Under Seven Minutes // Private RP

With Amanda's kindly question rose yet another problem. If she ate, Violeta knew she would throw up immediately after. Not purposely from an eating disorder, but from sheer, instinctual disgust at herself. It wasn't usually this bad, but…. How could she refuse food in front of Amanda and Aria? To add to it all, Grayson had cooked this meal. He'd take it as a personal offense, and who knew what he'd do to her afterwards…

"The food is delicious, thank you," she replied after a bite, an honest reply. "I'm sorry—I've been a bit sick recently, and I don't want to eat too much in case I upset my stomach again." A partial lie, but one for the better…

Gray’s head lifted up at her comment. He furrowed his eyebrows in worry. She was sick? Was that why he kept seeing her eat too little at school?

He swallowed thickly and stood up, his palms pressing on the table as he looked at Violeta.

“You should have mentioned that,” he said softly. “Can you hold in porridge or something? I can whip something up real quick, something easy on the stomach if you don’t like porridge.”

Violeta's head snapped up. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly—–was that concern she heard in his voice? But instead of being touched, she grew angry. Was this really how far he wanted to take this twisted game of his? Pretending to be worried, even when in his own home? He must really hate me…

"No, that's fine, thank you," she spoke finally, lowering both her eyes and her voice. "The pasta's fine, and I wouldn't want to inconvenience you."

“You wouldn’t be,” Gray shook his head, trying to ignore the looks Amanda was sending him secretly. Or the fact that Violeta’s voice was hard. He didn’t blame her for hating him. “You don’t have to eat that if you’re sick. I’m only going to take a few minutes.”

Violeta didn't know what he was up to, neither did she want to find out, so she merely shook her head a second time.

"Please, Grayson, sit back down," she answered, softening her voice in case Amanda or Aria found her rude. "I'm fine, I promise, and the food you made is really good. Thank you, though."

God, how it pained her to thank him…..

He wished her words had some sincerity in them. Though Amanda and Ari didn’t notice, he certainly did. The bite in her words, that is. Gray nearly flinched, but forced himself to remain calm. He slowly took his seat, eyes flickering to Violeta again. What if the sauce in the spaghetti made her sicker? What if the baked chicken spices weren’t good for her stomach? And the fried rice—rice generally made him sicker. What if she got sick? Because of him, no less?

“If you’re sure…” he found himself murmuring, his attention back on his plate. A part of him knew why she was refusing. He just wished it was wrong.

Violeta relaxed significantly once Grayson was seated once again. Enough of his pretending. Enough of the way he twists his words, trying to make me believe he cares. He even went so far as to look wounded—how far was he willing to take this?

Doing her best not to look up at him again, she lifted a forkful of spaghetti to her lips. She hesitated briefly, but forced herself to chew and swallow it, ignoring the bile that immediately rose to her throat.

Amanda, much to Gray’s relief, cut through the tense atmosphere. Even their usual, cheerful Aria was quiet.

“How was college, you both?” She asked after she swallowed her food. “Gray’s told me a little bit. You’re interested in arts, right?”

The relief died down immediately. What was she doing? Would she stop trying to match him and Violeta together? Why tell her he talks about her? She hates him as it is.

Panic shot through her system—–what had he told her? But she managed to bring a soft smile to her lips and nod, swallowing a second bite with some difficulty. "Yeah, I'm majoring in Studio Art. Painting, mostly. College is good, it's nice to have a bit of a fresh start."

Violeta's eyes flickered to Grayson, a silent, hostile question. What have you told her?

“Gray also—“

“How is your restaurant, Amanda?” Gray interrupted, ignoring the look Violeta shot towards him, and sending Amanda a warning one of his own. His foster mother merely smiled. “You came back home rather tired.”

“It was tiring,” Amanda agreed. “Busy day, but I managed to close down in time to eat with you three.”

She took a sip of water before looking at Violeta again.

“Thank you for joining us, Violeta,” she said softly. “Aria’s improved a lot thanks to you. I’m glad it’s you who’s tutoring her.”

"You're welcome," Violeta answered, and for the first time since the dinner had begun, traces of a genuine smile lined her mouth. "Aria is always a pleasure to teach."

She took note of how abruptly Gray continued to cut his mother off….. what was going on here? Was he merely trying to prevent an embarrassing misinterpretation?

Gray found himself to be mesmerized by the smile on her face. Unlike the ones he was used to seeing, this one was real. Though it was small, it was real. His heart soared, but he looked away quickly before he got caught staring.

“If Gray ever bothers you at school,” Amanda started with the same, sly smile. “Do tell me. I’ll fix him up real good.”

“Then it seems you need to fix him a lot…” Aria muttered under her breath, poking at her peas. Receiving a hard glare from her brother, she immediately began to eat the peas.

The smile immediately dropped from Violeta's face, enough to be easily perceived by each member at the dinner table. You're a few years late for that, Ms. Reeves, she thought to herself, in silent agreement with Aria, but she merely nodded. "I—Thank you," I murmured awkwardly, gluing my eyes to my nearly untouched food.

The smile dropped from Violeta’s face and it sent a pang through Gray. She hated him that much, huh? Both Amanda and Aria noticed, and his mother shot him a glare. He merely shrugged in reply.

“I think that’s enough, Amanda,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Anyway, if you’re done, I’ll take away the plates.”

He stood up slowly, picking up his plate and grabbing the empty ones from the table. He noticed Violeta’s plate was barely touched, and instead of feeling upset, he felt worried. If she had been sick… she should have told them. She could have taken the day off.

As Gray was taking away the plates, Amanda called after him, “You overcooked the noodles and the sauce needed a bit more time. Also, next time when you’re marinating the chicken, add a bit more yogurt to it.”

“Yes, mother,” came Gray’s sarcastic reply as he vanished into the kitchen.

Once Grayson's lingering presence was gone from the dining room, Violeta felt like she could breathe again. She raised her head enough to meet her hostess's eyes, mouth moving to form an apology. "I'm sorry for my behaviour tonight, Ms. Reeves. I haven't been feeling very well, but it's no excuse."

Another half truth…. She sighed to herself, reaching for her water. But no sooner had she swallowed, that the recollection of her dinner came rushing back. Six forkfuls… I ate six forkfuls…

Nausea overtook her."

Amanda frowned.

“It’s okay,” she assured the student. “We’re just pleased that you’re here. But still, Violeta, you should have told us you were unwell. We would have done this another day.”

In the kitchen, Gray set a pot on the stove, filling it with water. He set it to a bowl, leaning against the counter, waiting so he could toss in some green tea leaves.

"It's nothing contagious," Violeta hastened to reassure her, pressing a hand against her stomach. "I've got a few… issues. And it's fine, really, it's not that bad. Like I said, it's always a pleasure to teach Aria." But anyone paying close enough attention would have seen her shoulders, rising and falling at an accelerated speed as her breaths came quicker, fuelled by the nausea forming in her gut.

Six forkfuls.… how could you do that?

Gray leaned against the wall, furrowing his eyebrows when he noticed the slightly pale face of Violeta. She seemed to be taking harsh breaths, her arms around her stomach. Did she… crap.

Before his foster mother could say anything, Gray spoke up.

“I think she needs to use a little break,” he said nonchalantly. “Violeta, you can freshen up in the bathroom. There’s a guest room down the hall, first door to the right. You can use the restroom there.”

I hesitated as my eyes flicked back and forth between Grayson and his mother. For a brief second, confusion clouded them. But, no matter the reason, I seized the opportunity he had given me and nodded, rising to my feet.

Six…. forkfuls….

"Thank you…" I murmured, and was gone.

His mother and sister didn’t say anything as Gray walked back into the kitchen and checked on the tea he was making. He added a small amount of cinnamon before he let it be. Worry for Violeta gnawed at his throat and before Gray could stop himself, he followed after her.

Violeta pushed the door shut behind her, locking it before sliding down to the ground, breathing heavily. Relax, she told herself harshly, squeezing her eyes shut. You cannot throw up at your student's house. Can you imagine how appalled Ms. Reeves would be? If you want your job and your reputation, keep it together and calm down.

It was easier said than done.

Gray didn’t know what to do. Clearly she was feeling unwell, but was it her sickness, or was it something else?

He leaned against the wall, staying there unless she needed someone.

The thought of food…. the thought of the pasta, and its delicious aroma…. the memory of its taste, blooming on her tongue….

Suddenly, it was too much. Bile rose to her throat, and this time, she couldn't swallow it quickly enough. It was all she could do to lean over the toilet in time… before she had emptied the meagre contents of her stomach neatly into the bowl.

Gray winced as he heard her throw up, wanting nothing more than to be there, comforting her. It was a silly thing to wish for, but it was still there.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

You’re going to be okay, Vy. I promise. I’m sorry.

As soon as she was done, her eyes widened in horror. I just threw up. In the house of the little girl I teach. Oh my god— How was she going to explain this to Ms. Reeves? There was no mess once she flushed the toilet, but a faint smell lingered in the air, and the deed was done.

Scrambling to her feet, Violeta hurriedly looked around. Don't they have Febreze? Or air freshener? She wasn't going to cover up what she'd done, of course she would confess, but she had to fix her mistake. Finally locating a bottle, she began to spritz the sweet-smelling liquid into the air, her movements choppy and panicked.

Gray pushed himself off of the wall, gritting his teeth. He wanted to hold her, tell her it was okay. It happens, but he couldn’t.

So he walked back into the kitchen and poured the green tea into a cup.

Finally, Violeta opened the window a smidge, letting cool air waft into the room. This is your fault, she told herself, unlocking the door, Now face the consequences,

With her head low, she made her way back to the family.

Gray had just poured the tea into a cup when Violeta emerged from the bathroom.

“Violeta,” he called her over softly, walking towards her and held out the tea. “Here. Drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”

I hope.

Violeta blinked up at him, confusion clouding her gaze. After a brief moment, she accepted the teacup and turned to Amanda, struggling to form the right words. How was she supposed to explain this?

“I—I’m sorry, I—“

“It’s okay,” Amanda assured the girl gently. “Don’t worry about it. It’s completely okay.”

“Are you feeling better, V?” Aria tugged on the girl’s sleeve. “I’m sorry… you came because of me, even when you were sick…”