As he halfheartedly glanced at his own reflection in the tinted window, the stream of unfamiliar landscape that usually occupied his interest was not having the desired effect today. The daylight seemed to echo his concentration as it dwindled closer to dusk and the sporadically placed streetlamps offered dim beacons of light every half a minute or so, giving his eyes a break.
A dull ache had worked its way past his eyelids and into a crease in his forehead somewhere between hour two and three on the jet, and it was gradually accumulating in his temples which throbbed in time to the soft music Morgan was playing from the front seat. Spencer found himself pulling away from the window. The thrumming engine of the SUV coupled with the unorthodox route Morgan had decided on was prompting a clenching feeling just below his sternum that he didn't want to acknowledge just yet. He settled and closed his eyes.
'Don't go falling asleep on me kid,' Morgan's voice rang out through the calm, 'come on now, if you think I'm carrying you to the room then you've got another thing coming man.'
Spencer heard, but answering was not something he massively prioritised, the three consecutive right turns having elicited a stronger sense of nausea twisting uncomfortably in his chest. He exhaled in acknowledgement but apparently it flew under the radar.
'Can you give him a poke?'
'No, leave him be, we'll wake him up in a little bit. I don't think he slept at all on the flight and it's not like he's missing out on anything important.'
'Yeah, I get it but I'll bet he won't want to wake up when we get to the hotel if he sleeps now, I know I'm about ready to drop.'
'It's at least another 15 minutes though-'
'It's barely 5.'
'He rarely sleeps as it is. We can make it 15.'
'The others are literally in the car behind us.'
Their voices were slowly becoming a problem and the nausea had not dissipated in the slightest. In fact it had started to roll in waves synchronised with the throb in his head and the thrum of the car and the beat of the track and-
'Can we stop? Please?' It came out much more pathetic and whiny than he had hoped, but he didn't dwell on it. The waves were crashing around his head and Spencer felt a strange sense of unnerving calm. Before the storm, he was hastily reminded-
'What's the matter? Spence, what's wrong? Morgan pull the car over,' JJ gave him a jab as she twisted round to address Spencer. He was fumbling clumsily with the seat belt, his face painted a pale shade of dread. It set him free and he was out of the door and stumbling onto the ground, pressing his back up on the verge. Once JJ had climbed through she found him breathing shallowly, his head between his knees. Morgan was already there with a light hand on his shoulder.
'Deeper breaths would be good kid.'
'Hey, hey, you feeling sick?'
Spencer inhaled as if to answer but then reconsidered as he was cut off by an unproductive gag, suddenly his eyes were streaming.
'Okay then, let's just sit a mi-'
Spencer heaved and partially digested food came flooding out of his mouth onto the tarmac. It hit with a sickening splatter and only served to increase the furious vertigo assaulting him from all sides. His brain was a wash of embarrassment, white noise and dizziness, a warm hand running over his upper back keeping him grounded on the verge. Once the nausea had tapered slightly, he regained his hearing and a car door slammed obnoxiously loudly. There were voices and names and faces but their correct orders eluded him until one rang out slightly clearer than the rest.
'Well there we go, guys, Pretty Boy gets carsick now just a quick heads up,'
'Shut up, no I don't,' Spencer croaked out, head still clearing as he pulled himself up unsteadily. He was immediately confronted by about 5 different pairs of outstretched arms.