Elliott x Reader One Shots - Stardew Valley

9. Tom Kha Soup

 Note: This chapter has to do with brief illness (just a cold). Given the state of things right now, I figured it'd be appropriate to give a warning in case anyone would rather avoid this topic. If you'd rather not engage with this chapter, feel free to skip it and I'll catch you at the next one. Cheers.

 Shortly after the night of Elliott's reading, a flu began to spread between the people of Pelican Town. Harvey did his best to keep people informed and encourage health-preserving habits, but there was really only so much he could do. Unfortunately, though he had tried to heed Harvey's advice, Elliott was also among those who had fallen ill. When his symptoms appeared, he shut himself in, and I had scarcely heard from him since.

  He wasn't particularly fond of modern technology, which was just fine in Pelican Town. Most people got by without it, and those of us who did like to partake had to endure a frustratingly slow internet speed. While we both preferred speaking in person, or the occasional hand-written note, we made do with our phones for the time being. Though I had to admit, the mental image of someone so outwardly anachronistic as Elliott using a smart phone was certainly amusing. 

  But the sparing texts just weren't quite enough, and I found myself missing his company. The snow was fairly deep outside now, and I couldn't bring myself to kill time with excessive trips into town. I had re-read just about every book I owned and knit until my fingertips were sore. Anything to keep my mind busy.

  Eventually though, I ran out of things to do and my will to keep my distance was fading. I had thought I was doing a good job of holding strong, until I suddenly regained consciousness and found myself in my kitchen, hovering over a pot of chicken soup as it simmered. It wasn't my fault, or at least that's what I told myself. I had simply made too much, and what kind of person would I be if I didn't share the excess with my terribly ill friend? After taking the necessary precautions, I tapped out a quick message on my phone and made for the front door, soup thermos in hand. So much for avoiding the snow. 

  When I arrived on at the beach, I was thankful that the shoreline had washed away at least some of the otherwise thick layer of snow, and it was easier to trudge through. After giving a brief knock, I reached for the door handle and pushed it open. Elliott laid on his bed in the far corner of the room, looking more disheveled than I'd ever seen him. 

"Hello, ____," his usually rich voice came out in a low scratch. 

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"A little better, actually," he replied, sitting up a bit. "The fever finally broke."

"That's good, at least," I said. "I've brought you some soup. It's chicken noodle, so it should help with that sore throat of yours."

"You're too kind," he croaked. 

"Would you like to have some now, or should I put it away for you?" I asked. He sat up completely, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. 

"I'm starving actually," he admitted. "I haven't had much of an appetite for the last few days. I'll get us some bowls." 

"No, no," I insisted. "I'll get them, you just stay there, alright?" 

"You're the boss," he shrugged. I rolled my eyes in an effort to fight the smile tugging at my cheeks as I entered the walk-in closet beside his bed. As I poured the soup into the bowl, I realized it would probably be best if I didn't stay for a meal. I had already risked exposure just being there, and I didn't want to push my luck any further. I emerged from the closet, carefully passing the bowl to Elliott. 

"You didn't serve yourself?" he asked.

"I brought it for you," I excused. "I've got some back at home. Besides, I probably shouldn't stay long." He nodded.