Sweet Dreams - Book 3

Seven

"So embarrassing", Gulf clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, ears scorching scarlet, as he scowled at the half-digested breakfast floating mockingly in the toilet bowl below him.

Everyone in the office had seen him - even giggled behind their hands - as he raced towards the bathroom, hand clamped over his mouth, leaving a flurry of papers scattering to the floor in his wake.

Well, that was the last time he would be trusting his faen's cooking early of a morning. Better to stop at a stall on the way to work, he reflected darkly (although at the present moment, he didn't feel like he would ever want food to touch his lips again).

His head was spinning, nausea cloaked over him as an invisible weight, internally pulling his stomach towards the ground and then suddenly rushing upwards, uncontrollably, to vomit once again.

Realising that he would not be leaving the cubicle any time in the near future, the omega shifted from his crouched position to sit flat on the floor with long legs stretched out in front of him - resting his head against the wall, as he waited for the next merciless motion to surge.

//

It was almost thirty minutes later that Gulf finally managed to exit the bathroom - face freshly washed, teeth freshly brushed - but still looking decidedly shaky and unkempt by his own naturally aesthetic standards.

"Hoy, bro, you didn't tell me you went out last night?", his desk mate P'Best winked as he returned - somewhat delicately - to his seat.

"Didn't", the omega grumbled, pouting as he strategically placed an ideas board in front of himself, shielding against the hungry eyes that pretended not to look at him. He had no tolerance for gossip - particularly since the near-fatal consequences that such loose lips had resulted in during the Jongcheveevat-Thanos scandal and dispute of the previous year.

Now...

"It was my mate's stupid cooking. He shouldn't be allowed near a kitchen. Bastard".

"Well at least I know I'm a shoo-in for the employee of the month award", P'Best kidded in retort. "After the week of 'heat leave' you took at the beginning of the month, to now spending half the morning hugging a toilet...I'd say my main competition has flown the white flag, wouldn't you?" -

- But even as his colleague's words were still leaving his mouth, Gulf was up again, stumbling and tripping towards the door.

This time, he wouldn't make it. Pity the floor of the 'Safe Child Thailand' corridors.