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Earth squinted down at the medicine in his hand, the other clasped tight over his protesting stomach. “I thought you were supposed to help,” he grumbled to the bottle, “but I still can’t keep anything down! Stupid medicine.” His lips pulled back in a teeth-gritting grimace as his stomach twisted, more nausea rising. Sour spit pooled under his tongue.
Gagging, he pressed one hand to his mouth.
To his utter relief the moment passed, his nausea dying down with every breath. He kept breathing until it was gone.
Or at least suppressed.
“Stars, this is so annoying,” he whined to himself. “I hate being sick.”
Unclenching his fingers around the bottle, Earth half-heartedly poured what little remained into the tiny cap, swishing it slightly. The green liquid smelled like medicine—of course it did—and just like each time before, he was not looking forward to downing it.
It wasn’t even helping!
Why make himself take a useless and horrible-tasting medicine?
Eyes narrowing, Earth looked back and forth between the sink and the cap of liquid; back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and—
He turned his wrist and poured it directly down the sink.
Blinking, Earth stared again, this time between the empty cap and the remnants of medicine still streaked around the sink drain. Back and forth, back and forth. Then at the empty bottle standing proud on the sink’s edge. Then at his hand. The back of his head throbbed, his face hot and cold at the same time, the sweat at his hairline gone clammy.
“Stars damn-it,” he groaned a moment later. “Why did I do that?”
Now he was sick and out of medicine.
Groaning exaggeratedly loud, he slumped against the sink and groaned again; then he lifted one hand and fumbled for the light switch, turning it off so the blazing lightbulbs weren’t burning themselves into his vision. He sunk to the floor, sliding down the cabinet and letting the now-empty cap fall out of his hands and onto the tile with a sound he ignored easily. The tile was cool under him, the first nice thing to happen all day.
“Luna!” he called, head lolling to the side. “Lu-Lu!”
“Don’t call me that!”
“Come here!” He could tell his brother was ignoring him, which was so rude. “I’m dying!”
“You’re not allowed to say that!”
He swallowed and grimaced at the taste in his own mouth, then sighed loudly enough for Luna to hear it down the hall.
“Please?”
His brother’s head appeared further down the dimly-lit hallway as he leaned warily out of his own doorway, lamplight from his room spilling out around him. “...Yes? What did you need, Earth?” Earth reached up and fumbled for the bottle of medicine, nearly knocking it into the toilet. He tightened his grip the moment he had it, then waved it in Luna’s direction.
“I’m out of medicine!”
Luna blinked. “I thought there was half a bottle in the cabinet.” His brow furrowed. “No, wait, I know there is. You were whining to me about having to take it last night.”
“That’s this!” Earth waved the empty bottle more frantically, ignoring the queasy feeling in his gut from the rapid movement. “It’s gone!” He didn’t mention the fact that he’d poured an entire dose of it down the sink a few minutes ago. “And I was not whining!”
Luna didn’t need to know everything, after all.
“I… have no idea, then. Are you sure you need—?” Earth dropped the bottle as a surging nausea ran through him; he clapped one hand over his mouth and gagged under it, watching Luna’s eyes widen. “Earth?”
“I’m—”
His voice cut off with another gag.
In a scramble of limbs, Earth turned just in time to reach the toilet and retch up what little was left in his stomach—not like he’d eaten anything—as the bathroom tile dug into his knees and the disgusting taste of bile filled his mouth. His eyes watered. Footsteps thudded up behind him, and cool fingers gathered his hair up off his neck, the light flicking on. The glare came through his eyelids anyway, a hot red haze.
He spat several times in a row to no avail, the sour tinge remaining.
“I’ll go grab some water,” Luna said, letting go of his hair and hurrying away. Earth just grunted in answer, flushing the toilet before he settled back, leaning against the opposite wall and shoving his hair back from his sweaty forehead.
Plastic crinkled beside his head.
“Here.”
Earth reached for the water bottle held out towards him and realized Luna had already taken the cap off. “Thanks,” he mumbled, stumbling to his feet. He took a swig and spat, drank more and spat, did that repeatedly until his mouth tasted a little better.
Even if the bile still lingered annoyingly.
“This sucks, man. I hate throwing up.”
“I think everyone does,” Luna said, looking queasy himself. He shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket. “But… uh, are we seriously out of medicine?”
“Yes!” Earth kicked the empty bottle against the side of the bathtub. “And I’m sick.”
Luna bent over and picked it up when it rolled over to him. “I could run to the store… I guess.” He dropped it in the trash-can beside the sink and opened the cabinet doors. “But I’m going to take a look first. Just to make sure.”
“You think I’m that incompetent, that I could miss medicine while so sick and yearning for it?” Earth pressed one hand flat against his chest. “Rude.” His other hand drifted down to his stomach as a cramp rolled through it, but he just grimaced and otherwise ignored it.
“I just held back your hair while you were throwing up,” Luna countered, eyes flicking to him over the cabinet, his brow pinching. “But sure. Rude.”
“Those are two unrelated things.”
“Uh-huh.” Luna pulled one hand back and revealed a bottle of what looked like fever medicine—which made Earth wonder if he really had missed it—and then shook it, heard nothing, and made a very unamused face. “Really, Earth? Why do we have this when it’s empty?”
“I dunno.” He shrugged. “For proof I had it?”
“That makes absolutely no sense.” Luna dropped the empty bottle into the trashcan alongside the first. “But anyway… I guess I need to go to the store.”
“And leave your poor, suffering brother all alone?”
He folded back down onto the tile as tragically as he could manage.
Luna stared at him blankly. “How are you older than me?”
Shaking his head, Earth fought a grin. “Fine. Go.” He flopped his hand towards the doorway in what he hoped was a gracious, kingly sort of dismissal. “Leave me here to die—”
Luna’s eyes narrowed.
“—to be slightly unwell,” he hastily corrected. “Alone. In the bathroom.”
“Uh-huh.” Luna dug his hands back into his hoodie, leaning back on his heels. “Where’s your keys?”
Earth sat up, suddenly healed of all ailments and better than he’d ever felt.
(A lie. He still felt miserable.)
“You’re not taking my car!” His voice was loud enough to aggravate his own headache.
“I’m going to the store to get medicine for you,” Luna argued, hands out. “Let me use your car.”
“You can’t walk? Or—uh, I don’t know… call one of the others to drive you?”
Luna rolled his eyes. “You mean the others at work?”
Earth groaned. “You’re lucky I feel too much like actual shit to argue more than I have.” He grabbed his forgotten water bottle and took another long swig as Luna stared, one eye twitching. It landed cold and heavy in his empty stomach. He’d probably throw it all up later. (Just great.) “It’s in my bedroom. On my desk.” He pointed at Luna, that time. “And you better be the best driver ever.”
“I’ll run into every street sign,” Luna said, solemnly. “Promise.”
“You are so lucky you’re my brother.”
“No,” Luna told him, “I think you’re lucky I’m going to get you some more medicine, since you’re the one who poured your last dose of that one down the sink.”
He turned as Earth gaped at him, blinking. “How in the stars did you know—?” He coughed. “I mean… uh, what the hell are you talking about?” Luna snickered, already halfway to his bedroom door.
“There’s still green streaks in the bottom of the sink, Earth.”
Thoroughly betrayed, Earth turned and spotted the exact remnants of medicine Luna had apparently had—the same medicine-y green streaks in the white… whatever the hell the sink was made of.
“Stupid medicine,” he mumbled to himself, listening to the jingle of keys from his room. “I hate being sick.”
And then he gagged again. Because the universe hated him.
Well… he hated it, too. Take that.