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A low groan was the first thing Calum heard when he let himself in on his older bandmate’s fancy hotel room. The drummer had managed to pick up a nasty stomach virus somewhere between Chile and Colombia and the poor man had been miserable, bouts of vomit and stomach cramps kept him from resting, and not to mention the spikes of pain that shot through his body if he simply dared to move a muscle. Luckily for him and the band, they had a day off, but tomorrow it was back to their crazy schedule, back to touring through South America. Even though things weren’t looking too promising right now.
“I take it you’re not feeling any better, hmm?” Calum whispered into the darkness, not wanting to startle the boy if he was dozing off. He walked to the other side of the room and crouched down next to the bed so he was facing his sick friend and reached over to turn on the bedside lamp.
“Nnngh, turn it off, Cal.” Ashton whined and rolled over, burrowing his head on the fluffy pillow in an attempt to block the unbearable light.
“Let me take a look at you, mate. Then I’ll turn it off.” The bassist said firmly, helping the older boy lay flat on his back. He couldn’t help but notice that even in the dimly lit room, Ashton’s face was visible devoid of any color, except for the splotches of red on his cheeks, nose and forehead, and he had dark bags under his droopy eyes.
The younger man pushed back the drummer’s sweaty hair, wincing at the obvious heat. “Oh buddy… your fever is high.” Calum commented sadly, running his fingers through his bandmate’s caramel curls.
“Feel awful.” Ashton admitted quietly, leaning into the bassist’s touch.
At this stage, Ashton was totally past the point of trying to hide his sickness from his bandmates and instead, was even appreciating their company, especially Michael and Calum’s. Luke had come with Sierra, for this part of the tour, and the drummer really didn’t want to bother the couple.
“Stomach still bothering you?” The bassist asked softly, even though he already knew the answer by the audible gurgles coming from the older boy’s belly every now and then.
Ashton gave a small nod, so Calum continued, “I think we should try to get some food into you, yeah? All that gagging on an empty stomach can’t be good.”
“No, no food.” The drummer mumbled stubbornly, shaking his head.
“C’mon, buddy. I know you don't feel well, but we have to get something into your system." Calum reasoned, rubbing his friend’s arm comfortingly.
“Don't wanna throw up anymore." Ashton weakly fought back.
"I know mate.” Calum said sympathetically. “That's why I'm just going to make you that soup that Mike bought." He added, trying to convince the sick man.
Ashton muttered something under his breath, but didn’t argue this time. Calum was pretty sure that he just didn’t have the energy to fight back and decided to just give up. At least, that worked in his favor.
Calum kept looking back at the drummer while he poured a can of noodle soup into a bowl, smiling sadly once he saw that the boy had his eyes closed again. That bug was definitely taking a toll on his body. He heated the soup in the microwave and once it made its final beep, he carefully took it off.
He sat the bowl down momentarily on the nightstand to help Ashton sit up a bit against the pillows while the poor man coughed into his arm. “You got it bad, bud.”
The drummer just nodded, trying to ignore the wave dizziness that washed over him as Calum sat him up. He could hear his stomach growl with emptiness, but he really didn’t feel hungry despite that. He had no appetite whatsoever, but he knew Calum wasn’t going to give up until he ate something.
“ ‘s just gonna come right back up.” Ashton mumbled, taking the bowl from the bassist’s hands. When the bassist still didn’t give in, he apprehensively lifted a spoonful of soup to his mouth, swallowing the warm liquid.
“That bad?” Calum asked, chuckling when he saw the drummer reach for another spoonful. Ashton wasn’t gonna lie, it tasted and felt better than he had expected.
The sick man ended up eating half of the soup before he couldn’t handle it anymore. He shook his head, silently giving the bowl back to Calum. “No more. I’m full.” Ashton gulped and Calum nodded, placing the bowl back on the nightstand. The last thing he wanted was to overwhelm the boy’s belly.
The younger man, then, made his way to the other side of the bed and sat down on the end right next to Ashton, letting him rest his warm head on his shoulder. “You’re seriously burning, Ash.” He said worriedly, placing the back of his hand on the boy’s forehead.
“Mm.” Ashton murmured in agreement and curled a bit more on Calum’s side. He coughed hard into his arm, the harsh sound racking his body a bit and making his chest and throat hurt, but he collected himself once he felt the bassist start rubbing circles on his back, not seeming to care about his sweat soaked shirt.
“Wanna lay down?” The bassist offered, noticing that Ashton’s eyelids were struggling to stay open.
“Yeah.” Ashton answered sleepy, not making any attempt to move on his own.
Calum chuckled and helped lay the sick man back down, carefully so as to not upset his belly even further. Ashton’s tummy was sloshing once more and making him feel nauseous but at this point he was so used to it that he hardly acknowledged it.
“You don’t have to stay, Cal.” The drummer said gently, a small cough escaping his lips, when he saw his bandmate laying down beside him on the bed. They were in a new country, with many things to explore and he didn’t want to be the reason that the boys missed out on all the new places and people.
“I’m good.” Calum responded, frowning when he saw the boy muffle another cough. “You okay?” He asked, patting the blonde’s back.
“Hmmm.” Ashton mumbled and curled into a tight ball, hugging a pillow over his rumbling stomach. “Just tired.”
“I talked to Mike and he’s gonna bring something to hopefully calm your stomach down since the last meds didn’t do shit.” The bassist commented, noticing the drummer’s discomfort.
Ashton didn’t bother to answer, already halfway to falling asleep. He was vaguely aware of Calum turning off the lights and just a few seconds later, he was out, obviously exhausted. The bassist didn't last long either, he was stressed and tired from touring, and not too long after he fell asleep as well.
***
Calum was surprised when he blinked himself awake, not realizing that he was that tired. He looked around the room to help situated himself and squinted against the darkness to read the digital clock that sat on the nightstand. Apparently he had managed to doze off for thirty minutes or so with Ashton.
At first, he wasn’t sure what had woken him up from his short nap, but the second he placed his hand on the drummer’s back, he knew the reason. The heat coming off of Ashton’s back, even through his shirt, was unbearable. The sick boy must have cuddled into Calum in his sleep, his burning fever waking him up.
As if on cue, the drummer let out a cough and started to toss in his sleep, his eyebrows scrunching up subconsciously. A small whimper made its way past the smaller man’s lips, followed by a pitiful, high-pitched moan.
Calum winced and gently traced shapes on the sick man’s back, trying to settle him down. Should he wake Ashton up? He definitely needed to cool him down, but at the same time he knew that his friend should get as much sleep as possible in order to get better. Before he could weigh the pros and cons in his mind, though, the drummer had another coughing spell. However this time it was different.
The coughs were coming one after another, harsh and dry, leaving no room for the poor man to breathe. It didn’t take long for Ashton to start to choke and the bassist quickly sprang to action.
“Ash, Ashton, you need to wake up, bud.” Calum called out, shaking his bandmate awake, doing his best to stay calm in the overwhelming situation.
Ashton barely twitched.
“C’mon, mate. You need to sit up, get some air into your lungs.” He tried again, shaking the drummer’s body a bit harder.
It worked. Ashton’s eyes flew open, his tired brain struggling to process what was happening. He just knew that he was hurting and that he didn’t like it.
The minute he became a bit more aware, though, he tried to scramble up into a sitting position, but he was just too weak and far too hot to function. “C- Cal.” He heaved out, his breathing heavy and panicked.
“Shh, take deep breaths, buddy.” Calum instructed, repositioning himself so he was able to lift Ashton up and sat him up enough for him to be able to take a decent breath.
Ashton didn’t reply. He couldn’t calm down. He couldn’t breathe.
Calum noticed the sick boy’s chest heaving up and down, he was almost hyperventilating at this point, and the bassist didn’t know what to do. He quickly got up from the bed and went over to the mini fridge, grabbing a water bottle. He untwisted the cap and held the water to Ashton’s mouth for him so he could take a few sips, hoping that by drinking, his brain could realize that he wasn’t actually choking.
It didn’t work.
Ashton was too out of it to even understand how to drink and swallow the water, and it all came dribbling down his front. Calum bit his bottom lip, chewing on it anxiously. He was so focused on trying not to freak out himself and getting the drummer to calm down and breathe that he didn’t even realize that Michael had walked in until the guitarist was cursing loudly and rummering through Ashton’s things, a distressed look on his face.
“Fuck.” Calum muttered under his breath, once he finally realized the severity of the situation. The poor man was having an asthma attack.
Michael thankfully acted quickly and was able to find Ashton’s inhaler inside his bag before running back to them. Even after all of these years of friendship between them, the boys could count on one hand the number of times they had seen their friend using a inhaler and Calum was honestly glad for that because it was fucking terrifying.
“Alright, bud. You’re okay.” The guitarist assured the boy, bringing the inhaler to Ashton's pale, nearly blue lips. The drummer looked up with glassy, scared eyes but Michael just rubbed his arms. “Ash, I really need you to do this for me. You remember how it works, hm?”
Ashton’s chest was rising and falling far too fast, but he still managed a nod. He parted his lips the smallest bit and let Michael pump the medicine into him. He could hear at the back of his mind, both of his bandmates trying to calm him down, but he was still too panicked to be able to process their words. All he could focus was on how hot he was and how tight his chest felt.
The drummer didn’t even realize he was crying until a tear rolled down his flushed cheeks and Calum gently wiped it. Michael pressed the inhaler again, waiting for the medicine to kick in.
After the second puff, Ashton’s breathing normalized just enough for both of his bandmates’ panic to die the slightest bit.
“Ashton?” Calum tried to get the older boy’s attention, keeping his voice slow and clear so his friend’s feverish mind could comprehend.
“Mate.” Michael joined in when the drummer didn’t respond. This time, Ashton carefully lifted his head up from where he was staring at nothing to look at the concerned eyes of his bandmates.
“You scared us for a sec there, buddy.” Calum said gently, running his fingers through the boy’s damp curls. “Can you breathe a bit better now?”
It took a second for Ashton to answer. “Y’s.” He croaked out, his voice completely shot.
Calum and Michael shared a concerned look, both not liking the way it kept taking the sick boy so long to understand what they were saying. However, before they could worry anymore, Ashton leant forward slightly and brought up a stream of half digested soup mixed with stomach acid straight onto the duvet.
“Shit.” Michael cursed, standing up quickly and positioning himself behind the poor man. “That’s ok bud. Don’t worry. Just let it happen.”
Ashton coughed and gagged again, covering his mouth with his hand as he tried to suppress the inevitable.
“Hey, don’t do that.” Calum said gently, grabbing his wrist.
The drummer let out a soft whimper as his stomach cramped without warning and he slumped forward again, violently retching as fresh vomit landed on his lap and some of it splashed onto the bassist’s pants as well.
“It 's okay.” Calum quickly reassured the boy, knowing that Ashton was currently feeling guilty for something he had no control over and he really didn’t need him to get more worked up right now. He was going to change his pants afterwards and that was it. No big deal, right?
Another small mouthful of bile dribbled from the sick boy’s quivering lips into the pool of vomit that had formed on his lap.
“Th’blank’t-” Ashton managed to mumble, squeezing his tummy against the pain.
“The blanket is already messed up, mate. It's okay. Let it happen, don't worry about the duvet.” Michael insisted, gently removing the drummer’s hand from his tummy and replacing it with his own, rubbing soothing shapes on his rolling belly.
Ashton blinked the stinging tears out of his eyes and retched again. His whole body jerked forward with the strength of it and more bile came falling past his lips. He groaned when he saw the mess he had made on the blanket, but Calum quickly shushed him.
The sick boy coughed once more and the bassist knew he had to get Ashton back to reality before he had another asthma attack. Michael seemed to agree with him because with his free hand he started running his finger through the drummer’s curls, ignoring the dampness from the sweat.
“Shh… You're done. You're okay. I need you to take a deep breath for me, though. You're working yourself up, buddy.” Calum instructed, rubbing up and down the boy’s trembling arms in an attempt to bring any kind of comfort to him.
“Hot.” Ashton whined, nearly incoherent. He hiccuped and an unexpected load of vomit expelled from his mouth onto his lap.
“Oh gosh.” Michael mumbled in surprise, patting the drummer’s back while he projectile-vomited with an awful retching sound.
Calum quickly got up and grabbed the small trash can in the room, to try and avoid a bigger mess, and set it down in front of Ashton just in time for his stomach to convulse again and sent him spewing once more. It got to the point where Michael had to hold him up and prevent him from choking on it since he was so hunched over and out of it. The drummer eventually started throwing up stomach acid, breathing heavily and coughing from the vile taste in his throat.
“Uuhhn…” Ashton moaned shakily and hiccuped. The guitarist felt him fall forward a bit in his arms, so he pulled him back into his chest. Ashton’s eyes rolled a bit and he came pretty close to passing out, his head sort of falling to his chest.
“Ash, bud.” The bassist called out, the panic evident in his voice. He ran to the bathroom as fast as he could, soaked the little towel in cold water, rung it out, and brought it back to the poor man.
Calum dabbed the drummer’s burning hot forehead and neck with the cool towel before putting it on the back of Ashton’s neck.
A small sigh left the older boy’s lips at the coolness of the fabric on his heated skin.
“You okay now, buddy?” The bassist asked, pulling the blanket off of Ashton, careful not to get sick anywhere else.
“ ‘m sorry.” Ashton slurred, closing his eyes and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Calum sighed at that. He knew Ashton wasn't apologizing just because. He knew Ashton was genuinely sorry - sorry for being a burden, sorry for being sick, sorry for making a mess, sorry for making the band worried. The drummer had always been the most selfless person Calum had ever known and he knew that having all of the attention on him was killing Ashton inside. He never wanted to take away from anyone's happiness.
“I think a quick trip to the emergency room might do you some good, Ash.” Michael suggested, keeping his voice as calm as possible. He didn’t want to startle the sick man or make him scared, but he was certain that Ashton’s fever was too high and they couldn’t risk another asthma attack when he was so poorly.
“Don’t wanna go.” Ashton mumbled, snuggling closer to Michael’s chest.
“We’re gonna come with you, mate.” The guitarist said softly and put a hand on Ashton’s sickly tummy, under his shirt. His belly felt hard and empty, definitely not a good combo. He didn’t even want to think about the amount of pain all that retching and puking had caused his stomach.
Calum stood up and went over to the drummer’s luggage, grabbing a fresh shirt for the sick boy. He helped the curly haired lad out of his dirty clothes and then pulled the clean shirt over his head, smiling sadly at his bandmate’s lack of energy.
“C’mon, let’s get you up, bud. Can you stand up?” Calum asked, taking the drummer’s hand into his own to help the weak boy stand.
Ashton nodded, allowing the bassist to pull him into a standing position. He felt really off-balance for a moment, but kept his footing by grabbing onto Calum’s shoulders.
“You got him, Cal? I’m gonna go ahead and get the car ready with the driver.” Michael questioned, looking at the bassist.
“Good thinking.” Calum answered, his eyes not leaving the drummer’s face.
Michael practically ran out of the room, leaving Calum and Ashton alone.
It was a slow process getting the drummer to the car that was waiting to take them to the hospital, half because Ashton could barely hold himself upright, and half because they kept having to stop when he thought he was going to be sick again, even though his stomach seemed to have nothing left to bring it up. But finally, they reached the vehicle and the older boy immediately curled up on the backseat, burying his face onto Calum’s chest, as his stomach sloshed lazily.
Michael smartly asked the driver to turn on the air-con even though it was winter right now and it was pretty cold outside, but Ashton absolutely needed it. It didn’t take long for the car to start moving with Calum and Ashton on the backseat while Michael took the middle one.
The bassist spared a glance at the shorter man, frowning. Ashton’s eyes were rimmed red from sickness and lack of sleep, his breaths coming out uneven and slightly wheezy from his asthma attack earlier.
“Still doing good, mate?” Calum asked quietly, placing his right hand on the drummer’s shaking leg.
“Fuzzy.” The drummer mumbled, shaking his head. He sort of cried softly, without tears, and just little jerks of his stomach muscles when the pain intensified, even with Calum rubbing circles into his warm skin.
“Hey, hey, what’s fuzzy?” The bassist questioned, sharing a concerned look with Michael.
“M’head.” Ashton tried to explain while struggling to keep his heavy eyes open.
“Your head is fuzzy?” Michael joined in, not quite understanding what Ashton was trying to tell them.
“Mmm. Can’t th’nk. Dunno wh’t’s goin’ on.” Ashton slurred out, rubbing at his eyes sleepy.
“You’re exhausted, buddy. Why don’t you close your eyes for a bit, yeah? We’ll be there in a few minutes.” The guitarist instructed while Calum tried to lull the drummer back to sleep, rubbing up and down his back as comfortingly as he could.
Their strategy worked well until they were about two minutes from the hospital when suddenly Ashton choked on a gag, startling himself from his half asleep state. His eyes went wide as he sobbed and gagged again, heaving forward with his arms hugging his tummy.
“Shit.” Michael muttered, quickly grabbing a plastic bag that he had brought, just in case. He handed it to the bassist who shoved it under the boy’s mouth.
Ashton coughed and retched rather loudly, then came up a stream of watery vomit, splashing into the bag. The poor man whimpered in tears and let out another gag, but nothing came up cause there was nothing else. He weakly pushed the used bag away from him, scrunching his nose.
“That 's it, bud? You good?” Calum asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
Ashton gave a small nod. He still had that queasy look on his face but the bassist trusted that he was empty and placed the bag down. They would deal with that later.
Pulling into the nearest parking space in the entrance of the hospital, Michael let out a relieved sigh when he saw only a few cars. Hopefully they would be able to take Ashton in pretty soon.
The bassist helped a shaky Ashton out of the car with the help of their bodyguard while Michael stayed back in the car, trying to not draw too much attention to them.
They were lucky. The hospital was really empty and Ashton was almost immediately admitted. A nurse took the sick boy’s temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure before telling them that she would send a doctor to see them in a minute. Calum thanked her once again and sat himself in the seat next to the drummer’s bed. The older boy looked so pale and small and the bassist couldn't help but want to protect him from everything bad.
The following hour wasn’t easy. It was filled with needles and poking and prodding from the doctor while Calum tried to update both Michael and Luke on their bandmate’s condition. They ran a couple of tests and continued to monitor Ashton’s vitals while they waited for the test results to come back. It didn’t take long for the doctor to come to the diagnosis of gastroenteritis which also caused dehydration and exhaustion.
Calum listened attentively to all the instructions and tips on how to help Ashton get over the virus. He listened carefully as the doctor told him that ice packs and cold clothes were an easy way to get his fever down if he couldn't keep down paracetamol, not that he didn’t already know that, but okay. They also told him to bring Ashton back if he was not able to keep any liquids or bland food down within the next 48-72 hours. Honestly, Calum was just relieved that the drummer was gonna be alright.
It took almost two hours for the medicine and fluids to kick in and bring Ashton back to reality a bit more. The glaze in his eyes was less evident and his lips had regained some of their color back.
“Hey there, bud.” Calum greeted happily when he caught the drummer staring at him, a confused look on his face.
“Hey.” He mumbled sleepy, his throat still hurting a bit.
“You had us really worried there for a while, Ash.” The bassist told him, gently running his fingers through his messy curls.
“Sorry...didn’t mean to.” Ashton rasped, coughing to clear his throat.
“No, no. Don’t apologize, mate. You have nothing to apologize for.” Calum quickly reassured him, the tone of his voice letting the older boy know he was dead serious. “Understood?”
Ashton looked Calum in the eyes and, for the first time in a couple of days, his eyes didn't look scarily empty. “Got it.” He said sincerely.
Calum nodded, “Good. We just want you to feel better, okay? Why don’t you try to get some sleep while we wait for the IV to finish? Then we can take you back to the hotel and have an officially lazy day. How does that sound?”
A small smile graced Ashton’s lips. “Hmm. Sounds really good. You’re staying?”
The bassist gave him a look as if he was dumb before replying. “Always, mate.”