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writing-whump · 11 months ago

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Pain at night

Isaiah has a heart episode at night. Matthew helps. Reluctance to ask for help, emeto, crying.

Something was off with Isaiah.

Matthew didn't know if he was getting paranoid or just better at reading the guy even when he wasn't trying anymore.

But Isaiah was quiet in the morning, not hurrying out the same way as he would, not ready to go in his suit as always and drinking water instead of tea...that was very weird.

Matthew wondered if it could be the approaching holiday - neither he or Isaiah had a family to visit. The prospects for this year were the two of them at their new place watching Christmas fairy tales. Which was better than any other year before in Matthew's book.

Isaiah's car was parked the same way when Matthew checked in the evening, though he had a button up shirt again, there was a lack of new scents on his clothes.

They watched a movie that night the same as always. Matthew and Seline exchanged a look, but Matthew knew Seline's approach in these things was very...hands off. If Isaiah didn't want to tell her something, she backed off, giving him space instead. He wasn't sure if she felt hurt, whenever Isaiah hid something from her, if she was trying to let him decide when and what he told her or if she just felt insecure in their relationship to fuss. Or maybe she wasn't that much of a fussy person?

Matthew thought she was bossy and meddling enough, when she got the opportunity.

Seline snuggled a lot more closely and openly to Isaiah that night, looking more at Isaiah's face than at the movie. But she said nothing.

Matthew wasn't sure if he was supposed to say something. The whole caretaking gig was Isaiah's specialty. He was out of his element here.

Isaiah dozed off at the end of the movie, propped up by several pillows. Another thing very unlike him.

Seline kissed Isaiah on top of the head, giving Matthew a look, before disentangling herself and heading upstairs.

Matthew was on his stomach, pillow over his head, dozing off himself, though watching her go.

Maybe it was alright. If Isaiah had a problem or felt sick, he would tell them, right? It was a reasonable thing to do and Isaiah was the most reasonable out of their little pack.

So Matthew relaxed, letting the movie play to the end as he napped a bit more. Isaiah was just a reach of the hand away, anyway, it was fine...

He woke up to his neck cranking from the position. The movie was long over, only the Chromecast wallpapers still lighting up the room. Matthew lifted himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. He would just shuffle over to bed and keep on sleeping.

Isaiah was awake, green eyes staring in the dark. He held himself weirdly locked in place, muscles tense, but not moving. Like he was about to move, but did not.

Matthew stood up, circling the sofa so he could brush next to Isaiah inconspicuously. "You not gonna head into bed, man? It's like 1.30 am."

Isaiah said nothing, though his lips were pressed tightly together and he leaned forward a bit, hands braced on his knees. Clenched in the fabric of his pants.

Matthew frowned. "You okay?"

Isaiah seemed to have been in an intense internal debate, his eyes glazing over, but forehead creased in concentration.

"Oh Christ," Matthew muttered sharply, "just spill it out already."

Isaiah's head jerked up in surprise.

"Do you need help or what?"

Isaiah lowered his gaze again, which made Matthew look closer. There was sweat on the side of his face, the hair around his ear wet and plastered to the skin. He was taking measured deep breaths, but there was still that weird tension in him, all stiff and frozen.

His shadow wasn't up at all though, not even changing from its normal human shape. So nothing wrong on that front at least.

"Could you...ehmm...help me walk?"

Matthew's eyebrows shot up, and he wanted to ask more, but Isaiah's ashamed look to the floor changed his mind. He hated Isaiah felt like that when asking for help. Even from him.

Matthew bit back the freaked out What's wrong with you? with effort. "Sure thing. Come on." He offered his hand to him. Isaiah reached for it without lifting his gaze, using it to pull himself up.

Matthew was right. He didn't need to ask questions, cause he was going to find out from Isaiah's hold anyway.

And Isaiah's hold was weak. He needed Matthew's strength to lift himself up from the sofa and he still muffled a pained gasp at the movement.

Matthew wrapped his arm around his shoulders and Isaiah sagged against him immediately before catching a bit of his balance. This was a close enough hold to note other things as well, like that there was no heat whatsoever. If anything, Isaiah felt cold to the touch and his legs were wobbly. They took slow steps towards the bedroom, Matthew growing more and more alarmed, wondering what he could ask that wouldn't have his friend immediately on the defensive.

After the slow walk that felt like forever, Matthew gently positioned Isaiah back onto the back, wracking his head with what this could be. Isaiah's breathing picked up and he was holding himself stiff and bowed again, fingers immediately curling into the mattress in pain. This reminded Matthew of something he had seen before.

Reminded of the incident with Isaiah's heart, he went under Isaiah's pillow unceremoniously until he found the pajamas. "You are changing out of that," Matthew announced, sitting down beside Isaiah and helping him with the buttons.

Isaiah didn't protest, though he sighed heavily.

"I thought this thing got solved," Matthew muttered under his nose. "That the heart pain came, because you didn't let your shadow out enough. We spar all the time. Why is it happening now?"

Isaiah gave him a side look, lips still pressed in that thin line. "It's fine. It just...happens sometimes. No big deal." It sounded like he had to get that out through clenched teeth.

"It happens...so it happens frequently? Regularly?"

Isaiah nodded slightly, staring across the room towards Matthew's bed.

"You realize that's not a normal thing to happen, right?" Matthew said dryly. Wolves didn't get chronic pains, they didn't take painkillers and they didn't get sick like this out of nowhere. Injuries and pains didn't just repeat themselves like this. It didn't make any sense.

Isaiah just hunched his shoulders. "Can we just...not do this right now?"

"Oh, now he is going to pull the pain card," Matthew grumbled, but accepted he wasn't getting more answers tonight. Isaiah looked pained, all drawn lines and pale under the lamp.

Matthew helped him change into pajamas, glad he remembered something helpful from the previous experience. "Anything else I can do? Do you want some water? Painkillers?"

Isaiah shook his head, though he moved like an old man, carefully and slowly sliding under the blankets, that frown not once easing up. "I'm fine. Just need to sleep."

Matthew rolled his eyes, hoisting the covers from under Isaiah to spare him the struggle, pulling it over him as Isaiah drooped against the pillow, taking one more to prep it over each other.

Matthew got ready for bed himself, checking over Isaiah for the last time before shutting the light off. "You tell me if it gets worse," he said towards Isaiah in his last attempt.

Isaiah was frowning, but his eyes were shut in protest. Matthew switched the light off, hoping the worst of the night was over.

***

"-tthew? Matthew?"

Matthew wiggled under the covers. He was so damn tired, staying up so late and yet still keeping up with his runs, even on holidays. Maybe he should change his routine without uni in the way.

"Matt..."

That was annoying. The voice was soft, more like a whisper, but insistent.

Almost pleading.

The thought got him wide awake as he lifted himself up in a hurry, blindly reaching for the switch on the bedside table lamp.

"Zaya? What's- Jesus fucking Christ."

Matthew was not expecting that. The light spilled over the room, showing a sweaty, shaky Isaiah on his side on the bed with the floor covered in brown-yellow vomit.

Shooting up to his bare feet, Matthew fought a gag on his own as the smell hit him. How come the sound of retching didn't wake him up sooner?

Isaiah made a soft coughing sound, leaning forward like he did in the living room, bringing up more watery vomit to join the mess. Matthew didn't realize until now he must have been fighting nausea back then too.

Yeah, with sounds like that, no wonder Matthew slept right through it. It was the quietest puking he ever heard.

It looked like Isaiah didn't have to strain at all, cause even when his arms shook as he held himself up, his mouth flooded with foamy vomit and dripped down onto the floor. At least the covers seemed untouched.

Next, Isaiah made a sound Matthew had never heard from him before. He whimpered.

That got him out of his shocked paralysis. Matthew circled the mess and the bed, climbing into Isaiah's queen bed from behind.

"Okay, man. Just...just breathe, okay? I got you." He took Isaiah by the shoulders, lifting him into a sort of sitting position. Isaiah folded his legs underneath him, sagging against Matthew's chest, breathing hard. Obviously relieved at not to having to carry his own weight anymore.

Isaiah's throat bobbed convulsively though and he shut his eyes, a small burp working its way up.

Matthew winced in sympathy. "You feel like you are done?"

"D-don't know. S-still f-feeling terribly nauseous." The black-haired man shivered, teeth chattering together like he was freezing.

Matthew rubbed his arm up and down on instinct, trying to steady him. "Okay. Can you hold on a sec? I'll bring you something."

He leaned Isaiah against the headboard and the wall behind it, propping him up, before quickly locating and grabbing the trashcan under Isaiah's table. Thankfully, cleared out and empty.

The red-haired wolf put the trashcan into Isaiah's lap. Isaiah leaned over it, spitting some drool.

His breathing hitched and he gagged, almost tipping to the side, wasn't it for Matthew quickly propping him back up as he burped into the trashcan emptily.

"Think you got rid of everything on the floor, man," Matthew chuckled uneasily. "Too late for this."

Isaiah gagged last time, then groaned, letting go of the trashcan that fell to the side on his legs.

"I'm so so sorry," he said, voice trembling, bordering on a sob. "I couldn't get up, I just couldn't-"

"Hey, hey, hey. It's fine. Nothing happened, man. We can clean that up no problem." Matthew felt a little irritated Isaiah didn't mention the nausea sooner. He could have been better prepared for this.

"I'm sorry," Isaiah repeated, gulping down another sob. "It's usually not this bad, but today it's just...ugggggh..." Isaiah burped, fist pressing against his lip while the other went to the left side of his chest, to his heart.

"Today it's what?" Matthew prompted.

Isaiah sagged to the side again and Matthew gave up, simply sitting down next to him so they could be shoulder to shoulder and his sick friend could lean against him.

Isaiah sighed gratefully, closing his eyes.

"You are okay. Do you want to lie down?"

"No-urrrrp-no. Doesn't hurt so bad...when I sit. Can't breathe...it's like a weight crushing me..."

Ahh. That explained why he had piled up the pillows.

"Okay. You are okay. We can stay like this." Matthew assured, letting Isaiah lean all his weight against his arm and side.

"'s not okay," Isaiah's voice wavered dangerously, breathing speeding up. "This isn't normal. It just keeps happening and it's getting worse...and oh God, it hurts so bad, Matt..." Isaiah clutched at his chest with both hands, twisting the fabric of his loose shirt in his fingers like he wanted to drill into that spot.

Matthew's own chest twisted in sympathy and pain at the sight. Not only did he not understand this pain, not only did Isaiah feel incredibly ashamed of it - he was scared. If Isaiah himself was scared of something, how could Matthew be of any use?

He snaked an arm around Isaiah's back, pressing him even closer against him, squeezing his nape and holding his head gently against his shoulder.

Isaiah all but buried his face against it at the contact, shaking and sobbing quietly. Like he was still scared to be too loud, like he was still holding back, even then.

"Shhhhh. I got ya, I got ya, I promise. It will be fine. It's fine." Matthew didn't even know what he was saying at his point, letting Isaiah cry like that into his shirt. It was freaking him out something terrible, but he also couldn't move or indulge the emotion, when his best friend was hurting like that.

Isaiah's sobs died down slowly, his breahing steadying. He tried to pull away, but Matthew held him gently, resisting the move until he gave up. He burped against his shoulder once, frame rocking with the movement, before he went limp.

Matthew's arm hurt a little as Isaiah leaned against it, exhausted enough to sleep, though his features were still pinched and pained.

Matthew didn't close his eyes once during the night, holding Isaiah up in his sleep.

If this helped with the pain even a tiniest bit, it would be worth it.

@bellysoupset

#emeto #sickfic #emetophilia #vomiting #caretaking #hurt/comfort #emeto writing #bromance #friendship #heart pain #werewolf wip #my writing #Isaiah

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