A Star for Baby (boyxboy)

Corona Borealis

Hope you are all well :) Or at least not dead yet. That's an accomplishment.

_____

One week later

Oliver cringed as Baby leaned forward yet again, retching into the toilet. The noises he made were miserable. All Oliver could do was coo gently to his boyfriend and hold his hair back. He trailed soft fingers down Baby's spine, trying to do anything he could to comfort him.

"It's almost done sweetheart," he murmured. "You're almost there."

Baby moaned, the sound bouncing off the inside of the dirty ceramic bowl.

"I want it to be done now," he mumbled, lips thick with puke.

Oliver swallowed. He wished he could just take all this pain away, wished he could shoulder it instead. He felt the beginning of tears prick at his eyes, but worked hard to push them back.

"I know Baby," Oliver said. "I know."

Baby lurched forward to puke again, his entire body contracting with it. The arms which clutched the toilet were getting thin, Oliver realized. With each drag of his fingers up and down Baby's back, he could feel every bone in his spine.

As soon as the puking was done, Oliver resolved, he was making bacon.

After several more bouts of vomit, then a couple waiting minutes to make sure another one wasn't coming, Baby tried to spin around towards Oliver. Oliver had to help him, but they eventually got it so that they were facing each other.

"'M gross," Baby said.

Oliver didn't want to agree with him, but he was kind of right. Dark circles looped their way under Baby's eyes, giving his face a pale, gaunt appearance. Vomit mixed with blood ran down his chin and dripped down into his lap. Oliver leaned over to press a soft kiss to Baby's sweaty forehead, trying to ignore the acrid smell of puke.

"Then let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

"Don't want to move."

"Then I'll come to you."

Oliver stood gingerly, pins and needles zapping through his feet. They'd been sitting on the bathroom floor nearly all afternoon. Baby had gone in to do his last round of chemo for the week just this morning.

Oliver grabbed a washcloth and a ponytail holder from the bathroom drawer. After running the washcloth under warm water, he dropped back to the floor next to Baby, who was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.

Oliver carefully wiped Baby's chin and neck, then his whole face. Baby sighed.

"Good?"

"Yeah."

Oliver threw the dirty washcloth in the sink then gently tied Baby's stringy hair away from his face. Baby blinked tiredly up at him.

"Do you think you can stand and get to the sink?" Oliver asked. "Or do you want me to bring you some water down here?"

"Down here, please."

So Oliver got him a glass of water, and carefully helped him drink the whole of it.

"How are you feeling?"

Baby made a face. "Better. Ish. Everything hurts and my mouth still tastes like puke but at least I'm not hurling."

Oliver chuckled, taking the glass away. "Sounds like an improvement to me. Do you want to stand up now? I can go make some bacon."

If it was possible, Baby got even paler. "No. No food."