The car ride had only been fifteen minutes.

But it was enough.

You felt the first wave of dizziness sneak up on you — that slow, heavy tilt inside your head that told you something was very wrong.

You pressed a hand to your forehead.

Bob noticed instantly.

He always noticed everything about you.

“Hey…? Are you okay?” His voice was small, worried.

You tried to nod, but your stomach lurched at the motion. A cold sweat broke across your neck.

Bob froze.

“Oh—oh no—oh no, you’re not okay—”

Another bump in the road hit.

Your breath hitched. Your stomach flipped sharply.

Bob’s eyes went wide with panic.

He scooted closer to you immediately, hands hovering like he didn’t know where to put them, afraid to touch you but terrified to do nothing.

“You’re pale— you’re really pale— (Y/N), are you dizzy? Are you going to— I mean— is it— oh god—”

You leaned forward, pressing your eyes shut as the nausea hit harder.

“Bob,” you whispered weakly, “I… I feel really sick…”

Bob made a tiny, helpless sound.

“Okay—okay—wait—don’t panic—no—actually I’m panicking—hold on—just breathe—no wait YOU breathe—sorry—”

You almost laughed if you didn’t feel like the world was tilting sideways.

Another curve.

Your stomach heaved.

Bob saw your body tense and gasped sharply.

“Oh no— no no no— okay—hold on— wait— I’ve got something— I should— I know I have—”

He started patting every pocket he had, frantic and confused, searching for anything he could use.

The car jostled again.

You grabbed the seat, breath shaky.

Bob completely unraveled.

“(Y/N), please tell me what to do,” he begged softly, voice cracking with worry. “Tell me how to help you. Please.”

You couldn’t answer — you were too dizzy, too nauseous.

Bob’s hands shook as he gently steadied your shoulders.

He whispered, voice trembling:

“Hey. Hey. Stay with me. Look at me. You’re okay.”

Another wave hit you—hard.

You leaned forward, swallowing thickly, your breathing jagged and shallow.

Bob panicked, eyes huge.

“Okay—okay—wait—wait—just— I’m right here— it’s okay— breathe— I’m holding you— don’t pass out— don’t fall over— d-don’t— please—”

He was practically shaking as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer so you wouldn’t slump sideways.

You rested your forehead against his chest instinctively.

The second your weight touched him— Bob froze.

Then melted into full protective mode.

His hand immediately went to the back of your head, fingers trembling.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, “you’re really sick…”

You could feel his heartbeat — fast and terrified — under your cheek.

He held you tighter, voice soft but frantic.

“I’m right here. I’m not letting you fall. Just breathe. You’re okay. You’re okay…”

Another curve hit. Your whole body tensed with a fresh wave of nausea.

Bob flinched like he felt it too.

“Oh no—oh no—okay—wait—here—lean on me—don’t move—don’t look outside—just breathe—please—”

You clutched his shirt tightly, trying to keep your breathing steady.

Bob stroked your back in shaky circles, trying to calm you even though he was panicking harder by the second.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he whispered, more to himself than you. “I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His voice shook again.

“Just… please don’t pass out on me. I’m not emotionally prepared.”

Despite the dizziness, despite the nausea—you still almost smiled.

Bob kept holding you close until the car finally leveled out a little.

You whispered weakly, “Thank you…”

Bob swallowed hard and tightened his arm around you.

“Don’t thank me. I’m just— I’m just trying not to freak out. You scared me.”