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“I’m the worst person ever,” Ichiyo laments, totally meaning for that thought to stay inside her head.
“You are not the worst person ever,” Gin assures her, sounding almost like a kindergarten teacher consoling a child. She’s busy clipping Akutagawa’s hair back with barrettes in wake of Ichiyo’s failed attempt to use a hairband. She's already had to wash some vomit out of his hair.
“You couldn’t…couldn’t possibly have known,” Akutagawa barely manages, leaning against the side of the shower door, beside the toilet, where he’s spent the last forty-five minutes, at least. He looks a little more comfortable now with the comforter Ichiyo brought to him, but he’s still downright miserable. He has enough stomach issues as it is, he really didn’t need food poisoning on top of all of that. Ichiyo will certainly cross off the restaurant they went to for lunch as a possibility for the future ever again.
She feels awful, seeing Akutagawa so sick, completely able to do anything to truly help him feel better. It was only an hour or two ago when he first told her over the phone that he was feeling sick to his stomach, simply asking Ichiyo if she could pick something up for him. She should have known it was this bad. He wouldn't ask for help otherwise. He had even managed to avoid involving Gin, but Ichiyo has undone that attempt.
“I'll be right back,” Gin says.
Akutagawa seems to doze off for a few moments, and Ichiyo is glad that he has a second to, but it doesn't last for long. A quiet, half-asleep cough turns into a gag, and without much warning at all, he's haphazardly brought his hand up to his mouth, too late to catch any of the vomit that falls down the front of the comforter.
Ichiyo squeaks and scurries to get next to him to lead him back to the toilet. For a second, she thinks he might be done, but it sounds like his body is still so nauseous from it all that it's still forcing gags, and bringing up more of his evidently undercooked lunch splashing into the toilet water. He can't even get a few seconds of sleep with how awfully nauseous he is. His poor tummy.
He's almost distraught, this time, he didn't have any chance of making it to the toilet in time but Ichiyo does what she can to comfort him, keeping a hand on his back that's starting to feel much too warm to be normal. He groans from the pain. His breathing starts to get irregular again.
“I'll take it to get washed right away,” Ichiyo promises, since he's clearly more concerned with the vomit on the comforter than how he's feeling. She can't help but pout when he lays his cheek on the lid of the toilet seat, his eyes feverish and face red, still visibly nauseous. She carefully reaches for the comforter, still halfway over his lap, and folds it up, tucking it away in the corner. “I'm so sorry, Akutagawa…”
“You didn't…you didn't do anything wrong, Higuchi,” he says with a few unsteady, nauseous sounding breaths in between. He coughs, too, because of course his lungs won't give him a break. “You…shouldn't have gone out of your way to…to help me…”
Ichiyo’s always thrown off when he talks like that, it's not like him to say things like that at all - to anyone, but especially not her. He's always so docile when he's sick like this.
“I'll always try to help you. However I can,” she says quietly.
Gin is back in the doorway with a glass of water that she sets on the sink counter just in time for Akutagawa to weakly lift up his head and choke up a mouthful of vomit. She kneels down beside him and rubs his back, gently and methodically like she's done it a million times. He's sick so often, Ichiyo doesn't even want to think about how many times they've been in this situation. And it's only been getting worse, in the last few months.
She sneaks out with the folded blanket and wanders into their laundry room to dump it into the washer right away. There's a sweater down at the bottom too that's got vomit stains on it too. That's what he was wearing when she found him, curled up on the kitchen floor, his stomach causing him so much pain that he couldn't move. Her eyes flood with tears. It is her fault. She took him to that restaurant. He wouldn't be so sick if she had picked somewhere else for them to eat after their shift ended, even though she was just trying to get him to eat at all. She was glad he even agreed to it.
She rubs at her eyes, knowing Gin will pick up on any sign of her crying if she starts now, but she's too late. She jumps. There's a hand on her shoulder.
Gin doesn't ever turn the stealth off.
“Higuchi,” she says with a frown full of pity. “It's okay. He'll be okay, he always is.”
The tears stream down her face when she says that and Gin doesn't waste any time wrapping her arms around her, tight, and Ichiyo does it right back. Gin is so used to seeing her brother vulnerable that it doesn't hurt her nearly as much as it does for Ichiyo, but she feels her grip shake. She's worried too.
“Thank you for coming to take care of him. And calling me,” Gin says gently. “I'm really grateful that you're so kind.”
“Gin…” Ichiyo murmurs, her tears clouding her vision now, as she buries her face in Gin's shoulder.