A reason for living

Downhill

October 21st, Sunday

Kirishima's birthday was about a week ago and I was forced to meet all his weird college friends. I hate all of them, but for his sake, I fought through the evening.

He's making me the happiest person on the planet. After the night we confessed, we started dating. It was fucking awkward, how he was still too shy to text me and ask if I want to hang out. But I was the same, so I shouldn't complain.

The beginning of our relationship was- weird. We didn't know if we should act differently during dates, if we should even call it a date, if we should kiss and hold hands in public, if it's okay to talk to others about it. All these things were so complicated, but when the time came, when he and I were alone and close- then, nothing mattered. His warm touch and his presence made me feel amazing.

Though we never went further than kissing in these almost two months. We fought often, over completely irrelevant things and ended up laughing at them together. That the day would come where I can call someone my loved one- was something I had never expected. To be honest, it's- still hitting me hard. I love him, with all my heart.

This morning, I wake up with him by my side again, his hand intertwined with mine, while he lays on his back, the other hand on his chest, his face lifted up, mouth opened, breathing quietly. The sunlight hits his cheek and throat, kissing it with a yellowish orange tone.

Slowly, I blink myself awake and look at him, smiling. His hand still feels warm and soft, just like it did yesterday, when we fell asleep watching a horror movie. Slightly, I begin stroking his palm with my thumb, closing my eyes. He mostly wakes up before me, so it means it's really early, if I'm already awake. I breathe calmly, in and out, inhaling his fading scent and how it imprinted into my bed linen and my pillows. This is what I always wanted. If he's not here, I can at least smell him.

My stomach grumbles a little, not loud, but somehow a little painful. Twisting my face, I question myself if I'm hungry. But if I think about food, I get a little more aching, like nausea. Maybe I ate something wrong? With my other hand, I touch my belly and start stroking it. I feel the groaning beneath the bulges of my abs, so I stop. Something's odd. It feels really weird, maybe I should-

Oh, shit. I have to throw up.

I get lose of Kirishima's hand in an instant and roll myself off the bed, down to the floor, pushing myself off the wooden planks, just to storm inside the restroom with my hand held in front of my mouth, twisted face.

Inside, I throw up holding my hands against the border of the toilet seat, grabbing onto it tightly. The pain in my stomach gets worse the more I throw up. It's a familiar feeling. It feels so bad, but I- I don't want it to be something serious. I'm almost done with remission, I barely have anything of the leukemia cells left in my body! It can't be!

Kirishima seems to have woken up.

„Bakugou!? What the hell!?" He shouts at me worried, but more confused. I haven't been throwing up in months. In almost half a year. He hears me gagging more and more, harder, with rough noises and painful coughing. I can barely breathe, the gag reflex completely shuts up my wind pipe.

„Bakugou!?" Kirishima runs inside the bathroom, throws himself down next to me and starts holding my body above the toilet, so I don't fall inside.

„Kirishima..." I whisper without any strength, confused that the nausea appeared out of nowhere, after such a long time of a reputable health. His hands tremble on my back, while clinging his fingers inside my spine and rib cage, holding me above and even though I can't see his face, I know exactly how horrified and agonized he looks.