The moment the bell rang to end the school day, Palette raced out of the room and through the hallways. Ignoring the hall monitor yelling for him to slow down, he blew past the double doors leading outside and leaped over the staircase completely.
He continued his breakneck pace out the school gates and down the sidewalk, scarf fluttering wildly behind him as he dodged the groups of startled people and monsters heading home. He didn't slow until he came upon the house of a certain skeleton.
Racing up the porch, pausing only to catch his breath, the monster banged on the door.
Nothing.
"GOTH?" he yelled, banging once more.
Still nothing.
As he was about to try again, he heard the faint sound of a deadbolt turning. A moment later, the door slid open and a faded eye light met his starry ones.
"Palette...? What're you doing here?" Goth asked, his voice heavy with sleep as he pushed the door open wider.
"Making sure you're okay," the taller replied, taking in his friend's appearance.
He was dressed in a grey hoodie and black sweatpants, though the hood did nothing to hide his ashen complexion, flushed face, and sunken eye sockets containing an unfocused and hazy eye light. A trembling hand was gripping the door frame, likely using it to maintain balance, and his breathing was coming out in short huffs.
A small part of his mind noted his signature scarf was missing.
It's weird to see him without it.
He looked past Goth into the house. He heard the television, but the living room was empty and devoid of sound or movement.
"Where's Mister Geno and Mister Reaper?" Palette asked, tilting his head to the side, "Usually, this kind of thing would send your mom into panic mode."
Now that I really think about it, Goth doesn't get sick very often... but the few times I've seen him get sick, it hit him pretty hard and had him laid out all day.
"Mom... he went to the store... about an hour ago... said we were out of medicine... Dad's at work...," Goth replied, his eye light cast downward and his face scrunched up in thought. As if remembering the information was taking physical effort.
"Well, that's no good," Kicking off his boots and setting his bag down, Palette closed the door, "someone needs to be here to look out for you!"
"You don't have to, P-"
"Nonsense!" Palette interrupted, wrapping an arm around the sick skeleton's shoulder and leading him to the couch. The lack of resistance as Goth stumbled along combined with the heat radiating off his body only solidified the taller skeleton's resolve further.
Pulling out his phone to text his mom once he'd safely deposited his friend on the couch, he continued "What kind of monster would I be if I left you here on your own, knowing you didn't feel good? You look like you're barely able to stand, what if something happens? Plus, it's more fun having company, right?"
It's also probably my fault that Goth's sick in the first place...
"Yeah...," Goth answered with a resigned sigh and a slight nod, sinking into the couch as Palette sat down and turned to the television. It was playing some cartoon with a small, curly-haired human wielding a pink shield.
After a few minutes of silently watching the cartoon, a faint whistling sound started up. As it rose in volume, Palette cocked his head to the side in askance.
"The kettle... mom recommended tea earlier... the water must be ready," Goth answered slowly, pushing himself to get off the couch. He barely made it one step before he started wobbling. Boney arms reached out to catch him as he crumpled forward with a soft grunt. Placing him back on the couch, Palette got up and headed for the kitchen, "I'll get it, you wait here."
Goth didn't protest, groaning softly without even bothering to open his sockets. Palette frowned as guilt pricked at his soul.
How did Goth manage to make it to the door earlier like this?
Reaching the kitchen, he spotted the kettle screaming on the stove. Luckily, everything else had already been set out on the counter, Palette just had to pour the water into a green cup and put in the tea bag. The packet read 'White Tea'.
Bringing the cup back out, he handed it to Goth, getting a quiet 'Thank you' in reply. Taking a small sip, the small skeleton cringed.
"What's wrong?" the taller skeleton hovered in concern.
He settled when Goth stuck out his tongue and muttered, "Bitter... needs honey."
With a mild snort, Palette got up to retrieve the honey. As he returned, a thought came to him, "Hey, if Mister Geno had to go to the store, what's taking him so long? Can't he teleport?"
"Oh, um...," his question received a blush, "the last time... when he was in a hurry... it caused a small riot. Swat got involved... someone phoning the police about a 'crazy monster'... now he just drives the car instead."
Palette laughed at the absurd explanation. "It's not funny," Goth huffed while grabbing the honey and squeezing it into the steaming cup with some effort, though he was trying to hide a tired smile of his own, "police had to bring mom home... once they sorted everything out."
"Humans are weird," the giddy skeleton wiped a tear from his eye socket. Goth hummed in agreement before they went back to watching cartoons in a comfortable silence, only broken by the occasional sound of tea being sipped, coughing, and the clock on the wall ticking.
At some point, Palette's right arm had draped itself across the back of the couch. He'd been zoning out on the latest cartoon, one following the daily life of three bears, when a warm weight fell into his right shoulder. Looking down revealed it was Goth. A blush burned onto the startled monster's face.
"Goth?!" he choked out. A single dazed eye light glanced up at him questioningly. His blush deepened.
How can he look so cute?
"Oh, I... I zoned out, I guess... 'm sorry...," he murmured, eventually figuring out why the other had reacted.
As he pulled away, Palette quickly stammered, "No! It's fine. If you're feeling tired, you should rest... I don't mind at all."
Staring at him for a moment, the hooded skeleton mumbled out a drowsy 'Thank you' before easing back into place. Before long, his breathing slowly evened out as sleep took over.
It's late and he's sick, it only makes sense that he would feel sleepy. I'm kind of surprised he managed to stay awake as long as he did.
Careful not to wake his friend, Palette plucked the lukewarm tea from Goth's limp hands and set it on the table. Lowering the volume on the television for good measure, he leaned back and let his mind wander...
---
"Honey, I'm-!" Geno burst through the door, grocery bags in his left hand... only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of his son and Palette sleeping on the couch with only the light of the television and a fading sunset illuminating the room.
Goth was snuggled into Palette's right side while the taller skeleton had his right arm wrapped around the smaller, his head laying against the back of the couch as he snored softly.
Suppressing a squeal, Geno pulled out his phone to snap a quick picture. Then he texted Dream to make sure it was alright for Palette to stay the night while walking over to the closet to retrieve a blanket. It would be a shame to wake the sleeping couple, after all.
***
I'm betting people can figure out the shows referenced in this chapter...
Also, I'm curious as to whether you guys prefer the fluffy chapters or the dramatic/hurt and comfort chapters. I've been trying to alternate between both... but if you guys prefer one over the other, I may start focusing more on that. Let me know in the comments what you guys are craving! As always, I'm always up for prompts or suggestions.
Also also... the plot bunnies may have struck again... right now I'm staring at a three page, eighteen chapter outline I've made for a Poth story... I'll probably end up making this into a completely separate book. It'll take some time to hammer out the details, but be on the lookout for that (I'll post here about it once I get things sorted out).
Anyways, ciao for now~
Word Count: 1,283