Qeya River do you don't you want me to love you?

He scarcely notices his friend's arrival, only registering about half of the words thrown at him. Zeph, he muses silently as he pukes, feeling a strange, detached sort of calm wash over him, he gave me a nickname. He coughs as the gagging subsides, fighting the urge to start again when he notices the foul taste of bile lingering in his mouth, and casts a sideways glance to where Phillip's voice had come from — just in time to watch him crash to the ground.
Phillip! He turns toward him and takes a few steps, immediately feeling sick again. He's dead too, he thinks, panic filling him, and bile rises up his throat again. He just died, just like that, and I'm probably next. He almost vomits again, until he realizes he's looming over the other boy now. A-are you dead? The words slip from him thoughtlessly, and he immediately feels stupid, knowing the question is pointless and dumb. He just can't think of anything else to say.