No Reason to go on
Part 8: A Glimmer of Hope
Ross didn't go to school the next day. He'd woken up that morning with a terrible headache and Rachel lying beside him.
"Hi," he said, giving her his best smile.
She smiled back in response, and he leaned over to kiss her softly. She was the one to break it a few seconds later, as they heard Monica's thundering footsteps coming towards Ross's closed bedroom door.
"You've really gotta stop doing that," she said a moment later as she walked in, and saw them in bed together. "People will think you've done more then just kiss. ...That is all you've done, right?" She had a look of panic on her face, as she stared hard at Rachel who was blushing hard.
"Yes, that's all we've done!" Ross said indignantly.
Monica looked relieved, and hurried out of the room. A moment later, they heard the water in the shower running.
Rachel sat up, pulling Ross up with her. "So, are you feeling better?" She gently moved a few strands of his dark hair off his forehead as she asked this.
"Yeah," he started to get up, but instantly, the world began spinning. The color drained from his face, and he began to sway back and fourth. Rachel, alarmed by this leaped up and grabbed his arm, pulling him back down onto his bed.
She joined him seconds later, watching fearfully, as his eyes came back into focus, and he looked weakly up at her.
"Take that back," he said breathlessly. "I guess I'm still not quite better."
"Well, there's no way you're going to school like that." Rachel was beginning to sound like his mother, but Ross knew she had a point.
"Yes, mam." He said, giving her a silly grin.
She kissed him on the cheek, before leaving his bedroom as well, calling over her shoulder as she did so, "Oh and Sweetie, try to get some sleep, okay?"
He nodded as she closed the door and sighed. With out Rachel with him he felt strangely empty. It was as though a part of him had left when she had, and it was hard to function properly with out it.
Downstairs, Monica frowned when Rachel told her the condition of her brother.
"Don't worry," Rachel said quickly, seeing Monica's expression. "I'm sure he'll be fine by tonight."
"Oh, I'm not worried about that," Monica said sadly. "It's just that Ross won't be eating any breakfast. And I won't be able to have his left overs now."
"Why shouldn't Ross be eating any breakfast?" Judy, who'd overheard her daughter's last comment, asked. A slight smile played at the corners of her mouth, knowing that Monica would be eating at least a little less food that morning.
"Oh, he's sick." Rachel tried to make her voice sound off-handed. "I saw him in the bathroom this morning... throwing up."
Judy's face instantly turned to concern. "Oh, my poor baby!" She cried, sprinting for the stairs.
Monica watched her go, a look of annoyance on her face. "If I was sick," she said to Rachel once her mother was gone, "she wouldn't give a care."
She sighed and sat down at the table, digging to her still very large portion of eggs.
"Ross Honey, how're you feeling?" Judy entered her son's bedroom.
Ross raised himself weakly up onto elbow, trying to wipe the look of disappointment off his face. For a second, when he'd heard the word `honey' he'd thought it was Rachel.
"Okay," he said to his mother with a hopefully inaudible sigh.
"Listen honey," Judy's tone was apologetic. Rachel said you were throwing up, but I can't stay home with you today. I've got a very important luncheon at 12, and then I've got to pick up some things for your sister's DIET..." She made a face of disgust.
"That's okay," Ross said, now letting the note of sadness crepe into his voice.
"I'm sorry," Judy bent down to kiss his cheek, not detecting the lipstick stain on it from Rachel the day before.
A moment later she was gone, and Ross was alone. Sighing, he rolled over and tried to get back to sleep.
About 10 minutes later, he heard his bedroom door open again. He opened one eye a crack, and smiled sleepily as he smelled Rachel's familiar perfume.
"Hi Sickie," she whispered softly, placing her cool hand on his forehead.
"Shouldn't you be leaving soon?" Ross asked her, raising up to kiss her cheek.
"I couldn't leave with out saying good bye one more time, could I?" She met him in the middle, and kissed him full on the mouth. "I'll be home as soon as I can." She said, gently pushing him back down on the bed. "Feel better."
He nodded as she left each blowing the other a final kiss good bye.
That emptying feeling was back. He sighed quietly to himself, pulling out the warn copy of her picture.
"Don't look so sad," Monica said to Rachel as they were eating lunch later that day.
Rachel pouted and looked at Monica sadly. "I can't help worrying about him, Mon." She told her with a sigh. "I'm going to go call him." This said, she got up and walked out into the hallway and over to the nearby payphone.
Sleep was close at hand for Ross, when from far away, he heard a shrill ringing. Moaning, he forced himself to open his eyes.
He looked around his dimly lit bedroom, looking for the source. It was the cordless phone, which was lying on his desk. Slowly, he got shakily to his feet. Things spun, but he was able to stay upright.
"Hello?" His voice sounded horse to his own ears when a few seconds later he answered the phone.
"Ross?" As he made his way back to his bed, he smiled as he heard Rachel's familiar voice.
"Rach?" He cleared his throat, hoping that he didn't sound too helpless.
"How are you feeling?"
He sighed. "I've got the worst headache."
From over the phone, Rachel could almost see him looking sickly at her. "Awww," she said sympathetically. "Hang in there. Mon and I will be home in few hours."
He smiled, though she couldn't see it. "I can't wait."
They hung up soon after. Ross, who'd been standing for most of the conversation, sunk to his bed in exhaustion. He felt drained, for some unknown reason.
About a half an hour later, Ross decided to get up. Making his way downstairs, he walked weakly into the kitchen.
Opening a cupboard, he took out a can of chicken noodle soupe.
He put it in the microwave, and waited about a minute or so before removing it again.
Pouring its contents into a bowl, he made his way unsteadily over to the kitchen table. He stared into his soupe, watching the noodles and pieces of chicken floating around in the broth.
He took a bite, and then another. When he was about to take a third, he abruptly stopped.
Slowly but surely, he felt the dizzying feeling overwhelming him yet again. He'd thrown up so many times in the past few days, but with those times, it'd been different. Those times, he'd forced himself to do it. But this time, he had no control over the matter.
Leaping up from the table and clamping a hand to his mouth, he ran up the stairs to the bathroom, leaving the almost untouched bowl of soupe behind.
He through up for quite sometime. At one point he thought he heard the phone ring, but if it really had, he was too weak to get up and answer it.
Finally, he drew away. His face was covered with sweat, vomit, and still falling tears. What was going on? Why was this happening to him? He didn't want it to! He wanted it to stop!
Panting, he flushed the toilet and walked shakily towards the door. Looking back on it, he had no idea how he got back to his bedroom. His legs gave out from underneath him, and he fell weakly on his bed.
He looked with half-closed eyes at his alarm clock. Another hour until the girls were due to be back. He wished she were here now. He needed her...
The bell rang shrilly for the last class of the day. Rachel sighed as she walked through the door, and sat down at the only empty desk.
She didn't hear a word the teacher said that period. Her eyes were glued to the clock on the wall, her thoughts focused on Ross.
"Miss Green? Miss Green!"
Rachel's head snapped in her direction. The teacher was staring icily at her.
"Would you mind telling me the answer to question four?" She said in a agitated sounding tone.
"Um all right," Rachel said in a meek voice. Glancing at her notes, which had been taken the day before, she muttered out a few unintelligible words. "Um, Ms. Curtis? I've got a really bad headache, could I please go to the nurse?" Rachel put her hands on her forehead, and rubbed at her temples dramatically.
"Oh all right," the teacher consented. "I'll have Monica write down the homework for you."
Rachel nodded, and forced a smile of relief to not spring onto her face.
She sprinted from the room, calling over her shoulder as she did so, "Mindy, tell Coach Witinburg that I won't be in cheerleading this afternoon!"
The fresh air of outdoors felt good on her face. She shivered slightly, and pulled Ross's sweatshirt which she'd taken off his bedroom floor that morning out of her backpack. The Geller's was about a 20 minute walk from school, but Rachel made it in 10. She was concerned about Ross. She'd tried to call him again about an half an hour ago, just before the start of her last class. However, he hadn't answered. She reasoned with herself that he could just be sleeping, and hopped desperately that this was true.
Walking inside, she saw a by now cold bowl of soupe on the table. Some of it had spilled on to the tabletop, as though it had been set down rather hastily.
She got a paper towel from the cupboard, and cleaned up the small amount of broth that had been spilled. Rachel then put the remaining soup in the sink, and headed upstairs to check on Ross.
She found him in his room, asleep. The blankets had been thrown to the floor earlier, but now Ross was shivering. Rachel bent down and retrieved them, gently draping them one at a time over her boyfriend's trembling body.
She glanced at his clock, once he had settled down. He wasn't expecting her home for another half an hour, and she decided to go make him some decent food.
Ross awoke to the smell of food. Chicken noodle soup, to be exact. He felt his stomach churn slightly but swallowed hard, before opening his eyes. Rachel was standing over him, trey in hand. On it was a glass of orange juice, toast, and another bowl of chicken soupe. He grimaced at the sight of that but smiled at Rachel.
"Hi Sickie," she said as she set the trey down on his nightstand. "How ya feeling?"
"Well, let's see. I through up for about an hour this afternoon," she made a sympathetic noise, before he continued. "I've got a splitting headache, and I'm never going near that stuff," he pointed at the soup "ever again."
She nodded, as she sat down beside him. "Well, at least try to get down the orange juice," she reasoned with him. "And if that works out, we'll try the toast. Sound okay?"
He nodded, and she handed him the glass. He took a tentative sip, not wanting to upset his stomach again. A greenish color past over his face, but he kept it down.
Bit by bit, he drank the entire glass. Rachel offered him the toast, and he accepted it nervously.
He took a small bite from the corner, and made a face.
"Couldn't you have at least put some butter on it?" He asked Rachel.
She smiled. "No, that might upset your stomach, and I'm sure you don't want that."
"You're right," he said with a sigh.
Ross finished the piece of toast, and leaned back against his pillows.
"No soup?" Rachel extended the bowl to him.
In response, Ross covered his mouth.
"Fine," She stood back up. "I'll be right back."
Ross nodded, and watched her leave the room again.
She returned a minute later, the trey gone, and a wet washcloth in her hand. Sitting back down on the bed beside him, she placed the cold cloth on his forehead.
"Does that help your headache at all?" She asked him after a minute.
"Yeah," he answered quietly.
"Good." She smiled down at him, and took his hand in hers. His skin felt hot against her's, but she didn't care.
"If you want to go watch TV or something," Ross said about 20 minutes later, "you can."
"No, I'd rather stay here with you." He smiled sleepily at what she'd said.
"I'd hoped you'd say that."
A few minutes later, Ross fell asleep again. Rachel left about twenty minutes later to put more cold water on the washcloth.
As she walked into the bathroom, something in the trashcan caught her eye. Leaving the washcloth on the counter, she went over for a closer look.
It was the kitchen knife that she assumed Ross had been using to slit his wrists lately. It was in a plastic bag, and Rachel hoped that Ross hadn't cut himself with just picking it up. Its blade looked very sharp, and she knew that she never wanted to touch it.
Walking into Monica's room, she took out Ross's pocketknife from her backpack where she had hidden it. Careful to pick it up by the handle, she re-entered the bathroom, and put the knife in the same bag as the other one.
It looked as though Ross's wrist slitting was over with, and Rachel was very happy about this. But that still left the problem of anorexia, which was very dangerous as well.
Putting such thoughts out of her mind, Rachel returned to Ross's room, and the sleeping boy waiting for her inside.
[A/N
*Deep breath*
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!!!!!!
This took sssssoooo long to get out! I've had an unbelievable amount of homework, and I meant to put it up last Tuesday, but I didn't get it finished, and then I was going to on Friday, but I had three (3!) tests to study for... and well, you know.
Well, I'm going to try and get the next part at least started by tomorrow, but I don't have any ideas right now, so I'm sorry if it's another long wait.
Before I go, I just wanted to clear something up. A couple people asked about Rachel being Pregnant. And the answer is no, she's not. That was just some weird dream I had Ross have.
Well, I think that's everything!
Bye, and review please!
L_angel]
Part 8: A Glimmer of Hope
Ross didn't go to school the next day. He'd woken up that morning with a terrible headache and Rachel lying beside him.
"Hi," he said, giving her his best smile.
She smiled back in response, and he leaned over to kiss her softly. She was the one to break it a few seconds later, as they heard Monica's thundering footsteps coming towards Ross's closed bedroom door.
"You've really gotta stop doing that," she said a moment later as she walked in, and saw them in bed together. "People will think you've done more then just kiss. ...That is all you've done, right?" She had a look of panic on her face, as she stared hard at Rachel who was blushing hard.
"Yes, that's all we've done!" Ross said indignantly.
Monica looked relieved, and hurried out of the room. A moment later, they heard the water in the shower running.
Rachel sat up, pulling Ross up with her. "So, are you feeling better?" She gently moved a few strands of his dark hair off his forehead as she asked this.
"Yeah," he started to get up, but instantly, the world began spinning. The color drained from his face, and he began to sway back and fourth. Rachel, alarmed by this leaped up and grabbed his arm, pulling him back down onto his bed.
She joined him seconds later, watching fearfully, as his eyes came back into focus, and he looked weakly up at her.
"Take that back," he said breathlessly. "I guess I'm still not quite better."
"Well, there's no way you're going to school like that." Rachel was beginning to sound like his mother, but Ross knew she had a point.
"Yes, mam." He said, giving her a silly grin.
She kissed him on the cheek, before leaving his bedroom as well, calling over her shoulder as she did so, "Oh and Sweetie, try to get some sleep, okay?"
He nodded as she closed the door and sighed. With out Rachel with him he felt strangely empty. It was as though a part of him had left when she had, and it was hard to function properly with out it.
Downstairs, Monica frowned when Rachel told her the condition of her brother.
"Don't worry," Rachel said quickly, seeing Monica's expression. "I'm sure he'll be fine by tonight."
"Oh, I'm not worried about that," Monica said sadly. "It's just that Ross won't be eating any breakfast. And I won't be able to have his left overs now."
"Why shouldn't Ross be eating any breakfast?" Judy, who'd overheard her daughter's last comment, asked. A slight smile played at the corners of her mouth, knowing that Monica would be eating at least a little less food that morning.
"Oh, he's sick." Rachel tried to make her voice sound off-handed. "I saw him in the bathroom this morning... throwing up."
Judy's face instantly turned to concern. "Oh, my poor baby!" She cried, sprinting for the stairs.
Monica watched her go, a look of annoyance on her face. "If I was sick," she said to Rachel once her mother was gone, "she wouldn't give a care."
She sighed and sat down at the table, digging to her still very large portion of eggs.
"Ross Honey, how're you feeling?" Judy entered her son's bedroom.
Ross raised himself weakly up onto elbow, trying to wipe the look of disappointment off his face. For a second, when he'd heard the word `honey' he'd thought it was Rachel.
"Okay," he said to his mother with a hopefully inaudible sigh.
"Listen honey," Judy's tone was apologetic. Rachel said you were throwing up, but I can't stay home with you today. I've got a very important luncheon at 12, and then I've got to pick up some things for your sister's DIET..." She made a face of disgust.
"That's okay," Ross said, now letting the note of sadness crepe into his voice.
"I'm sorry," Judy bent down to kiss his cheek, not detecting the lipstick stain on it from Rachel the day before.
A moment later she was gone, and Ross was alone. Sighing, he rolled over and tried to get back to sleep.
About 10 minutes later, he heard his bedroom door open again. He opened one eye a crack, and smiled sleepily as he smelled Rachel's familiar perfume.
"Hi Sickie," she whispered softly, placing her cool hand on his forehead.
"Shouldn't you be leaving soon?" Ross asked her, raising up to kiss her cheek.
"I couldn't leave with out saying good bye one more time, could I?" She met him in the middle, and kissed him full on the mouth. "I'll be home as soon as I can." She said, gently pushing him back down on the bed. "Feel better."
He nodded as she left each blowing the other a final kiss good bye.
That emptying feeling was back. He sighed quietly to himself, pulling out the warn copy of her picture.
"Don't look so sad," Monica said to Rachel as they were eating lunch later that day.
Rachel pouted and looked at Monica sadly. "I can't help worrying about him, Mon." She told her with a sigh. "I'm going to go call him." This said, she got up and walked out into the hallway and over to the nearby payphone.
Sleep was close at hand for Ross, when from far away, he heard a shrill ringing. Moaning, he forced himself to open his eyes.
He looked around his dimly lit bedroom, looking for the source. It was the cordless phone, which was lying on his desk. Slowly, he got shakily to his feet. Things spun, but he was able to stay upright.
"Hello?" His voice sounded horse to his own ears when a few seconds later he answered the phone.
"Ross?" As he made his way back to his bed, he smiled as he heard Rachel's familiar voice.
"Rach?" He cleared his throat, hoping that he didn't sound too helpless.
"How are you feeling?"
He sighed. "I've got the worst headache."
From over the phone, Rachel could almost see him looking sickly at her. "Awww," she said sympathetically. "Hang in there. Mon and I will be home in few hours."
He smiled, though she couldn't see it. "I can't wait."
They hung up soon after. Ross, who'd been standing for most of the conversation, sunk to his bed in exhaustion. He felt drained, for some unknown reason.
About a half an hour later, Ross decided to get up. Making his way downstairs, he walked weakly into the kitchen.
Opening a cupboard, he took out a can of chicken noodle soupe.
He put it in the microwave, and waited about a minute or so before removing it again.
Pouring its contents into a bowl, he made his way unsteadily over to the kitchen table. He stared into his soupe, watching the noodles and pieces of chicken floating around in the broth.
He took a bite, and then another. When he was about to take a third, he abruptly stopped.
Slowly but surely, he felt the dizzying feeling overwhelming him yet again. He'd thrown up so many times in the past few days, but with those times, it'd been different. Those times, he'd forced himself to do it. But this time, he had no control over the matter.
Leaping up from the table and clamping a hand to his mouth, he ran up the stairs to the bathroom, leaving the almost untouched bowl of soupe behind.
He through up for quite sometime. At one point he thought he heard the phone ring, but if it really had, he was too weak to get up and answer it.
Finally, he drew away. His face was covered with sweat, vomit, and still falling tears. What was going on? Why was this happening to him? He didn't want it to! He wanted it to stop!
Panting, he flushed the toilet and walked shakily towards the door. Looking back on it, he had no idea how he got back to his bedroom. His legs gave out from underneath him, and he fell weakly on his bed.
He looked with half-closed eyes at his alarm clock. Another hour until the girls were due to be back. He wished she were here now. He needed her...
The bell rang shrilly for the last class of the day. Rachel sighed as she walked through the door, and sat down at the only empty desk.
She didn't hear a word the teacher said that period. Her eyes were glued to the clock on the wall, her thoughts focused on Ross.
"Miss Green? Miss Green!"
Rachel's head snapped in her direction. The teacher was staring icily at her.
"Would you mind telling me the answer to question four?" She said in a agitated sounding tone.
"Um all right," Rachel said in a meek voice. Glancing at her notes, which had been taken the day before, she muttered out a few unintelligible words. "Um, Ms. Curtis? I've got a really bad headache, could I please go to the nurse?" Rachel put her hands on her forehead, and rubbed at her temples dramatically.
"Oh all right," the teacher consented. "I'll have Monica write down the homework for you."
Rachel nodded, and forced a smile of relief to not spring onto her face.
She sprinted from the room, calling over her shoulder as she did so, "Mindy, tell Coach Witinburg that I won't be in cheerleading this afternoon!"
The fresh air of outdoors felt good on her face. She shivered slightly, and pulled Ross's sweatshirt which she'd taken off his bedroom floor that morning out of her backpack. The Geller's was about a 20 minute walk from school, but Rachel made it in 10. She was concerned about Ross. She'd tried to call him again about an half an hour ago, just before the start of her last class. However, he hadn't answered. She reasoned with herself that he could just be sleeping, and hopped desperately that this was true.
Walking inside, she saw a by now cold bowl of soupe on the table. Some of it had spilled on to the tabletop, as though it had been set down rather hastily.
She got a paper towel from the cupboard, and cleaned up the small amount of broth that had been spilled. Rachel then put the remaining soup in the sink, and headed upstairs to check on Ross.
She found him in his room, asleep. The blankets had been thrown to the floor earlier, but now Ross was shivering. Rachel bent down and retrieved them, gently draping them one at a time over her boyfriend's trembling body.
She glanced at his clock, once he had settled down. He wasn't expecting her home for another half an hour, and she decided to go make him some decent food.
Ross awoke to the smell of food. Chicken noodle soup, to be exact. He felt his stomach churn slightly but swallowed hard, before opening his eyes. Rachel was standing over him, trey in hand. On it was a glass of orange juice, toast, and another bowl of chicken soupe. He grimaced at the sight of that but smiled at Rachel.
"Hi Sickie," she said as she set the trey down on his nightstand. "How ya feeling?"
"Well, let's see. I through up for about an hour this afternoon," she made a sympathetic noise, before he continued. "I've got a splitting headache, and I'm never going near that stuff," he pointed at the soup "ever again."
She nodded, as she sat down beside him. "Well, at least try to get down the orange juice," she reasoned with him. "And if that works out, we'll try the toast. Sound okay?"
He nodded, and she handed him the glass. He took a tentative sip, not wanting to upset his stomach again. A greenish color past over his face, but he kept it down.
Bit by bit, he drank the entire glass. Rachel offered him the toast, and he accepted it nervously.
He took a small bite from the corner, and made a face.
"Couldn't you have at least put some butter on it?" He asked Rachel.
She smiled. "No, that might upset your stomach, and I'm sure you don't want that."
"You're right," he said with a sigh.
Ross finished the piece of toast, and leaned back against his pillows.
"No soup?" Rachel extended the bowl to him.
In response, Ross covered his mouth.
"Fine," She stood back up. "I'll be right back."
Ross nodded, and watched her leave the room again.
She returned a minute later, the trey gone, and a wet washcloth in her hand. Sitting back down on the bed beside him, she placed the cold cloth on his forehead.
"Does that help your headache at all?" She asked him after a minute.
"Yeah," he answered quietly.
"Good." She smiled down at him, and took his hand in hers. His skin felt hot against her's, but she didn't care.
"If you want to go watch TV or something," Ross said about 20 minutes later, "you can."
"No, I'd rather stay here with you." He smiled sleepily at what she'd said.
"I'd hoped you'd say that."
A few minutes later, Ross fell asleep again. Rachel left about twenty minutes later to put more cold water on the washcloth.
As she walked into the bathroom, something in the trashcan caught her eye. Leaving the washcloth on the counter, she went over for a closer look.
It was the kitchen knife that she assumed Ross had been using to slit his wrists lately. It was in a plastic bag, and Rachel hoped that Ross hadn't cut himself with just picking it up. Its blade looked very sharp, and she knew that she never wanted to touch it.
Walking into Monica's room, she took out Ross's pocketknife from her backpack where she had hidden it. Careful to pick it up by the handle, she re-entered the bathroom, and put the knife in the same bag as the other one.
It looked as though Ross's wrist slitting was over with, and Rachel was very happy about this. But that still left the problem of anorexia, which was very dangerous as well.
Putting such thoughts out of her mind, Rachel returned to Ross's room, and the sleeping boy waiting for her inside.
[A/N
*Deep breath*
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!!!!!!
This took sssssoooo long to get out! I've had an unbelievable amount of homework, and I meant to put it up last Tuesday, but I didn't get it finished, and then I was going to on Friday, but I had three (3!) tests to study for... and well, you know.
Well, I'm going to try and get the next part at least started by tomorrow, but I don't have any ideas right now, so I'm sorry if it's another long wait.
Before I go, I just wanted to clear something up. A couple people asked about Rachel being Pregnant. And the answer is no, she's not. That was just some weird dream I had Ross have.
Well, I think that's everything!
Bye, and review please!
L_angel]