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number-one-micoverse-fan · 5 years

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Intolerance

This came from a discussion I had with Em over the weekend. Angst with a happy and extremely fluffy ending.

Warnings: vomiting, bullying, angst, teeth rotting fluff

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They jumped Milo after school.

He’d had to stay later because the science teacher thought lecturing a fourteen year old for an hour was a perfect punishment for something Milo hadn’t even done. Why the hell would he need to steal lab equipment? What use did he have for it? But they always, always blamed Milo first.

So Milo was leaving late and was supposed to meet Cody at the curb in front of the school.

But just as he’d turned to the front hall, those beautiful glass doors shining with the promise of sunlight and freedom, a hand had closed over his mouth. Then an arm wrapped around his neck and he was yanked backwards, the heels of his sneakers squealing angrily as he was dragged across the tile. He battered at the person holding him, trying to twist free, but they crushed their arm into his windpipe until stars burst in his eyes and he could only tug helplessly on their sleeve.

Shouting reached his ears, jeering and laughter.

Then the bang of a door being kicked open. A burst of fresh air and bright sunlight. Then he was thrown to the ground, barely managing to catch himself on his elbows before his face smashed into the grass.

“Hey! What the hell are you—“ He barely had time to get the words out before the other boys were on him.

Milo was scrappy and vicious when he had to be, writhing and clawing and kicking and biting with an unashamed ferocity. But even he couldn’t fend off five older and bigger teenage boys. Two of them pinned his arms down while a third sat on Milo’s upper legs, nearly on his hips, making him grit his teeth at the pain. Then a fourth one loomed over him and pinned Milo’s head between his knees, forcing him to look up. Milo snarled, snapping his teeth as the others jeered and cackled. The last boy stood off to the side with a lumpy looking backpack and a wicked sneer.

“Lemme go!” Milo bucked, trying to throw one of them off but only got cruel laughter in response. The one pinning his head leaned forward and thumped Milo hard on the sternum. The fourteen year old coughed hard, only to gag when something plastic-y and foreign was shoved into his mouth. He squinted through watering eyes at what looked like a clear PVC tube looping up a short distance to a plastic funnel.

Eyes widening in terror, Milo tried to spit the tubing out but the boy holding his head in place grabbed Milo’s chin in a terrifying grip, wrapping his hands around Milo’s face and holding the tube down.

“Let’s see how much he can take!”

“Five bucks says he voms after the second one!”

“Maybe this’ll finally put some meat on his pansy ass!”

“Pussy!”

“What a bitch! Ha!”

“Give it to him already!”

Milo couldn’t see it but he could hear the zipper of the backpack being pulled open and he struggled harder. His muffled voice screamed up through the funnel and he kicked his heels into the grass. It didn’t do him any good.

Someone handed over a container and Milo caught a glimpse of blue and white before the boy perched on his legs tipped something from the little square container into the plastic funnel. Something white spiraled down the short tube and splashed into the back of Milo’s throat unexpectedly, making him cough. But he recognized the taste, even as it settled into his mouth and he struggled not to swallow it.

Milk.

Fucking milk.

Humiliation and anger made his cheeks burn.

“Better drink it if you don’t wanna drown!” Said one of the bullies and they all laughed as Milo’s terrified eyes followed the progress of another small carton of milk down the tube.

They were right though. He had no choice. So he swallowed and it was cold going down his throat. It felt like swallowing poison.

And they kept pouring more milk.

Tiny lunch carton after tiny lunch carton was emptied into the funnel while the boys called him names and mocked him, pinched the skin on his arms, squeezed his skull until he whimpered in pain. He was starting to feel full, bloated and sick, and he choked on the next mouthful they poured down the tube, spraying foamy white milk over the fingers of the guy holding his head. The other boy jerked as if he meant to let go, cursing Milo, but he held fast, digging his fingertips into the underside of Milo’s chin so it hurt to swallow.

And still the milk kept coming.

His head was spinning. It felt like he had a bowling ball sitting on his chest and his breathing between gulps was shallow and ragged. More than once he jerked like he was going to throw up and the boys all “ooooohhhh’d” in a theatrical manner before laughing again.

Milo hated them.

More than hated them, he wished they were dead.

The one on his legs laughed and pressed a hand into Milo’s midriff.

Milo wretched, spraying milk past the tube and drenching the boy holding his head. The boy yelled in disgust, throwing himself backwards and cursing. Milo spat the tube out and coughed as the others released him to check on their buddy. He twisted, rolling himself awkwardly to his hands and knees and intending to get away until someone kicked him hard in the rear, sending him face first into the grass. They planted a foot on his back and pressed down so that his stomach was ground into the dirt.

“Maybe that’ll teach you where your place is, you arrogant little shit,” Sneered one of the bullies, digging the heel of his shoe into Miilo’s spine until the younger boy let out a weak cry, “You’re a fucking brat and you make the rest of us look bad. Do everybody a favor and just die. Even teachers hate you.”

“Bet that’s why your dad actually left,” Sneered another boy and Milo stupidly turned his head to look only to have the sole of shoe press down into the side of his face, grinding him into the grass with a strangled whine, “‘Cause he knew you were a waste of space before you could even fuckin’ talk right. Piece of shit.”

“Brat!”

“Useless!”

“No better than garbage!”

“Shithead!”

They kicked him a few times, just to drive their point home, and then ran off cackling like a pack of hyenas who’d stolen from a lioness.

Milo lay on the ground for a bit, sniffling, biting his lip to try and stop himself from outright crying. But he couldn’t stay there, laying in the dirt; it was getting late and his stomach hurt and he just wanted to go home. He felt cold, shivering, even as sweat broke out underneath his shark hoodie and beaded his forehead. He wanted his dads.

With shaking arms he heaved himself onto his hands and knees. He could feel the milk sloshing around in his stomach, like something alive was wriggling around inside him, and he eased back onto his knees, pulling the hem of his hoodie up with trembling hands like he expected to see the shape of some living thing twisting against his skin. There was nothing moving there but his belly was slightly distended, pale skin taut and bulging against the hem of his of jeans. And all Milo could think about was some great, white, pulsing worm curled in his guts and laying eggs that would eat him from the inside out.

He tasted bile in the back of his throat and wretched, doubling over and heaving onto the grass. His vomit was white and frothy and littered with oozing chunks of his half digested lunch. It splattered across the grass and, much to his disgust, his hands and the sleeves of his hoodie. It was rank and burned and made his eyes water and his nose stream and it felt like it went on forever. When Milo finally managed to suck in a few shuddering breaths of air, wincing as it scored his throat, he caught a whiff of the soured milk and that particular burning stench and it started the whole cycle over again.

It felt like hours had passed by the time he’d stumbled to his feet, shivering, drenched in sweat, vomit, and tears. The world tilted beneath his sneakers as he shuffled awkwardly around the school, occasionally having to stop and heave as his stomach rebelled against the dairy he’d been force fed. His phone buzzed in his pocket but he barely had the strength to drag his bag behind him; mustering the energy to answer just wasn’t worth it. Besides, Milo had to focus on where he was putting his feet. He nearly fell when he stumbled from grass to pavement and looked up through bleary eyes to see he’d made it to the front of the school.

He wretched again, tripping up the walk and to the curb, ready to struggle the rest of the way home because surely Cody hadn’t waited for him all this time, surely he had better things to do than—

“Milo! Where’ve you been I—Milo! Milo, what happened!?”

Hands that were so warm they burned, even through his sweat drenched hoodie, grabbing his shoulders and holding him steady. Milo swayed, blinking the figure into focus, hiccuped pathetically when he saw Cody’s worried features.

“Come on, let’s get you home…”

Cody looped one of Milo’s arms over his shoulders, unconcerned with the stench and what was undoubtedly going to get on his own clothes.

The trek back to their homes was made longer by Milo’s stumbling gait and their path was pockmarked with splatters of vomit and dry heaving. Cody didn’t let go of Milo the entire time, either holding him up or rubbing his back while Milo doubled over to cough and wheeze and empty his stomach. Both of them were trembling with exhaustion by the time Cody knocked on the front door of Milo’s house.

Dan answered, the warm smile slipping from his face when he saw the state they were in. He ushered them inside, scooping Milo into his arms and hurrying into the bathroom,

“What on earth happened to you two!?”

“I…I dunno!” Cody was shifting anxiously as he watched Dan ease Milo onto the cool bathroom floor. Milo instantly grabbed the rim of the toilet and heaved into it, “I was waiting for him after school and he was taking a while. He never answered his phone and he’s been throwing up the whole way back! I dunno what’s wrong, he hasn’t said!”

“I heard the front door, is everything—“ Jake froze in the doorway to the little bathroom as he took in the scene before, “Oh god…M-Milo? Cody, what’s—“ Milo threw up again and Jake flinched.

“Cody, hun, I need you to go get some towels from the linen closet and some clothes for Milo to change into.” Dan took charge, speaking as gently as he could as he rubbed Milo’s back, “You can change your clothes too, if you want, you’re always welcome to anything in the house. Then we could use some water, Milo’s probably really dehydrated. Okay?”

“O-okay, Mr. Fuller, I’ll be right back!” And Cody scampered off to obey.

Dan switched his gaze to his worried housemate, “Jake? You okay? I’m going to need you to help me get Milo’s clothes off.”

Jake swallowed, looking pale and not a little sick, and shrugged out of his button up, leaving him in a t-shirt and jeans as he crouched down beside Milo and Dan. Milo had finally stopped vomiting and was wheezing and shuddering beside the toilet bowl, tears trickling from his eyes. He glanced up when Jake brushed some sticky red hair from Milo’s forehead.

“Hey, Milo, sweetie, we gotta get you out of these clothes, okay? We’re going to take the hoodie off, all right?” Dan murmured, reaching out slowly to grip the hem of Milo’s prized sweater. Milo let out a shaky keening wail that choked off into a rasping cough, his shaking hands pushing weakly at Dan’s grip, “Oh, honey, I know, “But you need a hot bath and these clothes are really dirty. You can get your hoodie back right after it goes through the wash, okay? Promise.”

It didn’t exactly seem to assuage Milo’s fears but he was really too weak to protest as Jake and Dan helped him out of his sweat and vomit stained clothes. He shivered and whined and sniffled and coughed up some more sick before they managed to get him into the hot bathwater. And then Dan was left alone in the bathroom with Milo while Jake ran the dirty clothes to the washing machine and Cody dutifully collected their bags and got some cold water for his sickly best friend.

“You want to tell me what happened, baby shark?” Even Dan’s softly spoken words seemed loud in the stillness of the bathroom. He had his back to the tub, even though the shower curtain was partially drawn, giving Milo some privacy but there just in case he was needed.

Milo sank lower into the bath, already feeling the aches in his body easing from the wonderful heat. His stomach still turned over and made funny noises sometimes, he could still taste the bile and sick in his mouth, and there would probably be bruises on his face and neck and wrists tomorrow from the grip of the older boys. But he felt a little more human, at least.

“Jus’ some bullies,” He said hoarsely, so close to the surface of the water that his breath caused small ripples to dance away from him. His freckled knees poked up into the chilled air of the bathroom and he hunkered down even more, trying to bury himself in the warm water as much as he could,

“They…made me drink milk. Lo’s a milk.”

Dan shifted, tried to stop his hands curling into angry fists. No wonder Milo had been vomiting so much; lactose intolerance was a bitch, “Do you know who they were?”

“…no.”

They both knew he was lying but Dan didn’t push the issue.

Later, prime time television found Dan and Jake on either side of a tired but cleaner Milo on the couch of the sitting room. Cody had gone home a couple hours ago and the house was quiet aside from the chitter of the tv show they were watching. Milo, in the freshly laundered and still warm from the dryer hoodie, was slumped against Dan’s side with half lidded eyes, nibbling on his last saltine cracker. Dan had his arm draped over the back of the couch, Milo’s shoulder in the crook of his elbow and the tips of his fingers rubbing gentle and soothing circles into the scruff of hair on the back of Jake’s neck. Jake had one hand resting along the curve of Milo’s back, idly running his fingers through slightly damp strands of red hair, his mind elsewhere even as he stared at the television screen. It was a familiar and easy position that they fell into when things got rocky, all of them tucked beneath a warm flannel blanket with the lights low and the rest of the world blocked out.

“Hey, baby shark,” Dan ducked his head enough to whisper to Milo cuddled against his chest, “You okay with staying home tomorrow? You were really sick and I want to make sure you recover.”

Milo nodded and cast a glance at Jake, “If it’s okay with you, dad.”

Jake smiled at him, one of those rare smiles that was warm and gentle and honest and without a trace of the usual anxiety that nibbled at the corners of everything he did, “‘Course it is.” He leaned close to Milo in a conspiratorial manner and said in a stage whisper, “Maybe if you’re feeling up to it we can sneak out and go to the aquarium when Dan’s not looking.”

Milo beamed, wane sunlight still filtering through the clinging rain clouds, but bright and happy all the same.

Dan wrapped his arm around both of them, pulling Milo into his lap and nudging Jake into his side, raising his free arm to trap them both into a tight hug. He pressed a kiss to Milo’s head, let his forehead rest against the teenager’s fluffy red hair that smelled of coconut and salt water beaches, tried not to think about how just a few hours before the same boy had been vomiting uncontrollably from the cruelty of a few other humans.

Then Milo tucked his head under Dan’s chin with sigh of such contented happiness that it was as if everything in the world had clicked perfectly into place. And for a moment, however brief it might be, they existed in quiet bliss where nothing bad would ever happen again.

So when Jake and Milo both fell asleep against him, Dan could be forgiven for not having the heart to move them until that serene, rose-tinted glow had finally begun to fade.

#micoverse #fan fiction #emetophobia #emetephobia tw

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