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Conrad hadn’t been feeling well. He’d since gotten better at admitting it to Belly, which turned out to be appreciated by both sides. That morning he’d texted her good morning and when she asked how he was, he answered honestly. His stomach had been bothering him a little. She told him to take it easy, which he knew to do but often neglected to anyway. Today he listened.
Belly walked over to his apartment in the early afternoon, letting herself in because she knew he didn’t want to get out of bed. Conrad had recently discovered that resting does actually make you feel better. One would’ve thought that as a medical student he would have learned that lesson a long time ago, but apparently it had just recently sunk in.
The air was cool and dry, and the wind whipped against the knee-length puffer coat Belly had adorned herself with. Her hood was pulled over her head, protecting her ears from the chill.
She almost had to keep it on even after stepping inside; Conrad typically ran hot, and when he was sick he liked his apartment to be freezing. Belly never understood it, making him buy her a heated blanket to store in his closet for such occasions. Oftentimes he was hot enough to keep her warm, but when he got restless and kicked the covers off she needed some reinforcements.
Her key went back in her purse as she set it down on the granite countertop, coat slung over one of the wooden stools. Conrad had opted for an apartment that didn’t have a modern feel to it. The warm, wooden look reminded him of his home. The cold, unforgiving modern style reminded him too much of the hospitals he’d spent so much time inside of.
He was nowhere to be found.
On a normal day, Conrad was bounding over to the front door the second he heard the lock click. It was a bad sign that he hadn’t even gotten out of bed to greet her.
Belly prepared herself for the sight she was about to see.
Pushing his bedroom door open as gently as she could, Belly saw Conrad curled up in what looked like the most uncomfortable position known to all mankind. Though she knew he often twisted and contorted his body to find whatever arrangement bothered his stomach the least. She couldn’t even tell which limbs had gone where.
It was unclear if he was sleeping or not; his lights were off and his eyes were closed but his breathing was labored and purposeful.
“Hey,” Belly whispered.
Letting her know he was indeed awake, Conrad let out a halfhearted grunt.
She weaved through the piles of clothes littering his floor–very uncharacteristic for him–and made her way to the side of the bed.
As she was about to sit, Conrad raised a weak hand.
“Don’t touch the bed.” His voice was as fragile as he looked, maybe even more so.
Ah, so it was that bad.
His migraines sometimes got this way, where any subtle movement to the surface he was lying on could send shock waves of nausea through his entire body and end in a way nobody wanted it to.
This was unfortunate, as Belly had been hoping to sit in bed with him and get some work done on her laptop. The way things were looking, if she couldn’t sit on the bed, she certainly couldn’t have her glowing screen shining in Conrad’s face.
“Stomach bug?” She asked quietly.”
“Mm. Think so. Can’t talk.”
“Need anything?”
“Quiet.”
Belly could do quiet.
She couldn’t do it for too long though.
Conrad finally fell asleep after the better part of two hours, his breathing evening out and his features relaxing for the first time since she’d arrived.
Normally she could sit by his side forever, cross-legged and satisfied by his presence alone.
Today she had a due date.
Something or other she had to turn in by 11:59pm that she’d left to the last minute. Since dating Conrad, she’d been better about deadlines. Of course it was today of all days that she’d neglected to finish an assignment.
Carefully, she lifted herself off the wooden floor and out of the room.
Overall, Belly liked the wood in Conrad’s apartment. She also liked how it felt cozy and home-y, unlike Jeremiah’s apartment that was steel and gray everywhere. The one thing she didn’t like was the wooden floor…notably when she had to sit on it. It hurt her spine to sit in the same position on it for too long. Almost two hours was certainly too long. Her tailbone ached as she made her way into the hall.
Time and time again, she’d asked him why he lived in an apartment with wood floors. She knew the answer, it wasn’t like she’d forgotten, but she needed to hear him say it, to hear the frustration in his voice as he explained, otherwise she’d write it off.
His last apartment had carpet and the person who lived there before him apparently had a cat. Conrad hadn’t toured the actual unit when he had first checked out the apartment complex and he hadn’t even thought about pets. Dogs were fine, but Conrad was as allergic to cats as he thought any person could be. He’d spent weeks going through package after package of Claritin even after his friends passed several hours one weekend cleaning the carpet as thoroughly as possible.
Fortunately his lease had only been ten months instead of twelve, but those ten months had been hell. From then on, Conrad swore he would only live somewhere with carpet if he knew for 100% certain that no goddamn cats had ever set a paw in there. That meant until he built a house.
Belly’s body ached as she walked into the kitchen, fixing herself a snack before retrieving her laptop from her bag and setting herself up in Conrad’s living area.
Time didn’t exist. At some points, Belly’s fingers flew faster than ever before, getting work done in record time. At others, she typed barely ten words per minute. It was frustrating to feel like the seconds both dragged on and escaped from her. How the two could possibly co-exist, Belly had no idea.
She lost herself in the assignment, her entire brain dedicated to completing the godforsaken thing. Refusing to let her mind flit back and forth between work and a million other things, Belly was determined in a way that didn’t come as easily to her with work like this as it did to Conrad.
For a brief moment she let her thoughts wander, thinking of her poor sick boyfriend the next room over. She could just picture him wrapped up in his blankets, shivering and then riding out the waves of nausea each movement stirred up. The short daydream—day nightmare?—renewed her focus.
Just as she was getting in the groove once more, something caught her off guard.
“Belly?”
“Hm?” She hadn’t been expecting Conrad’s presence, and when she realized he was up and about, she assumed he was feeling better. Her eyes remained glued to her screen.
“I threw up.”
As hard as she tried to be serious, Belly couldn’t help but snort at the short sentence.
He looked as pitiful as could be when she finally looked up from her computer. His stance was like that of a Sim character, standing perfectly rigid with his arms by his side, a guilty expression on his face.
He looked just like the picture Belly had seen time and time again on Twitter and Instagram and Tik Tok and everywhere else you could possibly post a meme.
Mom, I frew up.
“What?” Conrad frowned, not understanding the humor in the situation.
Belly tried to control her laughter, and Conrad only grew more upset.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you just–” she cackled once more.
Conrad shrunk into himself, regressing back to the teenage boy who didn’t let anyone know he wasn’t okay.
“I–hey, give me a second. I’ll be right there. Just go back to the bathroom, okay?”
Through stifled giggles, Belly shut her laptop and watched her boyfriend slink back off to the darkness of his bathroom. She had to contain herself or she’d hurt his feelings even more, but goddamn it had been so funny. Belly thought she would’ve had to wait until she and Conrad had kids to experience it in real life, but no. There he had been, right in front of her. An actual physical manifestation of the meme that had previously made her laugh until she cried.
Once she could finally take a breath without laughing, Belly lifted herself from the couch and made her way to her sick boyfriend.
When she opened the door, he was standing in the same exact position again. If she’d laughed hard before, Belly didn’t know what you could’ve called what she did as she stepped onto the tile floor.
Tears came to her eyes as she waved her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s not you that’s funny, I swear.”
His feelings were hurt, there was no denying it. Not to mention he was already a little sensitive from feeling unwell. Belly was glad the lights were off so she didn’t have to see his expression.
“Sorry. Do you think you’re gonna get sick again?”
Through the dim light coming through the crack in the door, Belly could make out a shy nod. She guided Conrad to the ground so the toilet was between his knees, his arms hugging it like it was a lifeline.
Once he was finally situated, Belly massaged his scalp and whispered words of encouragement. It wasn’t long until he got sick again, which prompted Belly to ask a question.
“Conrad? Where’d you get sick the first time?”
There was no answer for a moment. Belly hoped and prayed he wasn’t going to say the bed.
“Trash can.”
“Oh, thank god.”
Conrad let out a rough cough that left his stomach constricting once more, and Belly’s attention shifted from her own relief to her boyfriend’s misery. She felt a little delirious from staring at her computer for so long, and the ridiculousness of Conrad’s stance when he’d told her he’d thrown up only made it worse.
Guilt flooded her body no matter how hard she tried to flush it out. Whenever she wasn’t feeling well, Conrad dropped everything to take care of her. If she so much as winced he was by her side asking her what was wrong. He’d even bought a thermometer for her when he found out she didn’t have one. In the wintertime he made sure her medicine cabinet was stocked.
And he’d openly and readily admitted to her that he felt sick for one of the first few times and she laughed in his face.
No amount of rubbing his back and handing him pieces of toilet paper to wipe his mouth could fix that. She knew he’d have that image, that sound burned into his brain, branded on the inside of his skull to stare at whenever he contemplated being honest with her again.
It was stupid.
She shouldn’t have laughed, but fuck if it wasn’t funny as all hell.
The sight in front of her now was anything but; Conrad’s hair was soaked with sweat, dripping down the back of his neck and making his chills even more pronounced. His body shook each time he heaved, expending energy he didn’t have left to give. Belly didn’t say it out loud but between his slick skin and the heat radiating from it, he felt kind of slimy. She wondered if he ever thought things like that when she was sick.
Probably not.
He was probably a better person than she was, at least in this category.
Finally the retching stopped.
Conrad’s weakened body dropped back against Belly, nearly taking her down with him. She eased both of them against the tile wall, feeling his chest contract and constrict with every calculated breath.
“All done?”
“For now.” His voice was raw, throat torn to hell after the several rounds of stomach acid forced through it. There was also a hint of embarrassment, a hint of dejection. He wasn’t happy with her, but he needed her. Now that he’d resigned himself to the fact that being sick was indeed easier when he had someone there to help him, he couldn’t go back.
They sat in silence, waiting to see if Conrad’s stomach would revolt once more.
After so long, his breathing started to even out. Belly was not about to let him fall asleep on top of her on the bathroom floor.
“Do you think you can get to bed?”
“Hm?”
His brain wasn’t working at its normal processing speed, so Belly mentally forgave him and repeated herself.
She wasn’t sure if he was still having trouble with her words or if he was taking a long time contemplating the question, but Conrad finally said yes.
Getting him to his feet was harder than either of them had anticipated. With Belly crushed underneath him, she couldn’t offer a hand to pull him up. The closest counter had to do, but it was just out of Conrad’s reach. Belly could hear him straining himself as he extended his arm, thus pulling at his stomach.
“Hey, hey, hey. Relax. Just…try and let me get out from under you, okay?”
Thankfully that proved to be less painful than grabbing at the air.
Belly hadn’t realized how much her airflow had been restricted by Conrad pressing against her until his body weight was fully removed. She tried not to make a big deal out of regaining her breath, knowing Conrad would feel guilty for squeezing all of the air out of her.
One hand outstretched, she all but yanked as hard as she could to get Conrad upright. He was practically dead weight at this point, and having been sapped of all energy, there wasn’t much he could do to help.
He leaned against her once finally vertical, and whined in protest when she told him to brush his teeth. When she pushed a little harder, Conrad sheepishly admitted that he was scared the strong taste of the toothpaste would make him get sick again. It wasn’t unreasonable, but Belly knew that the bitter taste of bile in his mouth would also bring his nausea back to the surface.
“At least swish around some water in your mouth, okay? You don’t have to swallow it.”
That, Conrad could do.
He nearly lost his balance when leaning down to the sink but Belly stabilized him. Without seeing his face she could tell his cheeks flushed pink at the thought of needing someone to help him stand.
Even the coldness of the water was relieving as he gargled it. His body was so warm he felt like his bathroom had turned into a sauna. The idea of a cold shower would’ve been more enticing if he was confident he could stand in the shower without slipping and cracking his head open. Belly could’ve helped him but that would’ve been going too far. Sure, she’d washed his hair for him before when he wasn’t feeling well, but never had he needed to cling to her in order to maintain his balance. Pitiful, weak, pathetic, and every other negative thought he could have about himself flooded his mind.
All until her sweet, angelic voice filled the air again. “You ready?”
His brain lagged and his body even more so, but Belly took his lack of immediate protest as a sign he could handle it.
Their steps were slow, more like a shuffle as they transferred to Conrad’s bed.
A sour smell filled the air and Belly realized the trash can Conrad had gotten sick in was still sitting next to his bed. She tried not to wrinkle her nose in disgust. He’d dealt with her sick many times before, and to so much as make a face at the sight—smell—of his would’ve been insulting.
The task grew more difficult as she saw his sweat-stained sheets. Not only did they look gross, but they also looked uncomfortable. Then again, Conrad was a little gross and most certainly uncomfortable.
“Do you want me to change your sheets?”
“They’ll just get dirty again,” he murmured.
It wasn’t clear if he truly thought it would be a waste to put new sheets on the bed or if he just couldn’t wait that long.
Belly wasn’t going to argue.
She let him crawl back under the covers, shivering. The heat was still coming off of his skin but the chills that accompanied his fever on and off seemed to have returned. Belly tucked him in, fluffing the pillows behind his head the same way he always did for her.
He looked terribly dehydrated, skin pale, lips chapped. Between the sweating, the vomiting, and the tears she was sure fell at least once, there was little liquid left in his system.
Belly sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing his bangs off his sticky forehead. “Want some water?”
Conrad shook his head. “No water for one to two hours after getting sick. Then small sips every five to fifteen minutes.”
As unhappy as the situation was, Belly couldn’t help but smile as Conrad regurgitated facts at her.
“Okay. Get some rest. I’ll be right here.”
Rest should have come easy with how much he needed it, but he couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard he tried. It wasn’t because his head hurt or his stomach still had a vague sense of unsettlement; there was something lingering in the back of his mind.
With his eyelids closed and features smoothed, Belly was none the wiser. She slipped out and cleaned the trash can as thoroughly as possible without getting sick herself. Upon returning and taking her seat again, Conrad spoke up.
“Belly?”
“Yeah?”
His eyes fluttered open, glancing at her before darting away, looking anywhere else. “Why were you laughing at me?”
Her heart shattered into a million pieces. He was still thinking about that. Of course he was; it was Conrad.
“It’s stupid, and I promise it really had nothing to do with you.”
“Clearly it did.”
Conrad winced after snapping slightly. Getting worked up wasn’t the best idea with his sensitive everything right now.
It was quiet as Belly figured out how to navigate the situation. “Can you look at a screen right now?”
“What?”
“Like, if you look at my phone screen right now will it make you feel worse?”
Conrad didn’t really know. “I don’t think so.” Seemed like a safe answer—left room for error.
Scrambling to his bedside table, Belly grabbed her phone. It only took her a moment to find what she wanted to show him. She lowered her brightness all the way and flipped her phone around to face her boyfriend.
He squinted his eyes and made out a little alien standing on a tile floor with the text “Mom I frew up” underneath it. Realization flooded Conrad’s body.
“That’s what I looked like, wasn’t it?”
Belly nodded, stifling laughter.
When Conrad chuckled weakly, she let hers rip. They laughed until his stomach cramped and they both got scared. After a moment he was fine, and they were both smiling again.
“I literally did exactly that.”
“I know.” Belly wiped her eyes. “I wish you could’ve seen it. And then in the bathroom when I came in you were standing like that again and I—”
They still couldn’t handle it.
Once they both settled down, Conrad took one of Belly’s hands. “I’m sorry for thinking you were making fun of me. I—you wouldn’t do that. I know you wouldn’t.”
“I shouldn’t have laughed at you. Or at least I should’ve explained it then.”
“I don’t think you would’ve had the time before I threw up again.”
Maybe that was true.
Maybe it wasn’t.
But they couldn’t go back in time, all they could do now was be there for one another and giggle at the stupid picture on Belly’s phone.