An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Just a collection of one shots, also posted on a03
Ch2
Sick Day
“Coming mom!” Trevor and Phoebe shouted down the stairs. Trevor went down to the dining room, his sister following him. He sat at the table, resting his head in his arms.
“Trevor, you ok?” Callie asked.
“Just tired.” He sat back up to eat. He slowly picked his way through the meal, exiting to his room as soon as he finished. He went to bed early hoping that he was only tired and there wasn’t anything else wrong with him.
The next morning, Trevor woke up with a pounding headache and he was extremely nauseous. The teen ran to the bathroom, manoeuvring straight to the toilet, hanging his head over as his mouth pooled with saliva and stomach acid. He gagged but brought up nothing. He gagged again. This time bringing up a wave of his dinner from the night before. He coughed, bringing up another wave of partially digested food and bile. Once he was done puking his guts out, he flushed the toilet and brushed his teeth, before leaving the bathroom to his bedroom so he could go back to sleep.
“Trevor honey, you need to get up now.”
He blinked his bleary eyes open and rolled over so he was facing his mom. His cheeks flushed pink with fever and his face was paler than usual. His forehead dripped with sweat and his eyes had a glassy sheen over them.
“I don’t feel good,” he curled into himself. Callie strode over to him, moving his hair off of his forehead and placing the back of her hand to his head.
“I threw up earlier” he pulled the many blankets tighter around himself.
“You seem to have a fever so I’m going to grab the thermometer and a bucket”
He leaned his head deeper into the pillows as he watched his mom leave his room. His eyes hurt so he decided against wearing his contacts and opted for glasses instead. He grabbed the glasses that sat on his bedside table. He put them on, everything instantly got clearer and his headache lessened slightly. His mom entered the room again. She placed a bucket next to his bed, before lifting his hair again and checking his temperature.
“39.6. Definitely a fever, so no school and no hanging out with friends.”
He groaned but then mumbled a “fine” which came out muffled since his face was squashed into the pillows. Callie ruffled his hair before leaving the room and closing the door, allowing Trevor to go back to sleep briefly.
He shot up off the pillows gagging. He threw up over the side of the bed, barely missing the bucket. He coughed up a thin line of bile. The boy shivered, pulling the thick blankets tighter around himself as he lay back down on the pillows. Salty tears ran down his face. His mom stepped back into the room, rushing over to his side and pulling him into a side-hug as she awkwardly sat at the edge of Trevors bed.
She pressed a kiss to his temple, “you’re alright honey, you’ll be fine. I’ll be right here the whole time.”
And she was. She was there to braid his long curls, she was there to stroke. His back as he leaned over the bucket, she was there as his fever broke and he was able to get out of bed without nearly fainting. And Trevor was grateful for all of these moments, even if it did mean he was absolutely miserable for a week.
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