Abomination (Ryden)

Chapter 40

The second my eyes open the next morning, I want to die. I feel like I've been hit by a bus, then thrown off a cliff to be eaten by vultures.

My head pounds, my body aches and it feels like my stomach is coming alive.

I want to cry.

However, I don't really have the time to because my stomach gurgles and I can feel hot vomit rising up my throat. I cover my mouth, make a mad dash over Ryan's legs, across my room and into my bathroom. Unfortunately, I'm a few seconds too late, and end up puking a little on the floor, a lot on the toilet lid and whole lot more in the actual toilet.

This is so not cool, on so many levels.

So, I sit there and puke... for a long time, a really, really long time. Just crying and whining and moaning while puke comes pouring out of my mouth. And the sad thing is, after awhile, it's no longer substance that comes up just... liquid. Completely, and totally, all alcohol... with maybe a mix of coffee.

Ryan eventually comes stumbling in, yawning, and then just sits down beside me, resting his back against the cabinet doors, completely unaffected by the fact that I'm puking my brains out.

I have enough time between vomiting to look up at him, but then I groan, and then stick my head back into the toilet bowl and puke some more.

He just looks at me, completely expressionless and unsympathetic. Finally, he goes, "Drank too much, huh?"

I go to shoot him a confused, shocked look, because what? There's no way he could have known I was drunk last night, I was acting perfectly normal by the time he got home - okay, maybe not perfectly normal, but pretty much. I could just be sick. I go to ask him a shocked 'what are you talking about?' but my puke cuts me off.

Ryan doesn't even flinch. Not even a little.

When I'm finally done a few minutes later, I flush the toilet and Ryan hands me a wad of scrunched up toilet paper. As I'm wiping the puke off my face and the toilet lit and the floor, grimacing, Ryan stands up and fills up the glass used for rinsing our mouth after brushing our teeth, with tap water and hands it to me.

"Thanks," I mutter, avoiding his gaze as I take some water into my mouth, swish it around, and then spit in the toilet.

"So, how was it?" he asks.

I swallow my mouthful of cool water. I figure he's talking about my drinking last night, not my puking. "I wasn't - " I start, but he gives me the look (the same one my dad gave me last night), so I sigh, defeated, knowing there's not even a point in lying to Ryan, and go, "Fine, okay. I drank last night, but..." I rub my pounding forehead and realize there's nothing I can say but apologize. "I'm so sorry, Ry. If I would have known I never would ha - "

"I know," he says, cutting me off. "I know, that's why I'm not mad. I can't be, because you didn't know. Sure, it was stupid, but..." he gives me a lame shrug, "it's not like I can control you."

I look up at him, lip in between my mouth, with probably the guiltiest look on my face possible. Of course, just because I'm me and because the world hates me, the first time getting drunk had to be last night. Of course.

I slowly get up, clutching my stomach that's still twisting and turning (but hey, at least it doesn't feel like it's coming alive anymore). I put the cup on the counter, and then wrap my arms around his neck, but still giving him the courtesy of not shoving my puke face in his. "I'm sorry," I repeat. "But I promise you that when you told me all that last night, like about your mom and dad, I was barely drunk, if at all. So... I remember."

"I know," he answers.

"So... then, how'd you know that I was at all?"

He pulls away from me, but keeps his hands on my waist as he looks me straight in the eye like, really, Brendon? "I'm your boyfriend, Bren," he points out, tilting his head to the side. "I think I'd notice when you're acting a little off. I wasn't sure, I mean, like, I didn't think you were really; the thought just kind of crossed my mind. But then the puking... well more like the projectile vomiting pretty much confirmed it."