“Hello?” he called from the top of the stairs.
Nothing.
“Avery?”
He made his way down to the small entranceway that opened into the kitchen. The lights were out, the TV off.
“Avery?”
The thump of feet running up the hall broke the silence. Linc turned just in time to catch a glimpse of Avery’s pale legs in striped boxers before he disappeared through the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him.
“Av—” The sound of vomiting cut off his question. Instinctually, he gripped the counter as his body threatened to run away. The choked gagging sounds from the bathroom continued, punctuated periodically by heaving gasps.
When quiet filled the apartment again, Linc waited, but Avery didn’t come out. Linc glanced at the door. He should go. But he needed to make sure Avery was okay.
The toilet flushed, and the door swung open with a gentle creak, but thirty seconds later, Avery still hadn’t reappeared.
Linc approached the bathroom. The smell of bile made his stomach roll. As he entered, Avery was on his knees near the sink, head pressed to the floor. Linc was beside him in a second.
“Avery?” He put a palm on Avery’s shoulder, and Avery hissed and shifted, like he might try to crawl away, except he had nowhere to go.
“Hey. Hey,” Linc said. Avery curled in tighter on himself like a turtle. “What’s wrong?”
He was dressed only in a faded blue T-shirt and his boxers. His body was totally rigid under the thin cotton.
“Migraine,” Avery gasped. He moved slowly, like every muscle hurt.
“What can I do?”
“Stop.” Avery’s voice was whisper thin.
“Stop?”
“Stop breathing so loud.” He groped at the vanity, and Linc slipped an arm under his shoulder to help get him up. The breathing thing took care of itself, because the wet putty color of Avery’s face trapped the air in Linc’s chest.
“Okay. Okay.” How was he supposed to help if he couldn’t speak? He’d never known anyone who got migraines. Not like this.
Avery lurched away from him, stumbling back to the toilet and retching again. His spine bowed, and his muscles bunched.
When Avery was left gasping over the bowl, Linc helped him up again, half carrying him down the hall.
“What do you need?”
“Meds. Above the sink.”
This Linc could do. He helped Avery back to bed, Avery’s eyes squeezed tight the whole time.
Fortunately, the medicine cabinet over the bathroom sink only had one prescription bottle, half-hidden behind all kinds of weird supplements that Linc had never seen before with names likePowerandPeace. He didn’t spend much time considering those, though, instead taking the pill he needed and filling a glass of water before he went back down the hall.
Avery’s eyes were still shut, and Linc was afraid to say anything and make the migraine worse. He put the pill in Avery’s palm and set the cup between the fingers of his other hand.
“I’ll just throw the water up again.” Avery slipped the tablet between his pasty lips, and Linc winced at the crunching sound as Avery chewed it and swallowed hard.
“Can I do anything else?” Linc asked, but Avery moved very slowly, until his back was to him.
Which was how Linc found himself all alone in Avery’s apartment. He was too worried Avery might choke on his own puke, or stop breathing altogether, to leave. Avery’s phone was on the counter, and Linc tried to get the number for Avery’s aunt off of it, but it was password protected.
Linc used his own phone to look up treatments for migraines online, but the remedies were pretty much the ones he already knew. Quiet. Dark. Rest. Hydration, if water could be kept down. Prescription medications could help sometimes.
