Mercy (ManxBoy)

26: ѕнυт мє υρ

I can't wait for you to shut me up,

And make me hip like bad ass.

Z A I R E:

The plane ride home was uneventful. I was glad that it was, because I felt like utter shit the entire morning. I thought that I was going to hurl all over the damn plane, and that's saying something because I'd never thrown up on a plane before. The plane ride from California to Maine was a long one, and I never even felt queasy.

But my stomach was churning in an unpleasant way, my head was hurting slightly, aching just behind my eyes, and I felt cold. Sykes kept throwing worried glances my way, but I just curled into a ball in the seat and rested my head against my knees. The smells on the plane of food were making my stomach clench even worse. The food by its own right smelled wonderful, but to my nose it smelled like cow manure. Even the smells of coffee wafting around had me feeling worse, and I loved the smell of coffee.

"Are you alright?" Sykes asked softly, and I nodded my head, squeezing my eyes shut. If I throw up, and he sees, I'll be mortified. That was really the only thought that could get through my head right now, but I didn't move. I was afraid to move, out of fear of hurling.

There's a difference between hurling while trying to remain as still as fucking possible, and hurling while trying to move. Knowing my luck, I'd vomit all over him, or someone else. And today felt like one of those days where even mother nature wanted to smite me for some reason.

Oh god, I hurt. I groan quietly and pull my legs closer to my chest, laying my head on my knees sideways. My stomach was clenching painfully, as I fought back the urge to vomit. It could've been something I ate, or I ate too much, or maybe not enough... whatevers wrong right now, I really want to fucking take it back. "Precious," Sykes murmured, and I looked up at him with wide eyes. "You don't look so good," he said, and pressed a hand to my forehead. "Zaire you're burning up!" He snapped, and I blushed, looking down.

"I don't feel so good!" I whined, and his eyes softened slightly, and he ran a gentle hand through my hair.

"Lean over on my chest and try to sleep. It's only a two hour flight from here to Maine." Sykes commanded, and I leaned my head over on his chest, feeling his arm wrap around me tightly. I felt him make a swift motion with his hand, and it made my body shake slightly. I whimpered and squeezed my eyes shut. Oh god, not here... I chanted in my head, trying to calm myself down some.

"Sir?" A stewardess asked.

"Can I get some ginger-ale and some saltine crackers?" He asked her, and she nodded, hurrying off to get them. I didn't tell him I didn't feel like eating, I'm pretty sure he knew that, but I knew he'd make me so it'd settle my stomach. When she returned she sat the bottle of ginger-ale and the crackers down and walked away without a word. He opened the bottle and sat it in front of me, and pushed the crackers to me. "Eat." He commanded, and I nodded mutely, taking a timid bite of one of the crackers.

When I didn't immediately hurl, I took a slightly larger bite, and rested against his side. I nibbled on the cracker until it was gone, and he handed me the bottle of ginger-ale. I took a small sip, just enough to keep me hydrated, but not enough to make me sick.

"You should have told me you didn't feel good." He said, and I lowered my eyes. My stomach was still churning, but some of it was now guilt. I couldn't help but look down to my feet. I should have told him when we woke up, but I didn't want to worry him over something that could've been nerves. "Why didn't you tell me?" He demanded, and I blushed, keeping my eyes lowered.

"I thought it was nerves," I whispered, and his eyes softened completely.

"Sweetheart," He sighed and I bit my lip hard as my eyes fought to let tears fall down my cheeks. "You have to tell me if you're nervous, sick, or upset. If you don't I can't be there for you like you need me to be. This isn't nerves, but what if it was? What if you had a panic attack on the plane and there was nothing I could do to help you? Because you're sick, what if you get dehydrated, or pass out? I couldn't get a doctor up here to you. You need to inform me of this type of thing." He sighed, disappointed.