Come What May

20. life gives you lemons

CHAPTER TWENTY

LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS

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• tuesday, april 13th •

I don't know what the best sound to wake up to is, but I know that it isn't Storm retching in the very fancy bathrooms of the hotel room.

Stumbling out of bed, I groan at the floor that instantly tilts under my feet, mosaic marble blending into each other as I make my way into the bathroom.

Of course, just as I expected, Storm is a misshapen mess on the marble tiled floors, their head disappearing into the porcelain bowl as they empty the contents of their stomach.

Only once they're done do they lift their head up and glance at me through unfocused eyes, before whispering a small, "Asif?"

The way they say my name might just be the best sound to wake up to, I think.

But I don't have time to fixate on how nice my name sounds when it rolls off their tongue and on how the only piece of information I remember from last night is Storm being so unbelievably gentle with me, because they're letting out a soft groan again and coughing harshly into the toilet, face contorted into an odd combination of pain and disgust.

"You okay?' I ask in a sort of mumble, though I already know the answer to that, if their heaving is anything to go by. "Can I get you anything?"

A quiet grumble later, Storm just shakes their head, vomiting again. How much did they drink after I fell asleep?

Crouching down, I rest my knees on the floor and place a tentative hand on their back, rubbing it gently, even though I don't have the faintest clue of what I'm doing. "You're okay," I try to say, but it slurs together into one. "Try to breathe through it, you're good."

And that goes on for another ten painful minutes. Just me attempting to comfort them and my hand resting on Storm's back and Storm hacking their lungs up into the toilet.

"Are you not nauseated?" they whisper to me once they're done, pushing themself off the ground by using the wall, steadying themself by gripping onto my hand. I hate that I have to fight down the spark that lights in my chest.

"Not really," I admit, blinking once, then twice to get rid of the sleep that's still coating my eyes. "Jus' tired."

Storm just nods, they look like they're in too much pain to say anything else. Quickly splashing some water on their face and getting some on me in the process, they make their way back into bed and shove their face into the pillow.

The next thing that leaves their mouth is a groan as they say, "Fuck, Asif." Lifting their head up from the pillow, they look up at me and say, "How the fuck are you fine right now?"

I shrug, shoving my toothbrush into my mouth as I say through muffled speech, "You took care of me," but it comes out as gibberish more than anything.

"I would ask you to repeat what you just said, but I don't think I can handle anymore noise," Storm mumbles, grabbing the pillow next to them, the one that looks unused, still perfectly shaped, all corners pointy. Meaning that I spent the whole night with my head on their stomach.

If the bathroom door wasn't open, I would have flushed myself down the toilet.

God, I'm so embarrassing, it hurts.

"'M sorry." I spit the toothpaste out into the sink, continuing, "I slept on you all night. I don't even remember what we spoke about or what we did. Or anything."