#Genshin emeto

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

This is a very anxiety-inducing post to make, and I might wake up one morning in a panic and take it down again, haha!

I've mentioned multiple times on here that I'm a writer, not an artist, which is why I'm always so blown away and ecstatic when talented artists make fanart of my work! But I do sometimes sit and doodle, and well, I finally worked up the courage to share a doodle (while praying to every archon on teyvat that one of the few people who have seen my doodles don't stumble across this and recognise my art style

Small warning: the following drawing does include vomit

I've definitely been feeling the scenario of Cyno being sick in the night, and maybe he's alone too. Like Tighnari is visiting family or something along those lines, and of course out of all the times, that's when Cyno comes down with a bug or gets a bad case of food poisoning

[caspersickfanfics]

Written for @monthofsick Day 13: Professionalism Failure

Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Vomiting, fever, implied scat/diarrhea off screen

Anon asked:

Hey! I was wondering if I could request the professionalism failure for sick Cyno Tighnari caretaker? Maybe cyno has gotten food poisoning from a work event and has to somehow keep it together until tighnari can rescue him? Or maybe he can’t and has to deal with the embarrassment of it all. I just can imagine Tighnari being really protective over him if the other academy members give him a hard time~

A/N:

I don’t think this really makes sense in the canonical progression of things, but as I wrote this I imagined it taking place before Nahida had time to select actual good sages to replace the old ones. So the sages here are like the default ones who were next in line after Azar and that group. Essentially, they’re connected to Azar still but weren't directly convicted of any crimes and they have a lot less power. Idk, thinking about politics too much even in fiction makes me mad so I’m just gonna do a bit of a hand wave here.

This meeting has been a thorn in Tighnari’s side since the sages demanded to arrange it weeks ago. Despite his best efforts to wriggle his way out of it, the thorn had stuck. They’d backed him into a corner of sorts; the Akademiya demanded his presence specifically to even consider allocating funding to assist in the healing and maintenance of the Avidya Forest. Somehow, now that he’s in attendance, it’s even worse than he’d expected.

He scowls at the itinerary in front of him. It’s weighted so that anything anyone’s interested in will happen at the very end. No chance of leaving early. He probably shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

The one saving grace is that Cyno is here as well. While the matras’ financials are essentially secured as a matter of tradition, the specific way in which the money gets distributed is up in the air. Depending on the outcome, Cyno’s internal sense of justice may be placed in alignment with or in opposition to their mandates. This meeting may be even more important for him than for the forest rangers.

Which is why Tighnari is alarmed when, about 45 minutes into the 5 hour meeting, Cyno’s head is pillowed in his arms, resting upon the ridiculously long conference table. Although Tighnari is seated a distance away, he thinks he can see sweat matting the matra’s hair down. With any luck, he’s just being paranoid, though that seems unlikely. Even more so when Cyno raises his head and suddenly stands. His typically warm skin tone has paled to an ashy brown. He’s hunched over, too. His posture is altered so slightly that Tighnari doubts anyone else has noticed, despite all eyes turning his way at the scrape of his chair, but it’s glaringly obvious to him. Not to mention - this is Cyno’s second time interrupting the meeting. For the second time, too, he quietly excuses himself for the bathroom.

It’s fortunate that Alhaitham is still Acting Grand Sage. Tighnari had been somewhat grumpy towards his friend for the fact that he hadn’t been able to exempt him from the meeting, but the fiery grudge is doused when the ex-scribe’s glare silences annoyed complaints from the other sages about the General Mahamatra’s exit. If Alhaitham’s lingering frown is anything to go by, he’s noticed something off about Cyno as well.

The meeting continues on, and its participants are forced to split into breakout groups. They’re meant to be discussing the continued importance of knowledge to Sumeru, though no one seems to care enough to stay on topic. Instead, the people around Tighnari begin trash-talking Cyno.

“That’s enough gossip, I think,” Tighnari asserts dryly. He recognizes a handful of the nuisances around him as Bimarstan employees and smirks as they pale before him. “Sorry, who was it you were saying is unprofessional? I, for one, wonder about the ethical repercussions medical personnel might face if they were, say, reported for rudely speculating on a past patient’s personal life.” He resists the urge to make specific jabs at a particularly loud doctor whom he has quite damning intelligence on, but keeps the option available for future use as needed.

Fortunately, his colleagues are just barely smart enough to catch his threat. They carry their discussion to the topic at hand, and then onto some other irrelevant gossip that Tighnari doesn’t care enough to comment on. Instead, he’s distracted by tracking the time that Cyno’s been gone. Ten minutes, then 15. When the door finally creaks open, conversation lulls. Heads turn.

“I apologize for the disruption,” Cyno says upon entering. He looks… marginally better than he had when he’d left. The sages accept his apology with minor grumbling that is cut surprisingly short - again, likely thanks to the Acting Grand Sage. Tighnari will thank him, later. He tries to let his concern fade away, but is unable to resist clearing his throat.

“I’d like for the General to join our group, if that’s alright? I believe his insight would be rather beneficial to our current discussion.” A discussion to which Tighnari has been paying no attention. He is grateful once again for Alhaitham, who nods and silently leaves no room for disagreement.

Up close, Cyno looks exhausted. Tighnari was right to be worried. Cyno runs hot, but doesn’t tend to sweat; definitely not this profusely. He’s quiet by nature, but has never hesitated to voice his opinions. Now he says nothing even when their colleagues unapologetically speak with microaggressions and horribly biased misconceptions about the Eremites. His eyes are unfocused; Tighnari wonders if he’s hearing the conversation at all. As time passes, Cyno’s condition only worsens and he drifts closer to Tighnari’s side. Eventually, the matra’s stomach makes an angry noise and his cheeks flush. Tighnari pulls him aside.

“Do you need to leave?” He asks gently. Tighnari silently dares anyone else to comment with a quick glare at the rest of the group. They continue to chatter amongst themselves, shuffling out of earshot. Perhaps out of respect, an effort to grant some privacy; perhaps simply to gossip more. Tighnari simply does not care - not right now, at least. He’ll deal with it later if he needs to.

“I’m sorry,” Cyno says, voice weak. “I’m okay. My–” He sucks in a sharp breath and winces, his hand shaking as it drifts to his midsection. A moment passes; the pain intensifies and then relents. When he speaks again, Cyno’s voice is dulled. “My stomach is just disagreeing with something I ate.”

Clearly. If his partner were feeling better Tighnari would argue that this is a severe understatement. “You’ve been feeling bad this whole time?” Tighnari asks instead. The General shrugs.

“It’s manageable.”

Very deliberate phrasing, Tighnari notes. Outwardly, he nods. “Let me know if that changes, Cyno.”

The meeting carries on. It’s boring and obnoxious. The loud doctor continues to be vocal about his nonsense. Tighnari rebukes him occasionally for the sake of a bit of entertainment, but the other man is easily cowed. He defers quickly to Tighnari’s judgement each time. Uninteresting, but probably for the best; there’s no point in getting worked up over someone who will likely lose his position for malpractice in the next few months.

For his part, Cyno remains unspeaking in the presence of the rest of the group. He sits off to the side and fidgets, looking at the floor. His cheeks are flushed, which Tighnari suspects is due to both a fever and humiliation. When the side of his face comes to rest against the table, Tighnari resists the urge to remove his heavy headdress only because he knows that doing so would embarrass Cyno further.

Next on the itinerary is free discussion, meaning that everyone at the meeting is supposed to get up, walk around, talk to people… Tighnari does not care for this sort of connection making. He doesn’t bother moving, and responds politely but vaguely to anyone who approaches him. More importantly, he responds the same way when anyone tries to approach his partner - perhaps with a touch of extra heat. Of course, Cyno could fend for himself, even in his current state, but Tighnari has no doubt that at least some of their colleagues have picked up on the General's vulnerability and are deliberately targeting it. He’s just sent someone away perhaps a bit too forcefully to be called diplomatic, when a cool, clammy hand wraps around his arm. Cyno is looking up at him.

“Tighnari. I feel sick.” A queasy burp escapes him. Tighnari frowns.

“You’re nauseous? Cyno,” he chides. “You need to rest at home.”

Fortunately, Cyno nods in agreement. “I’ll let the sages know that I’m leaving. You should stay,” he says, waving away Tighnari's skepticism. “I can handle this and - hic! - there’s no need for the forest to suffer for my failings.”

Tighnari nearly rolls his eyes. He’s sure that neither the forest nor the matra need to face consequences as a result of an illness entirely out of Cyno’s control; though he can acknowledge there is some benefit in his presence here, if the other man is able to hold out on his own. If he stays, Tighnari could at least ensure nothing disastrous happens regarding either of their positions.

Still. He would easily sacrifice that for the sake of Cyno’s wellbeing.

He watches the sick man approach the sages, who sit in large, looming chairs, making Cyno look tiny. Alhaitham stands, as if to stretch his legs, and moves close. Frustratingly, with all of the chatter and the distance between then, Tighnari can’t hear a thing without imposing on the conversation directly. He can see Cyno speak, and then Alhaitham nods. The elder sages frown and one says something, before two more join in. Cyno's head bobs, then shakes, and then he muffles what looks to be another burp into his fist. He’s still for a moment, aside from his Adam’s apple bobbing frantically. 

Even without knowing the exact words exchanged, it’s more than evident that the sages are unwilling to respect Cyno’s needs. Tighnari is about to interfere when Alhaitham’s voice jumps up a notch - likely deliberately at a volume just loud enough for Tighnari to hear.

“So,” he’s saying to the other sages, “you’re saying that a doctor whose medical skills are acknowledged by the Akademiya must verify that he’s ill?”

Tighnari tenses. He immediately glances around the large room, eyes searching. Alhaitham is still speaking.

“For example,” he continues. “A Bimarstan doctor?”

There’s no use checking whether the sages agree - Alhaitham has them cornered. Now Tighnari just needs to— Ah. There.

He barely resists grabbing the doctor by the ear and latches onto his wrist instead. Under his breath, he speaks with venom, “Cyno is sick, clearly, don’t you agree?”

The man is silent, probably stunned, and Tighnari continues. “Or would denying the obvious truth be worth risking—”

“Oh no, yes, you are correct, Master Tighnari,” the doctor rambles nervously. Tighnari pushes him before the sages. They glance at one another. Cyno looks up, as well, but stays quiet, taking measured breaths.

“Well?” Tighnari asks. “He’s a Bimarstan doctor.”

With the glares of both Tighnari and Alhaitham pinned on him, the eldest sage slowly nods. Tighnari turns his gaze to the doctor and taps his foot. “Go on, then.”

“Oh! Um, yes, I believe that the General Mahamatra is experiencing some, uh, gastrointestinal distress. He should rest at home for the quickest recovery.”

“And,” Tighnari jumps in before he gets a chance to scurry away. “Would you recommend that someone assist in his care during this time, perhaps due to the strain of having been forced to stay on his feet for so long?”

“Ah, yes. Master Tighnari is correct, it would be wise for him to accompany the General. Should– should you all agree–” His backtracking cuts off with a wheeze as Tighnari stomps on his foot.

The eldest sage doesn’t look pleased, but he sighs, unsmiling as he spits out begrudging words. “I will allow it. But the forest watcher must agree to reapply for his funding and return to the city in a few weeks' time... Should he still be interested in the Akademiya’s support, that is.”

Tighnari grits his teeth. These geezers always need to get the last word in. “Fine,” he snaps, foregoing any pretense of politeness. He all but drags Cyno out of the conference room - gently of course, though he’s sure they’re equally eager to be elsewhere.

As soon as they’re through the door, Cyno stops.

“Tighnari. The bathroom— urp!” He lurches forward with an empty heave, then scrambles away. Tighnari is quick on his heels, and finds Cyno in an unlocked stall, trembling with his head hanging over the toilet. He hasn’t been sick yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

“Hey,” Tighnari speaks quietly. “Deep breaths, okay?”

Cyno glances at him briefly, then nods and squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. Tighnari scoffs.

“For saving me from that meeting? Cyno, please.”

The matra shakes his head. “It was important. And now you’ll have to come back. Not to mention– ugh,” a queasy shudder runs through him before Cyno is able to speak again. “Not to mention having to do the paperwork a second time.”

It’s an annoyance, but the paperwork isn't a big issue. Tighnari tells Cyno as much. “Just focus on getting better.”

The sick man has lost a great deal of the color in his face, and sweat glistens on his temples. His whole body is tense. Tighnari brushes his hair back, hoping to protect it from any mess and provide some comfort at the same time. “Try to relax,” he says.

“Guh,” Cyno moans. “I feel so… gross.”

Tighnari aches in sympathy. For as ill as Cyno looks, he’s sure he feels even worse. Minutes pass slowly. Cyno’s stomach makes angry noises and he’s periodically wracked by hiccups and burps. Eventually, Tighnari coaxes him into leaning back against his chest. His hands card through Cyno’s hair as the sick man turns, pressing his face into Tighnari's neck.

“You’re okay,” Tighnari murmurs. There are warm little puffs of air against his neck and it tickles, but he remains still.

He’s just beginning to sweat from his partner’s body heat when Cyno lurches away from him, hunched forward over an empty but gut-wrenching belch. His entire body heaves three times until he’s burping up a flood of vomit. It pours out of him with alarming urgency. Tighnari keeps his hair out of the way, but he can do little else but watch as Cyno violently empties himself. Each time he thinks it may be over, Cyno’s stomach contracts again. He sways; Tighnari steadies him just in time for another jet of puke to splash into the toilet water.

Disgusted shudders run through Cyno while he tries desperately to catch his breath. When he gets close, he is overtaken by coughs that bring up more bile. He groans.

Fortunately, there’s only so much in his stomach. When Cyno’s retching fails to bring anything else up for a handful of minutes, Tighnari half-drags him out of the stall, away from the sour smell. It seems to help. Cyno wipes his face and swallows thickly.

“How are you feeling?” Tighnari asks.

Cyno shrugs. “Bit better. For now.”

Tighnari hums; it’s to be expected. He suspects a bout of food poisoning or the stomach bug, so the next 24 hours or so will likely be challenging.  It’s a humbling thing, being able to do so little in the way of comfort at such a time. Still, he does what he can, massaging the back of Cyno’s neck, feeling him relax in time with his ministrations. He only stops when the matra begins drifting off.

Tighnari pokes his cheek. Cyno cracks an annoyed eye open, and Tighnari raises a brow. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to sleep here? In this bathroom? Where our colleagues will eventually find us?”

Cyno nods. Cheeky bastard. His words are slurred when he speaks, as if his mouth has relaxed along with his body. “As long ’s you keep doin’ that…”

With a snort, Tighnari pulls them both to their feet. “Let’s go, you big lummox. I’d much rather give you a massage on your couch than on these gross tile floors.”

“Mhm,” Cyno mumbles, leaning heavily against his partner as they walk. “Nari… thank you.”

Chest warm, Tighnari ruffles the other man’s hair lightly and presses a quick kiss to the top of his head. “Any time.”

———

Fanart for this fic!!!

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[aeryssickfics]

@monthofsick

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Sick Xiao, Caretaker Lumine

Warnings: Emeto/vomiting! Mild delirium and nightmare mentions. Brief combat and medical care mentions!

Summary:

Novemetober Rescheduled Day 7 Prompt: Too Feverish to Think Lumine so rarely calls Xiao's name that this is certainly the first time she has done so amid fear and panic. Xiao comes, but Lumine must contend with the fact that he isn't well. As such things often do, it gets worse before it gets better.

[danafeelingsick]

babygirl came home after 30 pulls for me 😳

warning: i gave him slightly detailed snake mouth there, so be warned anyone with a phobia. (i also know zero to nothing about this man, so this is most certainly not canon)

[pokemonispain]

waking up on the wrong side of the bed-Alhaitham/Kaveh

Summary:  In which the moment Kaveh wakes up he can tell that today is not his day.

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It's the aching in his joints and the sharp pain dancing along his skin, the jittery buzzing burn that sits just below his skin that lets Kaveh know that today just isn’t his day when he opens his eyes that morning.

He groans softly, grimacing at the dull ache that streaks across his eyes when the sunlight filtering in from between the curtains feels far too bright.

As Kaveh lies there hoping to drift back off to sleep he slowly becomes more and more aware of a few more things.

For one his head hurts, a slight dull ache settled at the base of his skull as well as his right temple. It’s not horrific but it definitely is slightly noticeable and annoying.

The next thing he notices is that his body feels heavy, especially in his limbs as if a small weight were tied to each.

There’s a slight ache in his stomach as well, not exactly painful but definitely uncomfortable, and he scowled as he shakily placed a hand on his stomach. His scowl only deepens when he finds that his stomach is bloated ever so slightly.

The final thing is the burning sting dancing across his skin, that make even the blankets laying across him feel uncomfortable.

It’s all these things alongside the jittery, almost feverish feeling settled in his body that lets Kaveh know that he’s having a flare-up.

Kaveh was someone who’d been chronically ill since he was a child although he did his best to hide it as he got older, especially when he was studying at the Akademiya.

This often meant him pushing through the pain, the horrible fevers, and nausea, no matter what whenever he was in class or around others, only to return to his dorm room and collapse in bed barely able to move.

Once in bed, he would reach out taking the sketchbook and pencil he kept on his nightstand, and simply sketch. Random doodles, impossible yet wondrous architecture that no human could reliably replicate.

Sketching random doodles like that was one of the few things that let him ignore the world around him.

More often than not he would fall asleep soon afterwards, his quill still clutched in his hand.

The illness wasn’t life-threatening truthfully but that didn’t stop Kaveh from feeling as if it were whenever the flare-ups were at their worst.

Not only that but alongside the regular symptoms Kaveh also often found himself susceptible to getting sick frequently which was rather annoying.

Honestly, he’d felt the oncoming signs of a flare-up all week, the slight nagging queasiness in his stomach that made quite a lot of food seem unappetizing.

The heaviness that lingered in his body each morning which he’d just chalked up to the work he’d been doing the night before.

The dull ache that had settled in his skull which he’d chalked up to eye strain.

Remembering the signs that he’d ignored and brushed off, Kaveh groans loudly his hands covering his face, “Idiot!”

A second later he scowls, pausing for a moment to try and listen intently in the hopes that Alhaitham hadn’t heard his near scream of frustration.

He’d been living with Alhaitham for a little while now, with the younger man extending the offer for Kaveh to live with him a while ago.

Although they’d been rather close during their time studying at the Akademiya together, despite the fact that they attended under different years and different

Darshans.

Kaveh was Alhaitham’s senior however the two had grown rather close forming something of an odd friendship, this friendship had drifted apart due to their differences, but eventually when they’d met once more later into their adulthood, and began living together.

They bickered and argued rather frequently, pushing each other’s buttons and responding in kind to the point where Kaveh wouldn’t have been surprised if all of Sumeru city were aware of it.

Alhaitham could often read Kaveh like an open book, something that the younger man used to his advantage to irritate Kaveh.

That is also why Kaveh often did his best to hide his illness thoroughly. The medications he often took to ease and calm the flare-ups were hidden in a lockbox in the lowest cabinet of the nightstand.

Admittedly Kaveh did occasionally overwork himself but it had been a while since he had a flare up thankfully. The last thing he wanted was for Alhaitham to find out about his illness for multiple reasons, the main one being Kaveh’s pride more than anything else.

Kaveh was someone who deeply valued his self-image, the way people saw him especially. He hated people pitying him like he was just some poor fool who didn’t know any better.

Having grown up the way he had, he had heard many comments such as this. Although it was in the Akaidemyia was where the hushed whispers were the worst, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have friends but even when the ‘eccentric weirdo’ became the genius and light of the Kshahrewar those hushed whispers never stopped.

Kaveh hated people pitying him, and although he knew when to swallow his pride when backed into a corner that didn’t make the feeling any less bitter. Hell, when Alhaitham had offered to allow him to move in with him it had taken a bit of contemplation.

It had been his only option at the time when he’d gotten into debt. The hushed whispers of people gossiping had seemed overbearing at that time.

Kaveh bites his lip lightly as his eyes glance over to his bedroom door nervously. The flare-up was annoying at the moment and slightly painful but the pain hadn’t reached crippling levels this time. Hopefully, he could keep Alhaitham from finding out until it passed.

Taking a deep breath Kaveh slowly sits up so that he can get ready for the day. Almost instantly a wave of dizziness washes over him at the movement, as the dull ache that had been throbbing in his skull seems to dart along the side of it.

Kaveh brings a hand to his head with a soft groan as he closes his eyes, his ears are filled with a loud ringing noise drowning out every other sound.

His other hand goes to his stomach when nausea stirs in the pit of it, still groaning and feeling as if the room is spinning around him he lightly rubs at his stomach noting the low growl that came from it.

Kaveh takes a few deep breaths through gritted teeth. Careful, all he had to do was be careful and maybe just maybe Alhaitham wouldn’t find out. It takes Kaveh a few deep breaths before he could open his eyes without feeling as if he were going to pass out.

It takes him another moment to shakily get to his feet, the normally soft sensation of shifting blankets feeling as if they were scraping against his too-sensitive skin.

His body feels far too slow and heavy as if filled with lead, each brush of clothing against his skin sending a sharp burning sting spiderwebbing across his body. When he’s finally finished getting dressed Kaveh feels worse than when he woke up.

Exhaustion covers him like a large blanket, tugging a yawn free from his lips. His head is pounding in time with his heartbeat, the sunlight filtering in through the curtains feeling as if it’s trying to stab him through the eye.

Kaveh feels uncomfortably warm as well as though he’d gotten a full workout from simply getting dressed. Each ragged breath he takes makes his chest and backache, that burn darting and dancing across the expanse of the skin there.

He feels a bit dizzy, the queasiness settled in his stomach becoming a bit more noticeable as if on cue he could hear the soft clang of pots and pans in the kitchen letting him know that Alhaitham was awake and fixing himself breakfast.

Tonight would be Kaveh’s turn to cook dinner, although they often switched this one specific chore due to Kaveh complaining that it was unfair that he should be stuck cooking each day for the two of them. Especially considering how messy Alhaitham already left the house.

Kaveh looked over towards his bed for a moment, he knows he should just climb back in bed and rest until this passed especially considering how exhausted he felt at the moment as if his energy had been drained.

And yet he doesn’t, his gaze going to the unfinished designs sitting on his worktable still on the planning stage, then going to the door where he could hear Alhaitham still moving around the kitchen.

“It’ll be fine. I just need to hold it together for a bit,” Kaveh tried to convince himself before he stands up straight, takes a deep breath, and stretched ignoring the ache that darts across his skin.

Once he believes that he looks presentable Kaveh leaves his bedroom and ventures into the kitchen.

~~~

Alhaitham senses Kaveh’s familiar presence in the kitchen rather than heads him at first, although soon enough he can just faintly hear Kaveh’s usual grumbling through the noise cancellation function of his headphones.

After cooking breakfast Alhaitham had chosen to read as he ate considering he had free time before work as usual.

Kaveh huffed looking at Alhaitham with narrow eyes when the younger man doesn’t answer his question in regards to the banging of pots and pans Kaveh had heard this morning.

“Of course, you’re ignoring me again, you and your books,” Kaveh grumbled as he walked over to where the freshly made pot of coffee sat.

The rich scent of coffee and heavy scent of spice drifted through the house almost lazily, filling it with a familiar cozy warmth.

Normally Kaveh didn’t mind the scent and even found it comforting after living with Alhaitham for a while, but at the moment it felt far far too harsh.

The queasiness in his stomach seems to stir a bit more, as pain darts across his skull. His nerves feel as if they’re completely fried, sitting on a razor’s edge, he can only hope that Alhaitham thinks that the heaviness in his steps is due to him just waking up.

Kaveh is so focused on grumbling under his breath as he’s fixing his plate of food that he doesn’t notice Alhaitham reach up and turn off the noise-canceling function of his headphones.

“Honestly making so much noise so early in the morning I swear,” Kaveh huffed as he sat down across from Alhaitham with his plate of food.

Kaveh is just picking up his fork when Alhaitham finally speaks, making him freeze.

A soft snort leaves Alhaitham’s mouth, “Racket? I don’t want to hear that from the person who spends all night usually hammering away at nonsense. Besides, this is my house in the first place.”

As Kaveh looked at him with narrowed eyes, irritation clearly appearing on his face, Alhaitham couldn’t help noticing that Kaveh looked slightly pale.

Kaveh was truthfully always a bit pale, which Alhaitham chalked up to many things for one Kaveh’s erratic work schedule and sleepless nights.

Even last night Kaveh had been working away in an effort to meet a deadline, obviously sacrificing his sleep as usual in an effort to get it done.

Alhaitham looked at Kaveh briefly, turquoise meeting carmine. Kaveh as usual doesn’t have a hair seemingly out of place, although Alhaitham does note the faint circles beneath his eyes which pointed to Kaveh clearly not getting enough sleep lately.

And yet despite him finding nothing particularly out of place, Alhaitham can’t help but feel as if something is off for some reason.

“I was not hammering away on nonsense! I was working on my project not to mention fixing up your horrible excuse of decor,” Kaveh snapped, an all too familiar scowl tugging at his lips. “Honestly I thought I told you not to go furniture shopping without me.”

Kaveh quickly takes a sip of his coffee once he stops speaking, feeling that familiar irritating tickle flaring to life in the back of his throat alongside that familiar soreness.

It helps just a tiny bit although it does nothing but make the nausea lurking in the pit of his stomach intensify for a moment, and Kaveh swallows thickly from behind his mug still raised to his lips.

He tries to ignore the way his clothes feel far too rough on his skin. Abnormally scratchy, each movement no matter how small had a sharp sting dancing along his skin.

Kaveh glances down at his food, unsurprisingly it looks unappetizing to him at the moment. Even though he had only tentatively sipped on his coffee this morning his stomach feels far too full.

Kaveh hadn’t realized he’d zoned out, his mind wandering as he stared at the food trying his best to prepare himself but when he eventually does look up he finds Alhaitham looking at him as if waiting for Kaveh’s response.

“What is it Haitham,” Kaveh asked with a slight scowl. He resisted the urge to fidget beneath Alhaitham’s gaze, although that doesn’t stop the fear and nervousness from writhing in his chest.

Did Alhaitham notice something that Kaveh missed when getting ready today? Did he know Kaveh was sick?

So many of these questions circled Kaveh’s exhausted mind at such a speed it almost feels as if they were making the dizziness worse.

Eventually, Alhaitham speaks, dragging Kaveh out of his swirling thoughts. “If you plan on going out, be sure to lock the door,” Alhaitham told him.

Kaveh gave a soft huff. “You better not take my key,” the words are grumbled under his breath as he picked up his fork.

While Alhaitham was used to Kaveh zoning out from time to time, it is the fact that Kaveh is strangely quiet only occasionally speaking up rather than aimlessly chatting and complaining to fill the silence that has Alhaitham taking a bit more notice.

Kaveh was someone who wasn’t a quiet person, whether it be working on his projects, complaining, or merely talking about whatever random thought that popped into his head, Kaveh was never quiet.

He was always talking, his eyes bright with excitement. For Kaveh to be quiet…well Alhaitham found it rather odd.

When Kaveh picks up his fork and begins eating is when Alhaitham notices that Kaveh’s usually steady hand had the slightest tremble to it. Kaveh didn’t seem to even be aware of it himself either.

For a few moments, it’s quiet, allowing Kaveh to focus on doing his best to force down the food, each bite sitting heavily like a weight in his already sore stomach. He has to repeatedly bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grimacing as cramps twist at his stomach.

This was fine, not good but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t experienced before.

Suddenly Alhaitham speaks, causing Kaveh to look up at the other man.

“You should try and see if you can get an extension for-“

Alhaitham is cut off suddenly when a rather loud growl comes from Kaveh’s stomach, causing both of them to jump slightly.

Kaveh freezes his eyes wide as his face flushed red, and he catches sight of the slightest hint of surprise on Alhaitham’s face if only for a second.

“Stop staring at me,” Kaveh huffed as he glanced away feeling almost pinned under Alhaitham’s gaze at the moment.

It felt a bit oppressive honestly, Alhaitham had very piercing eyes which always seemed to scrutinize whatever subject he laid them on. So it was no surprise that whenever he directed that gaze towards Kaveh, that Kaveh couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous.

The familiarity they had with each other rarely made it any better either, if anything Kaveh felt as if Alhaitham could see every chink in his metaphorical armor.

Did Alhaitham know something was wrong? After all, before Kaveh’s stomach had interrupted Alhaitham he’d seemingly been about to say something about Kaveh getting an extension.

“How can I not stare when you’re clearly making a spectacle of yourself,” Alhaitham said drawing Kaveh out of his swirling thoughts.

Between the fog blanketing his mind and the pounding headache, it takes him a moment or two to process Alhaitham’s words, but when he does as usual irritation wells up within him.

His eyes narrowed once more as he glared at Alhaitham eventually Kaveh looked away though, clicking his tongue and he mumbled soft curses under his breath.

Alhaitham finishes eating first, getting to his feet as he glanced at the nearby clock. He can hear Kaveh muttering something under his breath, although Alhaitham can’t understand the language due to it not being in the Sumerian tongue he does recognize the usual tone Kaveh usually has when he’s throwing a fit.

The language Kaveh was using was the language of the desert dwellers, with the other man having told Alhaitham that he grew up there for a bit as a child.

Alhaitham had heard Kaveh speak it many times, sometimes purposely during an argument or when drunk, or discreetly when he didn’t realize Alhaitham was present.

“Make sure you lock the door if you leave the house,” Alhaitham said as he grabbed his key off of the hook beside the door.

“Just don’t take my key,” Kaveh called out.

It is only when Kaveh hears the front door close shut, letting him know that Alhaitham had left for work that he slumped forward in his chair. Resting his head down for a moment as his hand went to his stomach, cringing when he feels it gurgling and shifting with each cramp that twisted at it.

Now that he’s allowed himself to relax, the nausea and dizziness slams into him with such ferocity that it leaves him breathless and panting.

A grimace tugs at his lips as pain blossoms along his entire body, a horrible weight settling in his arms, back, and chest.

A sharp stinging burn dancing across the surface of his skin leaving a buzzing jitteriness in its wake, as if he were being subjected to a constant electro attack.

His clothes feel far too rough on his skin, almost as if they were made of sandpaper.

For a few moments all Kaveh can do is sit there, his arms wrapped around his stomach cursing every archon he can think of as well as Celestia itself as he does his best to ride out the waves of pain and nausea.

It takes him a good few minutes of taking shuddering breaths in through his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut as they sting with tears.

Slowly but surely the pain and nausea slowly begins to dull bit by bit till it’s settled as something of a background annoyance.

Sniffling and lifting his head Kaveh wipes at his eyes with trembling hands, he truly really does hate this. “Fuck…”

Kaveh glances at his plate of half-finished food but glances away when his stomach makes a loud gurgling noise as if warning him to not even entertain the idea of trying to eat any more of it.

Kaveh really hated wasting food, something that he'd learned and had been practically drilled into him as a child. Food in the desert could be hard to come by although many desert dwellers did their damnedest to scrape by to survive not everyone was so lucky.

Which often made times like this when the flare-ups made it difficult for him to eat that irritated Kaveh more than anything.

“Pisses me off,” he huffed under his breath as he got to his feet and quickly put the leftovers inside the mist flower box.

It would keep the food cool and somewhat preserved for a day or so at least.

With that taken care of, and a small apology whispered to Lesser Lord Kusanali, Kaveh returned to his room, his hand lingering on his stomach which was practically throwing a tantrum at the moment. The dull cramps leave him feeling as if someone was pinching his insides.

His steps are heavy with exhaustion and yet he doesn’t lay down to take a nap and stay in bed like he should truthfully.

He had some work to do and designs to go over, he was just thankful that he wouldn’t need to leave the house today because just the thought of doing so has his head spinning.

It wasn’t Kaveh’s first time working through a flare-up, and as he goes over the all too familiar tools on his workstation he’s reminded of his time in the Akademiya.

And despite the pain tugging at every inch of his body Kaveh can’t help the small smile that crawls across his face as he picks up one of the nearby pencils.

His hands are still trembling ever so slightly as they had been when he’d been eating earlier, however, it doesn’t bother him after all Kaveh is used to it.

As Kaveh works, he can’t help but find his mind turning to his time as a student. The many long sleepless nights he’d spend studying, gathering references for his classes, going to the tavern with friends occasionally, simply sitting somewhere and sketching.

Kaveh also finds his mind wandering to when he and Alhaitham had been closer when younger. The times Kaveh would find himself sick due to lack of sleep and Alhaitham would come by to see him after class, carrying a book or three in hand as usual.

He’d chastise Kaveh openly all while keeping him company, although even back then Alhaitham had been blunt, his words had lacked the almost vicious bite they’d gained in later years after he and Kaveh’s falling out.

Surprisingly while he’d had flare-ups more frequently back then he was always able to keep Alhaitham from finding out, just as he did now.

Making sure his medicine was hidden out of sight of Alhaitham’s critical eye. Never speaking a word about the doctors appointments to anyone.

He was nearly living a double life at this point. Which again wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to.

Time seems to pass in a blur as Kaveh worked and for a little while he was able to ignore everything, the pain, the nausea, the fever, all of it.

As frustrating and infuriating as it could be sometimes Kaveh would be dead in the ground before he admitted that he truly hated art.

Placing his quill and ink aside for a moment Kaveh scrutinized his progress with a careful eye.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was no longer focused, that his concentration had been broken to some extent that suddenly everything seemed to hit him all at once.

Kaveh slumped forward slightly with a groan, bringing a hand to his face. It felt as if someone was trying to crack his skull open, his vision wavering as pain sparked and lashed across his skin.

“Need…to lay down…” Kaveh murmured to himself his words slurring slightly whether it was the exhaustion or the dizziness he wasn’t sure.

He shakily gets to his feet, honestly though trying to walk at all in his current state is a mistake. The moment he stands up the room seems to rapidly sway and tilt before his eyes, wave after wave of dizzying nausea churning in his stomach and pulling a sickly-sounding hiccup from his lips.

Kaveh attempts to take a step, in what he thinks is the direction of the bed but he doesn’t make it, the ground feels as if it disappears from beneath his feet and Kaveh is unconscious before he hits the ground.

~~~

Alhaitham arrives home early having taken the first opportunity offered to him to head home. Surprisingly the house is quiet as he opens the door and at first he believes Kaveh has left the house and gone out considering it wasn’t unusual.

However, he quickly disregards that thought when he notices Kaveh’s key on the hook by the front door.

It wouldn’t have been the first time Kaveh had forgotten his key and gone out though,  which was a habit Alhaitham found annoying.

At the moment though he only finds himself comfortable embracing the silence and temporary calm in the house.

Alhaitham makes his way through the house, stretching ever so slightly when he noticed that his shoulders felt a bit stiff from sitting down at his desk most of the day going over paperwork, just as usual.

He almost reaches his room, passing by the door to Kaveh’s room when he hears a loud crash from inside, as if someone had tripped over something and fallen.

At the noise Alhaitham pauses, sighing. And just like that, his chance to embrace the peaceful silence in the house had disappeared.

It wasn’t uncommon for Kaveh to trip over things, after all his room was a mess of scarcely organized chaos something Alhaitham never failed to bring up whenever Kaveh threw a fit over him leaving his books out.

For a moment Alhaitham finds himself waiting, listening to see if he would hear the usual sounds of Kaveh scrambling to get up or even soft cursing in the Sumerian tongue or the desert dweller's language.

And yet, there’s nothing. Just more silence…

Sighing softly, Alhaitham turns to Kaveh’s door and knocks.

“Kaveh?”

He listens again for a moment, adjusting his headphones slightly so that he could keep an open ear.

Alhaitham had rather sensitive hearing, and wearing the headphones helped ease that alongside the fact that they were soundproof and had a noise-canceling function.

For a moment the house is almost eerily silent as if it were holding its breath in anticipation. Then Alhaitham hears something, a weak groan followed by a whimper of pain.

“Kaveh,” he called out again as he placed his hand on the doorknob, it turned slightly beneath his hand and he scowled, noting that it was unlocked.

Alhaitham opens the door and in the next moment freezes when he sees Kaveh collapsed on the floor, curled into a ball.

It wasn’t the first time Alhaitham had found Kaveh collapsed seemingly due to lack of sleep from overworking himself, he should be well acquainted with it considering it was a sight he’d even seen in the Akademiya, it was logical really.

And yet that familiarity does not stop him from rushing to Kaveh’s side, his eyes wide, nor does that stop the uncomfortable, almost painful twisting sensation in his chest.

He drops down to his knees beside Kaveh, now that he was closer he could see that Kaveh was writhing weakly in pain soft almost inaudible whimpers leaving his lips. His skin was worryingly pale, and his clothes were soaked with sweat.

There was blood trickling from beneath his nose, another thing Alhaitham had seen before when Kaveh had collapsed due to overworking himself while sick.

And yet it makes the current situation no less frightening and… infuriating .

Alhaitham quickly reaches out but pauses when Kaveh groans loudly, his body jolting with a soft yet wet-sounding hiccup.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham said when he saw Kaveh’s eyes flutter open slightly.

Kaveh groans again, murmuring something that Alhaitham struggles to understand as his words slur between a mix of broken Sumerian and desert dweller's tongue.

Another hiccup jolts Kaveh’s body, sounding absolutely nauseating, in the very next moment his body shudders as a rumbling gurgling noise pries itself free of his throat right alongside a surge of pale greenish slightly watery vomit.

The slimy sludge-like mixture poured from his mouth almost lazily with a consistency of oil paint.

Kaveh coughed and spluttered harshly, his eyes going wide as more awareness crept into them. He whimpers loudly, a pathetic noise of misery right before another surge of pale vomit gurgles up his throat, the food that had been sitting so heavily in his stomach earlier coming up only semi-digested.

It has an almost slimy paste-like consistency as it congeals and cools on the hardwood floor.

“Easy, now. Just let it out," Alhaitham whispered quietly, as he brushed Kaveh’s hair back from his face, noting that Kaveh’s skin felt more than a little warm.

As Kaveh chokes up another wave of lumpy semi-digested vomit onto the floor, Alhaitham glances up towards Kaveh’s workstation from the looks of things Kaveh had been working on before he collapsed.

It takes a moment for Kaveh’s retching to taper off, threads of bile and drool dripping from his lips into the mess almost lazily, as he lays there panting soft hiccups and weak empty gags leaving his lips.

Kaveh whimpered as he blinked slowly in an effort to clear the tears from his eyes. Everything hurts, every inch of his skin feels as if it’s stinging and burning, his head is throbbing viscously to the point that he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d cracked it open when he’d fallen to the floor.

Cramps continue to twist at his stomach despite the fact that he’s sure he’s brought up every single bit of his breakfast.

Tears continue to well in his eyes despite his best efforts to blink them away, each ragged breath he takes makes his chest ache.

“Are you finished,” Alhaitham asked as he tried to ignore the way his heart seemed to twist uncomfortably at Kaveh’s current state.

Kaveh’s nose had stopped bleeding soon after he’d stopped retching, leaving a trail of red to stand out on his far too-pale skin.

Although he seemed awake and aware his eyes were glazed over and glistening with tears.

Instead of responding to Alhaitham he simply lays there trembling which is even more worrying if Alhaitham was honest.

Kaveh typically acted one of two ways when he was sick, either he would whine and complain as Alhaitham tended to him sometimes being rather dramatic about it or he would be strangely quiet and docile, often simply wanting to sleep and wordlessly cling to Alhaitham.

The latter was more worrying because from what Alhaitham knew about Kaveh alongside the times he tended to him when sick, Kaveh only became quiet and docile when his fever was incredibly high.

But strangely enough, while Kaveh definitely had a fever, it wasn’t enough where his behavior would be altered like it was at the moment.

“Let’s get you up, and then I’ll contact Tighnari,” Alhaitham said as he laid a hand on Kaveh’s back.

However, the moment he does Kaveh screeches in pain causing Alhaitham to jump back slightly startled.

For a moment he can only sit there with his eyes wide, perhaps if Kaveh wasn’t feeling like his body was trying to destroy him, he may have chuckled or laughed telling Alhaitham that he looked like a startled cat.

After a moment or two Alhaitham eventually speaks glancing towards the door then the bed, and makes a decision.

“Okay, alright I’ll take you to the Bimarstan,” he said quickly.

That has Kaveh jolting into awareness and he grits his teeth when he feels Alhaitham’s hands hesitantly touch him once more clearly worried about hurting him, and yet that does nothing to stop Kaveh from flinching at the sting that dances along his skin where Alhaitham lays his hands.

Kaveh’s thoughts seem as if they’re swirling in a panic. He couldn’t go to the Bimarstan, this wasn’t good.

“No,” Kaveh all but manages to shout, as he flinches away from Alhaitham’s touch.

“No,” Alhaitham echoed as he froze for a moment, and even through his pain and nausea-fueled haze, Kaveh can hear the incredulous tone coating his voice.

Kaveh cracks one eye open slightly, his breath shuddering as he swallowed thickly. “N-No hospital, d-don’t need one,” he told him, his voice a trembling, rasp.

“You’re delirious,” Alhaitham said almost immediately as he moved to grab Kaveh.

Kaveh speaks again and it’s the weak, pleading tone that his voice has that makes Alhaitham pause. “T-there’s medicine…in the nightstand. A lock box…please Haitham.”

For a few seconds, Alhaitham is silent, his teeth clenched as Kaveh’s words dawned on him.

Kaveh can just about make out the realization, in Alhaitham’s gaze and so he closes his own eyes to spare himself the sight of all his hard work and careful preparation he’d done over the years going down the drain in an instant.

If Kaveh wasn’t already crying from the pain he’d be wailing in frustration truthfully.

He feels Alhaitham’s hands on him after a few moments, they’re soft, containing very few callouses, but most importantly they’re cold and feel amazing on his too-hot skin and he doesn’t even realize he’s leaned into his touch until he whimpers softly.

“Bare with me.” He hears Alhaitham murmur although Kaveh still says nothing even as he feels himself being lifted up into Alhaitham’s arms.

He bites his lip doing his best to keep from crying out, he’d already made such a fool of himself. It was just his luck truthfully that Alhaitham of all people would see him like this, he didn’t know if it was the flare-up making his face feel as if it were burning or the sheer shame and embarrassment.

He feels Alhaitham carrying him across the room, before eventually feeling the familiar sensation of the bed beneath him.

Kaveh shakily places his arm over his eyes, doing his best to keep his breath under control. The last thing he needed was a panic attack on top of everything thing else going wrong at the moment.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He can hear the sound of Alhaitham retrieving the medicine in the lockbox, the soft familiar clip of the lock being opened.

The soft rattle of the pill bottles being removed and the soft thump as they’re placed down on the nightstand. Kaveh hears it all until suddenly there’s silence.

Kaveh can feel Alhaitham staring at him, and hear those gears turning in his head.

“How long has this been going on Kaveh?”

Alhaitham’s voice sounded nearly as monotone as usual, however, Kaveh does catch the familiar edge to Alhaitham’s voice. A mingling mix of frustration, worry, and surprise.

The faintest hint of a tired smile tugs at Kaveh’s lips, he truly was at the end of his rope if he thought Alhaitham was worried about him. Or perhaps Kaveh just truly looked that horrible enough that Alhaitham pitied him.

Both options left a sour taste in his mouth. A blow to his pride that he despised.

The nervousness and fear is doing nothing for his still churning stomach, and he can’t help but give a soft hiccup, swallowing thickly before he answers. “Since…a little while before I entered the Akademiya,” he murmured hesitantly, glancing at Alhaitham.

He quickly glanced away, however, his face burning with shame beneath Alhaitham’s critical gaze.

For once Alhaitham’s expression isn’t blank, a deep scowl on his face as he crossed his arms staring at Kaveh. A multitude of questions springing to the forefront of his mind as he remembered the many times Kaveh had been sick during their Akademiya years.

It was something that Alhaitham always chalked up to Kaveh overworking himself, in combination with not getting enough sleep and skipping meals. It was a habit that Kaveh had even now.

Alhaitham had never thought to question it truthfully, especially as it would get dismissed by Kaveh as just a cold or the flu.

Now though he realizes he should’ve been more thorough in regards to this matter.

Alhaitham paused, pursing his lips as he closed his eyes as though he were steeling himself and Kaveh has a good idea of what Alhaitham may be about to ask.

Alhaitham took a few deep breaths, and finally, he asked, as he slowly opened his eyes, “Is it eleazar?”

While eleazar was technically eliminated by Lesser Lord Kusanali alongside the Traveler rather recently that didn’t mean that the toll it took on a person simply disappeared.

Kaveh gives him a look of confusion but shakes his head. His flinches in the next moment, curling into a ball as a whimper slips from between his lips.

“N-not eleazar…just a bad flare up…” Kaveh forced out his words slurring between the desert dweller’s tongue and Sumerian.

Kaveh squeezes his eyes shut, his nails practically digging into the skin of his upper arm as he tries to ride out the unrelenting waves of pain.

The room feels as if it’s spinning around him, despite the fact that he knows that he’s pretty much laying completely still and Kaveh can’t help but cringe when his stomach makes a low gurgling noise.

A harsh cramp twisting at his stomach has him cringing as a wave of nausea rolls over him. Despite the fact that he was pretty sure he’d brought up the entirety of the breakfast he’d forced down earlier, his stomach still felt too tight and heavy.

Exhaustion sits heavily in his body like a weight, and he doesn’t even realize that he was beginning to drift off to sleep until he felt Alhaitham’s hand on his shoulder.

It’s a strange feeling truthfully, Alhaitham’s touches being so featherlight and hesitant. Clearly worried about hurting Kaveh and making him feel worse.

It was always like this between the two of them, despite the fact that they argued and bickered frequently, the actions they performed for each other always spoke the loudest.

“Here, wake up and take the medication or I’ll have to take you to the Bimarstan,” Alhaitham told Kaveh as the other man looked at him with slightly glazed-over eyes.

That brings more awareness to Kaveh’s eyes, and he huffed softly as Alhaitham handed him the medicine. “Fine, fine,” Kaveh mumbled, knowing by Alhaitham’s tone that the word ‘no’ wasn’t an option. Kaveh had pleaded with him after all.

It takes Kaveh a moment to actually take the medicine, but that’s simply because of the nausea licking at the back of his throat making the thought of putting anything in his stomach an unpleasant one.

Once Alhaitham is sure that Kaveh has taken the medicine he turns his attention to the mess on the floor. He’s making a mental checklist of the cleaning supplies he needs to grab as well as anything Kaveh may need when Kaveh suddenly speaks.

“S…sorry bout the floor…Haitham,” he said his words slurring heavily with exhaustion.

“It’s fine. The cleanup will be simple really,” Alhaitham reassured him. He turned to Kaveh, noting that the other man was staring at him with half-lidded eyes, clearly trying to stay awake for a few moments more. “Get some rest for now. You’re exhausted and sick.”

Kaveh gives a soft hum scowling. "Sorry..for making you...do all this... take care of me and stuff..." Kaveh mumbled his words slurring as his mind drifts in and out of

consciousness. It’s a struggle to make sure he’s still talking in the Sumerian language.

Kaveh feels Alhaitham’s hand on his forehead for a moment, likely checking to see if Kaveh’s fever had risen at all.

He hears Alhaitham speak just before he falls asleep.

“If you have time to feel guilty, then use it to focus on getting better and taking better care of yourself.”

As Alhaitham gently strokes Kaveh’s hair until the man drifted off to sleep he can’t help but notice the fact that his hand is trembling slightly. A testament to just how worried he’d been and still was.

Whenever Alhaitham and Kaveh interacted, many things seemed to fly out the window. Each invisible rule they had for themselves being torn down by the other with an often irritating ease.

Whenever they were around one another Alhaitham made new discoveries about himself. The one he has now though as he stares at Kaveh’s face as he sleeps is well…

“What an annoying discovery,” Alhaitham murmured.

Love truly was a strange thing.

~~~

Alhaitham can’t help but stare at Kaveh as he sleeps instead of reading his book like he’d intended to, finding that it was rather hard to focus.

Kaveh has been asleep for a few hours truthfully, his exhausted body doing its best to catch up on the rest it’d missed and desperately needed.

Kaveh surprisingly doesn’t snore in his sleep, although he does occasionally sleep-talk soft murmurs in the desert dweller language that Alhaitham can’t understand. But he can recognize the tone Kaveh is using, pleading.

Despite being from Haravatat, learning the desert dweller language was a difficult task, with many different dialects to the point where even someone native to the desert could become confused.

Kaveh often reminded Alhaitham of the very sandstorms that swirled through the desert honestly. Loud and chaotic, never giving Alhaitham a moment's peace even when they weren’t in the same place, either occupying his mind in some facet or coming to bother him.

And yet Alhaitham had at some point once more gotten used to the way Kaveh intruded into his life again. Just as he had when they’d grown close during their time at the Akademiya.

He’d never know peace when in Kaveh’s vicinity.

Alhaitham gets to his feet when Kaveh begins to stir in his sleep, his eyes flutter open and he flinches, squeezing them tight for a moment with a soft hiss, letting Alhaitham know that his head was still hurting.

Kaveh’s eyes open a bit more hesitantly this time, and he slowly looks around, tired red eyes roving around the room confused.

As Alhaitham calmly waits for him he pours a glass of water from the pitcher he placed on the nightstand earlier.

Eventually, Kaveh gives a soft humorless chuckle. “It would seem like what happened wasn’t just a horrifying nightmare.”

Kaveh runs a hand over his face ignoring the aches and pains dancing along his skin.

“Here. Can you drink this,” Alhaitham asked as he held out the glass of water for Kaveh to take.

Kaveh glances at him and then at the water, the sight of it has a slight queasiness stirring in his still aching stomach. However the fact that his throat feels as dry as the desert wins out.

“Hmmm,” Kaveh murmured as he sipped on the water. It is only when he’d moved and sat up ever so slightly that he realized that he was wearing different clothes.

“Did you…did you change my clothes Haitham,” Kaveh spluttered only to wince when pain rippled across his chest.

Alhaitham sighed, crossing his arms, “Who else would have done it Kaveh? Besides, you were a mess.”

“I think I can be forgiven for not looking my best when I’m sick,” he snapped with a soft huff and as he glanced away he missed the slightest hint of a smile on Alhaitham’s face.

If Kaveh was arguing back and putting up his usual fight this was good, it meant he was probably feeling a bit better.

“You need to eat something,” Alhaitham said as took the cup when Kaveh had finished with it.

Kaveh scowled at Alhaitham’s words, the thought of eating anything made his stomach churn as cramps continued to twist at it relentlessly.

A low growl coming from it as the water sloshed slightly in his gut. As a wave of nausea rolled over him Kaveh laid back down with a sigh. “I don’t think I can,” he told Alhaitham, glancing away his cheeks flushing a slight pink with embarrassment when his stomach gave another growl.

Kaveh closes his eyes for a few moments taking slow careful breaths in an attempt to calm it.

A moment or two later Kaveh feels the bed dip ever so slightly as Alhaitham sits down on the edge of it.

Kaveh can’t help but jump slightly, the motion sending his stomach sloshing and sending an acidic hiccup bubbling up his throat when Alhaitham places a careful hand on his stomach.

Alhaitham frowns as his hand moves carefully along the expanse of Kaveh’s stomach, and truthfully he isn’t surprised that Kaveh feels as hesitant to eat as he was.

Alhaitham can feel Kaveh’s stomach cramping and twisting beneath his hand, the upset organ writhing like a ball of snakes beneath Alhaitham’s fingers as low gurgling noises came from it.

Kaveh flinched, whimpering and burying his face in his arms slightly when a low, almost liquidy-sounding growl comes from his stomach, and Alhaitham feels the faint rumbling beneath his fingertips.

Another hiccup jolts Kaveh’s body slightly, followed by a soft groan. Kaveh mumbles something that Alhaitham can’t make out due to Kaveh’s words slurring together.

“What is it,” Alhaitham asked as he tilted his head a bit in an attempt to see Kaveh’s face. “Did you want something to drink?”

Kaveh took a deep shuddering breath, shaking his head slightly although he doesn’t look up, his face still buried in his arm. “N-no…it’s the water…” Kaveh said, swallowing thickly in between his shuddering breathing. “It-it’s…not sitting well. It hurts.”

Alhaitham couldn’t help but cringe slightly when he felt a particular bad cramp ripple through Kaveh’s stomach eliciting a low whine from the blonde.

“Do you think you can keep it down,” Alhaitham asked quickly as he looked over to where the trashcan was, in the area where he left it when he’d finished cleaning.

Kaveh curled further into a ball as he gave a trembling shake of his head, practically panting at this point. Kaveh gives an audible swallow before speaking his voice barely above a trembling whisper, “No.”

A wet, sickly gurgling belch rumbles up Kaveh’s throat in the very next second sending a surge of bile-tinged water splattering onto the blankets sounding like rainfall on a tarp.

Kaveh shakily raises his head, his eyes burning with tears as a violent retch rakes its way across his already sore throat.

As the gush of water tapers off, Kaveh is left coughing and sniffling, doing his best to force back his retching and gagging.

He absolutely despised this, these flare-ups, getting sick like this, he absolutely hated it and as he feels Alhaitham’s hand on his back carefully rubbing it he can’t help the sob that leaves his mouth.

Kaveh was so used to suffering through these flare-ups alone so just Alhaitham’s presence is something that Kaveh is thankful for.

“Let it out Kaveh, holding it in like that’ll hurt worse,” Alhaitham told him as his hand ran carefully along Kaveh’s back.

Kaveh whines loudly but does open his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and panting, tears welling up on his eyelashes as a thread of drool drips almost lazily from his lips.

Thankfully Kaveh doesn’t need to wait long a wet, hiccup has a small trickle of water tinged cloudy with bile splattering onto the mess already soaking into the sheets.

As his gagging tapers off, Kaveh is left sobbing from the exhaustion, frustration, and pain.

Alhaitham continues to rub his back, gently shushing the man. “It’s fine, the blankets are easy to wash after all. You can sleep in my bed for now.”

Under any other circumstances, Kaveh may have protested, may have turned Alhaitham down. But after today Kaveh wants nothing more than to climb into bed and sleep, hopefully through the duration of this flare-up.

[strawberrynsugar]

freminet after swallowing the primordial seawater by accident, still unconscious as he’s pulled out of the water.

passed out completely as his body rejects the strange liquid. clorinde can only hold him upright while he vomits out everything in his digestive system, seawater and food coming up in watery chunks.

even after he wakes up, he’s still shaky and barely cognizant. the salty seawater feels like lava being forced out of his mouth and nose. lyney or sigewinne helps him get it up as he gags.

lyney lets freminet lay down with his head on his lap, giving him as much time and attention as he needs to recover.

[sickfic-with-kiko]

Worse at Night: Cynonari Sickfic

Tighnari gets poisoned.

(Reposted from my AO3)

Work under the cut:

It’s not often Tighnari comes out into Sumeru city. Preferring the tranquil air of Avidya forest to the bustling atmosphere, his visits to the city are few and far in between. 

But there are exceptions to be made, when he folds his ears and walks through the streets slightly overstimulated. It’s not bad once in a while, he muses. Though by the end of the day, his opinion will certainly have changed. 

“Hey, Tighnari! Over here!” 

Aether and Paimon approach him swiftly once their gazes meet, beckoning him over to Puspa Cafe’s entrance. Tighnari raises a hand as a greeting, following them with a look of relief. 

They secure a table for three, choosing a quiet corner away from any loud groups. The traveller had always been considerate of Tighnari’s sensitivity to noise, which he’s often grateful for. It’s not often he gets to truly enjoy being in the city. 

“We could share a shrimp curry between us,” Aether suggests, pointing to the large portions shown on the menu. “It shouldn’t be too heavy on the spices.” 

Tighnari gives him a thankful smile. “I appreciate the consideration, but I’ve had seafood for the past week. I’m in the mood for some meat.” His ears twitch at the mere thought. 

Aether flips through the menu a little more, deciding on his own main course before choosing some side dishes. “I can get some deep-fried sweet potatoes and chicken rice to share.” 

“Sounds good. I’ll pay for the drinks then.” 

They don’t wait long before the food arrives, piping hot and appetising. Tighnari had ordered some sfiha for himself, while Aether had ended up sharing his curry with Paimon. It’s not long before Paimon begins eyeing up the other portions, long finished her own. 

“What’s that, Tighnari? Is it good?” Paimon asks, flying over to take a peek at his food.

Aether gives her a look, and Paimon huffs. Tighnari’s meal had piqued both her appetite and curiosity. 

“It’s minced lamb on flatbread.” Tighnari explains, taking a large bite out of one. “It’s very good. Why don’t you try it next time?” 

He shivers slightly, noticing the drop in temperature since their arrival. Despite wearing lighter clothing than him, Aether seems unaffected. It must be a byproduct of exploring, he muses. 

“Come on, just one bite!” Paimon begins to bargain with Tighnari, pleading for a mouthful of his food. Aether bites back a sigh as he pulls her back, shoving a sweet potato wedge in her mouth. 

Tighnari lets out a chuckle, feeling another shiver coming on. He almost jolts, the unnerving chill sweeping against his skin. 

Perhaps he’s coming down with something. He slips his jacket back onto himself, taking in the heat between the fabric. 

“Sorry,” Aether chuckles, sipping on the date juice Tighnari had ordered for them. “You might want to eat a little faster, though.” 

Tighnari agrees, bringing up another piece of sfiha to his mouth. 

Before he can take a bite, a violent shudder seizes him. And at the same time, a piercing ache in his gut. 

He freezes, the flatbread slipping from his grasp. The pain is enough to bring intense nausea with it, and he immediately knows he’s not going to make it anywhere. 

Tighnari barely manages to turn to the side before he vomits, the sickness too sudden for him to even gag. Uneven splatters ring in his ears, only just drowned out by the stabbing pain in his lower stomach. 

He can hear Aether calling out his name, and Paimon yelping beside them. He can only grip his stomach through the agonizing pain, bringing up another surge of vomit on top of the spreading puddle. 

“What’s wrong?” Aether is quick by his side, moving their bags away from the mess and laying a hand on his back. “Here, get it up. Don’t worry.” 

There’s something wrong, no doubt. Tighnari knows it’s nothing like a stomach bug or food not sitting well. He barely has time to process the next wave before he’s puking, splattering the front of his clothes. He looks down at his hands, and finds them trembling. 

He’s shuddering against Aether’s hand. He seems to notice it too, pressing a hand onto his forehead. “No fever,” he hears him say, concern-filled. 

The remnants of Tighnari’s lunch are completely out of his system, and his breakfast follows in quick succession. But the nausea doesn’t abate after emptying his stomach. He drools uncontrollably with each dry-heave, bringing up the occasional stream of stomach acid. 

“Tighnari, can you hear me?” Aether is tapping his shoulder with more force, bringing him back from the haze of illness. He can only give him a garbled whimper, throat thick with various liquids. 

Each time he opens his mouth to talk, the pain streaking through his abdomen only worsens. Tighnari cries out with each spike, the pressure of his own hand against his gut too much to bear. 

“We’re taking you to Bimarstan.” 

“Please,” Tighnari murmurs, tears trailing down his face. 

Aether is stern, hoisting him up with surprising strength. He throws a handful of mora onto the table and mutters an apology before exiting the cafe, slinging Tighnari over his shoulder. 

Though the pain is blinding, Tighnari’s mind is clear enough to filter out the causes. The sudden onset of symptoms rule out many viral sicknesses, leaving him with a terrifying possibility.

Poisoning. 

It’s the only explanation he can come up with. The intense urge to throw up is nothing like he’s ever experienced, not even after he’d been too generous on the mushroom sampling portions. Whatever it is, it had to be done with purpose. 

“Someone—someone’s poisoned me,” Tighnari chokes out, ears flattening against his head. The light against his eyes suddenly hurts, burning into his eye sockets. He clenches his eyes shut, bringing up a hand to block out all light. 

“You think they’ve poisoned you,” Aether repeats, holding him steady as they approach the entrance of Bimarstan. “We’re almost there. Just keep the strength in your legs, okay?” 

A nurse immediately recognizes the two of them, ushering them both to an indoor room. While Tighnari appreciates the privacy, he barely makes it to the mattress before all strength leaves him. Aether quickly turns him to his side as he gags. 

“What are the symptoms?” The staff asks, grabbing a wooden basin and some medium-sized towels. She carefully wipes down Tighnari’s skin, examining his eyes and nails. 

Aether moves beside Tighnari, helping him lean over the basin as he hacks up bile. “He’s been vomiting non-stop and shivering,” he explains, brushing away the hair and tears around his face. 

“It’s— ngh— poison,” Tighnari grips the sheets with one hand, the uncontrollable shaking turning closer to convulsions. “It may be something of the bloodgrass variant.” He presses the back of his hand to his eyes, the pain in his head growing worse with each second. 

“We’ll run some tests just in case.” The nurse hastily notes down something in her memo, wincing as a painful retch comes out of Tighnari’s throat. “There should be a toxicologist on duty right now.” 

If Tighnari’s suspicions are correct, vomiting the poison would not be enough. The absorption into the bloodstream would occur quickly, leaving various organs in the body vulnerable. He’s never encountered a case himself, but the treatment had been antidote infusions and pain reduction. He doesn’t recall the survival rate. 

A completely different chill runs down his spine. He could die from this. He could die, not even knowing who did this to him. 

“Aether,” Tighnari reaches out, feeling the traveller’s hand around his own. “Get Cyno. Just—just in case.” 

In case he doesn’t make it through the night. 

“We’ll find him as quick as we can,” Aether assures him, the worry apparent in his voice. 

They leave without saying further, dashing out of the facility and heading back towards the inner city. 

Tighnari is left alone again. He curls further into the blankets, feeling his body shudder against itself. Every wave of pain brings a cold grip of fear with it. 

“We found high concentrations of sterinine in your blood.” 

The toxicologist brings him his test results, confirming the potent poison inside his bloodstream. They’re quick to attach an intravenous infusion into his arm, the needle grazing him a few times as his muscles spasm. 

Tighnari attempts to lay on his side, taking care not to disturb the needle inside him. He feels vulnerable, laid out on the bed to be treated. He vomits onto the towels near his pillow, no longer able to pull the basin towards him. 

“For someone of your age and health, poisonings like this have a high survival rate.” They explain to him, setting down another empty basin and changing the soiled towels. “But due to the large dosage, the recovery process may be painful and long-lasting.” 

“How are the pain levels?” The nurse asks him, prompting him to talk. He groans instead of answering, arms tightly wrapped around his middle. 

Tighnari bites the inside of his cheek, preventing the scream that threatens to escape. “It’s bad,” he almost sobs. “Especially near the navel. I—I really can’t talk—” 

“We’ve administered painkillers and they’ll take effect soon.” They reassure him, rubbing his back in comforting circles. It only makes another tear trickle down his cheek, reminding him that he’s truly alone. “The symptoms will become manageable once you make it through tonight.” 

Tighnari isn’t sure if he’ll make it through the night. 

He tastes blood as he pukes the water he’d been given. He knows it’s not coming from his scraped-up throat, from the way it’s beginning to turn brown. When he does see crimson in the basin, it’s from the burst capillaries in his nose. He’s a mess of excess fluids, sweat and tears sticking to his skin. 

He closes his eyes, attempting to let his exhaustion win. He wakes up with bile gurgling up his throat.

And every single thing his body does to fight against it hurts. There’s a constant cramp stuck in his chest, exacerbated from his stomach wringing itself out. His head hurts, even after shutting out every trace of light. His joints and muscles ache from the constant signals frying his nerves. 

The sky darkens around him, and he notices the near-empty bag of fluids attached to his arm. He shakily reaches for the bell within reach, alerting the staff of his finished infusion. 

“I know it must hurt.” The nurse holds him down as he thrashes, administering the second dose of antidotes. “You’ll feel a little better once it kicks back in, all right?” 

Tighnari becomes increasingly frustrated with the vague promises. He doesn’t want to feel a little better. He wants it all to stop right now. 

He knows that if he were to sob and cry about his pain, one of the nurses would hold his hand and comfort him. He knows they’re taking care of him to the best of their capabilities. But the thorough knowledge of medical care makes nothing better for him, instead isolating him further. 

The hospital is cold, despite the blankets layered onto him. The air is different from the forest, and the silence carries a different weight. He wants nothing more than a shred of familiarity. 

Just as Tighnari closes his eyes, he hears multiple footsteps heading towards him from outside. Though he can’t hear the ensuing conversations, he knows the voices well enough. His eyes widen, amidst the fatigue that chokes him. 

“Tighnari.” 

Cyno marches ahead of Aether, not sparing a moment before throwing the door open. He’s disheveled, without his signature headpiece and a jacket draped over his shoulders. One look at him fills Tighnari’s eyes with tears. 

The traveller and Paimon follow close by, eyes widening at the extent of Tighnari’s pallor. If he had been pale earlier, he’s now nothing short of blanched. 

Tighnari stiffens, coughing up blood-tinted drool into his palm. He hastily wipes it on the towel before either of them can see. 

Sensing Tighnari’s overattentiveness, Cyno steps in front of Tighnari with an extended arm. “Thank you for bringing me here. I can take it from here—rest assured he’s in good hands.” 

Aether nods, knowing the closeness the two share. “Let me know if there’s anything I can help with.” 

Cyno lets out an affirmative hum, giving minimal attention to the pleasantries before turning back to Tighnari. He places a hand in his hair, and Tighnari immediately knows its warmth. It’s miles different from the methodical touches he’d been subject to. 

“No one’s here except us. You can breathe easy.” 

Cyno dips a cloth in cold water, wiping at the sweat on Tighnari’s forehead. It’s far from pleasant or clean, but Tighnari doesn’t mumble an apology for once. He instead leans into him, the lump in his throat rendering him unable to speak. 

It’s not long before another episode of pain hits him full force. He’s surprised at how loud he yelps, gripping Cyno’s hand through the excruciating sensations. His body betrays him all at once, forcing up another wave of dark blood up his throat. 

Tighnari sees Cyno’s eyes, brimming with barely-concealed anger. But the pained grimace he displays immediately softens them, and Cyno brings the basin closer to him. He spits the dark liquid gathering in his mouth. 

“Cyno,” he manages out, no longer able to hold back the sobs. “It—it really hurts. I’ve been throwing up for hours.” 

He’s immediately pulled into Cyno’s arms, hair brushed aside and tail curling around them both. Though Cyno’s worry shows, he doesn’t show any more fear than Tighnari does. For the first time, Tighnari feels comforted. 

“It hurts everywhere when I seize up.” Tighnari talks through tears, drenching his own face and Cyno’s jacket. “I—I’m not going to die. But it feels too close to it.” 

Cyno hums, his hands focused on making him comfortable. He gently rubs circles into Tighnari’s chest, moving to his stomach when it gurgles painfully. “You’ve endured well,” he presses his lips to Tighnari’s head, drawing the curtains to leave the room untouched by moonlight. 

Tighnari closes his eyes, leaning against Cyno’s chest. It’s not easy to get the sleep he desperately needs—he throws up on Cyno on more than one occasion, waking up mid-choking to sharp slaps on his back. Though he mumbles an apology, Cyno only wipes his mouth and suggests he get the rest he needs. 

It’s almost dawn when Tighnari sleeps for an hour, eyes pried open by yet another stab of pain in his gut. He’s paying the price of surviving a poisoning attempt, something completely unwarranted.

Tighnari lets out a frustrated scream, curling away from everything that touches his skin. “It won’t stop,” he sobs, digging his nails into his palm. “It just keeps happening over and over. I want it to stop hurting so fucking much.” 

His words are shaky as he cries, angry tears trailing down his reddened cheeks. Cyno doesn’t touch him until he falls back into his arms, muffling his cries into his chest. 

“I know. And I’m not going to leave until it stops.” Cyno continues to pat his back, slowing down until he matches his heartbeat. “You’re going to be all right.” 

It comes out with such conviction that Tighnari genuinely believes it. He clings onto Cyno, choked sobs becoming sniffles. He realizes how badly he’d wanted the reassurance, however blind. 

“I just don’t know why they did this,” Tighnari cries, this time not from the pain. “Why did they hurt me like this?” 

It’s a question neither know the answer to. Cyno doesn’t intend to figure it out, nor does he need the answer. What matters is that he’ll soon have blood on his hands, under the name of justice and his own blinding anger. 

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

consider 👀 Tighnari discovering/catching on that Cynos stomach is reaaally hurting him because he can hear how upset it sounds? Maybe he wakes cyno up so that they can go to the bathroom since Cyno would hate to make a mess - maybe it’s canon and naris ears can hear all

OH YES YES YES!

Those unhappy gurgles somebody's stomach makes when it's just really really upset. I just love the idea that Tighnari in canon can pick up on them immediately because of how sharp his hearing is! And Cyno subconsciously feeling so embarrassed whenever his stomach rumbles because he knows Tighnari can hear every bit of it. I can see him just keeping his arms tightly crossed over top of it as if that would somehow muffle the sound.

And YES I love the idea of Tighnari almost being able to predict when Cyno is going to be sick, because he can hear his stomach start to act up. Those ears don't miss anything!

I can see Cyno just being groggy and out of it as Tighnari is drawing him up in bed and leaning him over a bucket, asking what's going on, and Tighnari tells him "you're going to be sick, love."

Cyno just begins to ask what, how, when suddenly yes, he is in fact starting to gag and thank goodness Tighnari already has the bucket there.

ARGH I LOVE IT

[caspersickfanfics]

Late Arrival Chapter 3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Anxiety/panic attack (described in detail), vomiting, fever, hospital mention, bad jokes

A/N:

Written for @monthofsick day 24: Panic ! It feels good to finally finish a multi-chapter fic for once, even though it's a bit short =v=

“–nari. Tighnari.” The earth is shaking. It’s warm. Comfortably warm for a moment, and then too much. He squirms. “Tighnari!” Oh, Cyno is shaking him. Cyno is warm. Cyno is—

“Please,” Cyno’s voice wavers. “I need to throw up.”

Tighnari bolts upright. Cyno is sick.

The forest watcher is still half asleep as he forces himself out of the bed. His head is pounding. A result of lack of rest, probably, combined with the incessant city noise, but his priority is getting the trash can to Cyno, and he manages it.

His ears flatten at the immediate sound of the bin being filled.

There are multiple waves, this time. They run in cycles. Cyno’s body tenses, hunches forward, and then with a sick gurgle, rancid smelling liquid gushes from his mouth and nose. Tighnari stands beside him and holds a mass of hair out of the way. It’s thick, and heavy with sweat. His own hands are shaking.

Something heavy sits uncomfortably in his stomach. A bubbling nausea rises in his throat, not from illness, but stress. Being woken so jarringly from such a deep sleep and days of exhaustion has left him reeling, strung out and achy.

He watches Cyno panting, head hung over the trash, and the tightness in his heart manifests into physical pain. It must be nearing 48 hours since anything’s actually stayed in Cyno’s system. His body looks thinner than it did even a day ago. He coughs, and Tighnari can easily see the outline of his ribs when his stomach contracts yet again. There’s another splatter, quickly followed by two more. Tighnari has never been squeamish, but right now the worry feels like a rampage in his gut.

Empty, Cyno leans back to catch his breath, melting into the pillows behind him. Tighnari sets the soiled trash can back on the floor. He brushes a thumb over Cyno’s cheek, catching some wetness and wiping it away, watching the sick man smile and nuzzle into his hand. He looks ill, certainly, but relaxed. Comfortable, even. Tighnari’s tail wilts between his legs and his chest squeezes impossibly further. He doesn’t want to take that from him - he doesn’t want to take anything from Cyno, and definitely not this - but a sense of safety is good for nothing if it’s only an illusion. When Tighnari finally speaks, he feels very far away.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he confesses quietly. Cyno cracks an eye open. Tighnari inhales unevenly. “I think… we should go to the Bimarstan.”

At the suggestion, Cyno goes rigid. He stares at Tighnari with some awful mix of shock, betrayal, confusion, and hurt. At the center of it all, a trembling and raw fear, the kind that makes him look far younger than his age.

“Tighnari–” Cyno speaks roughly, like it was hard for him to find his voice, and it cracks upon the single word. He’s gone ashen and bug-eyed. Tighnari melts with a sigh, sagging onto the bed and dropping his forehead to Cyno’s shoulder.

“I know.” Because he does, to a certain extent. There are few things that instill fear into the General Mahamatra, let alone to this degree. Tighnari takes Cyno’s hand in his own and stares at it. He can’t stand the sight of his partner’s pained expression any longer. “I know,” he repeats quietly. “I’m just not sure that I can help you on my own this time.”

“Tighnari. I’ll be fine.” Cyno sounds reassuring. He sounds like he believes his own words. “You’re helping. I feel better already.”

Maybe he does believe it. Tighnari can’t read minds. But he can hear Cyno’s heartbeat and it has the speed and intensity of a cornered animal. Cyno isn’t a liar - and yet, anyone can bend the truth or tiptoe around it, especially when fear is involved.

“I’ve been through worse,” Cyno says, his voice pleading for Tighnari to cave. Instead, his hands shake harder. Cyno looks… Frail. The word comes to mind and punches the oxygen out of him. His own heart pounds and there’s a rushing white noise in his ears that drowns out everything else.

“I don’t… know what to do,” Tighnari grates out. His breaths are coming too short and quick, but the harder he tries to gasp in oxygen, the more his chest hurts. He stands and his tail swishes restlessly, brushing against the floor. Cyno squeezes his hand.

“I promise,” he says. “I promise I’ll be okay, Tighnari. I don’t break promises.”

“I know you don’t.” And he does, except… “I’ll be right back. Stay here, Cyno. Please.”

Tighnari doesn’t wait for a response. He wrenches his hand away and stumbles out of the bedroom, and then out of the front door. He doesn’t make it much further than that.

He can’t.

It crosses Tighnari’s mind that he’s gasping quite loudly, to the point of nearly wheezing, and that Cyno can probably hear him; if he could claw his way further from the building, he would. The last thing he needs is to cause more stress for his partner. But his legs simply refuse to hold him, and he’s shaking from the tips of his ears to the end of his tail. He has to blink dark spots from his vision - there is simply not enough oxygen to appease his greedy lungs.

His entire chest feels like both a pulsing bruise and a stab wound and Tighnari grapples with a sort of fury, a rage at his own body’s failure at such an inopportune time. He’s managed to betray both himself and Cyno in one sitting. His left arm begins to tingle and go numb, and Tighnari wonders whether he’s being dealt some form of divine punishment in the form of heart failure. 

He can reason with himself, at least, enough to recognize that this is unlikely. Teyvat’s medical research has yet to discover a definitive way to distinguish between issues of the heart and of the mind, but Tighnari is aware that he’s quite healthy and still significantly younger than the average age of those afflicted with heart problems. Meanwhile, he’s familiar with the mind’s way of tricking the body, if only from having comforted Collei through more panic spells than he’d care to recall. 

But then - there are exceptions to every rule. This feels more painful than Collei has ever articulated, and counting his breaths doesn’t seem to be helping in the way it does with her. Instead he ends up coughing, choking on the very air that’s meant to bring him life. He could be an exception, something could be wrong and Tighnari wouldn’t know because he isn’t a doctor. Every time Tighnari tries to push the worry away, the fear seems to grow. If he dies here, then Cyno…

His stomach lurches. Tighnari whimpers and tugs at his hair, his ears, in some attempt at grounding himself. His tail wraps around his body instinctively as he retches. With his hearing enhanced as it is, Tighnari’s heartbeat is a constant source of white noise in his periphery, but now it sounds like thunder. He clutches at his chest and feels pathetic.

If nothing else, he can be grateful that Cyno’s apartment building is tucked into an alley and away from the busier streets of the city. It’s still loud, but at least the likelihood of some stranger spotting him in such a miserable state is lower. Tighnari is doubly appreciative of this fact when he begins throwing up. Hot vomit scalds his throat and sprays violently beneath a decorative bush. Tighnari is all but frozen on his hands and knees while his body continues to empty itself. By the time he regains control of his stomach, Tighnari can barely think.

The nausea, at least, has abated. He crawls pitifully away from the pool of puke and leans against the solid stone walls of the building. Tighnari clings to his tail, hands brushing through it in a repetitive, soothing motion, and forces himself to pause. He has a near overwhelming urge to rush back into the apartment and check on Cyno - archons, he’s been gone too long - but he must first take stock of his body. If he doesn’t, he risks scaring them both. 

So, slowly, Tighnari does a mental intake of his current state. His muscles ache, but the pain is gradually diffusing, no longer so centralized to his chest. His breathing is shaky but finally effective, and while his heart is racing, it doesn’t hurt, nor does it sound so impossibly loud. He’s still shaky and his legs feel weak, and of course, his head continues pounding. Whether or not he can stand is a question he can’t answer until he’s testing it out, unsteadily managing to get his feet underneath him.

When Tighnari staggers his way back to the bedroom, Cyno is right where he left him, awake and looking devastated. He may have followed his partner’s instructions, but that clearly didn’t stop him from hearing everything. “Tighnari.” Cyno reaches for him immediately. Tighnari shuffles over, feeling dazed and embarrassed. His ears are still ringing. Cyno doesn’t comment on the way the hand Tighnari offers shakes, only shifting slightly to gently cup it in both of his own. They are warm and calloused, and so, so gentle. 

“I’m sorry,” Tighnari rasps, because he hadn’t meant to be gone for so long, and maybe he shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have fallen apart at all. He tries not to think too hard about the fact that he still doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t remember crying, but Cyno wipes some wetness from under his eyes. Tighnari feels his cheeks heat up and looks away, whispering again, “Sorry.”

Exhaustion hits him like a physical force, and he drops onto the bed, staring down at the way their hands intertwine. Cyno tugs him closer, and and Tighnari allows himself to rest on his partner’s chest. His heartbeat is steady now. A regular old life-force. His fingers move to card through Tighnari’s hair, and then to scratch his ears in a way that shakes out some of their tension. When Tighnari eventually musters the strength to look up, Cyno is watching him intently. His expression is steady and determined, and Tighnari knows what he’s going to say before the words leave his mouth. 

“I’ll go,” he says, and Tighnari aches because bravery is so integral to Cyno’s being. It’s something he learned so young and has had to rely on far more than is fair. “I’ll go to the Bimarstan,” he reiterates, and his voice is calm enough that if T didn’t have the ears that he does, he wouldn’t have even heard it waver.

He’s not going to make Cyno go there. 

Not yet. 

He realizes it all at once, as though just knowing that it’s an option, that Cyno won’t resist if it is needed, is enough to rebuild Tighnari’s confidence in his own abilities.

“Thank you,” Tighnari says, and Cyno tenses, probably steeling himself to follow through on his words. Tighnari is sure, now, that he would if it was asked of him, but he shakes his head. “I think– well, I may have overreacted a bit,” he admits.

Cyno watches him carefully as Tighnari continues. “Your fever feels better now than when I left, and you slept most of the night, which means some of the nutrients have stayed with you.”

“So,” Cyno’s voice is tentative. Tighnari nods, urging him onward. “I guess you could say I’m hereling for you.”

Tighnari groans. He can’t help it. “You’re–”

“Here-ling, like healing, and “here for you.” Get it?”

“Cyno,” Tighnari scolds. “Not the time.”

His partner shrugs, unaffected. “I think it was funny.”

Tighnari pulls away with a kiss to Cyno’s knuckles. He’s not actually upset; if anything, he still feels apologetic. But worry continues gnawing at his insides, so he gathers a few things from the kitchen before returning to Cyno’s side.

“Okay,” he says, holding up a glass. “This has some hydro-infused nutrients in it - they should be tasteless, and it’s meant to be rehydrating. I actually haven’t used them before,” Tighnari murmurs. “So although they come from a trusted colleague, if you feel anything odd after consuming this, let me know.”

Cyno nods and reaches for the glass. Unsurprising. Now that Tighnari’s offered him a way out of the Bimarstan, he’ll be content to try anything. Tighnari pulls the glass away just slightly.

“Cyno. This is important.” When he swallows, his throat is dry. “This goes not just for the drink - you’re not out of the woods yet with this ailment. If you start feeling worse, I need you to let me know. Can you promise that?”

The matra has gone still, listening quietly. When Tighnari finishes speaking, Cyno keeps looking at him attentively.

“Are you okay, Tighnari?”

The question makes his legs weak. No, he’s not, and Cyno can see straight through him. There’s an unsettling battle between the tension still running through Tighnari’s veins and the weight of his exhaustion, and his headache has only intensified. He allows himself the luxury of rolling into the bed beside his partner before responding with a sigh. 

“I’ll be fine,” he says, tempted to leave it at that. But honesty is a two-way street. “I’m tired and that makes me nervous that I won’t— I might not notice if something is really wrong. You seemed so much better earlier, and I had just convinced myself that you were fine.”

“I felt fine earlier.” Cyno reaches for the medicine and drinks it slowly. “And I feel better now. But I meant what I said: I can see a doctor. Especially if it will make you feel better.”

Tighnari’s heart swells. He waits patiently for Cyno to rest the glass on his nightstand, and then wraps his arms around him. He’s still sick and sweaty and warmer than he should be, and once he’s healed, he’ll have to regain some of his muscle mass. But Cyno still manages to feel strong when he returns the embrace.

“I trust you,” Tighnari says, squeezing a bit tighter, tucking his head under Cyno’s chin. “If you say you feel better, I believe you. I just need you to keep being honest. I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you because I didn’t realize I wasn’t doing enough.”

“Okay,” Cyno says. “I promise, Tighnari. I won’t lie to you.”

The words are probably more than he needed to say; Tighnari already knew this much. And yet, his body relaxes upon hearing them.

He doesn’t sleep for a long while. Cyno drifts off, still recovering, and Tighnari plays with his hair. Some of his restless energy begins to fade, but he’d rather watch his partner sleep peacefully than close his eyes. It’s a relief when the matra stays that way for multiple hours. When he wakes up, Tighnari is alarmed, briefly, and ready to reach for the trash can in the event of repeat from earlier. But Cyno only smiles lazily, yawns, and starts tracing gentle lines on Tighnari’s back. It’s soothing. Tighnari’s muscles complain as they loosen and readjust, but it isn’t the worst feeling. He fights against heavy eyelids until he hears Cyno chuckle.

“You can rest,” he says. “I’ll wake you if I need anything, Nari.”

Tighnari scrunches his face up, still resistant. It doesn’t feel right, and yet…

“I promise,” Cyno says. Tighnari doesn’t need anything to verify the truth to his words, but he listens closely anyway. Between the sound of one steady heartbeat and the next, Tighnari finally allows himself to drift off.

———

If you enjoyed the fic, feel free to let me know by replying directly to this post, by sending me an ask, or by sharing your thoughts with me privately and anonymously through this survey! Thank you so much for reading!!

[aeryssickfics]

@monthofsick

written for day 24: Panic

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Warnings: Panic, near panic attack, emeto, vomiting, loneliness.

Character: Kaeya. (and Diluc's vision)

Summary:

Kaeya is sick for the first time since the fight with Diluc, since he left the Winery, since Diluc left Mondstadt. He's miserable, he's alone. But he'll survive.

[danafeelingsick]

i have one kinda old art of a.yato puking into his boba tea cup, which sadly i didn't think of including in this fic :/ but here it is

BAD MILK

In which Kamisato Ayato accidentally has spoiled milk while out with Thoma.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ nausea, food poisoning, mentions of social anxiety, fear of crowds, descriptions of food, vomiting, fever, stomach noises

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ 3,6k~

A deep scowl formed on Ayato's face as he took another sip of his boba tea. He hadn't noticed the taste at first. The drink had been gentle on his stomach, and cold most importantly.

He bitterly regretted leaving the Kamisato estate at the height of summer, wearing his coat over the kimono. It was far too hot, too bright for a man who rarely showed himself to the public. But given recent events and the efforts to build good public relations, he was out of options. It was a feeling he truly detested.

The streets of Hanamizaka were packed full of onlookers, people who wanted to see the Tenryou commissioner in person, and some even wanted to confirm he was who he said to be. Ayato hid a great deal of secrets behind that calming, almost cynical smile. Today he didn't have the patience to wear it. He continued to scowl as he passed by the crowd, deep in thought, his lips around the straw of his drink.

The milk must've been sour. That should've been a worry in his mind in the first place, given the fact he had just picked it off some street vendor. But given how little he had for breakfast, his poor decision was at least justified.

The odd aftertaste had his mouth watering in a less-than-appetizing way, making him need another sip to wash it off in a cycle that took two-thirds of the drink to break.

Ayato held up the half-empty cup before his eyes and shook it. There were plenty of pearls left, although he remembered swallowing enough of them. While its color and consistency were off, it would be a shame to simply throw it off.

“Thoma”, the commissioner called, eyeing the blonde young man walking alongside him.

“Yes, my Lord?” Thoma replied promptly, peeking at him with an expectant look that quickly morphed into curiosity. He could tell something was out of place just from his unassuming tone. Ayato dangled his cup in front of him and gave it another shake, sending the milky tea inside into a spiral. “Do you want me to throw it out for you?”

”I want you to try it for me”, Ayato clarified, his expression held a strange air of contempt? Thoma could never quite describe it, but he recognized it from the several times he had been assigned to taste test. “I'd like to confirm something.”

Sighing, he stirred the tea with the straw, wondering what was so wrong with it for Ayato to need a second opinion. The ice had completely melted and the milk tea was now lukewarm and thin, with mushy bubbles covering the bottom of the cup.

Thoma held his breath and took a careful sip, noticing the watery consistency right away. The taste was almost salty, or rather, sour. He couldn’t quite place it, the few times he had this beverage it was sweet and smooth, nothing like it.

Still uneasy, especially with Ayato’s gaze glued to him, he took another long sip and froze as he felt something solid slide to his tongue. Instinctively he tried to chew, thinking it was a tapioca pearl, but the much stronger sour taste threw him off. He stopped walking and held a trembling fist to his mouth.

“What’s wrong with it?” Ayato tilted his head to the side in feigned confusion, tightening his smile.

Against his better judgment, Thoma gulped down the lumpy milk tea and immediately covered his mouth, trying not to gag.

“I-I think… it’s spoiled”, he mumbled behind his fingers, swallowing again in an attempt to clear the acidic taste. Looking at Ayato, he realized he was frowning, his face pinched in disgust. “My lord, don't tell me you drank all of it…”

Ayato nodded slowly, giving Thoma an apologetic smile that quickly died out. It didn't come as a surprise, but he still couldn't help losing more of his color when he saw his assistant squirm. He looked over his shoulder, meeting several pairs of eyes watching him closely, and shuddered.

“I-I'll be fine”, he grimaced, his lips pressed thin as he tried to hide his disgust. “It's nothing serious…”

He was lying, of course, the thought of getting sick was already an unpleasant one. Just the thought of leaving his home had left him without appetite, now being sick away from it… Crowds were always a point of concern for Ayato, they made him feel lightheaded, which was why his public appearances were few and far between.

A shuddering sigh left his mouth and he swallowed, suspecting the knot on his stomach was made out of anxiety rather than nausea.

“Come, let us find a quiet place to rest”, Ayato said finally and resumed walking quickly, not even waiting for Thoma. Part of him wanted to jog until he was sure he was out of view, but that would only draw more suspicion.

“M'lord, please wait”, Thoma joined him on the brisk walk, throwing away the empty cup at the first garbage bin he found.

He looked at Ayato, noticing that the commissioner's light purple eyes were affixed to the street in front of them, darting around in an almost frantic state. Thoma opened his mouth to speak, his name halfway through his lips when Ayato turned a corner.

He stopped at the entrance, hesitant at what he was going to find. Ayato had taken a seat at the small bench, looking out into the scenery beyond the wooden railing that separated Inazuma city from the flowing canal. It would've been a calming visual if the commissioner wasn't slumped forward, his shoulders locked into a tense position while one arm wrapped around his middle.

“M'lord…”

Thoma walked up to him, trying to think of something that could calm him down. Ayato lifted his eyes and strengthened his pose, trying to look collected even though his face was pale and glistening. He couldn't tell if it was from the heat, or the start of a fever.

“My lord… What are you feeling exactly? Could you tell me?” Thoma asked, his tone was gentle, and it was clear he was only trying to help, but part of him still didn't want to pry.

“I'll be fine, I just… needed to sit down”, he repeated stubbornly, trying to wave him off. Ayato knew he couldn't keep denying it, his gaze fell to the ground, and pressed his lips tight. “My apologies, I'm just… ugh, how could I have been so careless?”

Thoma carefully took a seat beside him, offering a sympathetic smile. No matter how much he wanted to pull the commissioner into a warm hug and comfort him, he kept his hands to himself.

“It was my fault, I should've tried it before you”, he shook his head, following Ayato's gaze to the floor.

“Then you'd be the one sick to your stomach”, the commissioner gave a humorless laugh. “Well, I suppose you do have a stronger constitution than me… You've been able to just walk it off without—”

He suddenly went quiet, pressing his lips shut and swallowing again. Thoma was about to say something when the sound of a muffled wet gurgle cut him off, his eyes drifting to Ayato's belly hidden behind his tightly wrapped arms. He leaned forward, his expression pinched with disgust.

”I'm sorry. Just the thought of… ugh”, he trailed off into a groan and brought a hand to his mouth. He was trembling too, Thoma noticed, and the palms of his gloves were humid. “I'd like to avoid it… if I can.”

Thoma nodded slowly, aware of what he was asking, and he also wouldn't say it. Ayato vomited quite often for someone who ate so poorly, the times Thoma had to witness were rough on both of them, although he'd always manage to keep his composure. Among poisoning attempts and frequent migraines, he surely had seen the worst of him already, but at least it taught him how to deal with these situations as cleanly as possible.

“My lord, I think we should return home”, he suggested after a moment, looking around the empty area. Now he realized why Ayato had come here, the sound of the running river must've been soothing to him.

“I would love to”, Ayato responded with a hint of cynicism, the thought brought him a sense of urgency he had to shake away. “But, if anyone were to see me…”

Thoma knew exactly what he meant, the possibility of Ayato being stopped by a swarm of people was a very real possibility, and not one they could afford while he looked that sick. Still, just the idea of having to give into nausea away from the safety of his home sent Ayato further spiraling.

“My lord, you are sweating quite a lot”, Thoma pointed out, which prompted Ayato to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand, like he hadn't noticed himself. Thoma dug through the pockets of his jacket until he found a folded handkerchief and handed it to him. “Here.”

Ayato took it and held the piece of fabric up to his mouth. The light scent of Thoma's perfume was a pleasant one, he closed his eyes and drew in a slow breath, trying to calm his stomach.

He mumbled a weak thank you and patted his forehead with the cloth, it did little to refresh him, however. The heat was starting to weigh on his senses, even as they sat in the shade, Ayato felt like he was being cooked alive.

“Is there anything else I can do?”, Thoma asked, and by the tone of his voice, Ayato could tell his own panic was rubbing off on him. “Would you like some water to drink?”

“I suppose it would help…”, Ayato agreed, although he spoke as if it was a desperate measure. He raised his head to look at Thoma, immediately regretting it when his expression was struck with pity. “Will you be long? I would rather not be alone…”

Thoma frowned, taking in the commissioner's watery eyes and his trembling lips like he was trying to hold in tears.

“I promise it will only be a minute”, he responded, reaching over to put a hand on his back out of instinct, but stopping midway as he realized he might not appreciate it.

“If you must”, Ayato responded dryly, not making any mention of Thoma's attempt at comforting him.

“I'll be back before you know it, my lord”, the blonde man said, and waited for a confirmation, but Ayato remained in silence, trembling. He finally stood up and walked out of the alley, making sure to glance over his shoulder once or twice until Ayato was completely out of his vision. Then he could hurry.

He didn't like this, leaving him all by himself while at his most vulnerable, it was asking to be attacked. Both of them knew it, that was why the commissioner seemed on the verge of panic. Thoma picked up the speed when the thought crossed his mind, nearly stumbling over himself as he made his way to the shopping district.

A slurred groan left Ayato's lips, preceding the drawn-out burble his stomach produced. With nothing else to focus his attention on, he had become adept at telling when the noises would come up, and the nauseating pull they brought along.

He braced for it this time, managing to lock his throat before the acidic bile had the chance to reach his tongue. Once it was over, he swallowed, trying to kill that awful burning lingering in the back of his throat. He wasn't sure for how long he could keep this up if Thoma would take any longer.

Ayato hated this. He was a capable warrior, a vision bearer, and still, he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was going to pounce at him at any moment. If it happened, he wouldn't even have the time to draw his blade or call upon his element. All of his energy was going into holding himself from heaving.

Thoma's voice was what brought him out of it. He bothered to raise his head, acknowledging the young housekeeper with a weak nod. Aside from his messy hair and the crooked headband, his presence alone was enough for Ayato to relax, even if just for a moment.

However, he tensed back again when his stomach decided to make itself heard, a soft moan escaping his lips as that familiar ache sprouted in his gut. Thoma was by his side almost instantly, both hands hovering over his shoulders, ready to catch him if he were to fall.

“My lord, a-are you in pain? Is your stomach hurting now?”, he asked, his voice faintly airy from the surprise.

Ayato hummed weakly, tempted to just lean forward and let Thoma hold him until it was over. He hadn't moved since he left, his arms were still tightly wrapped around his middle, trying to muffle the noises from his stomach.

“I don't know when it started–”, Ayato mumbled, opening his mouth for the first time after a while, he didn't account for the overflow of saliva. A syrup-like trickle fell from his lips, and he hurriedly wiped it off using the handkerchief Thoma had given him. “Excuse me…”

“How, how is the pain? Should we go—”

“Thoma…”, Ayato's voice was thick with nausea as he cut him off. He curled further into himself, pressing his chin to his chest and swallowing audibly. It was evident he was nearing his limit, even if he didn't want to admit it, vomiting now could make things better. ”I don't think I can keep holding it for much longer.”

Thoma nodded slowly, glancing at the bottle of water he had left on the bench. It was already too late to just try and walk it off, that seemed like the best course of action.

“A-Alright”, he replied, looking around for somewhere he could take him, his eyes landed on the wooden fence separating the ledge from the cannel below. The idea didn't please him, but it seemed like their only option. “Come on, I'll help you up.”

It took a few seconds of preparation, but eventually Ayato rose to his feet, his legs were shaking. Thoma laced his arm around his neck and guided him a few steps ahead, only letting go of the man when he was safely clinging to the fence for support.

Ayato stared at the flowing water below, grimacing as he realized what he was about to do. His uncut bangs fell on his eyes as he leaned over, clumps of pale blue hair gluing to his sweaty skin. He held a strand behind his ear and turned to Thoma:

“Could you hold my hair for me?”, he asked timidly.

“Of course”, Thoma didn't hesitate this time, and positioned himself behind the commissioner, delicately arranging the strands into a short ponytail. Ayato was overdue for a cut, that length was too little for him to need a hair tie, but just enough to be a bother. Carefully, he landed the other hand on his back, feeling him tense even more under his touch. “Try to breathe, okay?”

Ayato nodded, his eyes locked on the cannel below, the thought of anyone seeing him kept coming to the front of his mind, he could only hope no one would pass by there. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, swallowing a bit of saliva that felt too thick on his tongue. His stomach groaned, urging him to just give in and get it over with.

He leaned even further and parted his lips, letting the saliva string out of his mouth. It didn't take that long for him to start gagging, his stomach hadn’t stopped churning for even a moment, letting him know it wasn’t taking well to the spoiled food he had forced down. He heaved a shuddering sigh and gagged again, graphically this time, he could practically hear the liquid rising in his throat.

“Here it comes…”, he said to Thoma as a warning, concerned for the poor housekeeper who had to be there yet again to see it.

Ayato’s shoulders heaved and his stomach followed, he felt it lunge upwards, sending boiling bile up his throat. He nearly choked as his throat convulsed, producing a few short gurgles before he was able to let out a thin trickle of milky bile.

For such a warning, Thoma thought the spell would be more violent, but he knew well it wasn’t over yet. Gently, he rubbed Ayato’s back in small circles, noticing the sweat dampening his clothes, the way it outlined his muscles and the way they moved as he continued to gag. Even in the shade, Thoma was starting to feel hot as well, despite the light fabrics of his clothes, he could only imagine how uncomfortable the Yashiro commissioner must’ve been feeling.

“Ughhh… guh”, Ayato let out a miserable groan and muffled a burp behind his lips, scorching the inside of his mouth with the taste of hot acid. It was revolting, the sickly sweet taste of the tea lingered on his tongue, completely overtaken by rotten milk.

He couldn’t be feeling worse if he tried, now that he had started vomiting, his stomach was writhing, making every breath turn into a heave. He could feel the contents tossing inside, the boiling acid swimming in the back of his throat.

“It’s going to be alright”, Thoma tried to reassure him, although his voice didn’t convey any confidence.

Ayato shook his head, not at the notion, but at the pathetic attempt at comforting. He appreciated it, internally, but now what he needed was silence, and maybe something to help speed things along.

“Thoma… could you hand me that water you brought?”

“Uh, yes, of course”, he quickly replied, carefully letting go of Ayato’s hair and picking up the bottle he left on the bench. He opened it before handing it to the commissioner, his fingers lingered on his for a moment, afraid his shaky hands were going to drop it.

Ayato took a deep breath followed by a quick swig, it looked like it pained him to swallow it, but soon he was drinking more. Thoma wasn’t sure what he was trying to achieve, to help with the nausea he would have to drink it slowly, but Ayato was quickly downing the bottle in big gulps. Suddenly, he pulled back, shoving the half-empty bottle into his hand before turning to the ledge.

“M’lord!” Thoma shouted, watching Ayato lunge for the railing and opening his mouth, letting out a long wet burp. “You should tell me when you’re going to do these things!”

Ayato paid no mind to his reprimand, and focused on the added pressure building in his upper stomach, suddenly reaching its tipping point as he tried to burp again. A surge of murky water gurgled out of his mouth, nearly the same lukewarm temperature as it had been when he drank it, now tasting like acidic milk.

Thoma was calling him again, hurriedly pulling his hair away from the corners of his mouth, and sliding the other hand to Ayato’s chest. The man was heaving so violently he wasn’t sure if he would be able to hold himself up.

What a horrible idea that was. Ayato’s stomach purged itself over the ledge once again, forcing up a rush of white murky water out of him, he could tell the taste was becoming more concentrated, the texture thicker as it flew past his tongue. He gagged as it tapered off, coughing harshly to try and rid his throat of the lumps of tapioca and milk curdles. Thoma patted his back with more force, trying to help him.

Ayato started to retch, the sounds scratched his throat, more violent than the gags, but now he couldn’t stop. His ears were ringing with his racing thoughts, the threat of someone walking in, someone hearing him, seeing him. Ayato pressed himself further over the ledge, the railing digging into his stomach, forcing a wet acidic belch out of him.

“Try to breathe, m’lord, try to—”, Ayato wasn’t listening to him.

He barely had the chance to open his mouth before he was vomiting again, a gush of white liquid spraying out of him like a hose. It came up so forcefully it sprayed out of his nose, leaving Ayato gasping for air when it finally stopped.

“My archons…”, Thoma whispered, holding Ayato close as the man seemingly deflated over the ledge, small burps and hiccups still shaking him against his chest.

Ayato groaned weakly, and clutched his stomach, trying to breath slowly and finally calm himself down.

“I need to… go home”, he huffed and spat, looking wide eye at the mess he had made down at the cannel. Somehow he had managed to miss the flowing water, and most of his vomit, the lumpy puddles of spoiled milk and chewed tapioca, ended up staining the walls around it.

“Here, rinse your mouth out”, Thoma offered him the rest of the bottle, and the handkerchief he had left on the bench.

Ayato took the water and thought of drinking more of it, but the thought had him fighting another gag. He swished a mouthful of it and spat, going to return the bottle to Thoma, but the young man simply reached out, wiping the vomit off his chin with the handkerchief.

“How do you feel now, my lord?” Thoma asked, his voice was so gentle it didn’t even sound like he had just witnessed the commissioner puke up a storm.

“I… I think I’m fine now”, he replied, laying a shaky hand on his belly, still gurgling under his fingertips. “We should call a doctor as soon as we get home. I cannot afford to be sick at a time like this.”

“Understood... Do you think you can walk?”

“Of course Thoma”, he shrugged, and slowly let go of him, standing up on his own. He would make it, it would be fine. Ayato was sure at this point, he was in for a long night.

[pokemonispain]

One More Round-Alhaitham/Kaveh

Summary:  Following an argument with Alhaitham, Kaveh storms off to the tavern to drown his sorrows in alcohol and has an experience he won't forget.

________________________________________________________________

It’s late at night at Lambad’s tavern, most of the usual customers having slowed down leaving the tavern with a few patrons sparsely dotting its interior.

Although it was relatively quiet that didn’t stop one familiar regular from making his usual noise.

Kaveh sat in one of the more secluded sections of the tavern away from prying eyes as he grumbled insults under his breath all while making his way through his 2nd glass of wine.

He’d stumbled into the tavern rather late, following a particularly infuriating argument with Alhaitham. Arguments with Alhaitham never failed to get him worked up with the younger man knowing exactly how to push all his buttons, irritatingly so.

Giving a huff, Kaveh quickly downed the glass of wine as if he were a man dying of thirst in the desert.

The warm buzz of alcohol thrummed in his veins. Kaveh wasn’t someone who was good at holding his alcohol despite loving to indulge in it as anyone did with an incredible preference for wine.

“Who does he even think he is,” Kaveh huffed as he glared down at the empty cup with narrow eyes. His irritation only seemed to grow fiercer when his mind turned to thoughts of Alhaitham once more.

Kaveh is about to call the barkeep for another cup of wine when one is placed down in front of him before he could open his mouth.

Kaveh freezes for a moment, eyes wide slightly wide as he looked from the drink that’d been placed on the table before him, to the barkeep and then back to the wine with wide eyes.

Seeing his confusion the barkeep chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house courtesy of that gentleman over there.”

With his eyes as wide as saucers Kaveh turned slightly following the barkeeper’s gaze to a table a little ways away from his own where a man sat, eyeing him with a large grin on his face. The man has a companion or two at his table, and although he wears a uniform from the Akademiya he doesn’t look the least bit familiar, and neither do his companions.

It makes sense though considering how many students attended the Akademiya to remember them all would be a rather inhuman feat.

Kaveh looked down at the drink once more feeling a slight sense of humiliation well up inside of him.

Although Kaveh was a rather whiny, and loud drunk which was pretty much just common knowledge around Sumeru City for visitors of Lambad’s tavern.

Kaveh was a very frequent visitor, whether it was another disagreement with Alhaitham or simply craving a drink alongside a chat he would be here.

Not always alone like he was today but he would be here. If inspiration struck him however more often than not he would stop drinking to sketch something or even doodle.

Sprawling impossible architecture that no human could reliably build in such a short period.

It was another reason that Kaveh often enjoyed his trips to the desert for work, able to see each and every piece of the architecture that stood the test of time.

Although as he finds his mind wandering to the desert he also finds his mind wandering to Alhaitham which sends that irritation still bubbling beneath his skin right to the forefront.

Finding out that Alhaitham had become the acting grand sage in the time Kaveh was gone had felt like a shock to his system. Even more so when he found out the other information that led to such an incident.

Just the thought has Kaveh rolling his eyes as he grabs the fresh drink that had been placed on the table, he gives the man who’d bought it for him a polite grin. After all, just because he’s a lot drunk doesn’t mean his manners have gone out the window.

It wasn’t the first time someone had bought a drink or two for him, hell there had even been a time or two when Alhaitham had bought him a drink, or several.

Whether it was for an apology, for fun, or just to spend time together.

The memories have Kaveh pausing for a moment, lowering the cup of wine with a slight scowl. The sip of the alcohol he’d taken tastes bitter in his mouth and yet he swallows it anyway.

Kaveh and Alhaitham had known each other for a decently long time having attended the Akademiya together although in different years and different Darshans.

Kaveh was Alhaitham’s senior however the two had grown rather close forming something of an odd friendship, this friendship had drifted apart due to their differences, but eventually when they’d met once more later into their adulthood and began living together it grew into something deeper.

Whenever Alhaitham was around Kaveh found it fairly hard to think.

And it was absolutely infuriating. Kaveh was frequently on the receiving end of Alhaitham’s teasing and harsh remarks although he didn’t take them lying down, with Kaveh often retaliating with his own.

This happened so much that many people in the Akademiya were familiar with their bickering in public.

But honestly, it was something that Kaveh enjoyed weirdly enough, although he’d rather die before admitting it.

A soft sigh escapes Kaveh’s mouth as he takes another drink of the alcohol. The warm buzz of intoxication is a bit fainter now, no longer able to fuel his irritation as his mind becomes a bit less clouded.

He’d go back to Alhaitham’s house after a few more drinks, one, maybe two, or three. He couldn’t hold his alcohol anyway, so it was best to return after all.

“He better not have left with both keys again,” Kaveh huffed under his breath as he took another sip of his drink.

~~~

Perhaps the last few drinks hadn’t been such a good idea, but the wine had been a really good vintage so he truly couldn’t resist.

That is what Kaveh tells himself at least as he halfway stumbled and staggered through the front door of Alhaitham’s his steps unnaturally heavy and uncoordinated.

His vision is a mess of blurry color swaying back and forth. And as he shuts the door with fumbling fingers, a groan slips from between his lips.

The warm yet floaty buzz the alcohol had brought earlier no longer feels pleasant, instead, it seems to have turned to almost searing heat beneath his skin, the cups of wine swirling nauseatingly in his gut.

Kaveh muffles a soft hiccup into his hand, a grimace of disgust tugging at his lips when the slight motion makes his stomach slosh slightly and he thinks he can faintly taste the bitter sting of alcohol in the back of his throat.

“Need to lay down…” Kaveh mumbled to himself, his words slurring and his tongue feels strangely heavy in his mouth.

The house feels abnormally hot as Kaveh begins stumbling his way towards the bedroom. He can only hope Alhaitham is already asleep because he can practically hear the man’s usual cold words being sent his way.

The thought is enough to amplify the throbbing in his skull, and he pauses for a moment. Swaying in place as he brings a hand to his head clutching at it.

The floor feels as if it’s shifting and writhing beneath his feet, the entire room itself swirling around him and Kaveh swallows thickly when his stomach seems to do the same.

A sharp cramp twisting in his gut has him bringing a trembling hand to his stomach, doing his best to ignore the next wave of nausea that rolled over him.

Somewhere very faintly in the back of his muddled thoughts, Kaveh has the faintest idea that something is wrong. Kaveh wasn’t someone who could hold his alcohol well, a fact that he was well aware of and one that Alhaitham never failed to remind him of.

This however feels completely different compared to when he had normally overindulged in alcohol. Something felt wrong, he couldn’t place his finger on what but something felt wrong.

He tries to continue walking but stops reaching out to steady himself when his legs tremble beneath him. The room sways and swirls around him, his stomach feeling as if it’s doing the same and whimper leaves his mouth when another sharp cramp stabs at his stomach.

A wave of dizzying nausea washes over him as he clutches at his stomach, the sharp cramp twisting his gut relentlessly.

Had he eaten something that didn’t agree with him? Had he come down with something? Kaveh was prone to getting sick rather easily having always been something of a frail child when he was little, although it seemed to get moderately better when he’d gotten older sometimes his body would throw him for a loop

though.

He felt as if he were melting into a puddle at the moment and as another wave of dizzying nausea slammed into him Kaveh doesn’t even register that he’s fallen to his knees.

His violently trembling legs give beneath him, and another whimper slips from his lips as he swallows thickly, bile-tinged regurgitated wine bubbling at the back of his throat.

Kaveh quickly covers his mouth with one hand, as a series of wet, ominous-sounding nauseated hiccups tumble out of him, with the last one carrying a distinct acidic tinge to it.

He tries to climb to his feet, a trembling hand reaching out until his fingers find the arm of one of the three living room sofas.

However the moment he tries his vision sways and tilts dangerously, and an intense wave of dizzying nausea rolls over him so fiercely that it leaves him panting softly for air as black spots rapidly fill his vision.

His head is throbbing so viscously that it feels as though it’s trying to split itself in two, and cramp after painful cramp assaults his stomach practically twisting his stomach into a knot.

A whimper leaves his lips as a rush of heat rolled over his skin followed by an intense chill, and Kaveh is unconscious before he can even hit the ground.

~~~

A loud thud from the living room is what draws Alhaitham’s attention away from the novel he’s currently engrossed in.

The noise is heard just over the music faintly playing in his headphones, however, Alhaitham reached up turning them off as he sets the book aside for a moment and climbs to his feet.

Considering Kaveh had stormed off early that day and been gone most of the day, well, Alhaitham knew what to expect. Kaveh coming home drunk was a very common experience, especially since he couldn’t hold his alcohol well.

Kaveh was a loud, whiny, and messy drunk as well so him falling or tripping wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Quietly Alhaitham makes his way to the living room pausing briefly when he catches sight of Kaveh laying collapsed on the floor just as he expected. And yet even though the sight is a familiar one that doesn’t stop the twinge of concern from welling up within his chest.

“Went and overindulged on wine again,” Alhaitham sighed as he stared at Kaveh with crossed arms.

Alhaitham isn’t sure what to expect but it definitely isn’t for Kaveh to whimper softly, his eyes flickering open before he speaks, “…Haitham…”

Noticing that the older man’s words were heavily slurred, Alhaitham sighed before walking over to him but he can’t help but pause with a scowl.

Now that he’s closer to him a few things catch Alhaitham’s attention, the fine sheen of sweat coating his skin, the faint pinkish-red blush coating his cheeks. The fact that his entire body was trembling slightly, a grimace tugging at his features.

Kaveh had always had incredibly beautiful and rather striking eyes, at the moment however they are glassy and glazed over as they struggled to follow Alhaitham’s movements as if the other man were in a heavy daze barely truly registering him.

Alarm bells immediately go off in Alhaitham’s head, he’s seen Kaveh drunk a lot over the time they’d known each other. This however looked like something else entirely, almost like Kaveh was sick.

Kaveh was someone prone to getting sick rather easily, having once told Alhaitham that he was fairly frail as a kid.

There were even times when Alhaitham had seen him fall sick occasionally as an adult as well.

“…Haitham,” Kaveh whispered when he felt Alhaitham brush some of the strands of hair away from his face.

Kaveh narrows his eyes trying to follow Alhaitham’s movements through his still blurry and shifting vision. Through the heavy fog blanketing his mind, there’s a spark of fear, something didn’t feel right, now more than ever.

He feels Alhaitham’s familiar fingers on his forehead, they’re soft, containing very few callouses, but most importantly they’re cold and feel amazing on his too hot skin and he doesn’t even realize he’s leaned into his touch until he whimpers softly when Alhaitham draws back with a hiss.

“You’re burning up, what kind of fool goes drinking when he’s sick,” Alhaitham huffed shaking his head slightly.

Kaveh wants to shake his head to respond no, that he’d felt fine before he started drinking or even that he wouldn’t have left if Alhaitham hadn’t been his usual self but the motion of shaking his head seems to make his stomach swirl.

Waves of nausea seem to crash over him all at once as if it’d been laying in wait, a wet sounding hiccup leaves his mouth followed by a slurred groan of misery.

His stomach feels as if someone was trying to shake a water balloon, the cups of wine and bar food sloshing against the walls of his stomach.

He hears Alhaitham sigh softly over him, a familiar noise that may have made Kaveh feel somewhat irritated if he wasn’t so preoccupied with his stomach trying to claw its way out of him.

A choked whimper leaves his mouth when a sharp pain seems to stab him harshly in the stomach, and Alhaitham pauses his eyes widening slightly when Kaveh moves, trembling hands going clutch at his stomach as he curls in on himself.

Kaveh looks at him, his face twisted in pain, and manages to speak through gritted teeth. “S-something’s wrong…” he whimpered as he curled further in on himself, it's the fear in Kaveh’s weak and wavering voice that makes Alhaitham move.

He feels Alhaitham’s hands on him, guiding him to carefully sit up and the motion albeit careful has Kaveh gagging when it seems as if his stomach sloshed like an overfilled glass.

Maybe if he were more coherent he could be more upset when the next gag sends up a small spurt of purplish watery vomit splattering onto the carpet, everyone knew wine was annoying to get out of fabric after all. The action of retching though has another sharp cramp twisting at his stomach drawing a whimper from his lips.

Alhaitham scowled as he softly shushed the other man, brushing the long blonde strands out of his face gathering them back as Kaveh lurched forward with another heave.

A wet-sounding hiccup seems to come from somewhere deep inside Kaveh’s stomach bringing with it a rather large surge of watery vomit, purplish wine tinged with bile splattering heavily onto the carpet like someone pouring a bucket of water on a tarp.

“Bathroom or bedroom,”  Alhaitham asked quickly when he thought Kaveh was in any condition to answer him.

The question Alhaitham asked was one he’d asked in the past when Kaveh was sick or drunk, barely clinging to consciousness or on the verge of falling asleep somewhere he shouldn’t.

Kaveh doesn’t answer him though a rumbling retch takes the place of his words as a large surge of watery vomit sprayed from his lips.

His stomach feels as if it’s attempting to turn itself inside out, his skin is on fire and his head is throbbing so viscously that black spots dot his vision, stars bursting before his eyes with each violent retch.

He feels Alhaitham’s hands on his own suddenly, Alhaitham’s fingers brushing over his nails, gently pressing them as if testing something.

Then in the next moment, Kaveh thinks he hears Alhaitham curse although it sounds muffled as if it’s coming to him from underwater. And that does nothing to ease the fear that was piercing through the veil of fog clouding his mind.

Alhaitham was someone who was frequently called expressionless or inhuman allowing his often biting words to do most of the work. So to hear that clear panic in his voice lets him know that something is really, really wrong.

Kaveh gasped for air, nausea still swirling in his gut as threads of bile and drool dropped lazily from his lips. A weak yet empty gag pried itself from his lips bringing up nothing as it sent pain darting across his stomach. “T-the tavern…had drinks at the tavern…” Kaveh manages to say in between his panting, his words coming out in a rush.

Alhaitham grits his teeth as he gathers Kaveh up in his arms carefully, his chest twisting uncomfortably when Kaveh gives a soft whimper before gagging although he brings nothing up.

Alhaitham’s eyes glance down at the hand Kaveh has clutching his stomach, but more noticeably the strange gray almost silvery tint his nails carried at the moment.

That combined with Kaveh’s current state, all signs pointed to some form of poisoning.

And considering that Kaveh had gone to Lambad’s tavern as usual that meant that that was the most likely location if not the only location it could occur.

For now, though he had to act fast.

~~~

The first thing Kaveh registers as he slowly begins to come to is that it’s hot, nearly as hot as the sun bearing down in the desert. Kaveh whimpered as he shifted slightly, noticing the slight weight laying on top of him.

There is a horrible rancid taste in his mouth that makes him internally cringe as well as called his attention to the nausea stirring in his stomach.

Kaveh can just make out two voices talking although it’s very muffled, as if coming to him underwater one is familiar and slowly Kaveh registers it as Tighnari’s, the other voice is so familiar that in other circumstances Kaveh may have internally groaned.

Instead, he finds himself strangely relieved. Opening his eyes feels like an enormous task, and it takes him a moment or two to open them, and he instantly regrets it, the room sways before his eyes in a blur which does nothing but exacerbate the nausea swirling in his gut. He feels something nearly searing hot climbing up his throat, nearly burning it, clogging it and he flails, frantically forcing himself to sit up just as his stomach heaves.

He retches, the strangled sound clawing its way up from his stomach, an ache shooting across it as it wrings itself out, bringing up stringy, sticky bitter bile and saliva onto the blankets sitting in his lap.

Kaveh coughs and splutters a hand going to clutch at his stomach when a slight cramp twists at it, slowly things begin to come back to him. He opens his eyes slightly again, blinking away the tears in his eyes recognizing the familiar walls of Alhaitham’s room.

It takes him merely a moment more to register that Tighnari and Alhaitham had entered the room clearly done with whatever talk they’d been having when Kaveh had begun throwing up.

Kaveh is trembling, tears in his eyes as he sniffles and does his best to swallow back the next gag building in his throat, “S-sorry…couldn’t st-stop it.” His words are heavily slurred, thick with nausea, and choked, he doesn’t even know why he’s apologizing considering things but just because he was sick didn’t mean he was an animal.

His sense of embarrassment and his manners were definitely intact considering that it felt as if his face was burning beneath Tighnari and Alhaitham’s gazes.

The next gag has him lurching forward slightly, and he hears footsteps quickly approaching him, and a small trash can is shoved beneath his mouth just as a small mouthful amount of slightly watery vomit sprays from his lip.

Tighnari scowled slightly as he laid a careful hand on Kaveh’s back pausing for a moment when he gave a garbled whimper shifting away slightly.

“Here let me do it,” Alhaitham said after a moment, and Tighnari wasted no time moving so that Alhaitham can take his place.

Alhaitham was very used to dealing with Kaveh when sick, enough to know that he could become sensitive to touch when he was throwing up or a fever had hit him pretty badly.

He lays a careful hand on Kaveh’s upper back his hand barely putting pressure on the other man’s back, gently shushing Kaveh when he makes a noise of pure misery.

Alhaitham looks at Tighnari when the other man suddenly clears his throat.

“Right, as I was saying earlier, the poison is being purged from his system which is why he’s vomiting at the moment. It isn’t lethal but he will be feeling sick for a bit,” Tighnari explained his tail swishing.

He finds himself glancing away for a moment when Alhaitham once more turns to Kaveh gently shushing him when the retching turned particularly violent causing Kaveh to whimper. It almost felt as if he were intruding into something.

As Kaveh’s retching tapers off he slumps against Alhaitham’s side, panting roughly for air, his eyes wet with tears, and threads of bile and drool dripping lazily from his mouth in threads.

His head feels as if it's filled with cotton, what little energy he had when he’d woken up had been quickly used up during his vomiting episode. All he can really do is sit there doing his best to follow what Tighnari and Alhaitham are saying.

Kaveh must’ve closed his eyes or fallen asleep for a brief moment because the next thing he registers is Alhaitham’s hands on him, carefully guiding him to lie down.

Tighnari’s presence is gone from the room, and as Kaveh opens his eyes slightly meeting Alhaitham’s familiar gaze Alhaitham speaks. “Try to rest. Cyno and the other Matra are looking into things at the moment.”

Kaveh gave a soft hum, although he grimaced ever so slightly when a tinge of nausea stirred in his stomach.

“Feeling sick again?”

Kaveh nodded slowly, his eyes closed as he placed a hand carefully on his stomach. “Just a little,” Kaveh rasped his voice shot due to his early vomiting episode.

Kaveh feels Alhaitham’s hand in his hair after a moment as he gently begins carding through it. Kaveh says nothing for a few moments allowing Alhaitham to remove the hair clips in his hair for him but eventually, he speaks, “A man at the tavern gave me a drink. Wore an Akedimya uniform, and had one or two friends with him.”

Alhaitham nodded slowly, the wheels in his head already turning. Truthfully it was just as he’d theorized but Kaveh confirming it was more than helpful. “I’ll inform Cyno, get some rest for now.”

Kaveh does not need to be told twice and it isn’t long before he drifts off to sleep.

[strawberrynsugar]

new freminet-centric fic up on my ao3 ^-^

[sickfic-with-kiko]

Kaveh emeto headcanons （for a curiouscat anon)

Gets obviously squirmy when he feels sick, even if he tries not to whine too much. He’ll be a bit annoyed to admit it if he’s not close to someone.

Often feels sick from drinking too much, or bad lifestyle habits. But even if he’ll feel better after vomiting, he still avoids it vehemently.

Hates the thought of being sick in public and will lock himself in a stall alone. He’s loud so people can still hear him.

Really apologetic if anyone is caring for him while vomiting. Also sympathy pukes.

Drools a lot and also completely loses control of his gagging, so he sounds horrible when puking.

Gets really upset if he makes a mess on himself because he prides his dignity and his clothes. Likes relaxing in a bath afterwards to freshen up.

Doesn’t refuse comfort if it’s offered to him. He enjoys having his back rubbed and having his hair pulled back when he’s sick.

[dollgutzzz]

New stuffing fic!

Summary: At a diplomatic banquet held by the Tsaritsa, Scaramouche decided to trick Childe into eating way more than he is capable of, the consequences of which awaken something inside both of them.

Please mind the tags on the fic page!

[risemyliege]

part 4 of silly texts between me and my friends projected onto genshin characters, even if it's super ooc and not accurate at all

everything (except for kaeya and diluc. if you ship them dni /srs) can be either platonic or romantic, doesn’t matter to me <3