Bury The Shadows

Part 9

(TW for emetophobia)

Roman paced around the kitchen impatiently, hovering over the cook who stood at the stove.

"Is it almost done?" He asked, peeking over Cook's shoulder.

"Yes, it's almost done. Have some patience, man." She laughed and poured the soup from the pot into a bowl. "You're acting like he's gonna starve to death." 

It had been a few hours since they'd come home, and Silver hadn't come out of his room once. Mrs. Alexis had told him that Silver hadn't been eating, so Roman was anxious to get some food in the boy. He took the bowl from the cook.

He came out from the kitchen and headed up the stairs, stopping when he reached Silver's door. He knocked. "Hey, its me. Can I come in?"

Silence. He knocked again. Nothing. He tried the knob, turning it slightly and seeing that it wasn't locked. "I'm coming in," he called before he opened the door.

He scanned the room but couldn't see Silver, so he set the soup down on the closest nightstand and made his way around the bed. He figured he was in the bathroom. But as he headed towards the door, he glanced down to his left and there he was. 

Silver was curled up on the floor, his back to the wall. His curls were messy and fell in his face, and his cheek was squished against the floor. He looked like a baby. Roman crouched beside him, drinking in the close contact he was finally able to have. He wanted to brush the hair from his face but knew that would startle him. 

He stood and went to the other side of the bed and grabbed the bowl. Then he came back and sat a couple feet away, facing him. He started to gently call his name. 

"Silver~. . . Sil-ver~" The boy stirred and sat up quickly, wincing as the pain hit him. He stared at Roman with wide groggy eyes, wary.

"If you were tired, why didn't you get in bed?" Roman slid the bowl of soup forward.

"I didn't-- the bed was too nice." Silver stuttered, sliding the bowl towards himself and peeking at it. He sniffed it. 

"Too nice? Its just a bed." 

Silver took a tentative bite, swirling the soup in his mouth to see if it brought on a wave of nausea. Seemed fine for now, so he swallowed. He gave a small shrug in response. 

Roman sighed. "Its fine. Just. . . sleep in the bed, okay? There's no reason not to." The bed was 'too nice?' Did the kid think he was contaminated or something? Not worthy of sleeping in a bed? This poor kid.

About four bites in, Silver felt the nausea wash over him. He quickly excused himself and went to the bathroom, turning the water on to hopefully cover the noise. He kneeled in front of the toilet, being sick into it. He stomach wouldn't stop heaving.

When his body finally figured it was finished, Silver shakily pulled himself away from the toilet. He wiped his mouth with some toilet paper and sat exhausted in the floor.

A knock on the door surprised him, and he turned to see Roman standing in the entrance. "The door was open," he said as he came closer. 

Shit. In his hurry, the door hadn't shut all the way and Roman had followed him in, worried. He'd been there the whole time. "Its nothing," Silver quickly excused, not liking when Roman raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Its not nothing, kid. Mrs. Riordan said you were having trouble eating; although I didn't think this was what she meant. So its been a long time since you actually got food in your stomach, hasn't it?" He crouched down in front of him, careful to leave enough space.