He can't help but hold his stomach and groan.
His sister had just made a surprise visit, and though she left five minutes ago, the nausea had yet to wear off. In the books he had read, it helped to lay down, so he was sprawled on the couch in his apartment, eyes tightly closed, one hand on his stomach, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.
He hated his sister sometimes. The aftermath was almost (if not) worse than actually seeing her. He'd thought, now that he was 17, he would've gotten over his "phobia", but it still hit him as hard as before. Weakly, he shifted his position, laying on his stomach, eyes half open, his head resting on his right arm, left hand trailing on the floor.
Today was just a bad day, he decided. The weather was terrible, too, as if reflecting his mood. It was cloudy and gray outside, the threat of rain hanging over the world. He hated today.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pushed himself of the couch, stood up, and walked himself to the bathroom. Once he arrived in the desired room, he opened his medicine cabinet and took out a bottle of pills. As soon as he took two, he felt his stomach lurch and quickly leaned out the toilet to throw up his stomach's contents. Maybe it wasn't his sister's presence that was making him sick, today, after all. He didn't usually throw up, just felt overwhelmingly nauseous Well, maybe her visit had helped the sickness along. He thought back. Had he felt sick before she showed up?
"Fuck." He straightened himself upright, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked terrible, he noted, wiping a bit of vomit from the corners of his mouth. He tied his silver hair back, to keep it from getting in the way in case he threw up , if he was really sick, well, maybe he should see a doctor. Of course, he only knew of one doctor, and he really didn't want to see that womanizing bastard when he felt like shit.
"Fuck," he mutters again. He stalks into the living room of his small apartment, and snatches his phone. "Goddamnit…"
He flips it open and scrolls down the contacts. He would call the Tenth, but he doesn't want him to worry… Really, he can only think of one other person to call. He groans. Anyone but him. Anyone, anyone, god please. But he can't think of anyone else. God was not on his side today.
He's grumbling as he presses the little green button on his phone. It rings, four times. Finally, the voice on the other end answers with a cheery, "Hello?"
This was a bad idea. A really, really bad idea. The voice speaks again, this time confused. "Hello?"
He breathes out a long sigh, before answering, "Idiot. Will you take me to the doctor?"
-END-