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The sounds of retching and coughing once again brought Cyrus to alertness. The thin apartment walls did nothing to mask the sounds of the other occupants’ activity during the day or night. Cyrus looked over at his alarm clock only to shake with fury. Once again Giovanni’s sickness was waking him up at two in the morning. It had been a month of this shit. Sure, for a while the two of them had the beginnings of a fully blooming friendship before but Giovanni had stopped inviting him over. The man had told Cyrus he would be busy for a while and now he was, from the sounds of it, getting broken down by sickness caused by improper care of his body.
The retching only continued. Cyrus knew how hard headed the man was about denying sickness (Cyrus had to drive the fool home or to the doctors more than once in his five years of being Giovanni’s neighbor). No one should be puking practically every night for a month. Cyrus knew he had to do something about Giovanni’s stubborn streak. The man needed to go to a hospital.
Cyrus grunted softly as he got up from his warm bed and hissed as his feet touched the freezing floors. The discomfort intensified as he blindly shuffled around in the dark room for his slippers. He tucked his feet into the fuzzy material, grabbed his phone from the charger, and made his way out of his room. He swiped his keys from the hook by the door and locked said door behind him.
The frosty wind tore through his thin pajamas in an instant. “Shit…” He spat through his chattering teeth as he walked the few feet between his and Giovanni’s doors. The door knob didn’t want to turn but Cyrus knew the trick to this complex. He turned the knob as hard as he could, and the door popped open. Cyrus was greeted by his own reflection in Giovanni’s “vanity spot” as Cyrus had dubbed the entryway mirror.
Wet coughs floated from the bathroom and Cyrus followed the sound to the source.
Cyrus peeked in through the open door and nearly bolted. Giovanni sat leaning against the wall across from the toilet. His breaths gurgled with every exhale as more and more blood slipped down his chin. Cyrus was reaching for his phone when he noticed the remains of torn up and crimson covered flowers strewn across the floor.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Giovanni’s head whipped towards the sound of Cyrus’ voice. And Giovanni moved to get up.
“Cy-“ The man had barely gotten to his knees before he covered his mouth with a wince. He swiveled back over the commode and began puking up more blood and globs of flower parts.
Cyrus hated everything about being in the cramped tiled room. The proud man in front of him was shaking uncontrollably and didn’t have time to breathe between the sound of liquid falling into the already bloody water. The gagging noises made Cyrus’ stomach roll, but he gritted his teeth and placed a hand on Giovanni’s back.
It felt like an eternity before Giovanni stopped retching and finally started breathing.
Cyrus pushed Giovanni back against his legs in order to keep the man propped up. Giovanni grunted in what Cyrus assumed was a thanks.
The more Giovanni breathed, the wetter his breaths sounded. Cyrus feared the cycle would begin again.
“I can’t help you with this.” Giovanni jolted violently when the words left Cyrus’ mouth. Cyrus couldn’t bring himself to look down because of the bloody mix in the toilet.
“If-“ Cyrus searched for words, “If you are too much of a coward to tell someone you love them… Honestly it would probably be better just to get rid of it.” Cyrus sent a mental apology to Giovanni. He knew the cold logic was probably unfair, but words of comfort had never been his thing. If Giovanni really felt for this person, then he should have taken care of the disease long ago.
Cyrus felt Giovanni’s back bump into his legs twice. Before the man kneeling on the floor let out a gurgle-interrupted sigh.
“I’ll-” Giovanni swallowed audibly, “I’ll go to the hospital tomorrow.” Was the weak reply. Giovanni’s voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper. Cyrus hoped that Giovanni’s throat would heal once this was over with. Cyrus reached down and blindly patted Giovanni’s shoulder.
“You going to be okay?” Cyrus was sure it was getting close to three in the morning, he would need to start the day in a few more hours.
“Yeah.” Was the choked reply.
“Do I need to drive y-“
“No, Just-” Giovanni coughed wetly, “just go.”
“Okay… I’ll go then.” Cyrus stepped away from Giovanni’s warm back. Cyrus flinched as something sharp poked his foot through his slipper. He lifted the offended limb and shook. A piece of green stem floated to the ground. Giovanni was coughing up roses. Cyrus shuddered at how thorns must feel scratching the inside of someone's throat. He turned around after going through the bathroom door.
“Giovanni.” The man jerked his head up at the sound of his name. Tears were shining wetly on his cheeks. Cyrus couldn’t blame him. This disease was on the verge of killing him, Cyrus couldn’t imagine the amount of pain the man was in.
“Good luck.”
Giovanni nodded back, and Cyrus walked his way out of the apartment he knew quite well. He couldn’t bear the thought of Giovanni suffering over someone. He sighed and returned to his room. Feelings were complicated, and he just didn’t have the time or the energy to examine his own. He drifted off after analyzing that drowning in flowers and blood would probably be one of the worst ways to die.
Two weeks later Giovanni moved out of the complex without saying goodbye.