False Start (Boyxboy)

30: IN THE DARK

The bathroom tile was like ice against my cheek when I came to, curled around the base of the toilet. It reeked of bleach down there and I was shivering, but didn't dare get up; one wrong move and I'd lose my dinner.

As I blinked behind the hair that had fallen in front of my eyes, wondering how I ended up there, a shadow passed through the sliver of light that leaked in from under the door. My breaths became shallow.

"Kazu? Are you in there?" Keiji called out, followed by two muffled knocks.

I didn't answer, either because I had no energy or because I was pretending to be invisible.

"Kazu?" His voice was raspier than usual. "Uhh... I'm coming in, okay?"

Some semblance of sobriety graced me when I heard the doorknob turn, but the swimminess in my head quickly took over again. I shut my eyes just in time for the hallway light to wash over me, reddening the view inside my eyelids.

Keiji muttered something to himself before stepping closer and shutting the door behind him, encasing us in darkness. His footsteps were softened by socks and wariness.

"...Hey. What happened?" he whispered, looking down over me.

When I still didn't respond, he stooped to grip my shoulder. The unexpected touch caused me to stiffen.

"Kazu. Kazu. Are you okay? Can you look at me?"

"No," I managed to grunt.

His exhale was strong, like he'd been holding his breath, and carried the stench of alcohol. "Can you try?" he prodded.

At the thought of seeing the sideways world, blurring and tilting, my unease intensified. I pressed my cheek harder against the floor, struggling to feel stability.

"If I open my eyes," I said through chattering teeth, "I'm going to get sick."

His fingers slipped from my shoulder and I heard him settle into a sitting position behind me, his cast tapping against the tile and echoing in my ear.  It was so quiet that you could hear the slight whistle in my stuffy nose and all kinds of gurgling noises inside my stomach.  Somewhere deep down I was humiliated that Keiji was seeing me in such a pathetic state.

"Was it the glühwein?"

The words sort of hung there for a second before he took my silence as an answer, going quiet. 

Another chunk of time went by unaccounted for in my mind.  Maybe I nodded off.  Then he was pulling me up, saying, "Come on, let's get into a sitting position incase you do get sick."

I sagged in his arms like a ragdoll, slumping over the toilet bowl.  The groan I gave in protest sounded loud resonating down into it. 

"Will you look at me if I say please?" he murmured, shifting around beside me.  "'Cause I'm a little worried."

"I'm telling you," I slurred back, "I promise, I'll spew."  Half of my face felt numb from being pressed against the frozen floor, making it even more difficult to talk than it already was.

"Just two seconds.  Please?"

He really did sound worried.  Though I wasn't sure what eye contact would solve, I nodded a curt "okay".

With much reluctance, I peeled apart my eyelids and rolled my gaze his way.  But as hard as I tried to focus, the underlit image of his face wouldn't stay still, swirling and dividing, my head lolling around.  Right as he was beginning to smile at me--all three of him--warming my heart, that reflex in my throat activated, and I hunched forward, gagging until my stomach emptied itself.