’m good, besides,” Kostya said, “This is comfortable.”

They settled into bed, Kostya resting his head on Lana’s shoulder. Lana's mind, however, was preoccupied with thoughts of what he had eaten earlier and the subtle but persistent unease in his stomach.

As they drifted off to sleep, Lana couldn't help but feel guilty for not being completely honest with Kostya. But in that moment, he just wanted to focus on anything else. He couldn’t do that to Kostya. He wouldn’t.

-

The darkness of the night enveloped the room as Lana stirred from his sleep, a deep sense of unease settling in his stomach.

At first, he tried to ignore it, shifting slightly in bed and willing himself to go back to sleep. But as minutes passed, the discomfort intensified, gnawing at him with increasing intensity.

Lana's breaths became shallow and rapid, his body tensing as waves of nausea washed over him.

He clutched the sheets tightly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead despite the coolness of the room. Kostya’s room was always cold. Something about cold rooms making nausea less intense, or something. Something Kostya learned before his treatment plan allowed him to be home.

But Lana doesn’t think it has any merit. He is overwhelmingly warm. The room feels suffocating and gets worse by the second. He didn't want to disturb Kostya. Not when he knew how rare it was for him to have a restful night.

But as the nausea grew unbearable, Lana knew he couldn't stay in bed any longer. With a quiet groan, he carefully slipped out from under Kostya's sleeping form, trying not to jostle him. He tiptoed across the room, his footsteps barely making a sound on the carpeted floor.

Every step sent a jolt of pain through Lana's body, his stomach twisting and churning with each movement. He reached the bathroom door just in time, his hand trembling as he fumbled for the light switch. The sudden brightness made his head spin, and he braced himself against the sink, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

Lana knew he was about to get sick, and there was no avoiding it now. He leaned over the toilet, gripping the edges tightly as he emptied the contents of his stomach in violent heaves.

The nausea was relentless, waves of pain and dizziness crashing over Lana in rapid succession. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to block out the discomfort even as tears of exertion and frustration welled up.

Lana could feel his chest heaving. He heard his own gasping. It was so weird, really. Usually it was Kostya up in the middle of the night. Kostya’s side effects got worse at night. Usually it was Kostya, kneeling on the floor at some ungodly hour, trying to catch his breath. It’s usually Kostya who’s too hot… well, no. No Kostya got cold. Lana doesn’t know why he’s going over this list in his head, but he is.

Lana considers himself lucky though. Even though its him tonight, he still feels lucky. With Kostya, it was an all night ordeal. Not that Lana minded, he didn’t mind at all. But Kostya’s stomach was usually such a wreck he couldn’t even leave the bathroom for hours. Lana knew it hadn’t been hours, of course.

But it still felt like forever. After what felt like an eternity, Lana's stomach finally settled, leaving him almost entirely spent. He rinsed his mouth, splashed some water on his face, and took a moment to compose himself before quietly slipping back into bed beside Kostya, hoping he could at least get some rest before the morning.

-

Lana's fitful sleep was interrupted once again, this time by a more urgent sense of discomfort. He groaned softly, shifting in bed as a wave of nausea swept over him once more.

His stomach churned ominously, and Lana realized with a sinking feeling that this wasn't just a one-time episode.

As he tried to sit up, Lana felt a different kind of pressure building up, a sense of urgency that made his heart race with anxiety. He knew what was coming next, and it wasn't going to be pleasant.

With a sense of resignation, Lana stumbled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom, his steps faltering as he reached the toilet. He braced himself for another round of vomiting, but as he retched, he felt a different sensation—a sharp cramp in his abdomen that signaled something else entirely.

"Oh no," Lana muttered to himself, the realization dawning on him.

As soon as Lana was sitting down, he feels what seems like chunky liquid rush out of him, splashing in the toilet.

That was definitely not good.

He felt sweat start to stick his bangs to his face, the little curls he had sticking to his cheeks. The feeling made him all the more uncomfortable. He brushed his hand over his face. He curled down, perching his elbows on his knees and covering his face.

Everything is suddenly too bright. He turned on the light. He knows he did, he knows he did it reflexively. But now he hates himself for it. The headache that he didn’t remember existing earlier is now almost as debilitating as everything else.

Lana doesn't feel well at all. Something is really wrong and for a moment he doesn’t know what it is.

The spell passes in time. Lana reached behind him to flush the toilet, but even that brings more upset to his stomach. Now he’s just nauseous as hell.

He cleaned up himself. Tried to put himself back together. Anything to go lay down again. He’d probably go to his own room this time. He felt thoroughly disgusting, he knew Kostya would understand. His own bed sounded better than subjecting Kostya to… well, this.

But standing makes him dizzy, and all he can do is lean against the wall and slide down, pulling his knees to his chest.

It was then that Kostya, stirred from his sleep by Lana's absence. The absence of warmth and weight next to him finally registers, and he’s up. He stays where he is for a moment, figuring maybe Lana just went to his own room. But, when he hears noise, he gets up.

The light seeped through the crack in the door. Kostya knew that probably wasn’t a good sign before he even approached the closed bathroom door, concern etched on his face as he listened to Lana's labored breathing from the other side.

"Lana? Moya lyubov… are you okay?" Kostya called out softly, not wanting to startle him.

Lana didn't respond immediately, still catching his breath after the ordeal. He mustered the strength to reply weakly,

"I'm... I'm okay, Kostya. Just... give me a minute."

Kostya hesitated, torn between respecting Lana's privacy and wanting to make sure he was truly okay. He stayed on the other side of the door, his hand hovering over the handle as he waited for any sign of distress from Lana.

And then he heard it—the sound of Lana retching. Without a second thought, Kostya pushed open the door, his concern overriding any sense of hesitation or discomfort.

"You poor thing," Kostya murmured softly, his heart aching at the sight of Lana's distress.

He knelt beside Lana, offering a gentle hand on his back as Lana continued to retch into the toilet.

Lana was pale, sweat beading on his forehead as he struggled with the intense nausea. Each heave seemed to wrack his body, leaving him exhausted and weak.

Kostya hated seeing Lana this way. Lana was always quite a violent vomiter. He always had been as long as Kostya knew him. The type of retches Kostya was sure started in his feet and worked their way up quickly.

Well, logically Kostya knew that wasn’t exactly possible. He knew that very well. But it stilled pained Kostya every time he heard Lana throw yp.

Lana retched again, Kostya could feel the way rhe force left Lana shaking. It was as if something in his body was desperately trying to get out, and Kostya couldn't help but feel a pang of worry.

"Kostya, I'm sorry," Lana managed to gasp out between retches, his voice filled with frustration and discomfort.

"Shh, Don't apologize, Lana," Kostya replied soothingly, his tone filled with empathy. "You're going through a lot right now. Just focus on getting through this."

Lana retched again. The waves were less abundant. But Kostya was almost certain that just meant he was heaving even more violently.

Kostya reached for a nearby washcloth, dampening it with cool water before gently wiping Lana's clammy forehead. He wanted to do anything he could to provide some relief, even if it was just a small gesture of comfort.

As Lana's vomiting subsided momentarily, Kostya helped him sit back against the bathroom wall, offering a little plastic cup of water to rinse his mouth and soothe his parched throat. Lana accepted it gratefully, taking small sips between deep breaths.

"You don't have to stay in here with me, kotyonok," Lana said weakly, gesturing towards the door. "I'll be okay."

Kostya shook his head, refusing to leave Lana's side.

“Lana, moya lyubov,” Kostya said, chuckling softly, “I’ve been sick for… what, a year now? I’m usually the one losing everything I consumed, multiple times a week even. And you have never ignored me or left me alone. Why on earth would I leave you?”

“Because I…” Lana started.

“I’m not going anywhere. No matter what,” Kostya interrupted.

“But what if I’m sick?” Lana asked, “You’ll get sick and-“

Kostya shook his head, sitting next to Lana and nudging him to lean his head on his shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on top of Lana’s head before stroking his cheek.

“Okay? So?” Kostya said, “If it’s between staying… well, less sick, or helping you. Then I will happily get sick if it means staying with you. I’ll always choose you in a heartbeat.”

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #fever cw #fever tw #emetophilia #food poisoning tw #food poisoning cw