Roadtrip Oneshots

Rylyn, 394.6 Miles

A big thanks to Mikeys_girl22 for the request!
❤️
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Rye

I'm hesitant to climb into the van. Just the sight of the van makes me sick to my stomach, not that the others know.

I know it's going to be a long drive to Glasgow, and I know it's going to make my carsickness harder to deal with.

Brooklyn calls me in with a big smile, one I can't help but return, and I climb into the van in an odd sense of unease.

I sit down next to my boyfriend, and already I feel nauseous.

With a quiet sigh I close my eyes and curl up as much as possible, ignoring all conversation around me.

I can hear Mikey and Andy shouting about something or other with Jack, but I don't speak. I know that if I open my mouth I'll feel the urge to retch.

I clench my jaw when I feel the van start to move, yet I relax as a hand runs through my hair gently; Brooklyn.

It's like he knows that something's wrong.

However hand movement by hand movement I feel myself slipping away into sleep, my head feeling foggy and full of fluff.

The pleasant feeling is interrupted when the van suddenly jolts.

Within a millisecond I'm bolt upright, hand clamped over my mouth. I'm scared to take away my hand. I supress a gag with tears in my eyes.

"Babe, are you alright?" Brooklyn asks quietly, concerned.

All I can do is give him a thumbs up. I swallow repeatedly until I feel I control my stomach, and I lie back down, only this time I'm hiding myself in Brook's side.

I hear him chuckle, but I can't focus on it. My stomach is in complete turmoil, and I can't stop groaning under my breath. The sound escapes my lips louder than I thought.

"Rye?"

I don't say anything. If I open my mouth, I fear I'll throw up all over the van, thus delaying us more than we already are.

With each gentle jolt of the van, the pressure in my stomach builds and builds. My jaw tenses as I grind me teeth down on each other, and without Brook noticing I rest my hand on my stomach; I can feel it flipping and completing triple summersaults under my hand.

A few minutes of faded memory, and I feel Brook's hand on my stomach, and it brings me relief when he starts to rub it. Soft, and in circles. I let out a sigh of bliss, and the fog and clouds builds around my eyes, fills my head.

I burp quietly, uncontrollably, and the nausea decides to mount to another level. I push Brook off me and sit upright. I gulp and cover my hand with my mouth, eyes wide at the prospect of what I know is coming.

I can't contain the gag that takes over my body, and I can't get a grip on myself; the whole van has gone silent, and I know that everyone's watching me.

I hate it.

"Oh crap, Darren! Daz! Can you stop the van?" Brooklyn shouts from beside me, clamps his hand down on my thigh.

I gag again, and a tear trails down my cheek. I don't want to throw up, not with everyone watching me.

"Okay, does anyone have a bag or anything?" Brooklyn shouts again, and I wince.

There goes my self-esteem...

I blink, and there's two bags on my lap. I look up to see the reassuring glances of both Mikey and Andy, but it doesn't make the shame any easier to deal with.

I don't want to throw up into a bag in the van.

"Hey, it's alright. If you need to throw up, just do it. I know you'll feel worse by trying to keep it down," Brooklyn whispers.

My stomach lurches, and I frantically reach for one of the bags and hold it with clenched fists. I spit into the bag, my whole body shaking.

Then, thankfully, the van comes to an abrupt halt.

Before I can even move, Andy's on his feet, wrenching the door open. I see the opening, and I take it, breathe in the rush of cold air.

And then, on the side of the road, I throw up, gagging and coughing and spluttering.

Cars and cars drive on passed, but the sound blurs into white noise as I throw up repeatedly.

I blink away the tears as I step away, see a shadow walk towards me.

It's Brooklyn, a soft smile on his face, bottle of water in his hand.

I take it with a quiet thanks, and I can't bring myself too look him in the eye.

I'm just so embarrassed... about everything.

Brooklyn brushes his knuckles on my cheek, and I flinch at the contact.

"There's nothing to worry about Rye... everyone gets travel sick at some point," he says gently.

"I didn't want anyone to find out," I reply.

I take a few sips of water, and I can't look up from the floor.

"Rye, please look at me."

It takes a few seconds of hesitation, but I lift my gaze to my boyfriend.

"I'm sorry," I sniff.

Before I know it I'm crying, and I'm in Brook's arms, his arms encircling my waist and holding me up. I cry into his jumper, and all I'm feeling is shame and embarrassment, alongside the familiar feeling of comfort that Brook gives me.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about Rye... nothing at all," Brooklyn says.

"How do you know that's what I'm feeling?" I ask with a small smile.

"Come on Rye, I know you," he laughs.

I laugh and sob at the same time.

"I love you."

"Not as much as I love you."

"Impossible," I whisper.

The sounds of traffic drifts back into focus, and I step away from my boyfriend, wipe the few stray tears from my eyes.

"I think we should set off again. We're gonna be late as it is," I say.

"Only if you're sure you're alright?"

I nod once with a smile.

"Lie down for the rest of the journey, and see if you can sleep some of it. It might make it easier for you," Brooklyn suggests, taking my hand and pulling me back to the van.

"What if I need to throw up?"

Brooklyn stops walking and threads our fingers together.

"Then throw up, in one of the bags. Now I know what you're thinking; it's embarrassing. But, it'll make you feel better in the long run," Brooklyn says as he brushes my hair out of my face.

"Thanks Brooky."

He pecks my lips and then carries on dragging me back to the van. A smile creases onto my lips.

There's bags beneath my chair, and within easy reach should I need to throw up, and thanks to Jack the windows are open.

"Do you want the windows down Rye? Would fresh air help at all?"

I'm currently snuggled into Brook's side. He has one hand gently rubbing my stomach, and the other plays with my hair.

I mumble something, and I hear Brooklyn chuckle.

He says something, but I'm far too in the fog of approaching sleep to hear him.

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Oof sorry about the quality to this one.

"Take my hand."

Love WolfGirl.❤️