'Blurgh'

Spencer patted Brendon's back as the man was on his knees, dry heaving into the toilet.

"It's okay, bud," Spencer repeated for the umpteenth time.

"It burns," Brendon groaned before spitting into the discolored water.

"Want some nausea medication?"

Brendon shook his head as he pulled his body away from the porcelain bowl. He wiped his mouth with a tissue Spencer had ready for him. "Those stupid pills don't work."

Spencer sighed softly. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

Brendon opened his mouth to respond as another wave of nausea hit him. He lunged forward, heaving again. For the last few minutes, there'd been nothing but the occasional bile and saliva dripping from Brendon's lips. His breakfast that he'd been starving for lasted not thirty minutes before it was all emptied into the bowl.

"Kill me please," Brendon joked in a weak voice.

"C'mon. I've seen you in the same position a night after partying then out the next night shaking your ass out at the club."

Brendon's shoulders shook in a light chuckle.

"How about we get you back to bed. You're getting to know our toilet too well. Ryan might get jealous."

Brendon let his friend help him to his feet. He slouched against the willing support, unable to stable his own wobbly knees.

"I'll text Ryan. See if there's something we can do to keep your food down."

Brendon nodded, focusing more on each step they took out of the bathroom. Spencer forced back his frown and hid his worry at the heavy breathing going on beside him as they walked to Brendon's room. Brendon let out a sigh as he flopped down onto his bed. He didn't care to reposition himself and let his eyes shut. He didn't fight the exhaustion that weighed on him. He mumbled a quick 'thanks Spence' before getting pulled into the dream world.

Spencer stood watching him for a while. Thoughts were flying through his head, making him wonder if this was worth it. In the end, would all this be worth it; Brendon's suffering, his own waning hope, all of it. Brendon wanted to avoid all this, needing to be cared for in his weakening condition.

Spencer hoped for it all to get better soon. Wished for it. Prayed!

'Be worth it,' he thought. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He shut Brendon's door and let the man rest. He went to the living room where on the table sat his now cold breakfast. It didn't matter though. He'd lost his appetite anyway.

He plopped onto the couch and grabbed his phone. He clicked his boss' number, already having it as a favorite contact and called out of work for the third time that week. A sense of guilt settled in his chest at the irritation at the situation. He wanted, no needed, to get back to work soon.

He finished his call with another heavy sigh and stared at the phone screen. "Please," he whispered. "Be worth it."