"Stop." The word comes out sharper than she intended. She pushes off from the desk, closing the distance between them in two quick strides. Her hand catches Cara's wrist, not hard, just enough to halt the movement.

"You're not leaving yet. I haven't decided—" She cuts herself off. Too many options spinning through her head, and the backlash is starting to make itself known. A dull ache behind her eyes.

She needs to pick something. Anything. Before this gets worse.

"Sit back down. On the floor this time. Right here?" She points to a spot at her feet.

-She sits down at Vera's feet.

The contact helps. Just her hand on Cara's wrist, and already the pressure behind her eyes eases slightly. She lets go, then sits on the edge of the bed, looking down at the girl on the floor.

"Good." She reaches out, lets her fingers rest against Cara's temple. The touch is light but deliberate. "Just... stay there for a minute."

She needs to think. Needs to pick one thing, commit to it, instead of drowning in possibilities. Her head is swimming.

"Tell me something true about yourself. One thing."

"I don't talk to my parents anymore." 

"Why?"

"...transphobia." 

Her fingers still against Cara's temple. That wasn't what she expected. Something personal, unprompted.

"Hm." She lets the silence stretch for a moment, then shifts her hand to card through Cara's hair. The motion is almost gentle. "And you live alone in that apartment."

It's not a question. The pieces are clicking together - no dorm, no mention of roommates, that particular flavor of exhaustion she'd noticed earlier.

It's sufficiently non-question-y that Cara doesn't answer!

Her sad little meow meow. Her scrungly wungly guy.

Soooo scrungly.

Soaks her in milk and throws it against the wall.

Splat!

OK. OK. Focus.

Her head swims and she throws up.

It doesn't get on the floor! Because there's an esper right at her feet to get vomited on instead. (Most of it lands on the pink robe.)

Her fucking robe!

Also the Cara! 

But mostly the robe, yeah.

She freezes, looking down at the mess. The smell hits her immediately - acidic, sharp. Her stomach turns.

"Fuck." She shoves Cara away from her, stumbling back. "Fuck, that's—"

Too many choices, too many branching paths, and now this. Her hands shake as she grabs tissues from her desk, trying to clean the worst of it off.

"Get—get me a towel. From the bathroom." She points toward the door. "Now."

She goes and grabs a towel from the bathroom, holding it out to Vera as she comes back.

She looks down at the mess. At Cara, standing there covered in her vomit, still staring with those vacant eyes. The room reeks.

Deep breath. The nausea is overwhelming and she's starting to think about what went wrong.

1. "Take off the robe. Carefully. Don't get any more on the floor."
2. "Give me the towel."
3. "I think I'm going to pass out."
4. "How much water can you aspirate?"
5. "H"
6. "Can I hug you"
7. "Can I hug you"
8. "Can I hug you"
9. "Why is it so bright in here"

Cara stares blankly at her.

Vera looks so overwhelmed... she wants to give her a hug.

She takes the towel with shaking hands. Wipes at the worst of it, trying not to breathe through her nose.

"Take it off." The words come out steadier than she feels. "The robe. Just—drop it there."

She needs to focus on one thing. One simple thing. Not the smell, not the mess.

She falls down and hits her head on the bed.

She takes the robe off and drops it where Vera pointed. 

The impact sends a sharp spike of pain through her temple. She stays down, curled on her side on the floor, pressing her face against the cool vinyl.

"Fuck." Her voice comes out muffled. "Just—help me up. Onto the bed."

The room spins when she tries to lift her head. She needs the contact. Needs to guide and be guided before this gets worse.

She crouches down, slides her arms underneath Vera's, and tries to pull her up into the bed. 

The contact helps immediately. The spinning slows, the nausea recedes just enough that she can help push herself up with Cara's support. She collapses onto the bed, pulling Cara down with her.

"Just—stay." Her arms wrap around the other girl, skin against skin. The guiding flows between them, easier now without barriers. "Don't move."

She buries her face against Cara's shoulder, breathing shallow. The smell of sick is still there but it matters less than the relief spreading through her body

1. hold on
2. guide
3. breathe