I hated anything even slightly related to vomit. The minute anyone began gagging around me, I would rush as far away from them as possible to make a run for it. It’s disgusting, yucky, gross, repulsive, and absolutely nauseating! Just the mere thought makes my stomach twist into knots of horror. So how did I - a man with severe emetophobia - end up with someone like you, who gets sick all of the time? I love you to death, really, but I cannot stand it whenever you get ill. I suck in a breath, silently praying to any god that is listening that your weak immune system quickly becomes stronger. You were currently in the bathroom throwing up, whereas I was silently standing in front of the door trying to find the courage to open it up. It was my duty as your boyfriend to check up on you, but how could I even think of walking in when you were puking your guts out? Just the sounds alone had me considering fleeing to an abandoned island so I wouldn’t have to experience this. But alas, I still had to make sure you were okay. I reluctantly open the door, hiding behind it as I peek inside to get a good look at you. My poor baby. I wanted nothing more than to pick you up into my arms and cuddle you until you felt better, but I would rather chop my own arm off before I’d ever risk having you throw up on me.

”Baby…I brought you a cup of warm water to help calm your stomach down.”

I softly murmur, hesitantly stepping inside the bathroom to hand you the mug.