The Eye of the Beholder [boyxboy]

Chapter IX

"Have you had anything to eat since you got home?" River followed Gray blindly into the kitchen, their fingers laced together as the man led him through the hallway, "I can make you some soup if you would like," Gray opened the fridge, his eyes scanning the food within, "maybe some chicken and-" River let go of Gray's hand, stepping forward to encircle his arms around the man's waist, resting his head on his chest, "hey, baby, what's this for?" Gray chuckled as he returned the hug, rubbing River's back and dropping a soft kiss to the boy's hair.

"Thanks," River murmured, hiding his face against Gray's shirt, not wanting the man to see him blushing so profusely, "for coming here... and stuff," River knew he should have stepped back then. He should have let go of Gray and gone to sit down at the island or something. But, instead, against all thought and instinct, they remained in that embrace. River clutched onto Gray's shirt, simply listening to his heartbeat thundering through his chest, eyes closed, breathing slow. It seemed like a perfect moment, one that River knew he would cherish for a long time. He was happy in that moment, in the arms of Gray, of... well, that was the only downside. Gray wasn't River's boyfriend, and he wasn't even sure that the man wanted to be.

"You never answered my question," Gray commented when River went to sit at the island, or more slumped, shivering from the lack of blankets covering him, "have you eaten yet?" River hid his hands under the lip of the countertop, not wanting Gray to notice how much they were trembling. He didn't need to worry about him, it was just the aftershocks of throwing up, they would subside soon enough.

"No," River fidgeted with the strings of his hoodie, wishing he had put on something warmer before he had walked down the stairs, wishing he could stand up and adjust the thermostat without Gray questioning him.

"How many times were you sick?" a macabre topic to be speaking about, but River knew Gray had to ask. He had to assess, in his own way, how bad River was.

"A couple," River muttered, not really wanting to dwell on the embarrassment. All he could be thankful for was that he wasn't in class when it happened. He was on break, so he could get to a bathroom in time. It would have been a little easier if Vienna had been talking to him, she could have gotten the nurse and he could have remained there in the stall. Nevertheless, he tried not to think about Vienna, he didn't need to be sad and ill.

"Soup is a good idea then, something light to start off with," River wasn't really listening to what Gray was saying, nor did he pay attention to the man's absent talking whilst he made the soup. He was just happy to hear the sound of his voice, he didn't care about what he was saying. The tone was soothing, calming River enough to make his tremors concealable. As long as he kept his hands under the table, Gray wouldn't see. And there would be no more questions asked.

"Do you want anything to drink, baby?" River was roused from his thoughts by the new inquiry, refocusing on the man's back as he stirred the soup, "something warm maybe? Some tea?" River shook his head, then kicked himself for doing so, having forgotten that Gray couldn't see him. He didn't want to talk, he didn't feel good, he didn't even like sitting up anymore. He just wanted to go to bed and put on some film as background noise so he could sleep for a little while. Sleeping in Gray's arms would be nice, that was something to look forward to at least.

"No, thanks," River felt the shaking worsen in his hands, spreading up his arms to his chest as well. It was when he finally noticed the smell of the vegetables cooking, seeing Gray add a small amount of cream to the pot, that the nausea hit. And, boy, did it hit hard. River leapt from his seat, barely making it to the sink before he was retching and dry heaving, nothing in his stomach to force up but bile that burnt his throat. He coughed and gasped, tears tipping out over his cheeks, clutching onto the sink so tightly his knuckles turned white.