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Lately all Subspace can think about is throwing up. It's not even a "Oh jolly!! Im a bit nauseous..!" type of nausea. It's the type of nausea that has you thinking on how beautiful life was before you started feeling nauseous after each meal.
Yes, he feels nauseous. But, then again, he's (luckily) able to keep his food down even if all he wants to do is retch to get rid of the nausea that plagues him like the rot all over his wretched body.
And no, he doesn't have an eating disorder. It's already enough of a struggle eating, so why would Subspace be shoving his fingers down his throat to make himself throw up?
He eats purely so he can continue making ground-breaking inventions for Blackrock. Subspace OBVIOUSLY knows that he needs some nutrition if he wants to keep himself alive, and plus.. The administration has already said they want something great from their best scientific, and he can't let them down because he decided to get an eating disorder. The mere THOUGHT of failure makes his chest feel tight and makes his stomach feel worse than it usually does.
They've shaped him into who he is, he can't let some stupidly persistent stomach bug knock him down. He works in his lab for as long as he can while his body actively rots, something as simple as nausea won't kill the GREAT Subspace T. Mine!!!
..gosh, who is he kidding. He dreads looking at the lunchbox one of his Biografts left in a nearby table. Because it means he's going to have to go through the struggle of eating, and then work while he's nauseous. His eye glares at the stupid thing until he knows that there's no escape from it.
And he eats.
He scrapes at the plastic container until he's downed the entirety of it in record time like always. He can't dedicate 20 sweet minutes to something he can do in like, 6 minutes. It doesn't taste good. If anything, it tastes like pure despair and depression. But maybe it's just him and his almost non-functional taste buds, considering the rot has long since spread to his mouth.
And the nausea settles in not long after he eats. It makes the cold of his lab nipping at his fingertips even worse, and it somehow only intensifies the glare of the buzzing lights above him. Nausea can't be this fucking bad, Subspace. Get yourself put together.
There were abandoned Biograft prototype blueprints waiting for him to come back and finally finish them. Whatever. He dusted his hands (or as much as he possibly can because one of them refuses to cooperate like it should.) and walked to the other side of the admittedly spacey lab, ready to finish 'em damn blueprints. Maybe these ones need--
A wave of nausea immediately knocked all his thoughts loose and Subspace had to bite down on a gag. His stomach felt like it was doing backflips, and like his lunch was gonna come back out of him. A shiver ran down Subspace's spine as he realized that, maybe, and just maybe, his body was about to reject the meal and he would just have to deal with a empty stomach and a sugar low.
He scrambled for the nearest seat and placed his head in his hands like a tormented man. Maybe he could call Gamma over? ..no, on second thought, he was probably gonna barf if he dared to utter a word.
What could he do... What could he do??
Subspace kept scrambling for an ounce of reprieve until it came to him.
Water.
Yes, you heard that right! Water. Many, many, many years ago he learned that sips of water could get rid of nausea.
But he would throw up before he got to the nearest water dispenser. And he didn't feel like cleaning up a half-digested mess.
No, not at all. Even if Gamma could clean it up, he felt like he would throw up a second time if he had to look at vomit.
Another wave of nausea hit and all Subspace did was sob like a wounded child. God, his stomach has always been all sensitive and shit. And now looks like his own body isn't satisfied with putting him through daily chronic pain, but decided to add nausea and a triggered gag reflex.
He doesn't want to throw up. He just has to keep it down and- Yes, he just has to keep it down until he's done working on the blueprints!! and-
Subspace's throat reflexed, causing a gag.
Then a retch.
His eyes widened, he made sure to turn his head away so he wouldn't get that disgusting mess on any--
Subspace's lunch found it's way out of his system. He shook like a leaf in the wind as he kept gagging and trying not to choke on the bile and small pieces of his meal making their way up his throat. Luckily he wasn't able to see the mess due to the tears blurring his vision, but the smell was absolutely putrid.
The sounds of himself throwing up only drove him to more violent gags and retches.
There was the dull sound of metal agaisnt porcelain as a Biograft-- Gamma, he suposed- approached and wrapped it's cold hands around the scientist's shaking form, possibly to prevent him from wobbling out of his seat.
Gods, his throat hurt so, so much--
Another retch.
Some of it got onto Subspace's lab coat. The putrid mix of colors agaisnt the stark snow white of his PRISTINE lab coat was revolting. This triggered a vicious cycle of retch, get disgusted, gag and retch, rinse and repeat.
And when it felt like his throat no longer was acting on it's own, and when his stomach finally stopped emptying itself out, Subspace went limp agaisnt Gamma's steel touch. It wasn't comforting. It was just a safety protocol. Gamma always followed the same routine. Hold. Offer water. Help Subspace stand. Get Subspace to his home earlier than he should.
Medkit's care was much more warm, Subspace bitterly thought.
The biograft was saying something, but all Subspace could hear was blood roaring in his ears and the sound of his own heart drumming agaisnt his ribs.
But the nausea stopped. The never-ending knot twisting and tying itself in his stomach dissapeared. There was nothing left in his ruined stomach to throw up. Nothing to feel nauseous of anymore.
And a weight felt like it was finally lifted from Subspace's shoulders.