TURBO // carmen berzatto

sprite / platonic sydcarmy

TW: mentions of vomiting, eating disorders, death -- platonic Syd/Carmy, but with a little pining, because the apartment scenes didn't tell us not to imagine pining x

Carmy muttered a few swears under his breath, a few cursing Mikey for his lack of organizational skills that even years down the line they were still feeling, and a few praising Nat for her increased optimism that The Beef, which was now The Bear, still held the family significance that The Beef had – Carmy wasn't sure that it did. Sugar had been increasingly taking time off as she and Pete prepared for the arrival of their second baby, leaving Carmy to learn how to figure out the increasingly difficult financials now that their restaurant had earned and retained one Michelin star, had successfully become The Bear, and they were only mere dollars away from fully repaying Uncle J.

Carmy's mind spun, trying to figure out the newest mess of Mikey's scribbles. They had found a hidden stack of notes, loan agreements, and incoherent notes in the demolition of The Beef, and only now were they focused on decoding them. Deciding that now was a better time than ever for a smoke break, Carmy retrieved his coat from across the office and stepped out to the back of the restaurant.

The cold night air immediately brushed over his face, and Carmy could feel his skin almost instantly start to dry out. He shielded the flame of his lighter from the wind and lit the end of a fresh cigarette. He made a mental note to remind himself to go get a new pack of cigarettes the next day, as he was on his last few. Carmy figured that Mikey would have benefited from mental notes, but supposed he couldn't ever find space in his drug-addled brain for them.

"Fuck." A woman's voice groaned, forcing Carmy to whip around. He instantly recognized the voice as Syd's, and her presence was confirmed once Carmy saw the wind push a few loose braids from behind the dumpster.

"Yo, Chef!" Carmy called, rounding the corner behind the dumpster. To his shock, he saw Sydney hinged over at her waist, sweaty palms pressing handprints into the thighs of her jeans. Carmy cringed as she emptied the contents of her stomach. "You good?"

After only heaving up air for a few moments, Sydney deemed herself calm enough to turn to face Carmy. "Chef." She started, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Carmy's eyes scanned the woman's body, watching as her hands shook and she seemed to sway on her feet. He didn't say anything, he simply waved his hand back towards where he had come from. They'd ventured from the cold Chicago night back into The Bear. Admittedly, Sydney was thankful, as she couldn't stand to imagine herself throwing up again with the wind pushing on her back. The temperature difference between the frigid air and her scorching skin only made her stomach churn harder.

"Here," Carmy spoke, extending a cold can of Sprite towards Syd. "Something to get your blood sugar off the ground."

Sydney begrudgingly took the drink, her hands shaking from the aftermath of the sickness, but relishing in the ice coldness of the aluminum can. It was one of the tall cans you get at gas stations. The sixteen-ounce ones that Carmen liked because he could hold them with a tight fist and still feel like he was holding a beer. He hadn't drunk since his terrible binge after Mikey's death.

"So, um..." Carmy started, rubbing a hand up the back of his neck. "Does this...does this happen often?"

Syd gulped down a full swallow of Sprite. "Do you want the real answer, or the one you want to hear?"

God, even after violently throwing up, she still had her wit intact.

"The real answer, Syd. C'mon now."

Sydney took a deep breath. "Like, every fucking day." She could feel Carmy's frightened stare burning into her skin. "But it's not you, it's not anything. I got it under control."