I know I just posted a fic, but I wrote this spur of the moment and liked it a lot. plus my last fic absolutely flopped lol
cw: alcohol
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Caine’s belly was full. Full of alcohol and party foods he could barely remember eating. He had stupidly mixed his drinks that night, taking a sip from different drinks and causing them all to mix together as one big mess in his stomach. He knew he was wasted, his voice was slurring and he could barely see two metres in front of himself.
The wall was his best friend at this point. He had been leaning against it for god knows how long, with one hand cradling his swollen belly and trying to not throw up all over this person’s carpet. Lincoln and Quinn had convinced him to come along to this party; along with Eleanor, she was somewhere.
He hoped he didn’t look as bad as he felt. His world was spinning. He didn’t think he had ever been this drunk before.
A gurgling burp slipped from his lips and he cupped his hand under his chin. That did not feel good at all. He groaned as he stumbled to the side, burping again as his stomach sloshed. There weren't too many people around, so when someone came into view he frowned.
He couldn’t tell who it was, “Whas goin on?”
The person laughed and he figured out it was a girl. He still didn’t know what girl it was, there were too many at this party.
“Hey, are you listening?” Her voice was very authoritative, Caine mused to himself drunkenly. He burped again, hand sliding up to under his ribs as his belly gurgled away. He looked down, surprised to see how much it was sticking out from his frame, and he giggled. No wonder he felt so sick, the entire mass of food and drink he had eaten that night was accumulating as one undigested, frothy puddle.
“Dude, Caine. Come on, man let’s move you outside.” Her hands were clicking in front of his face. How did she know his name? He looked up, and finally she came into more focus. It was Eleanor, and she looked…angry? The facial cues part of his brain wasn’t really working right now.
However, outside? He didn’t want to go outside. There would be people, noise, and more food to turn his stomach. He shook his head, lip jutting out like a child. He hunched over his belly as it gurgled viciously, agreeing with his sentiment. He whined, another bubbly burp making its way up and out his mouth.
Eleanor cringed, “Alright man, you’re absolutely gone. Come on, let’s move you to a bathroom.” Her voice dropped and she gently grabbed his arm. Caine was grateful she had come along, she seemed very experienced in this type of caring. She was also just nice to be around, his nausea was put to the back of his mind as he let Eleanor guide him.
Walking proved to be exceedingly difficult. His feet no longer wanted to work and his eyes were not staying open no matter how hard he tried. He was fighting a losing battle.
“Jesus, dude, how much did you drink?” Eleanor complained. She was much shorter than Caine and was having extreme difficulty trying to get the drunk boy to walk properly.
Caine thought hard like he was in an exam before he just shrugged, “A lot.”
Eventually, with a lot of emergency stops where Caine leaned too heavy on Eleanor, almost making them both fall, they made it to the bathroom. It was small, but they managed to squeeze in once Caine collapsed next to the toilet and curled into himself. He moaned, one hand going to hold his belly and the other covering his mouth. Now that he was actually in the bathroom, everything increased tenfold.
Eleanor crouched down in front of him, “Have some water, a little goes a long way.” She handed him the glass, noting how shaky his hands were. Caine was reluctant to drink it, his drunk mind getting in the way of his rational one.
“No, s’too much. My belly is too full, I can’t drink anymore.” He whined, almost dropping the glass. He tossed his head back as his stomach groaned, moaning loudly towards the ceiling. He felt warm hands encircle his own,
“It’s just water, darling. Just a few sips.” She gently pushed his head up, watching as his face contorted. The poor boy had put himself in quite the pickle.
He moaned again, legs slipping out from under him and he fell properly onto the ground. His legs almost spanned the entire length of the bathroom. He let Eleanor take the glass, his arms snaked around his bloated belly and he let his head fall to his chest.
“I don’t feel well.” He muttered. Eleanor was surprised she even heard his sentence. It was like listening to a toddler having a tantrum.
Caine felt like a toddler, but he couldn’t help it when everything inside him wanted out in the next 5 seconds. His stomach was so incredibly bloated, the alcohol trying desperately to latch on to the small amount of food he had put in there. Bubbling, sloshing, churning, every word to describe an upset stomach was how Caine was feeling.
Eleanor set the cup down, “I know. You’re gonna throw up, aren’t you?” Caine nodded, burping, “Okay, so let’s get you settled over the bowl huh, I don’t wanna clean up straight vodka and stomach acid off the ground.”
With a little struggle, Caine found himself staring into the toilet bowl. The water rippled periodically, and he realised it was because he was drooling. He spat more saliva and groaned as it sparked a new wave of nausea. Eleanor’s hand was resting on his back, keeping him calm as the inevitable occurred.
The inevitable was a bit late though, when all that was happening was a lot of drool, burping and stomach noises yet no vomiting. His stomach was so upset he wanted it to happen quicker. The longer he sat there, the more sober he felt. And the more sober he felt, the sicker he became. Without the haze of alcohol, every feeling that had been accumulating got ten times worse.
“Fuck, I feel terrible.” He moaned, bringing his hands back down to his stomach. His shirt was tight on his stomach, as were his pants. Whatever he had drunk has managed to make him feel 7 months pregnant.
“This is why you need to drink the water,” Eleanor insisted. She brought the glass next to his face, “You’ll throw up in no time.” She brought it closer into his line of sight and he zeroed in on it. What if he just drank it all at once? He wouldn’t even have to wait.
He took the glass and gulped it down in three swallows. Eleanor sat shocked, but Caine had more important things to worry about. Now with all of the water inside him, his belly gurgled like a pot of boiling water. He moaned, rubbing his stomach harshly with his hand to coax up the puke. He felt it churning under his palm, and he burped up straight water.
Spitting that into the bowl seemed to trigger everything else. The first retch tore up his throat and brought a small amount of bile. Eyes squeezing shut, another painful gag attacked him and the first wave came spilling rapidly from his mouth. He hoped Eleanor had shut the door because the noises were disgusting.
Still drunk, he fell heavy on to the toilet bowl, one hand trying and failing to catch himself. He felt arms around his middle, and they pulled him up gently.
“I’ve got you. Just keep puking, man.” Eleanor said, now firmly holding him up from behind.
With her words in his head, he burped another wave of hot puke. It was almost all alcohol and small chunks of food, all undigested. He moaned at a violent churn, and didn’t have any time to breathe before another gurgling retch sent up a larger amount of puke.
He heard Eleanor shushing him, and rubbing soothing patterns into his heaving stomach. It was getting low on fuel, but the nausea was still at its highest. The last dredge of alcohol sitting at the base of his stomach was stuck, gag after gag but nothing came up. He moaned as each one sent a spike through his head.
He felt a cool glass on his lips and he chugged it down, filling his turbulent belly back up with fluid it didn’t want. This helped though, and the next burp brought up the water and the alcohol. His belly was finally feeling a little better, just as bloated but now no longer churning like a washing machine.
“Think I’m done.” He mumbled, hand now falling from its place on the toilet and hitting the floor. He let himself sink down, a sense of relief washing over him. All he needed now was sleep.
Eleanor sat next to him and patted his thigh, “Bet you’re feeling better now, huh?” She said.
Caine nodded. His hands found their way back onto his stomach, rubbing side to side on his abused belly. He burped a few times, each one bringing him more relief than the last.
He looked at the ceiling again, “God, I’m gonna feel like death tomorrow.”
Eleanor laughed, sympathetically clicking her tongue, “Yeah, nothing I can do for you there.” She simply patted his leg again, watching as he sank further to the floor cuddling his stomach.
Takes place during the Summertime Odyssey event of 2.8, where Aether meets up with his friends for drinks and Kazuha ends up drinking past what he can handle. And Venti finds out he is a quite squeamish.
ᴀᴏ3
ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ alcohol abuse, mentions of alcoholism, dizziness, two sickies, two caretakers, descriptions of vomiting, vomiting in public, headaches, nausea, fever, burping, coughing, crying
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ 4.2k~
A/N admittedly i wrote this a while ago, at the start of the archipelago event, but i kinda forgot about it altogether, so here it is now. first time i try two sickies, exciting
Kazuha woke up to a headache brewing inside his skull, leading to an uncomfortable pressure behind his eyes. His head felt light as if he was floating in plain air, his neck outstretched to reach the clouds. It would've explained why every gulp of stale saliva he took seemed to stop midway.
It took him a moment to fully realize the world around him. Someone seemed to be calling him, from all directions, sometimes far away corner, then nearly glued to his ear. He flinched when he felt a tight squeeze on his shoulder, the hairs on his neck standing on end.
Then finally, he managed to open his eyes, finding a familiar face blurring around the contours, colors smudging together, the whole plain tilting. His body felt limp, almost sluggish as he tried to move, realizing now he was inches away from burying his nose on a wooden floor.
“Traveler?”, he slurred, his words barely understandable. His jaw clenched, holding his teeth from clattering together, he felt so cold he could start shivering.
“Kazuha, are you awake?”, he heard Aether call, his voice coming from above him, and he realized who that gloved hand belonged.
“When did I...?”, he started, words dying in throaty grunts before he could formulate more. A sharp pang ran through his head, making him flinch, his headache blossoming into a more concentrated migraine. ”Ugh...”
Kazuha groaned, raising a hand to clutch at his head, but his movements were uncoordinated, clumsily, landing unsteady fingers on his cheek. Heat sparked under his digits, but it felt out of place when his lips trembled out of the cold.
On his stomach, there was an uncomfortable fullness bending his lean abdomen into a plump curve, and yet there was a hollowness right in the middle. A false heat spread steadily, a burning cold, more like his insides had been frostbitten. It stung the organ's inner walls, plaguing his esophagus and bringing a raw metallic taste to his mouth. He tried to swallow, but the motion had his throat spasming slightly, threatening to make him gag when the small bit of drool seemed to weigh on his belly.
The ronin felt a warm touch land at his forehead, drifting to his cheek, cupped in what he concluded were the traveler's bare hands. He nuzzled into the touch for a moment, seeking its comfort and wishing it lingered for more than it already did before trailing down to his neck. He let out a needy whimper when he no longer felt it, seeing the traveler chuckle slightly.
“I never thought you'd be that much of a lightweight, but you really are drunk, huh?”, the traveler commented, rubbing his shoulder sympathetically. “C'mon, let me help you up.”
A pair of dexterous hands slipped under his arms, holstering the drunk ronin to his feet. The sudden motion had his head snapping back, his limbs helplessly flailing as he hurriedly went to cup his middle. His gut sloshed uncomfortably, its contents noticeably swirling inside, making him think in detail of how it felt to be seasick.
But he wasn't in the Alcor anymore, he had long since left the life of a tripulant to roam once more, but once his body grew used to its new sea legs, it wouldn't be easy to forget them. Kazuha swayed in place, his knees trembling like dry twigs threatening to snap under a gust of wind.
Bubbles seemed to vibrate inside his tummy, mixing with the liquid to create a volatile concoction that gurgled up his throat, bringing a vile bitter taste to his mouth. There was nothing more than booze in his stomach, the only solid parts being the fruit of the cocktails he had been tricked into having, only contributing to the risky situation brewing there. Kazuha parted his lips, anticipating a small burp that tasted faintly acidic, he had to put a fist to his mouth, apologizing.
“Here, careful”, the traveler instructed, guiding Kazuha to take a step back, then sitting him back at the table. Afraid he could just topple back to the floor, he held his shoulder against the wall, the only thing keeping him from folding like a sack of flour.
“Poor Kazuha...”, a voice he recalled to be Xinyan's lamented. “So drunk he's falling off his chair.”
“I easily drank double what he did”, another voice bolstered, that bard clad in green he had just met, Venti. He didn't even sound like he was slurring. “He better work on his tolerance, or else he won't be able to keep up.”
“No one can keep up with you, you... deaf bard”, Paimon responded, the accusatory tone barely contained, as if there was more to be said.
Little by little, Kazuha recollected the bits of information that were missing, and almost instantly he could notice that strong bitter aftertaste of alcohol permeating his tongue. The memory of sampling it, how the liquid tasted like it was biting the inside of his mouth, burning on the way down, and that sharp smell... How come he didn't notice?
“Ughhh...”, he groaned again, bringing a hand to his belly, feeling the organ toss and turn under the loose fabrics of his outfit. “What was in that... juice?”
The traveler gave a knowing, albeit dry chuckle, followed by the bard's mocking snickers.
“You should order an apple cider to sober him up, traveler”, he suggested, clumsily setting down a mug, the fresh gulps of his drink still audible in his voice. “Actually order two just in case.”
At thought of it, Kazuha's mouth watered and he could almost taste the acidic pull of fermented apples, his throat bobbed uncertainty and he shook his head.
“Please...”, he grunted, pressing a fist to his lips when a careless burp slipped past him, his cheeks bulging to contain the next one. “I can't... drink anymore...”
“Hah, that's funny. Just now you were mumbling more, more, more while you sleep”, Paimon mocked, trying to liken her voice to his drunken ramblings.
Kazuha would've found the humor in it if it wasn't for his nagging headache growing worse by the second, his vision tilted. He tried to raise his eyes, not taking that hand off his mouth, the salty smell of his old bandages leaving him lightheaded, and met the dim lanterns of the tavern. The traveler must've noticed his look of desperation, the grasp on his shoulder getting tighter.
“Think you can try some water, then?”, he suggested, leaning closer like someone would do to hear a child speak.
“Mm-mmm”, he muttered, shaking his head slightly, his tongue squirming in the imaginary bare taste. Just the thought of adding anything else to his stomach had his throat clenching, winding up for a gag he tried to suppress. “Mmm.”
Kazuha could feel the color draining from his face, his skin growing a degree colder, and he cupped his mouth shut, trying to breathe carefully through his nose. It could've been the thought of food, or just the booze finally getting to him, but something had spiked deep shuddering nausea swirling in the pit of his stomach.
“I feel...”, he tried to speak, but his words sounded wet somehow, slurs dripping with raw nausea muffled behind his hand.
He couldn't entertain the feeling for long, however, it grew from a general unwellness to a blaring threat in what seemed like seconds in his drunken state. He squeezed his mouth shut, pressing his lips into a thin line as the gagging started, no longer able to lock his gullet and suppress them. Muffled gulps denounced his state and his chest hitched, bordering on uncontrollable heaves as he tried to grip whatever was nearby as a last-ditch effort, Aether's wrist.
“What's wrong?”, he asked almost innocently, lowering himself to Kazuha's level.
“Traveler, you two might want to step out for a bit. C'mon”, Venti suddenly suggested, starting to get up from his seat, but his movements were as graceful as a drunken goose, and he nearly tripped over his own feet. Xinyan scrambled to grab him.
“Oh! A-Alright, hold on”, Aether's eyes went wide as the urgency of the situation dawned on him, and promptly he tried to help Kazuha to his feet. The ronin wouldn't budge an inch, his feet were planted to the floor, his hand locked painfully around Aether's wrist. “Come on, Kazuha...”
The drunk samurai could only shake his head stubbornly, unable to bring himself to move. Foolishly he thought he still had a moment to spare, to stay still and let the nausea ease up before he could attempt such a risky move, but somewhere in the middle of that nod, his stomach decided it had enough.
A wet gurgle traveled up his esophagus, erupting in the back of his throat and flooding his mouth in an instant. His cheeks puffed out like a balloon about to burst, taking a worrying shade of red as regurgitated wine dyed the inside of his mouth. The taste was vile, sweet, and acidic like spoiled fruit, making his tongue curl, it took everything in him to not commit it to memory.
For a second he thought could hold it in, his eyes were watering from the effort of locking his throat. Getting sick was nothing new to him, living as a wanderer provided him with plenty of opportunities for that, but now it was different. Alcohol left him powerless.
Aether saw it, and tried to lift Kazuha again, but there was still a gentleness to his actions. As if there was some unregistered strength he was afraid to use. The pulling, even if delicate, jostling Kazuha's frame, making his head bob, sending him further into nausea.
His stomach and chest heaved in sync, pushing its liquified contents up his throat, adding to the volume in his cheeks. The taste, even stronger, seeping into his tongue… He gagged harshly, finally breaking, and a cloudy purplish red liquid burst through his lips and out his nostrils.
Vomit sprayed violently through the crack of his fingers, no matter how much he pressed, it coated his bandaged hand in that deep blood color, soaking into the ties.
“Ack, no. No, no, no”, Venti jumped out of his seat, one hand covering his mouth as he suddenly paled.
“Eek!”, Paimon shrieked from behind the traveler and flew to the other side of the table, where she hovered closer to Xinyan for safety.
The traveler was frozen in place, torn between the choice of freeing himself and skipping from the line of fire, but leaving Kazuha without anything to hold onto while he heaved. He looked down in time to see something red pour over his golden boots. He could only shudder in disgust, shooting Kazuha a look of pity. The ronin sounded like he was drowning.
“Mmm, guh–”, he choked, trying to muffle the sounds, but the gurgling in his throat was unmistakable.
His eyes nearly drove back when he next gagged, his chest jumping to give room for another wave of regurgitated wine. It came up so forcefully that his hand nearly leaped out of his mouth.
It felt like he didn't have control over his body anymore. All the alcohol and juice he had drank that night shot out of his mouth, splattering with a surprisingly soft sound as his hand flew out. The shock had made him release his grip around Aether's wrist, but it didn't help the fact that he had already covered up to his thighs in vomit.
The ronin panted harshly, tears welling up in his eyes as his mind raced, conjuring so many apologies he couldn't utter. He could only wish it would be over soon, that the alcohol would make him forget that horrible night. By the archons, he would never show his face in Mondstadt again.
“Whoa!”, Xinyan exclaimed from the other side of the table, finally getting up herself, nearly bumping into Venti as she backed away. The bard looked as stiff as a statue. “You okay there, buddy?‘
“Oh no... Not you too!”, Paimon pleaded, backing away.
Venti didn't hear her, he was still standing there, trying to look away from the disaster unfolding, but his eyes were wide open. His own throat was now bobbing, his tongue growing heavier inside his mouth, his saliva growing thicker. And without even realizing it, he found himself gagging as well.
It was when Kazuha started retching that he couldn't hold it any longer. The sharp guttural sound of the samurai's throat scraping, the gurgling wet belch cut by a harsh spill, the constant struggled sobs. It had him thinking of his own sloshing stomach filled to the brim with booze.
“That's... bad”, he panted, his mouth dripping, his voice distorted by revulsion. “That's r-really bad– URP!”
Venti hurriedly spun on his heels, grabbing the attention of the last patrons who weren't staring at Kazuha already, including Xinyan. She could've sworn she saw him turn into a flurry of feathers as he bolted for the corner, trailing a path that should've knocked a chair over.
The bard seemingly reappeared against the wall of the tavern, fiercely holding onto it, back turned to the audience as he promptly purged the contents of his stomach all over the wooden floor.
“Welp, one more”, Xinyan sighed and followed after him, leaving Paimon to float anxiously as she watched the scene.
Aether heard the scurring of heels gaining distance but didn't let that take his attention away from Kazuha. The drunken samurai buckled forward with another violent retch, spilling another mouthful of his stomach contents squarely over his boots. The traveler looked past it as he went to stabilize him, holding both his shoulders as he started to slump.
While he tended to his friend, there was vomit soaking into his pants, quickly cooling as the fabric glued to his skin, but Aether didn't have it in him to be mad. Kazuha looked so pitiful that it made his heart ache and even ignore the sharp stench of spoiled fruit and alcohol.
“C-Come on, Kazuha. Can you stand up?”, he tried in vain, finding no signs of an improvement in the ronin's condition. “We shouldn't stay here.”
His plea fell on deaf ears. Kazuha simply buried his head between his legs, waiting with his mouth open while more violent retches wrecked his small frame. Seeing him tremble and spasm like that took a toll on Aether's sympathy and he leaned over, landing a hand on his back. He was shivering under the loose fabrics.
Aether sighed quietly, gently patting Kazuha's back as the dry retching became harsher as if he was struggling to come up with more, but nowhere near done. His muscles felt sharp under his skin, winding up to launch him forward every time he heaved.
“Easy there. It's okay”, he tried to soothe, but Kazuha wasn't listening.
In the middle of his retching, one suddenly broke off into a gush of alcoholic puke, thoroughly soaking his own socks. The vomit splattered mercilessly, sounding too much like an open faucet pouring over the hard floor. The samurai gasped greedily in between bouts, barely able to catch his breath before more liquid erupted out of him.
Aether found himself swallowing a lump of disgust in his throat, trying his damnedest to not look at the multi-colored puddle beneath both of their feet. At least the sounds were drowning out the patron's chatter, he couldn't help but feel his chest grow cold every time he caught their names in a whisper. It was inevitable, the tavern was nearly packed full.
Kazuha let out a pitiful moan as his vomiting finally tapered off, coughing wetly over the disgusting puddle soaking into his socks. His head was spinning wildly, that otherwise sharp twinge in the side of his skull now an unbearable ache that felt like it was trying to squeeze his eyeballs, his brain had long turned into mush.
His mouth was left open, unable to close as dense threads of bile and drool hung from his lips, connecting to the lines of snot pouring from his nose. He didn't even realize when he started crying, but now his chest shook with contained sobs, his throat gluing itself shut whenever he tried to suck in a breath.
He could at least feel the traveler's presence nearby, his hand weighing on his back in a somewhat comforting way. It would've been better if he didn't feel like he was about to fall over.
His bruised stomach murmured and he brought a shaking hand to it, nearly flinching when the organ immediately responded by sprouting a dull ache. The spell had been so violent, the heaving so grating, his gut was trying to turn itself out, expel until the last drop of alcohol left inside of it.
“Mmm... ugh”, Kazuha whimpered as he tried to move, barely an inch off the chair and he felt swift hands lace around him.
“Are you done?”, the traveler spoke from above him. “Kazuha?”
“Hmm? Mm-hum. I-I think... think so”, he nodded weakly, his stomach following. His voice was coarse, barely a whisper as coat upon coats of acid had rendered his throat nearly useless.
Aether remained in silence for a bit, watching Kazuha slowly regain his senses one by one, bringing a shaky soiled hand to wipe his mouth clean. Picking a napkin off the table, Aether lowered himself to his level once more and gently lifted his face.
Kazuha grunted as his cheeks were squeezed by a thumb and an indicator, but didn't try to fight it. He couldn't even if he wanted to, so he stayed quiet as the traveler thoroughly cleaned his face, and then his nose. It barely made a difference, there was vomit on his feet, as well as his lap, and not to mention all over Aether, but it still gave Kazuha just the slightest bit of comfort.
“Diluc's going to kill us...”, he heard Paimon say from somewhere, the name unfamiliar to him, but Aether seemed to twitch as he heard it.
“L-let's hope not...”, he mumbled, looking down as he crumpled the napkin. “I wouldn't—”
"BuuU- urRGH… bLEeeRgHHh!", a harsh retch coming from a far corner cut him off, and Aether turned his head to find a green silhouette against the wall, the antic clothes standing out against the more humbly-dressed patrons.
“Looks like Venti hasn't built much of a tolerance either”, Aether commented with a humorless chuckle, but Kazuha was too far buried in his own misery to care.
Meanwhile, stashed in the far, less populated corner of the tavern, Venti heaved miserably, while Xinyan carefully held his braids back, keeping them away from the line of fire. Not that it did much, Venti was easily one of the messiest pukers she had ever seen, not even a seasick pirate, or a drunken one compared.
She had run after him, thinking this would've been over quick enough and they would be able to avoid another mess, but Venti barely heaved before he started spewing. A sizable wave of alcoholic puke surged out of him, and she could almost tell when his body prepared itself to expel it.
His shoulders locked, his neck stiffening before his head drooped, he let out a drowning gurgle and vomit came rushing out of him like a faucet. Nearly pure liquid splattered between his feet, like rain falling all at once, taking on an unhealthy brownish red color as it puddled on the wooden boards. Somehow it reminded her of chicken broth, but Liyue's cuisine was the last thing she should've been thinking about.
“Take it easy, bud. Here, let me help ya”, she said, pulling his braids out of the line of fire. Not a second to rest before he started dry heaving, his body wouldn't let up, making her think he could end up slamming his head on the wall if he wasn't careful. “Easy, easy.”
Venti tried to say something, more like a warning, but between the intense gagging and the wet gasps, she couldn't make it out. He clutched at the wall, feeling as if his stomach was desperately trying to turn itself out. He refused to believe he had become this squeamish. He, who had survived through the archon war, reduced to a miserable queasy mess. Unable to hold his liquor in the middle of a packed full bar.
“...guh– huUUuRrrRkK!”, he retched, feeling Xinyan's grasp on his hair tighten, not following his sudden lurch, and again, another continuous stream of vomit poured out of him. “EeURrGhh, ugghh.”
“You're good, I gotchu”, she reassured him, sounding genuinely comforting, her blazing enthusiasm still living on, even in such a pitiful situation. “Gee, that's a lot.”
To Venti it was just another day of sustaining a human form with real limits and downsides, but he wouldn't trade it for anything. Not even his gnosis back. Even if someday he caught himself thinking of how it would've been if he had just…
Venti broke into empty gags as the vomiting tapered off, waiting for his stomach to stop throbbing before he tried swallowing again. Groaning almost dejectedly, he ran a white sleeve under his nose, thoroughly cleaning his face while he sniffed. His nostrils were burning with the mixture of alcohol and acid, and his tongue tasted utterly vile.
“Lord Barbatos…”, he muttered out of habit, but always failing to realize the irony in using his own name in vain. “What was that…? I swear I'm not weak to alcohol.”
“You can say that again. I saw you down whole bottles. You'd be a big shot at the Alcor”, Xinyan stitched his thought while she let go of his hair. “But try to lay off the alcohol for tonight, alright? For Kazuha's sake.”
“Y-Yeah, ugh. Watching… that… happen, I think I might, for a whole two days”, he frowned, avoiding looking in that direction. “I'm… feeling a little off now.”
“It's okay, don'tcha worry”, Xinyan said, peeling one of Venti's hands off the wall and throwing it over her shoulder.
Venti barely registered the walk, Xinyan dragged so swiftly he didn't even feel his feet touch the ground. He tried opening his eyes as they stopped, finding Aether and Kazuha amidst a sea of red wine covering the floorboards. He had to close his eyes again, wrinkling his nose.
“Traveler, we should get going”, he heard her say. “This one's out for the count too.”
The bard groaned in response, grimacing at the terrible taste in his mouth. Aether nodded, frowning as his eyes landed on Venti, another drunk disaster on their hands.
“How's Kazuha?”, she asked while pulling a chair for Venti and carefully seating him down. “Is he complaining of headaches? Do you think this fella just rushed the hangover he'll be having tomorrow?”
“Hey, Kazuha?”, Aether called, lifting his head with a thumb, his eyes were glossy, but he still managed a soft huff to show he was awake. “Does your head hurt?”
“Mmm...”, he nodded weakly, almost imperceptible, swallowing before he tried to speak. “My-my... stomach t-too...”
To that Aether raised his eyebrows, instinctively going to feel his forehead again, finding a slight heat irradiating from it. A small hum left him as he drifted to his neck, supporting Kazuha's head on his hand as he did so.
“It might not be. We should probably play it safe and take him Barbara”, he suggested, looking at Xinyan, who was tending to Venti, doing the same. “Actually, we should bring the two of them.”
“Me? No. I'm fine, you two...”, the bard murmured without opening his eyes, his throat bobbing as he kept swallowing. “I'm not even drunk.”
“Is he always like this?”, Xinyan asked, raising an eyebrow, to which Aether merely shrugged. “Alright, can you look after these two? I'll go close our tabs, and, well, apologize for the mess. Apologize a lot.”
The traveler agreed, getting up to his feet, but without leaving Kazuha's side. The ronin seemed more aware now, his eyes darting across the tavern, red and welled up with tears. When they landed on Aether again, spotting the cold vomit stain all over his thighs, they went wide.
“You must be so mad at me...”, he muttered, choking on a sob. “I'm so sorry. I promise I'll repay you for the clothes somehow.”
“Hey, I'm not. So just forget that, alright?”, Aether waved him off, trying to sound just a little softer. “How are you feeling now?”
“Like... ugh, it feels like my head is trying to kill me”, he groaned, all of his graceful politeness spilled along with his stomach contents. “I'm never trying Mondstadt's wine ever again. It's so... fruity you don't even realize you're drinking it until…”
“Hum… I'd think Inazuman sake would be much stronger than that”, Aether recalled.
“Don't even get me started…”
They didn't have much longer to divulge on that, Xinyan had managed to wipe her frown off and was looking a little more cheerful for it.
“All's set. Let's get going”, she said, propping Venti over her shoulder again.
“I guess you're gonna have to carry me, huh?” Kazuha pointed out, trying to sound more playful than pitiful, but he didn't exactly achieve that.
“You're lucky we weigh about the same because you owe now”, Aether shot back, lowering himself again while draping Kazuha's arm over his shoulder. “Come on, up we go.”
Aether lifted him off ease, his soiled feet barely touched the ground as they walked off the tavern through the back door and out into the cold streets of a sleepy Mond. Xinyan followed closely, carrying her own drunkard.
After all that, Aether was sure Kazuha wouldn't be coming back for a visit any time soon. But there was still a lot to happen.
I have a drinking problem. I bought a huge bulk of 100% juice caprisun and finished it in less than a week (that was my trashcan ). Gained weight and got canker sores on my gum, probably because I drank to many acidic drink. Quitted caprisun. Now, I changed to a healthier choice of drinking coca cola everday. Wat.
I’ve realized that it was easier to make myself believe you just didn’t care at all, than to believe you cared, but I held so little worth to you that it didn’t bother you to see me suffer enough to make you stop hurting me.
