(A/Ns: this is part of another fic swap with nawnomschuff :D so, basically, emetophobia is the irrational but intense phobia of vomiting. It's fucking awful, trust me. Ever since i started writing, ive wanted to write an emetophobia fic, and im honoured to do so for my otp. Please, if someone ever tells you they have emetophobia, take them seriously.

Content warnings: descriptions of vomiting

Please drop a review if you get the chance!

Disclaimer: i do not own Pandora hearts)

Emetophobia

The first unusual thing Elliot noticed was the avoidance of food at dinner.

This wasn't particularly unusual. The way he saw it, Leo was as thin as a rail, and needed to eat more, but he'd never been able to enforce that on the noirette. Simply put, overall he appeared to lack an appetite.

It wasn't non-existent, though.

So, when Leo had only picked at a few bits of food before shoving the plate forward with a look of disgust behind his hair and glasses (Elliot knew his expressions like the back of his hand), it was definitely picked up on.

Regardless, though, Elliot left it; if he'd learnt anything in the last 2 years, it was that Leo didn't take being confronted very well.

And for some reason, he seemed… touchy. Better off to leave alone, Elliot thought.

Then, later that night, Leo wasn't reading. That was where the main concern stemmed from.

Every night for the past 2 years, Leo had sat up, in bed, with his face in a book lit only by candlelight, reading past when the date changed. And every night for past 2 years, Elliot had nagged him for it.

Not that he'd ever stopped, until now, it seemed.

Unfortunately - despite it being inherently obvious that something was wrong - Elliot couldn't figure out the cause to all of this uncharacteristic behaviour. It was unsettling, to say the least.

Particularly because it was now 10pm, and Leo was currently lying across his bed on his back, surrounded by books which had not been picked up, having not said a word in 3 hours.

That was unheard of. He might not have been talkative, however Elliot's actions were more often than not met with sarcastic comments and snarky insults.

He decided it was time to speak up.

"Leo," Elliot said. And it was one of the very few times that he'd called his valet's name without sounding irrefutably pissed. "Are you… alright?"

"Mhm," Leo hummed ambiguously, making sure that Elliot wouldn't know what he meant, it seemed. "... 'm just tired."

"O-Okay," Elliot tried not to stammer. "Do you want me to blow the candle out?"

Wordlessly, Leo nodded, before dragging a hand through his dishevelled hair and standing up. His breathing was shallow; every move he made was cautious, and delicate, as he headed to the bathroom.

Less than a minute later, Elliot heard the door click open.

That was… an unusually quick… he thought to himself, biting down on his tongue to stop himself from saying that out loud. An inkling of worry had turned to genuine concern, but he still didn't want to say anything.

The glass of water held by slightly trembling fingers should have been a hint, however, Elliot just couldn't figure out what was wrong with him for the life of him.

Maybe I just… need to sleep…

Sure enough, the moment Elliot's head hit the pillow, he passed out, unaware of Leo, curled up in his bed with tears streaming silently down his face.

Is that… crying?

Over 2 hours after falling into a deep slumber, Elliot could feel himself being gradually tugged from the tendrils of sleep. It was a noise which woke him up - he knew that - albeit he couldn't quite identify it.

For a moment, their room fell silent, and Elliot laid eyes on Leo's bed. The bed, lit by moonlight streaming through the curtains, was empty.

Then, he heard the sobbing again. It was coming from the… bathroom?

All of a sudden, Elliot was overcome by worry. Why would Leo be crying in the bathroom at midnight?

Curiosity and concern overwhelming him, Elliot peeled himself away from his bed, striking a match from the matchbox by his bed and lighting a candle - despite the fact Leo appeared to have done the same in the bathroom.

Steps uneasy, Elliot finally arrived at the bathroom, the door creaking slightly as it opened, just a crack. Tentatively, he poked his head inside. "Leo…? Are you…?"

Before he could finish his sentence, Leo jumped visibly, slowly turning around and glancing up at Elliot. He was crouched, both hands on his lap, in front of the toilet, his head barely inches from the rim of the bowl. Like earlier, his breathing was shallow, and despite how flushed he was, there was still a thin layer of sweat coating his skin.

His glasses were still covering his face, but Elliot could tell that, at that moment, his expression was one of fear.

"Leo…?" Elliot could only stutter, unsure of what was causing the problem.

Of course, Elliot wasn't totally stupid. Leo was sick; that was obvious. But why would that be a cause for fear? It happened to everyone at one point or another, right?

It wouldn't hurt him… right?

That was what rationality and logic would suggest, but, clearly, this wasn't the time for rationality and logic.

"Go back…" Leo started to say, but almost - almost - gagged mid sentence. Swallowing thickly, a few more tears dripped down his cheeks. After a few, shallow but concentrated breaths,he regained his composure. "... to sleep."

"No way in hell," Elliot replied bitterly, placing the candle down on the bathroom counter. The door was then promptly shut, before Elliot stepped forward, poured a glass of water, and crouched down behind Leo to hand it to him. "Oi, drink this."

The offer was met with Leo swatting Elliot's hand away, before he froze, one hand being planted over his mouth. The other hand, shaking a leaf, blindly groped for the toilet bowl, gripping it for dear life.

But nothing happened.

"Oi! W-What the hell are you doing?!" Elliot said in an aggressive whisper. "Your body obviously wants to expel something!"

Frantically, Leo shook his head, screwing his eyes shut as tears began to pour down his face again, dripping onto his hand. His head was still hung over the bowl, like he knew it was coming. But he wasn't ready, at all.

"Leo?" Elliot said again, softer this time. "You're worrying me… I-I don't-!"

"Shh," Leo hushed him, finally removing the hand from his mouth and instead leaning his elbow on the bowl, digging his trembling fingers into his hair. His mouth slightly open, his shallow breathing returned.

Elliot was truly lost for how to react. Leo needed to be sick, and yet for some reason, he was going to every length possible to avoid that from happening. He wanted to say something, but the erratic breathing, shaking and crying made him hold his tongue each time he went to point out the obvious.

Then, no more than a minute later, Leo froze again, peeling his hands away from the bowl and burying his face in them. His breathing was now heavy, as if his last fragments of control over it had just slipped away.

With fear embedded into his words, Leo finally spoke, after a deep, shaky inhale. "Elliot… I-I'm gonna…"

"Just let it happen!" Elliot retorted before he could even finish his second. He didn't mean to yell; it was just his fail-safe way of projecting worry. "Leo… what's... I don't get it…"

All Leo could do in response was shake his head, bringing his sleeves over his wrists to dry his eyes. His stomach churned, saliva pouring into his mouth. He could feel himself shaking, his thoughts racing uncontrollably.

He couldn't be sick.

Just as the bile began to rise in his throat, Leo swallowed again, suppressing a gag and a retch and staying completely still. The acrid taste of vomit violated his taste buds, but it was fine; he hadn't thrown up.

Yet.

"Leo! What the hell are you doing?!" Elliot yelled.

Frantically, Leo shook his head, one hand gripping the side of the toilet bowl, the other planted over his mouth like it had done before. He sobbed quietly, tears streaming down his face more than they had done before.

And in that moment, what Elliot saw on Leo's face was not disgust, or pain.

It was pure, raw fear.

Elliot had never seen this side of Leo before.

"Hey, Leo…" he said softly. He didn't even know what was wrong, however, whatever it was, he could at least try to help. "I-I don't know what's happening, but… I-I'm here…"

After another few moments of silence, Leo appeared to reach his limit.

With a sickening gag, his entire, frail, trembling body lurched forward, the hand held over his mouth manoeuvring to the side of the bowl. Vomit splattered into the bowl, and Elliot couldn't help but grimace at the sound of bile mixed with food and water hitting the toilet water.

Leo halted, swallowing down the next retch and breathing heavily. One hand groping blindly for the floor, dizziness overcame him, and he thought he might black out for a moment.

"I'll… um, go get the nurse-"

"No…" Leo panted, his shaking fingers curling around Elliot's wrist. "S-Stay… pl-"

Leo was promptly cut off by another gag, and - before he could stop it - he retched again, his stomach emptying itself into the toilet again.

"L… Leo…" Elliot couldn't help but stammer. He'd never seen Leo so… terrified. "It's… it's okay…"

Shaking his head, Leo held a hand over his mouth again. Tear stains painted his cheek, as well as the constant stream still pouring from his eyes. With each retch, there were more tears. More shaking. More panic.

Then, he stopped, biting back the next wave of nausea and swallowing the next wave of vomit travelling up his oesophagus.

"Leo?"

"It's…" he choked out. Barely. "I can't…"

"Your body needs to get rid of something," Elliot prompted. Using one hand, he pulled Leo's hair away from his face, after sliding off the glasses. Sure enough, his eyes were wide open; open with fear, and brimming with tears. With the other hand, he began to rub comforting circles on his back.

"I don't… want… to be sick anymore…" Leo cried, the sound of his strained words tugging at Elliot's feelings. "It's…"

"What?"

One more retch, and Leo knew there wasn't much point trying to swallow the vile stuff down anymore. It was getting painfully impossible to bite back.

"- e-... emetopho…bia…"

That was all Leo could whisper, before he leant further forward and hung his head over the toilet bowl.

Sure enough, at the next gag, he threw up again, bringing up nearly everything in his stomach.

Emetophobia…?

Elliot had never heard that word before, but the suffix - "phobia" - made sense.

So Leo has…

He could feel him shaking, and crying, even after he'd vomited straight for nearly 5 minutes and was eventually reduced to dry heaving.

"Hey, hey… it's alright…" Elliot said, passing him the glass of water again.

However, Leo simply shook his head, pushing away the offer of water. He sobbed again, falling back against the sink, his muscles limp.

"Do you need anything?" Elliot offered, gently placing the water back onto the floor.

Wordlessly, Leo shook his head again, drawing in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself.

It wasn't working.

"Leo… it… it happens to everyone…" Elliot tried, rubbing the noirette's shoulder comfortingly. Leo flinched at the touch, and didn't stop crying, but Elliot did feel him begin to start shaking remotely less.

He then collapsed, effortlessly, onto Elliot's shoulder, sniffling into his nightclothes.

And they remained like that, Leo crying silently, for the next half an hour. Eventually, he had nothing left in him, his stomach still unsettled but at least a little better.

"Are you ready to, er, go back to… to sleep?" Elliot asked.

"N-Not yet…" Leo muttered, his line of vision switching between Elliot and the toilet. "I-I've…" He swallowed again. "... had this since… the House of Fianna, but… I-I haven't been sick since I was… 9…"

"O-Oh…"

"I'm sorry…"

"You don't need to apologise, idiot," Elliot sighed, hoisting himself up with the sink. "But you need to drink water."

Before Leo got the chance to protest, the glass of water from before was thrusted into his grip.

"Drink it," Elliot prompted. Running the taps, he then moistened the flannel from beside the sink, before crouching down in front of Leo again and tilting his head back slightly with one hand. Delicately, he placed the cool flannel over his forehead.

"I thought… I was getting better…"

Elliot froze. "What?"

"I hadn't… had a panic attack from it since I left… Fianna's House…" Leo confessed, feeling himself tear up again. Then, as a wave of nausea overcame him, he swallowed heavily, instinctively holding a hand over his mouth. "Urf… I think I need to stay here…"

"Take it easy, alright? I want you better," Elliot said, taking the bucket out from their storage unit and placing it beside Leo's bed - just in case he decided to return there later. "A Nightray's valet can't walk around sick, right?"

Now it was Leo's turn to crack a smile, despite the tears still evident in his eyes. "Yes, master…"