Sick

Layton woke up abruptly from a dream that was quickly fading from his memory, thanks to the throbbing pain in his stomach. It was a hot, burning pain, trying to force its way upwards. It took him a moment of drowsy, painful confusion to realize he felt as though he was going to vomit. But when he went to move out of bed, the pain only throbbed harder, making him curl up tighter into a ball and forcing him to stay put in bed. He willed the pain to stay down with everything he had, and slowly it subsided, fading away like the intensity of one's heartbeat after a long, hard run.

It was only when the pain in his stomach was gone that he began to recognize that there was pain in his throat as well. It, too, burned, feeling utterly dry and almost as though it were swelling, shrinking the size of the passageway and making it difficult to breathe. He was still struggling to move with the pain in his stomach, and groped wildly in the darkness for the cough drops he knew he was keeping on the bedside table. He heard a few scatter to the ground before he managed to wrap his fingers around one, tearing the wrapper away and shoving it into his mouth. He laid there, curled up, sucking on the small candy until its soothing coolness coated his throat.

He laid in bed for a long time, just trying to regather his breath and his mind. The grogginess hanging over him was only getting worse, and it was difficult to think straight about what he should be doing. This was the third time in one night that he had awoken like this. The moon was still in the air, and when it finally occurred to him to check the time on his phone, it was only two in the morning. The last time had been only an hour and a half earlier. And he had only been in bed for a few more hours past that. The plan to rest the sickness away was definitely not going to work with how little rest he was getting.

It took him a solid twenty minutes before he was able to fall back asleep, and he awoke in the same manner twice more before he gave up on sleeping. Once the pain in his stomach and throat had subsided on that, his fifth time, he crawled out of bed and got dressed and called his work to let them know he couldn't come in. He knew that they needed him, but he was definitely not going to be any use to them. He could barely think straight, and even just standing was aggravating. He was not going to do work.

He moved out to his couch and collapsed into it, pulling his computer to his chest and setting his bag of cough drops beside him. The internet would keep him entertained at least. Until he passed out again.