Fame and Consquenses

4: Is It Over Now?

"Audrey?"

My voice cuts through the quiet. No one responds, but after a few seconds I see the door of the farthest stall swing outward into the space. I slowly walk over and peer around the stall, the red dress and slim figure confirming my worst suspicions. Audrey's on her knees, hunched over the toilet, and I can see her trembling from where I stand.

"Oh, darling..."
I get down to her level, the cold tiles stinging my bare knees. "Can I touch you?"
A subtle nod has me wrapping an arm around her waist to support her, my other hand pulling her hair back and out of the way. Her body convulses in my arms a few times, and I hear a small whine of complaint come from her.
"I know, I know... just let it out honey..." I say quietly, and after a few more seconds of resisting, she tips forward and empties the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. I just hold her, stroking her hair softly, for a few intense minutes. Then she collapses back into my arms, looking up at me with watering eyes.

"Is it over now?" She asks me in a small voice, and my gaze softens instantly.
"I don't know baby, I hope so," I reply with a frown, letting a hand run down the side her face. Her skin twitches as I do so, but the gesture is interrupted by the answer to her question and she throws herself back over the toilet. Another five long minutes goes past before she finally relaxes into me, her arms sliding up around my neck.

I hold her like that for a little while, not wanting to hurt her little head with my voice. I can't help myself, however, from burying my face into her hair for a few minutes.

"Are you okay?" I whisper as softly as I can when I can't take the silence any longer.

"Maybe."

"Are you gonna throw up again?"
"No."

"Do you have your room key?"
She shakes her head.

"Can I take you back to my room?"

"Yes please."

I try to hide the acceleration of my heart – which I think I fail at since her head is on my chest – and then slowly start to stand up. She grips my arms for support, but doesn't need me to carry her like I was expecting. I slowly walk her out of the bathroom, across the surprisingly still lively rooftop, and into the elevator, pressing the button for our floor.

When I swing the door open to my room, she breaks from my arms and makes a b-line for my bed. I hear the thud as she collapses into it, and I make my way over after closing the door behind me.
"How are you doing?"

"Shit."

I just sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed and putting a hand on her knee.
"Can I get you anything?"

"Sleep."

"Okay sweetheart, we can sleep. Let's get you out of this dress first, hm?"
She sits up onto her elbows at this, giving me a glazed but slightly questioning look. I figure she's wondering what she would be wearing if not for the dress. I smile and look away, then get up to dig through my suitcase on the floor. I return with a sweater, the second one of mine she's taken from me this week. I won't have any left if we keep going at this rate.

"Here, get changed," I tell her, placing it beside her. Before I can walk away and give her space, she sits up further.
"Help me..."

I pause, slightly alarmed at this prospect. I don't want to feel like I'm taking advantage of her while she's like this. But she hands me back my sweater and looks up at me pleadingly, and at that point I'm sold. I circle around her, untying the straps of the dress from behind her neck.
"Hold," I tell her, not letting go until her hands press the fabric to her chest. Then I grab the sweater, my aim to get it over her head before she takes her dress off so she's not exposed, but her hand drops, and the dress with it, before I can get much further. I quickly avert my gaze, looking up at the ceiling with a few quick blinks to keep myself under control.

When she's all changed, her dress folded neatly and her heels next to mine in a corner, I turn back to the bed. She looks better than the first time she wore my clothes; this time she's got nothing under them. I shake my head to clear the thoughts and return to sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything?"

"I'm okay."

Then, before I can suggest anything else:
"Stay with me."

I smile all too fast, but I don't protest. Instead, I push back the sheets and slide my legs under, shuffling over to her. She tugs me down until we're both laying flat with our heads on the same pillow, facing each other. She stares at me for a while, her face blank. I can only imagine she's sick, tired, and probably questioning what the fuck she's doing in bed with me. But then she tucks her knees up and buries her head into my chest, and without another word, her breathing slows until she's fast asleep.