From what I could tell, Carlisle was enjoying his new position at work, as strange as his company had made it. He'd spend hours every night messing around on a company-issued laptop, exploring the new programmes he was expected to learn how to use. It was nice to see him relax a little. The tension seemed to drop from his shoulders in the evenings now, and he didn't run off to bed as soon as he got home. He was still anxious whenever he needed to leave the house, but I thought he was doing better and I was beyond relieved to see him getting back to normal. He was smiling a little more than he had been since everything happened, and I was even happier when Alistair mentioned it too.
Alistair, however, wasn't so happy. He'd called Carlisle in tears and we'd had to bail him out again. When he'd said that he needed to come over, both of us expected the worst. I awkwardly stayed in the kitchen while my boyfriend tried to comfort him, having given up trying not to eavesdrop - the thought of Randal anywhere near Carlisle had me on edge, and my senses were on high alert as soon his name was mentioned. It was only going to end in me snapping at Alistair if I stayed with them.
"Randal and I broke up," he mumbled into Carlisle's shoulder. His arms found their way around him, and he pulled him closer. "For good this time. I can't take anymore from him."
My boyfriend couldn't quite tame a relieved smile, ducking his head to avoid his friend seeing it. "Thank god, Al."
"And I'm moving back to my mother's place until everything settles down," he continued softly.
The room was awkwardly silent for a minute. "She's lives south, right?" he asked slowly.
Alistair nodded, tightening his grip on him. His fingers dug into his clothing to hold him there. "Yeah- I don't know what else to do, Carlisle, everything is turning to shit, and I feel like I need to move back home until I get a grip. I'm so lost now." His voice shook and he groaned, trying to suppress it.
Although his friend was stifling tears, Carlisle managed to hold it together fairly well, slowly rubbing his hand up and down his back. "Do you need help packing? Can I help you?" he asked instead. "We can go with you to get your stuff, if it would make you feel safer." Somehow, he kept from sounding too pleased about their break up, though I was sure he was over the moon about it. Maybe not so much about Al moving away.
That was it for Alistair. He shook his head, his breath catching in his throat. "I don't think you should be anywhere near him, Carlisle, he hates you. I just wanted to see you before I did anything."
Eventually, I got sick of uncomfortably hovering, making myself a cup of coffee and going to our bedroom. It provided a safe little capsule from the drama currently taking place in the living room. I quietly shut the door, muffling their voices and sitting back on the bed. All the emotion was putting me on edge after our last weekend, and it was making my stomach churn.
Folding my legs under myself and leaning back against the headboard, I gave myself the liberty to turn on my laptop and start a movie, keeping the sound low to so that I could throw myself back into the kitchen the moment I heard Randal's voice. He never showed, thank god. It was another couple of hours before Alistair decided that he was going to stay with one of his coworkers until he could move, so that he could get a ride to work in the morning and seeming as they had a spare room they were willing to lend him. He left, and the house was suddenly silent.
Suspecting the worst, I dragged myself back out of our room to find my boyfriend. He was sitting at the table, tracing the grain of the wood with his finger tip and not seeming to notice my entrance. "You okay, Carlisle?" I asked carefully, resting my shoulder against the doorframe as I watched him. I was a little worried that the question might provoke a meltdown, but he seemed calm enough.
It took him a moment to respond. "Yeah, I'm okay," he mumbled. Losing Alistair was going to be a hard blow, whether he wanted to admit it or not; he was as close to family as Carlisle was going to get.
"You don't look okay." I went over to him, slowly wrapping my arms around him from behind and pressing a kiss against his neck as I pulled him back into my chest.
"I am. I'm just surprised, I guess. It'll be good for Al to be back in his hometown after that." His fingers trailed up my forearm and he tilted his head back to look up at me. "Are you up to coming to the grocery store with me?" The question had more anxiety behind it than I would have liked, but it wasn't unexpected. We were supposed to take it in turns doing our weekly food shopping, but I usually ended up going with Carlisle anyway because it made him so nervous. He might have been doing a lot better overall, but he still didn't cope with 'people' all that well, and a crowded supermarket often turned into his nightmare.
"Yeah, I'll come." It would have been easier for both of us if I just did it on my own, but I was reluctant; I didn't want him to lose the ability to go out in public because it made him so nervous, and I was sure that him staying home was a step in that direction. That didn't make me want to go to the store, though.
I googled a couple of new recipes before we left. It had been far too long since I'd tried anything different in the kitchen, and I didn't want to lose the skill due to my own laziness. I didn't want my hate of eating out to ruin dining in for me as well; it would do us good to have a break from eating the same three meals over and over again like we usually did. Carlisle had admitted to not caring all that much what we had, so long as it was at least semi okay for our health, but he wasn't the one of us that got excited over food. I knew he also didn't care about what we actually bought from the store either; he just wanted it over as quickly as possible.
He was holding my hand as we wandered from aisle to aisle, his silence in stark contrast to the chatter around us. He did eventually leave my side to grab some milk from the other end of the store, but looked particularly unnerved by the time he got back. The milk bottle went in the cart without a word. "What are we making for dinner?" he asked softly, confused by the seemingly random ingredients that I'd put in there while he was away.
I told him and he just looked confused. "You'll like it, Carlisle, I promise," I chuckled, nudging him with my shoulder when he smiled a little. "I'm not going to torture you; it's only chicken." I was fairly certain it would be okay with him, anyway.
"I trust your cooking, this is just a lot of food for two people," he teased.
"It boils down, don't worry." I pressed a kiss against his temple, pleased that he was joking with me instead of freaking out. The store wasn't overly crowded today too, but I could see that he was still on edge, fidgeting nervously beside me. "We're almost done," I assured him, lowing my voice.
He blew out a sigh as he nodded. "I'm okay. Are you?"
I wasn't really sure what had made him ask. "So long as we don't have to eat in the middle of the store, yeah, I'm fine." I guided him through the last of the aisles, stealing glances at him the entire time. He was a little withdrawn when I prompted him to choose a couple of snacks, but still seemed okay by my judgement. He was finally getting an interest in food again, after months, and I wasn't about to ruin that by pushing him too hard.
The young woman at the register was unbearably slow. A huge badge hung on her shirt, reading 'TRAINING' in big lettering, and I found myself swallowing my annoyance. Everyone needed to learn somewhere, I guess. Carlisle seemed to take pity on her, idly chatting to her as she scanned our items and meeting each one of her apologies with reassurance, despite it winding him up too. I ended up standing by the end of the counter and packing everything into bags as her desktop quickly became too cluttered with groceries and she started to flounder. "You're doing fine," I assured her as our eyes met, forcing myself to smile. Her face flushed and she stuttered out our total, rather flustered as we paid. Poor kid. Retail jobs sucked.
Carlisle took my hand as we walked out into the carpark, the tension starting to leave his shoulders once he realised it was over for another few days. The sky was starting to cloud over, threatening rain, but we managed to get everything in the car before it started. "Feeling okay?" I asked him. I slipped my hand onto his knee as I started the car.
"Yeah, I'm alright," he mumbled back. Not really okay, then. "Sorry you had to come."
I squeezed his leg. "It's okay; I know it makes you nervous."
He reached down to rub my fingers, forcing a small smile. "I'm still sorry. I know you don't feel good about being there either, and the last week has been kind of rough-"
"Stop it, Carlisle," I interrupted. "I'm fine with the grocery store so long as we're not picnicking there. It's alright."
He sighed and dropped the subject, obviously not feeling better about it.
.
.
"Where is Alistair from?" I'd waited until we'd settled after dinner before bringing it up, not wanting to upset him and put him off eating for the night.
The question made him shift, resting his head on my shoulder and hugging my arm as it brushed his chest. He'd been pretty quiet since we'd come home, and I was fairly confident that was what he was worrying about. "His mother lives in Georgia."
"And his dad?" I leaned my head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling and absent mindedly rubbing his thigh. Carlisle might have been wound up, but I could have easily fallen asleep; I'd already showered, and being warm and full quickly made me tired.
"They stopped talking after Al told him he was gay. His parents got divorced a while ago; they're more conservative, and his father couldn't handle it while his mother refused to cut her son out. Alistair moved up here to get away from all of it, originally," he told me quietly.
"You two are similar," I murmured.
"You mean we both run away from our problems?" He laughed without humour, groaning and letting go of my arm to hug my waist.
I shook my head but didn't push it. "I mean, you should have been treated better."
"It's just Al that needs better; I just need to get a grip."
"You need to not be so hard on yourself," I corrected, looking over at him and lowering my voice the next time I spoke. "You're doing better than you were; just give it some time, Carlisle. Are you feeling alright about Alistair moving?" Asking bluntly was cruel, but I couldn't find a gentle way to bring it up, and I didn't want him stewing over it; we'd lived together long enough for me to know that he wouldn't bring it up without me prompting him too.
"I'm not selfish enough to want him to stay, but I'll miss him," he said slowly. "I don't like that he's leaving, but I'm glad that he'll be safe. It isn't like we'll never see each other again."
"You'll tell me if you're not okay, right?" I pressed carefully. I still didn't know how much he actually told Alistair about anything that was happening, and it worried me that he was going to lose that support so suddenly.
"Yes, Garrett," he promised. "Come to bed; you'll be tired at work tomorrow otherwise. I'm sure Riley won't want to deal with you sleep deprived." His teasing brought a smile to my face and I took his hand as he got up, letting him haul me to my feet.
"You just don't want to deal with me when I'm grumpy tomorrow morning," I laughed.
.
.
Tomorrow morning came all too soon. The weather had cleared, and the sun was burning into my retinas through the curtain before I'd even opened my eyes. I could already hear Carlisle in the kitchen, making coffee and listening to the news through the TV. He was right; I was exhausted despite us going to bed early, and already a little irritated even though I hadn't so much as sat up. It was obviously going to be one of those days.
By the time I'd gotten out of the shower, he was already leaving, briefly kissing me goodbye in the bathroom doorway. "There's breakfast on the bench, but it'll be cold if you leave it too much longer," he warned.
I forced him into a hug before he could pull away, holding him there a few seconds. "Thanks. See you after work."
"You really are about to be late if you don't hurry," he murmured, slowing his flurry of activity enough to wrap his arms around me as well. "I was just about to wake you up."
Groaning, I looked over at the time and let him go, knowing that he wanted to leave. I already wouldn't have time to eat if I wanted to get into the office without being yelled at. In the kitchen, I packed the food into a container, trying to pretend that I didn't feel sick at the thought of having it later. I sure as hell wouldn't be able to eat it at my desk around everyone else, but I kidded myself that it might be easier if I went to a coffee shop or something.
.
.
I'd been a little queasy all morning, but my stomach really started churning when I was having lunch with Riley. The few mouthfuls of what was supposed to be breakfast I'd gotten were threatening to make a swift reappearance. I was suddenly sweating and my mouth welled with spit, forcing me to swallow hard to force back the nausea. Stupidly, I didn't feel that anxious, but I guessed trying to eat in public without Carlisle was a bit of a dumb idea considering how the other weekend had gone; I'd already proved myself incapable.
"Are you okay?" Riley asked after I'd been sitting there in silence for a few minutes. He'd been pleased at the prospect of getting out of the office building for a while and jumped at the offer of decent coffee, but now he looked like he was regretting agreeing to come out with me.
I was starting to panic, struggling to come to terms with quickly losing the fight with my body. "I think I'm going to puke," I told him, quickly getting up. In my hurry, I couldn't decide whether the bathrooms or the front door was closer, but I really didn't want to be sick in public.
"What?" He was chuckling a little, more out of confusion than anything else. His smile started to fade as he saw that I was starting to freak out. "Garrett, just calm down; you're alright."
"No, I'm not," I told him, my stomach lurching. Saliva welled in my mouth and I bolted towards the toilets, managing to get the door locked just in the nick of time. Throwing up made me very aware of a pain in my stomach, and sitting on the filthy floor of some cafe's restroom had me really, really homesick. I was such a fucking baby when I was ill.
There was a knock on the door, followed by Riley's voice. "Are you alright?" He sounded worried, trying the door handle a couple of times, but it wasn't him that I wanted. He knew it too. "Should I call Carlisle?"
I took a few deep breaths before I answered him, trying to clear the spinning feeling in my head. It helped a bit and I felt like I might be able to stand again. "No, don't tell him, I'm okay," I got out eventually. The nausea had died down a little now that I didn't have anything in my stomach. Needing to get the taste of acid out of my mouth, I slowly got to my feet and rinsed my mouth out under the tap. Gross.
"Garrett?" Riley called again. Concern was all over his face when I finally opened the door to face him, and he was clutching his phone in his hand, hopefully not calling my boyfriend.
"I'm alright," I repeated. "I think I just got too nervous." Now, I just wanted to go back to the office; I didn't really feel sick anymore, and assumed it was over. "I'm going back to work."
His face fell and his eyebrows knitted together. "Are you sure? Don't you want to go home?" His hand closed around my wrist, holding me in place until I answered him.
"Yeah, I'm alright now." The walk back to the office would do me good; I was sweating still, and the air was still coolish outside. Hopefully it would get rid of the horrible sticky feeling. I paid for my drink while Riley continued to fuss, impatiently waiting for him when he insisted on walking back with me.
.
.
It wasn't over. I'd been at my desk only a couple of minutes went my stomach started churning again, sending me running back to the bathroom. One of my coworkers muttered a curse as I shoved past him but I didn't care right then, just needing to get away. This time, vomiting didn't help me feel any better. The nausea didn't get better at all and my hair was sticking to my face, and I knew I was going to have to go home. This really didn't feel like an anxiety attack anymore. I reluctantly tried to tidy myself up, and slowly made my way to my boss's office.
He took one look at me and told me to get out, ignoring my mumbled apology and telling me he wasn't surprised that I was going to be absent from work again. I just stumbled from his office, wanting to curl up on the couch for the day now. Forcing down a few mouthfuls of cold water before I left, I made my way through the building and out into the carpark.
The queasiness didn't ease when I sat in the driver's seat. I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel for a few seconds, trying to swallow away the cotton-wool feeling in my mouth and forcing myself to breathe. I really didn't feel good now; sweat was soaking my shirt, and I used the back of my hand to try and push my hair away from my forehead. "Fuck," I sighed through my teeth, starting my car. I just wanted to get home.
I'd just pulled into our driveway when my stomach rolled and I was hit with the sudden, borderline uncontrollable urge to go to the bathroom. Groaning and rushing up to our apartment, I dealt with that and crawled into bed, planning on not moving until I felt a bit more stable. I hadn't had a stomach bug since I was a little kid, but I could only guess that this was what it was. Great.
Within an hour, I was getting horrible stomach cramps, staying firmly in the blankets and resisting movement. I had half a mind to call Carlisle home, and had it not been important for him to stay at his course I would have. Instead, I just text and asked if he could pick up some medicine on the way home - we sure as hell didn't have anything for this.
He got home just before seven, the front door closing softly. It took a few minutes for him to come to me, but he came in with a glass of water and the pills eventually. "You okay, Gar?" His fingers were cold are he pressed his hand against my forehead, and the bed dipped slightly under his weight as he sat next to me.
"I think I've a stomach virus," I admitted, forcing myself to sit up to face him. Immediately I knew something was wrong; he looked like he'd been dragged through hell and back, dishevelled and pale. "You've got it too, huh? Come here."
He nodded, kicking off his shoes before collapsing into bed beside me. Just as shivery and sore as I was, he curled up, immediately half asleep. "You weren't well when you woke up this morning, huh?"
"I guess not. Why didn't you come home sooner if you're sick, Carlisle? Jesus, you must be exhausted," I scolded, shuffling closer to him. Theoretically, if we had both come down with the same thing, there was no reason why we couldn't be close to each other, and I badly wanted him in my arms.
"I didn't want to fall behind in class; I suck enough as it is. I didn't get sick until after lunch anyway." He didn't move, folding one arm back over his face to block the light out. "I have to get changed," he mumbled when I started to wrap my arms around him, warning me not to get too comfortable. It didn't deter me; something about feeling awful turned me into a needy asshole.
"Are you going to shower?" I frowned. The idea seemed insane to me if he felt as gross as I did; it was far too much effort.
He shook his head. "I don't want to get up again, but I'm freezing."
"Take your jeans off and come here, then."' I unbuttoned them for him, tugging the zip of his jacket down a bit. "You'll be warm enough once you're in bed." My limbs felt like led as I helped him undress, but it was only fair after he'd gone out of his way to go to the pharmacy while he was ill too.
"Do you want anything to eat?" he asked me, clumsily getting out of his clothing and letting me wrap him in the blankets with me. The warmth of his body next to mine was immediately comforting, and I cuddled into him, locking my arms around his chest.
"I'm not going to be able to keep it down," I admitted. Either that, or I would shit myself. He winced, his hands covering mine and trying to protect his stomach. "You okay?"
"Yeah." He kissed my neck, shifted a little closer. "I'm okay now that I'm lying down. You're not in pain?"
"Nothing unbearable." Sleep sounded more than good to me. It was easier to relax now I had him with me, even if he was feeling crappy too.
.
.
Carlisle had been sick all night, accidently waking me up every time he jumped out of bed, and we were both exhausted by morning. Apart from being tired, I felt a bit better, less like I wanted to throw up, and my stomach wasn't chewing itself inside out. I dragged myself to the bathroom to try and clean myself up a bit, but one look in the mirror proved it wasn't going to do much good. Washing my face didn't get rid of the dark circles under my eyes or get any of the colour back in my skin, but I felt a little better after brushing my teeth.
My boyfriend still wasn't looking well either. In a similar state to I was, he winced when I got back into bed, immediately shuffling closer to me in search of heat. Just from standing in the bathroom, I'd started to shiver again, and having him against me while he was running a fever was unfortunately appealing. Moving hadn't been a good idea; it had brought back the aches and pains, and I buried my face in his shoulder.
He felt too hot, even though I was sure I had a temperature as well, and I was trying hard not to like it. "You're warm," he mumbled to me, wincing as I slipped my arms around him.
"I won't squeeze you, don't worry," I promised, not wanting to let him go. "And so are you."
"You okay, Gar?" he asked softly, twisting in my arms to roll over and face me. "Are you feeling any better?" He leaned into me, resting his forehead against my collarbone.
I slipped my hand under the back of his t-shirt, rubbing the small of his back. "I'll live; I don't feel quite as crappy as last night. Are you alright?"
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Tired though."
"Did you sleep at all?" I frowned. Sinking back into the pillows, I breathed a sigh of relief. Sooner or later I was going to have to get up for water, but staying in bed sounded perfect for now. Going to sleep would put us both out of our misery for a while.
"A little bit. Sorry I kept you up so long."
"It was hardly by choice, Carlisle." I didn't care, so long as we could both get some rest now.
He groaned and pulled away to sit up. Instead of rushing away to be sick like I thought he was going to, he wandered off into the kitchen, returning a little while later with a couple of water bottles. "Do you think you can drink? You'll be worse if you get dehydrated."
I propped myself up on an elbow to take one from him. "Alright, nurse."
.
.
Despite the beautiful weather outside, the best either of us could manage for the whole day was to order pizza for dinner and curl up on the couch. We both knew that greasy takeaways weren't the best thing to be eating after getting sick, but it was easy and delivered and neither of us had the energy to cook. My mouth was so dry that the food tasted like cardboard. I was just pleased that I could keep it down.
I had a hard drive full of disney movies on my computer that I usually reserved for Kate's entertainment. Today though, it was all we could watch - we both kept falling asleep, and really couldn't follow any complicated film. The couch was too narrow for us to lie beside each other, but Carlisle was more on me than next to me, his cheek against my collarbone and one of his legs between mine. I had my arm around his shoulders, holding him in place. The weight of his ribs against mine was comforting and I didn't want him to move ever again, struggling to stay awake enough to follow the plot of some movie with a talking dog as the lead character - dumb, but oddly charming.
"Does your stomach still hurt?" Carlisle mumbled eventually. He wasn't watching the computer, and I'd assumed he was asleep until he'd spoken. "I'm really not feeling good."
"No, are you feeling sick again?" Apart from being so tired I never wanted to move again, I was okay now.
"Hmm...after eating…"
"Perhaps we should have had something a bit lighter for dinner." I squeezed him a little tighter, letting my eyes fall closed as he relaxed into me. All too soon, he was up again. Although I felt better, I knew I'd vomit if I had to watch him be sick, staying in the lounge instead. It was a few minutes before he came back to me, smelling of mint toothpaste and far too pale. "Come here." I pulled him toward me, hugging him and struggling not to fall asleep as he leaned into me.
"This sucks," he groaned.
"You're really not wrong about that," I agreed.