Nevermind - Tsunoda x Gasly x Ocon

🏎Chapter 7🏎

"Don't you notice how I get quiet when there's no one else around ? Me, and you, and akward silence."

- From The Start - Laufey

🏎

TW : emetophobia (quite explicit)

•Pierre's POV•

Monday, Austria race week,

I wake up with the impression that a heavy mass has fallen on my head. Every beat of my heart was echoing in my skull, amplifying my headache. Trying to open my eyes, the sun rays passing through the carelessly closed curtains immediately took advantage of it to assail me at the moment. Following this mistake, I quickly closed my eyelids, swallowing this unpleasant sensation. Once I got used to this light, soon as it arrived to my liking, I opened my eyes again, a protective hand on my eyebrow arch in order to look at the time.

It is noon, but my hunger is not to be reported.

My headache caught up with me again as I tried to put my feet on the floor, whimpering in pain.

I raise my head with a frown, the house is quiet. Esteban is still sleeping, in my opinion.

We had a party last night, right? how did we even get in ?

My mind is clouded, nausea is horrible. I don't know if it's worse than eating scrambled eggs, but in any case I really have one of the most excruciating nausea I've ever experienced.

I guess I drank too much, it can only be that except for being drugged inadvertently.

But I don't feel high either. Pain doesn't miss me. It's horrible, I'm in pain everywhere.

I sit for a few seconds, taking big breathes, feeling my back moistened by sweat.

Taking my courage in hands, I get up with a sudden movement and make my way to the kitchen, which seemed to me of a right length.

Drinking water, simple and effective. I hope that will calm my messy state. So I'm getting a drink carefully and sit down tiredly, finally finding my phone that was on the table. From my notifications, I understand that it was Charles who brought us back.

"Don't forget your plane," I see on my bright screen.

Fuck.

Most of the pilots are on the same flight; in this case : today at 3 pm.

And me and Esteban are part of those pilots.

We're not the only ones who are stoned, I guess... Anyway, I'm too sick to stress. The nausea is still not gone but it becomes unbearable. I almost want to vomit now, so that it passes.

I'm used to parties, alcohol and all that stuff. But now... I have no other choice, I don't feel like taking a plane in this state condition.

I feel adrenaline rising in me when the feeling of soon being sick reaches me.

I walk to the bathroom, my stomach twisting painfully with every step.

But when I lean over the edge of the toilet, it stops, of course leaving me with this awful nausea still. Then I know it's not going to happen by itself.

I lean against the toilets, and after a hesitation, I push two fingers down my throat to make me vomit. It's unpleasant, but it's a little bit of relief. Just enough to stand up without the world spinning around me.

Once my moment is over, I use the sink as an armrest on which I lean as if my life depends on it.

It was not the most pleasant way to digest the previous mistake of the evening, but it was the fastest given the state I was in.