he's so annoying - suna r.

missed flights !!

(erm if you don't like anything related to throwing up beware)

september
✿————✿
3:15 am

You threw the blanket away from your body, nearly falling off the bed as you rushed to get up. It was hot, so hot—burning hot. You would pass out if not die under the weight of the blanket that nearly radiated heat. Sweat was dripping down your neck, condensing along your hairline—and why did it feel like something was begging to come out of your stomach? Why was your chest burning with the need to throw up?

You trudged through the darkness of your room, tripping on miscellaneous objects a couple times and mostly stumbling your way to the bathroom.

You flung the toilet seat open, dropped to your knees with all of your weight, and held on for dear life as everything you ate during the day came spewing right back up in the most stinging, painful way imaginable.

The feeling stayed in your throat long after you were done vomitting. Your throat burned, your head hurt, your body felt weak, and all you could wonder was how in the world you ended up like this when you were fine just hours ago.

After flushing the contents of your stomach with shaking fingers, you barely managed to walk back to your room. It was an absolute struggle, and even without the thick covers over you it was scorching hot in your room.

You came up with a simple solution, pulling the blanket off your bed and dragging it behind you as you went into the living room. Such and open space with so many windows made it hard to keep the area warm, and for once you find it helpful because it was the perfect place for you to encase yourself within your blanket until nothing but your face was still free and laid down on the couch.

————
6:25 am

"Hey," a soft voice called, dragging you back to the real world. You forced your eyes open, squinting when you glimpsed all of the annoying sunlight that filtered in. The entire place was an abundance of oranges and pinks as the sun rose, the city waking up with it.

Yemi knelt before you on the floor in front of the couch and moved the blanket that covered your entire body head-to-toe away from your face.

"What's wrong? Don't you have to go catch your flight soon?"

She had the most concerned look you'd ever seen on her face and you tried to force a smile—though you didn't doubt it came out more like a grimace.

"I threw up," you told her, finding that your voice was much hoarser than you expected. "And I don't feel too good."

She touched the back of her hand to your forehead and inhaled sharply, shaking her hand as she retracted it.

"You're burning. Jesus, how did you get so sick?" She asked, rushing to her bathroom before coming back out holding three different bottles.

"I dunno," you muttered, head pounding as you watched her run to the kitchen and fill a glass of water to bring back.

"Okay, uh," she opened all three of the bottles and poured one pill from each into her palm. "Here's Benadryl, Ibuprofen, and Mucinex. Sorry, really hope taking all of these together doesn't kill you."

You couldn't do much more than take the pills from her with a shaking hand even though a small voice in the back of your head was telling you that you didn't need Mucinex. With the amount of pain you felt all over, you nearly hoped that it actually would kill you.