Loved

Tonight was supposed to be an uneventful night. Sitting down with a huge bowl of popcorn and marathoning Berserk with your brother, boyfriend and best friend. You were cuddled up on the larger couch with Jackson, leaving your older brother Mark and BamBam to the rest of the room, the younger sitting dead set in front of the television despite Mark's warning.

The fifth episode of your marathon had barely started when you started to feel sick. You weren't the type to be squeamish, especially since you had seen the series so many times. But, things happen, and things were happening fast. Heartburn was first.

Guts had already cleaved two men's heads from their shoulders, blood spraying out. The editing cuts were fast, as per every anime that came out in the 90s, especially the violent ones. You were trying your best to enjoy your favourite show, but the feeling of heartburn made you squirm in Jackson's arms.

"Hey, are you okay?" He whispered, and you just nodded, brushing off his question.

"Yeah, just a bit of heartburn." Jackson's arms tightened around you a little more, and you smiled as you cuddled a bit closer. In those small moments with Jackson, you felt so loved, even in doing something not considered by others to be romantic.

"It's only one man! Kill him!"

Both you and Jackson scoffed at that, both of you broadcasting the sarcastic commentary of two veteran viewers of the show, in the knowledge that Guts wasn't just 'one man'. BamBam was rocking in front of the screen out of excitement, you could already tell that he was grinning out of delight. This was his first viewing, his enthusiasm bleeding into your own, a strange motherly feeling washing over you.

"Wait! It's... it's the death of the battlefield! The Band of the Hawk, lead by the White Hawk Griffith!"

You felt bile bubbling up in your throat as the theme song began. "Hey, Jackson," you blurt out with unease, "can you pause?"

"What? Why?" He questioned. "The episode's just starting."

"Nevermind, I'll just-" Separating yourself from your boyfriend's grip and standing up to his confusion, you ran from the living room, down the hallway to push the bathroom door open, getting to the toilet just in time to heave your dinner upwards.

"Feel no shame about shape, weather changes no phrase-"

The music was cut off by Jackson finally pausing the show, you barely hearing BamBam's protest over your heaving. Moments later Jackson was behind you, holding up your hair and rubbing your back. You had already started to shake, tears springing from your eyes. Your nausea hit so suddenly, your heaving dry and triggering a panic attack. You were lucky that your breathing wasn't that affected when they were directly tied to vomiting.

"What's gotten into you?" Jackson asked, you unable to answer him. Soon after, you heard Mark enter the room, washcloth already in hand as he turned to the sink to wet it. "You're usually not squeamish about that at all!"

"Calm down, Jackson," Mark retorted. "Don't pressure her."

"Hey, is (Y/N) okay?" BamBam asked, peeking in from the door. With a deep breath, you finally finished heaving, sitting up and raising a shaky hand to grab the washcloth. Instead, Mark denied you and kneeled down to begin to wipe your face himself. You felt dirty and uneasy, heartburn still sizzling in your chest. You felt hot, but there was a little bit of relief as the cold washcloth was gently dragged over your face.

"With shakes like this, tears and all, she'll probably need to go to see a doctor," Mark said. "She has pretty bad panic attacks when she vomits. Come on, let's go."

Jackson let go of your hair, gently helping you stand. "To think, you getting squeamish over blood. This is what, your 20th time watching this series? Sometimes I even think you have a blood kink."

You barely managed to crack a smile at Jackson's comment. "Very funny," you retort weakly, fighting back the urge to start vomiting again, picking yourself up as best you could.