CANNONBALL ⇒ jegulus

FIFTEEN

Regulus feels slightly sick and dizzy from the loud atmosphere, Mary linked at his side; holding his staggering body close to her as she marches them through the crowd and into the stage wings; far from the jostling crowd of people.

"Mary...I-I don't feel so good...."

Regulus feels himself pale and he shudders a breath, Mary rubbing his arm gently. "Almost there, honey, just take a deep breath. It reeks of liquor here, it's probably just upsetting your tummy," She soothes. "Come on, let's get you a seat and some water backstage,"

Regulus swallows back his rising nausea and nods as Mary leads them back stage. Mary still has to touch up the band's makeup and complete Sirius' eyeliner look for the evening, but getting Regulus to a chair seems to be her first priority as of now.

They reach the large dressing room, much larger than the one back in Hol's nightclub in London and Mary plants Regulus into an armchair, brushing a hand over his pale face as she scams the room. "Anyone got any water? Water?" She asks and Peter tosses her one immediately.

"Reg, you alright, buddy?" Peter asks, pulling his T-shirt over his head. "You look a little ill, mate," He adds gently.

Regulus nods wearily as he takes a gulp of the water, feeling the icy liquid travel down his neck. "Just...just feel really sick," He pants nauseatedly. He inhales through his nose to try to eliminate the building bile rising within his throat but the breathing technique proves itself no use as he leans forward and promptly vomits.

He barely misses his converse but the vomit does happen to dribble down his shirt. It isn't long before Regulus is heaving and vaguely aware of Mary tutting and threading her fingers through his curls.

"Maybe that water was a bad idea on my part. M'sorry, hon," Mary whispers soothingly as Regulus heaves dryly.

Regulus nods wearily. "S'not your fault, Mary." He croaks, raising his head to see Remus already covering his puddle of vomit with a towel he had been using to shine and polish Roxie with. He pats Regulus on the shoulder. There's something gleaming in his brown eyes.

"S'alright mate, no harm done, mmh?" Remus says softly. "You feeling a bit better after getting it all up?" He asks.

"Hmm," Regulus hums, looking down at his shirt. "Oh....." He trails. He almost vomits again as soon as he lays his eyes on the stains growing on his shirt. "S-shit," He whispers.

"Wait..." James starts. "Hold on a second, mate," He begins rummaging through his bag. He produces a navy sweater. He gently tosses it to Regulus. "Here, just pop that on. Rems right; no harm done," He soothes.

Regulus bites his lip, tugging the sweater close to him. "Thanks, James," He murmurs gently. He watches as James removes the guitar from his shoulder and gently sets it down on the nearby countertop.

"Here, c'mon, let's get you cleaned up, eh?" James helps Regulus to his feet, narrowly avoiding stepping in the vomit that's spewed across the floor. He gently guides Regulus out of the room. "Bathrooms this way, thought you might like some privacy,"

Regulus snorts exhaustedly. "Yeah, because that's the requirement after you throw your guts up in front of everyone," He hums softly.

James smirks at him as he opens the bathroom door. The bathroom is empty and he props himself down on the sink counter while Regulus leaves for a stall.

"You're okay now, though, right? Your tummy isn't sore, is it?" James asks.

Regulus nods as he pulls his shirt off. He realizes foolishly that James can not see him, so he clears his throat, before, "I'm okay," He replies. His throat feels tight and scratchy, the taste of bile lingering.