I JUST FOUND OUT THAT YOU CAN MOVE CHAPTERS AROUND! YAY! I SWITCHED THEM ALL AROUND SO THEY ARE IN PROPER ORDER NOW! ONLY PROBLEM IS, IF I POST A NEW CHAPTER, IT MOST LIKELY WON'T BE THE LATEST ONE... I'LL SAY WHICH CHAPTER THE NEW ONE IS IN THE SUMMARY EACH TIME I UPDATE. ANYWAY, IT'S 1980. entire chapter in Luke's POV

I'd just gotten to sleep. Everything was warm and cozy and the world was about to turn off for the night.

"Luke?" Bo wheezed. "Luke, help..."

My little cousin Bo needed me again. He was probably havin' another asthma attack.

"I'm comin', cousin, I'm comin'." I rushed out of bed and turned on the lights.

There it was again, the sight I'd seen so many times: Bo sprawled out on his bed, blankets kicked back, sweating, wheezing, and desperate. I knelt next to him and asked him if he was alright (even though I knew he wasn't) as I dug through the drawer for an inhaler.

"No..." He replied, and this worried me, I knew he wasn't alright, but he doesn't often admit to it. I found an inhaler and put it in his mouth.

"Take a breath, Bo." I instructed. He tried his best, but he couldn't get more than a few small puffs of the medicine.

"Still can't breathe." He pretty much just mouthed, making a few squeaky, airy sounds that resembled the words.

He looked at me with wild, terrified eyes. I reckon I'd feel the same way if I couldn't breathe.

I knew that if he just kept taking tiny little bits, he'd be able to get more and more of it. Of course, when you're half asleep and suffocating, you don't really have the patience for that. He was trying his best, but it ain't much encouragement when it doesn't seem to get any better.

"Keep at it, it'll get better." I continued to estimate when he was gonna take a breath, and release the medicine then.

He was scared. I don't blame him, this was one of the worst attacks he'd had in a while.

After a while he pushed my hand and the inhaler away from his mouth. He leaned heavily on the headboard and wheezed choppy breaths, rapidly.

When he gets like this there's not much I can do for him but be there. I have to force him to take the medicine, too. He always ends up panicked like this when he gets a real bad attack, like tonight.

Slowly, I moved the inhaler back up to his mouth and helped him get a little more of it.

"L-L-Luke..." His voice sounded like a broken whistle.

"I'm right here, you're gonna be okay, jus' keep breathing." My hand found it's way into his unruly blonde hair. He closed his wild eyes and relaxed his tight muscles. I was finally getting somewhere.

I continued giving him the inhaler until I could tell that he was actually breathing, not just wheezing and gasping.

"You're alright now." I put the inhaler on the bedside table and placed a firm hand on his sweaty forearm.

He was now in the aftermath of an attack: panting, wheezing, coughing, and pretty soon, the nasty side effects of the Albuterol in the inhaler: His heart starts racing, he starts shaking, (mostly his hands) he gets a headache, sore muscles (mostly in his back), and worst of all, he gets nauseous and throws up.

He slowly got control of his breathing and reduced the sounds to only light wheezing and an occasional cough.

"Thanks, Luke." He looked me in the eyes and thanked me that way too.

"It's alright." I patted his arm gently and stood up to return to my bed.

Only for a little while though, 'cause within the next 45 minutes, I'd be up again holding him over the bathtub, poor guy.

I fell back to sleep to the sound of his light wheezing. That was just the way he breathes in his sleep. I can't sleep without it, I've found.

I woke up again. It felt like five minutes, but it was probably more like thirty. There he was again, my baby cousin, leaning over the side of his bed, clutching his stomach, and restraining the puke that was in his throat. I switched on the lights and laid him back down so I could relax him a little before I picked him up.

"I'm just so dang sorry..." He choked on his words, still trying not to throw up all over the place.

"Don't you dare be sorry, you can't help none of this." Does he seriously think he needs to apologize for this?

I picked him up over my shoulders and hauled him into the bathroom. I laid him on the floor and started the water trickling so that the barf would get cleaned away as it was made.

"Alright, go on." I eased him on to his knees. He wrapped his arms tightly around his stomach and began the laborious deed that he hated so much. I held him by his shoulders so he wouldn't fall if he got dizzy.

I really don't mind helping him, but he feels like he's a burden. Daisy or uncle Jesse ner me have never expressed any feelings like that ever. We've always been willing to help him with this problem that he can't help. I don't know where he gets the whole 'burden' thing. Like all Dukes, it's pretty hard to get Bo to cop to being in pain or feeling sick. He will tell me if he can't breathe, though.

Before I knew it I was taken from my thoughts when my cousin had finished emptying his guts and was falling back on me.

"Easy, there." I eased him down and wiped his mouth. The hurt, ashamed look on his face was enough to rip my heart out of my chest. Why does he feel so ashamed of something that he can't help?

"I'm sorry..." He mumbled. I could tell he was in pain, the way his voice trailed off, the way he held himself, or -let me hold him. All of the usual side effects were kicking in, and he was miserable.

"Don't be sorry. If anything, I'm sorry: sorry that you have to go through this."

I looked down at his hands, which were violently shaking beyond his control. Then I looked at his face, his tired, drained, head-ached face. I wanted to take all that away from him, and then I realized that I could:

"Do you wanna get back in your bed?" I asked him. He'd be all better like nothing happened tomorrow. That was the way it worked, for the most part.

"Yeah, please." He managed a small smile. Maybe he wasn't so bad off?

I laid him back down and covered him up. He thanked me one more time before he fell asleep.

I looked at him for a while, then I went to sleep myself. I laid down and pulled the covers up, and listened to him wheeze lightly with every breath. I guess it's just become normal to hear that sound as I fall asleep. After all, I have been sleeping to that sound for about 17 years.

End of chapter. yup thats all, see u next chapter. :)