Work Text
“When was the last time you had something to eat?” Leyton loved exam time, well – he didn’t enjoy the long hours of study that he put in, or that he had to ban himself from seeing Alba, his girlfriend, so he would revise enough. What he really loved about exam time was that it was another marker – a step closer to his dream of being a practising lawyer. Normally he faced any exams and assignments with a powerful and confident certainty that he was doing everything he could. It was just unfortunate that during these times he often forgot to look after himself, which was why Alba had decided to come round – to clean the growing stack of plates in the kitchen sink, and sort the washing from the basket to machine then the pulley. “Uuuumm…” Leyton was sat at his desk, the entire space surrounding him littered with flashcards, open textbooks and notes. He couldn’t remember when he had lunch, and he’d been trying to ignore the growling discomfort of his insides for the past two hours, as he needed to complete this section of notes. “I had a cup of coffee about half six.” “Jeez Leyton,” Alba checked her watch, “It’s nearly nine o’clock! You need to have something to eat!” Leyton’s finger was following along a line in his textbook as he copied out the important information. “Ley, it’s Friday, you’ve got all weekend to study – come and get something to eat.” “I’m not particularly hungry…” Leyton mumbled, turning the page and skim reading the next paragraph. “Are you feeling okay?” She sat on the edge of his bed, the springs creaking as they descended. Leyton paused in his writing, for a while now his insides felt like they’d been playing hocket, but he’d convinced himself that was just nerves and stress about the amount of revision he had to do before Monday’s exam. He nodded every minute of his timetabled days to ensure that he’d manage it all. He hadn’t really factored in food, or Alba coming to visit. He sighed, turning the page of the book he was reading, “I’m just busy.” “Well if I cook something while you’re studying will you use your next break to eat with me?” Alba asked, Leyton checked his watch again. “Okay,” Leyton mumbled, “I’ve got twenty minutes until I’m due another break.” “I’ll get cooking then,” she said. As she left the room, Leyton’s stomach gave a long whine. It had to be hunger – that strange burbling inside him, it couldn’t be nausea. It just couldn’t be. The discomfort in his gut was getting more and more noticeable as he tried to focus on the page he was reading. He’d read the same paragraph three times before he realised he hadn’t taken any of it in. His heart was beating particularly hard in his chest as his stomach felt like it was doing rocking movements like a boat in a storm. Before he knew it his phone was buzzing from the other side of the room, signalling time for his break – and he hadn’t finished the section he’d wanted to. Sighing he got up, it must have been Alba reminding him that he hadn’t eaten that had made his belly react like this. As he opened the door to his room, the smell of sweet tomato and the tang of garlic hit him, and he found himself swallowing rapidly. But that was from hunger – he tried to reassure himself as he entered the kitchen. “Is that time for your next break?” Alba asked, she was standing at the stove, stirring two pots. “Yeah,” he said shortly, filling the kettle with water and flicking it on. “This’ll just be another minute or two,” she said, “maybe you shouldn’t have coffee with your food?” She raised her eyebrow at him as he spooned instant granules into a mug. “If I have it now the caffeine will have kicked in by the time I’m studying again,” he shrugged, but filled up a glass of water just to placate her. From the draining board Alba took clean plates, waiting till Leyton had sat down before draining the pasta and mixing it in the sauce. “It’s not gourmet, but it’s enough to keep your brain going.” She laid a plateful in front of him, then sat next to him with her own. He looked down at the food and swallowed hard – that qualmish sensation hadn’t disappeared yet. “I would have given you fish if you’d had any,” she said; the mention of fish had Leyton’s stomach flipping inside him. “It’s proper brain food.” “Mmhmm.” He picked up his fork and scooped some of the pasta onto it, tentatively he put it inside him mouth. The richness of the sauce and the slightly rubbery texture of the pasta made it difficult for him to swallow.A small voice in the back of his head was panicking already – he couldn’t be ill now. The absolute worst thing that could possibly happen to him right now was for him to be sick. He put his fork down and took a drink from his mug, but even the usually appreciated taste of coffee was bitter on his tastebuds. It was only then he realised that Alba had been talking to him this whole time; he’d been too busy thinking about the unusual sensations in his abdomen to pay attention.“I sure am glad it’s Friday!” She laughed, glancing over at him. “I thought you’d be eating double quick to get back to studying.”“I was just listening to you,” Leyton explained, picking up his fork again and forcing another large mouthful down with difficulty. She seemed gratified by this renewed appetite and stopped watching him. But it was those four or five mouthfuls that he’d forced while she was watching him that had done the damage. From the way his stomach was rolling now he knew it hadn’t just been hunger before – he was definitely nauseous. And that was a very bad thing. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Alba asked, looking concerned as he forced another forkful into his mouth. He nodded his head, attempting to smile but convinced it must look like a grimace, as he chewed and swallowed. “Uuurp!” The belch rent out of him before he even knew it was coming; embarrassed, he raised his hand up to his mouth. “Oh – excuse me.” He pushed the half eaten plate away from him. “I knew it!” Alba said firmly, “You’re not feeling well, are you?” Her eyes seemed to bore deep into his head, and Leyton had learned that it was a big mistake to try and lie to Alba. “My stomach feels kind of queasy,” he replied, tentatively placing his hand on his stomach. Was it his imagination or could he really feel it churning away under his skin? “I thought it was just hunger, but – ulp – I think it might be more…” “I thought you looked peaky when I arrived,” he placed her hand on Leyton’s forehead, but he squirmed away from her. “I can’t be ill…” He moaned, realising that he was trembling slightly; he massaged his hand over his belly. “There’s not much you can do about it Ley,” she clucked reassuringly, picking up the plates of food and laying them out of sight on the counter behind. “You can always self certify for your exam, you’d get special circumstances.” “No, that’s not what I – urp – mean…” He whispered, closing his eyes to see if that would help with the swaying of his insides. “What do you mean?” she asked gently. He opened his eyes and looked at her concerned face; they’d been dating for nearly two years and he’d never told her. But he’d never felt quite so sick – and as a result panicky – as he did now, and he didn’t know if he could hide it anymore. “I can’t be sick…” Leyton said quietly, his heart thudding in his chest again. “I’ve not been sick – ulp – in over ten years… I’m not – oh god…” He’d pressed his free hand to his mouth, leaning forward so his head was nearly resting on the table top. “You’re afraid?” She asked, sounding worried; Leyton nodded his head minutely, trying to make as little movement as he could. “Oh Ley…” she rested her hand lightly on his shoulder, “The way you look, I’m not sure you’re going to have much choice… But I’m here – I’ll be with you the whole time.” “I won’t – I won’t be sick,” he’d closed his eyes again, doubled over with one hand pressed to his stomach. “I can control – ulp – this.” He tried to sound firm, yet the paleness of his skin and the sheen of sweat across his forehead didn’t add up to that certainty. Alba said nothing in return, if Leyton wanted to argue about something he normally won. She settled for making small circles on his back, listening to his deep breathing. Then a loud gurgle split the silence, Leyton’s belly seemed to be putting up a strong case against his willpower. The noises from his stomach were increasing in frequency and volume. “Leyton, are you sure – “Alba started, but before she could finish she felt Leyton’s muscles convulse under her touch, and that was a major warning sign. “Ley, I think you should –“ She was about to suggest they move to the bathroom just in case, but he wasn’t having it. “No, I’m not going to-” He forced out, being cut off by the loudest and most sickly sounding burp yet. Then suddenly Leyton was scrambling away from the table, his hand clamped tightly across his mouth, gagging audibly. Alba sprang to her feet right behind him as he raced to the kitchen sink, fearing there wasn’t enough time to make it to the toilet. Leaning heavily on the edge of the counter he gagged repeatedly, a trail of split dangling from his lips. “You’re okay Ley,” Alba tried to sound comforting, rubbing his back, but he was clamping his mouth shut, clenching his teeth tightly to try and control himself. Alba could see his nostrils flare as he refused to open his mouth, his shoulders fluttering as his body attempted to reject what was inside him. “Leyton, I think you need to just let it happen.” He was whimpering in discomfort, fighting with all he could. “I promise you’ll feel better, I’m right here.” His heaving was becoming more and more violent, and it seemed inevitable that he was going to lose it. He closed his eyes, and turned his head to the sink, allowing his jaw to unclench. His retching was becoming wetter and wetter until a forceful heave brought up a wave of puke, consisting of the pasta he’d forced down and the coffee, hitting the bottom of the sink with a splat. Leyton was shaking all over, tears pouring down his face, his heart racing in his chest, as his retching tapered off into a loud empty burp. Alba had curved her hand round Leyton’s front, and had been massaging his upset stomach with gentle movements. The struggling flexing of his muscles was still attempting to force up anything left inside him, and she realised he was crying. “Oh Leyton,” she said, a pang of hurt inside her chest as she saw her boyfriend in such distress. “It’s okay, it’s over now – you’re done.” Slowly he turned round, his face pale and ill looking, with tear tracks marking lines down his cheeks. “I want to lie down…” He whispered, fresh tears squeezing from his eyes. “Come on then,” Alba said gently, taking hold of his trembling hand. “Let’s get you in bed.”