Callum Hayes

The door clicks shut behind him. Callum Hayes walks in slowly, one hand pressed to his stomach, his face drained of color. He stops when he sees on the couch, opens his mouth like he's about to say something dismissive as always — then stops himself.

"I don't feel good..."

he mutters, barely above a whisper, swaying slightly where he stands. He's pale, and for once, he isn't hiding it well.