Set during Calf Love. All that talk of pig meat made Tristan feel ever so slightly unwell, but surely James wouldn't just leave him.
"Do you think he'll be alright?" James asked, nodding his head at the top of the stairs, where the sounds of kecking sounded from.
"Hmm? Oh, I'm sure it'll do him the world of good." Siegfried replied, scratching a Collie behind the ears while hunting around for his jacket. "Do stop worrying about him, James. We have to go!"
Nodding in reluctant agreement, James handed the other his jacket from a peg he seemed to have missed, and took a deep breath.
"I do really think I ought to make sure he's okay." He spoke so casually, as if his interest in Tristan's well being had just come about. Inwardly, though, he was praying his forced tone wouldn't crack at such a crucial moment. Of course, there was nothing between him and Tristan. There wasn't, and there would never be. They were just good friends, and that night in his room had just been... well, he had been so wrapped up with meeting Helen...
It was a pretty pathetic excuse, but he needed it all the same. An excuse for his behavior.
"Oh, fine, fine." Siegfried flapped his hands, sounding most flustered. "But do get a move on. We're late as it is."
Smiling thankfully, although he hoped the elder Farnon wouldn't notice, James turned quickly and started jogging up the stairs, taking them two at a time and wondering why there had to be so many of the blasted things.
Climbing onto the landing, James headed straight for the bathroom, and pushed open the unlocked door.
"Tri--" He began, and didn't get any further than that. The younger Farnon was on all fours again, as he had been the night he crawled into his room with James. But this time, he wasn't giggling. His shoulders heaved as he retched, head just over the lavatory and his blond hair already slicked with sweat.
"Oh, Trist." James sighed, crouching besides him. "It's your own fault, you know."
Perhaps it was the wrong thing to say.
The choking and gagging stopped, and Tristan slumped back onto his heels, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before launching into his tirade.
"You don't think I know that? Everything's my fault! If the moon collided with the Earth, I daresay my dear brother would make that my fault too!"
Nodding silently, James placed a hand on the side of his arm in a consoling sort of way. Tristan was having none of it.
"Oh, no, no! Siegfried would blow a gasket if he knew his precious favorite was touching me!" He spat, wrenching his arm away, and almost overbalancing in the process.
"Come now, Trist." James said, looking almost hurt by the retaliation. "Siegfried likes yo--"
"I don't care if he likes me, James! I'm sick of being treated like a second class citizen, because you're suddenly the cat's pajamas!"
'Sick' was probably the wrong word, for as soon as he was done speaking, Tristan's eyes bulged, and he only just made it to the lavatory.
James smiled in a bittersweet sort of way, and lightly touched the back of his bobbing head, his damp hair feeling most odd, before padding slowly out of the room and making it back to Siegfried before he started yelling.
"And how is he?" The elder Farnon inquired, opening the front door and shushing the dogs.
"Fine." James lied, and tried to ignore the look of 'I told you so' he received.
Things were so very far away from 'fine'.