Chronology

[HoneyBunny]

This thing has literally been unfinished for three years, but I finally decided to finish it after all lmao

 

 

 

Tissue number 1: shyly requested by him after a pair of itchy sneezes that left him sniffling liquidly, then pulled hastily from her purse. She shoves it into his hand as his brows draw together; mouth agape, nose crinkling. He lets tissue number 1 hover in front of his face for a second, then presses it to his nose with both hands as he is hit by one more sneezes Wiping his now running nose, the tissue does what it can, then makes its way into the pocket of his jeans as he asks her for another one, flustered and blushing.

 

Tissue number 2: finishes the job that tissue number 1 couldn’t do. He blows his nose into it, trying to stay quiet, but the sound is far too wet for his liking. He is not getting sick. He cannot be getting sick. He has a full day of classes and an essay to write, and he really doesn’t have time to get sick now, and… his nose is now undeniably runny. Tissue number 2 is wiped along the bottom of his nose as he gives a final sniff, then joins tissue number 1 in his pocket. He thanks her quietly.

                “Keep the pack. I have a feeling you’re gonna need those more than I do,” she says kindly. He blushes, but slips the plastic pack into his other pocket.

 

Tissue number 3: extracted from the pack at the beginning of class and placed strategically on the tiny desk in front of him, despite him still being adamant about not getting a cold. Subtly swiping it across his nostrils to hold up the stream of watery discharge, he folds it over, balls it up, uses every inch available to him. What he wouldn’t give to blow his nose properly, now that it’s leaking at a steady pace, but he doesn’t dare in the near-silent lecture theatre. Instead he keeps tissue number 3 balled up in his fist and waits patiently for the end of the lecture.

 

Tissue number 4: absorbs two hours’ worth of clear liquid seeping from his nose as he slips into an empty restroom after class. He blows into the tissue as hard as he can, making his ears pop; but hopefully it will keep his nose clear for the duration of lunch. It takes several tries to get his nasal passageways entirely free, and by now he has to admit himself that judging by the trouble his nose is giving him, he might very well be catching a cold. To his irritation, he sees in the mirror that his glistening nostrils are taking on a pinkish hue; but on the other hand he is grateful for being able to breathe again. Tissue number 4 is dropped in the garbage can as he exits the restroom, ready to meet up with his lunch date.

 

Tissue number 5: pressed tightly against his nose as he turns away from the lunch table. Sensing her concerned look on him, he tries to will the itch into submission – without much luck. He stifles a trio of sneezes into tissue number 5, sniffles quietly and turns back to the table with a slight blush rising to his cheeks. He barely manages to mutter half an apology before he is forced to twist away in his seat again, stifle-squelching another set of three.

                “Bless you. Are you alright, honey?” she asks worriedly.

                “Yeah, just a little under the weather. But I’ll be fine,” he replies, sniffling into the fist containing tissue number 5.

The tissue makes a few brief reappearances as he wipes his nose during lunch, but he does his best to look healthy. After their meal, she elicits a half-hearted promise of him to go home if he starts feeling worse. He can’t help but wonder if she has any more packs of tissues in that handbag of hers.

 

Tissue number 6: almost falling from trembling fingers, clamped over his mouth to muffle the coughs that have been shaking him for nearly two minutes now. His shoulders expand as he takes in a gulp of fresh air, only to be expulsed again by cramping lungs. Breath starting to take on a wheezing quality, he tries to take a sip of his tea at the next chance he gets. It seems to help soothe his throat and lungs for the moment, but as he takes another larger sip the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe, triggering another series of harsh, rattling coughs. The second he gets himself back under control, tissue number 6 is used to tend to his now streaming nose. He wipes a single tear off his cheek with the tissue’s last dry corner, pretends not to have white spots dancing in his vision, and goes back to writing his essay.

 

Tissue number 7: extracted from the plastic wrapper clumsily, using only one hand; his other hand is cupped over the lower half of his face in the aftermath of a particularly messy sneeze. Once again he can feel himself blushing, painfully aware of the attention he is drawing to himself in the quiet library. He wipes his hand and nose on tissue number 7 and waits for the next two sneezes in his customary set of three, but they won’t come. Instead they tease him, a tingling feeling deep in his sinuses, a buzzing almost like a busy beehive, so intense a single tear slips out of the corner of his eye. He rubs his nose through the tissue, violently, willing the organ to grant him the sweet satisfying release of a sneeze (or two). Finally they come, in quick succession this time, and he wishes he could forever hide his face in the tissue as he senses the indignant stares of the other library users on him. He tries to blow his nose as quietly as he possibly can, so as not to attract any more attention, and throws tissue number 7 in the garbage can by his desk. If this cold gets any worse he will have to exile himself to his room, offering him the privacy to sneeze, sniffle and blow his nose as he pleases.

 

Tissue number 8: placed strategically on his desk next to his notebook in anticipation of the next fit of sneezes, which has been teasing him for a good fifteen minutes now. He carefully lifts the tissue to his face as the tickle finally materializes into a physical reflex. He stifles three squelching sneezes and quietly, wetly, blows his nose. Tissue number 8 is soaked beyond its capacity, but he is overly conscious of the dwindling number of remaining tissues in the pack, so he folds and unfolds the tissue and reuses it over and over again to tend to his running nose. He wonders how his day would have turned out if she hadn’t graciously handed him the pack in the morning.

 

Tissue number 9: balled up and kept in his hand, he wipes it across the bottom of his nose periodically as he walks through the crisp winter air towards the bus station. Finally admitting defeat, he is making his way home to wallow in self-pity in the privacy of his own room. Stuffed up as his nose may be, it is still running continuously and he wishes he could blow properly, but this is second-to-last tissue and he doesn’t want to waste it. He’ll save it for when he really needs it.

                And need it, he does. After walking in the cold for a few minutes, his nose feels like it is frozen solid. So it’s not surprising that he can’t feel the tickle deep in his sinuses coming on until the very last second. The first desperate sneeze he directs loosely towards the hand that is holding the balled-up tissue, and in the short break before the next paroxysm he unfolds it properly and cups it over the lower half of his face. He sneezes again – and again, and again, and again, and again. After six wrenching sneezes he is flustered, dizzy, and more congested than ever. After a disappointingly weak noseblow, he bids tissue number 9 farewell, and settles for having to breathe through his mouth.

 

Tissue number 10: fumbled for in his pocket with fingers that are frozen stiff. Raised to his face in the last second, it catches one particularly desperate sneeze. Three syllables, which is unusual for him; but by now he is sure he has contracted the plague, so all bets are off. He waits for the next two sneezes in his usual set of three, head tipped back and tissue number 10 hovering a few inches above his face. Even the tissue’s rough cotton fibres rubbing against his reddened nostrils can’t relieve the sensation of feathers in his nose. He folds the tissue in half, pinch-wipes his nose with it – until he sneezes into it twice more and restores the natural order of his sneeze patterns. Folding tissue number 10 over once more, he gives a light blow before tossing it in the nearest garbage can.

 

Out of tissues: Copious amounts of wriggling and crinkling his nose can’t prevent his brow from furrowing and his lips from parting in anticipation once more. His hand dips into his pocket, reaching for the tissues that have been his most valued possession today. But then – he realizes he’s used them all, nothing left but the transparent plastic wrapper. “Damn,” he mutters to himself, sniffing hard to try and prevent the next set of sneezes. It’s no use though, and soon he is forced to cup both his hands over his nose. He barks three sneezes into them, back-to-back as ever, but louder, more violent than he is used to.  For a second he closes his eyes – whether out of exhaustion or embarrassment, he doesn’t really know – and sniffles wetly, determined to make it home without having to ask a stranger for tissue number 11.

[bcj1027]

Ok so WOW!!!!! I absolutely love this story! This is such a cool concept, I love the tissue countdown! I really hope you continue this story! Maybe he could spread it to one of his cute frat bros lol! Anyways just wanted to say I think you did a great job on this, the writing is really good and it’s a really cool idea! Thanks!

[CharliesGirl]

This is an AWESOME story! Please oh please continue! 

[macrotwentytwo]

Good stuff

[Hajo]

What a hot story! Many thanks! 

[sneezy24]

This is incredible! Really unique writing and brilliant description