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Ugh, out of all the nights it just had to be on movie night.
Henry had known it was gonna happen since this morning. Of course school had made it worse, but here in the Man Cave while the TV played Dog Judge: The Movie, the headache was at its very worst. Headache, or migraine? “Migraine” seemed dramatic, but then again the headache was pretty bad. He hadn’t touched his popcorn thanks to the terrible churning in his stomach, and at some point had turned where he lay on the couch so he didn’t have to bear the bright screen anymore. The sound of the movie and the chatter from his friends was muffled, but still added a dull throb to go with the hammering on the right side of his head. He’d had some bad headaches before, but nothing like this. Distantly, beyond the pain induced fog, he was kinda scared.
He was almost, almost so exhausted that he could sleep it off, but then the pain got worse, less like a hammer and more like an ice pick, and his ears were ringing and he gasped and curled in on himself. And his eye– his right eye felt like it was about to explode. Something was wrong and he needed to get help but he just couldn’t, frozen in his pain.
Then there was a hand on his shoulder. “Kid? You okay?” It was Ray, thank god it was Ray. His low, deep voice didn’t hurt like the TV and whispers and laughing did. Still, he sounded concerned. “Henry?”
Henry wanted to answer, but the ice pick was twisting into his brain and his eye and all he could do was whimper.
Ray cursed quietly, squeezed his shoulder. “Hey, hey guys? Shut up for a sec, will ya?”
The room turned quiet. Henry sighed.
“Hen, you gotta tell me what’s wrong.”
He pointed to his head.
“Headache?”
He nodded. He promptly realized that nodding made the pain ten times worse and he was sure he whimpered again, he just couldn’t hear it past the amplified ringing.
“Crap, seems like a little more than a headache, bud…” Ray’s hand moved from his shoulder to his face, tilting it slightly to get a better look at him. He felt his forehead. Henry shamelessly leaned into the touch. It was just so nice against the pain, it was just…Ray was so amazing and…
“No, Hen– don’t cry, we don’t want your headache to get worse, do we? I’m right here,” He didn’t think he’d ever heard Ray’s voice as soft as it was. And he was so miserable and Ray was wiping away every single tear and he just started to cry even harder.
Schwoz must’ve come back in the room, because he heard Ray talking to someone else.
“Henry? What does the pain feel like?” Schwoz’s voice was higher and much more painful than Ray’s, and Henry didn’t bother asking why as he covered his ears. He knew they must’ve kept talking to one another, but he didn’t listen.
(“Huh. That’s..but he didn’t cover his ears with my voice. Why–”
“Your voice is at a lower frequency. Maybe he’s having a migraine. Sensitive hearing and headache...migraines could easily hurt enough to make him cry.”
“Shit, well what do we do?”
“Take him to your room so he’ll be more comfortable, keep the lights off. But be careful picking him up, he might be dizzy or nauseous. I’ll get him some medication.”)
Ray carded a hand through his hair and he shivered, uncovering his ears. “Hen, I’m gonna pick you up, is that okay?”
“Mhm.”
Ray carefully lifted him, an arm under his knees and another under his back. The world spun a little, but it helped to bury his face in Ray’s shoulder. Soon, they were in a blissfully dark room, in a blissfully soft bed, and Henry was wrapped in blissfully warm arms. He could care less that he was being babied. By now he would’ve probably succumbed to the ice pick and died if Ray weren’t here.
“You comfy?”
“Yeah.” Henry rasped.
“Okay, uh, Schwoz’ll probably want me to ask you about your symptoms, so. How’s your head feel?”
“Ice pick.” He mumbled. It really was the only way to describe it.
Ray’s hand stopped rubbing his back. When had it started? “Jeez, kid.”
“J’st the right side. M’ eye, too.”
“Your eye? I guess that’s a migraine thing, I dunno,” so it was a migraine. “Anything else hurt?”
“Stomach.” Now that he thought about it, the nausea had crept up on him and gotten much worse. He swallowed hard.
“Nauseous?”
“Mhm.”
“You gonna be sick?” Ray, through all of it, sounded more worried than Henry’s own mother had ever sounded, even that time he broke his wrist when he was ten. The thought kind of made him more nauseous.
“I-I dunno.” God, fuck, the pain was getting worse again. He was gonna be sick. He whined and held onto Ray for dear life. Ray held onto him while scrambling to find a trashcan in the dark, muttering every curse under the sun. Henry shuddered as his breakfast and lunch and dinner screamed ‘out out out!’ and pushed away from Ray before it was too late–
Ray was more than he could’ve ever asked for. Henry knew it for sure as he gagged and retched and coughed and faintly registered the rim of a trash can under his chin. His ears were ringing again. He was shaking hard, so hard as his body expelled everything in his stomach. And Ray was still there, holding him steady.
Some amount of time went by. Henry coughed and spit the last of the bile into the trash can, and shuddered again.
“All done?”
One could hope. “Mh.”
“Okay, I– hold on hun, I gotta turn on a light. I’ll keep it dim, but you just keep your eyes closed if you need to, alright?”
His eyes were already closed. He could see through his eyelids the warm yellow light when Ray turned it on, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the TV. Ray brought him close again and he sighed. After a while, the door opened.
Henry drifted off a bit as Ray explained everything to Schwoz, and Schwoz took away the trash can and came back with a wet rag. Ray wiped his face clean, and they had him take some pills. Finally there was hope that his head would stop hurting.
The door closed and the light turned off. Ray sighed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. If Henry was any more awake, it might’ve made his brain short circuit. But right now, he just snuggled as close as he could to Ray as they got settled down again in the bed.
“Those meds kickin’ in, kiddo?” With his head against Ray’s chest, he could feel the vibration every time Ray spoke. It was surprisingly nice for his head.
“Mhm.”
“How’re you feeling?”
Oh, he was so tired, but he just had to say it. “Feelin’ gooooood.”
“There’s my boy.” Impossibly, the words made Henry feel even more warm and mushy. My boy. “Looks like you’re sleeping over again. Goodnight, and you know to wake me up if you need anything.”
“Night dad, love you.”
Ray laughed a little, Henry had no idea why. “Love you too, kid.”