Momma CQ Oneshots [REQUESTS ARE OPEN]

Workaholic

  Work. That is all the tall, middle-aged skeleton knew since he graduated. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know how, but has he ever thought about it? Even though everything was going perfectly, he just wouldn’t look away from that darn book of information. All day, all night, all week, all he knew was work. He paid close attention to his patients more than he paid attention to his family around him. But he didn’t notice. His mind was too flooded with the information that he didn’t pay attention to his relatives. His wife, his son, his brothers… He was away from everyone, and they were missing him. Still, he didn’t notice.

  “Honey, you are…overworking…How about a break..?”

  “Bro, don’t you think you are overworking lately?”

  “Ah, come on! I came here just to visit   you, but you won’t even look at my face? Look up from that darn book!”

  He knew he was overworking. He was aware. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to stop. Even if he wanted to stop, he couldn’t. Why couldn’t he? Why couldn’t he look away? He tried to get away, but it was too late for it…

  72 hours. He had been awake for straight 72 hours. He was going for the 73rd hour, and he wasn’t complaining. He had already made peace with the fact that he was addicted to his work. He hadn’t eaten anything properly, either. He was hungry, cold, sleepy, tired… But he didn’t pay attention to it, np matter how unhealthy and dangerous it was. He had thought he had no reason to hide his eyes, and for a little while, he would go out with his obnoxious shades off. That was until he looked at himself in the mirror some weeks later. In just some weeks, his sleep schedule was destroyed, only by him. He had dark, small circles under his eyes, making him look so tired and miserable. However, he was okay. Heh, weird body, right? He had no reason to show his eyes now; it wasn’t like they were interesting.

  He was fine.

  He didn’t need help. There were people in worse shape than him.

  But again, overworking wasn’t a bad thing, was it?

...Was it?

___________________________

  “G-gh-!” Was the last sound that came out of his mouth before he fell down his chair he has been sitting for an absurd amount of time. His pen flew on the cold, hard floor, making a clank sound as it fell. Fresh eyed it. He eyed the pen, as if he was angry at the pen. Everything hurt. He is shaking, whimpering in pain on his whole body. Right after the 73rd hour of no sleep and no proper eating habits, he had gone weak. His hands were the shakiest ones of all. He tried, tried but could not steady them. The ice-cold drops of sweat ran through his face as his face flushed a deep purple. He looked miserable. He had not noticed that he was on the ground for a couple minutes. Has minutes always been this short?

  “Fresh?” Someone came in. Deccy? The tall skeleton couldn’t make sure. Everything was starting to get blurry. The sound was not that great, either. There was a small tingling sound against his non-existent ears, causing a huge headache to him. It hurt. He did not consider why.

  After some seconds of silence, the person spoke again. This time, they were more worried? At least that was what it sound to him.

"F-Fresh!"

  But it was too late. Before the person could even reach him, Fresh felt the darkness surround his vision, causing some more screams from whoever the heck that was. Before he blacked out, he heard a younger man’s and a woman’s gentle voices, too. Who could they be, he wondered. However, as he wondered, the ache in his head became more unbearable to handle. He just decided to stop thinking. Here…was quite nice. His body did not feel heavy. Nothing hurt when he was just standing here. All those thoughts, overthinking and anxiety about anything was suddenly gone. He liked it here. He wished he could stay longer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Be okay…please, be okay…” Were the first words he heard, pain on his body and mostly head being the first thing he felt. He did not make any sounds, scared that more attention would be wasted on him. He just slowly opened his sore eye sockets and took a look at where he was, and who those people were. One was a woman, her hair brown. She had some glasses on and a worried expression. Alaina? Was that her? He couldn’t quite remember. She was bouncing one of her legs up and down. The other was a skeleton taller than him. He was quite neon. Could that be Zigzag? Gosh, how long had it been since they even looked at each other? Fresh felt guilty now. Lastly, he looked at the other person. Deccy? He was trying to look tough, but it seemed like he could not, as some yellow tears rolled down his cheekbones. Why were they so worried? He just couldn’t understand. Why would they be worried over someone who rarely spent time with them?

  “Fresh...?” Who is that? The voices are too similar. “Fresh! Thank Goodness!” This was another voice. At least he could tell that. Before he could think more, he felt two arms wrap around his neck, then some laughing sounds from everyone in the room. The next were cherishing sounds. What…is happening…?

  “Ziggy, kiddo, your father’s still sick…” Was that Deccy?

  “Oh… R-right.” With that, the person who was hugging the doctor, which Fresh thought was Zigzag, pulled away and looked at his father. “We…were worried…”

  Fresh did not say anything. The only thing he did was to blink and stare around the room, trying to see everything clearly. It was going to take a long time, that was for sure. Until then, he decided to listen to what had happened.

  “I had told you ya were overworking…” Murmured the smallest of all, Deacns under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear. Had he really been awake that long? It was like some minutes to him. “W-we could lose you! You hadn’t eaten in days! N-nor slept! You know how dangerous it is, right?” Those words felt so real. It was as it they were genuinely worried about him. Still, he couldn’t understand why.

  “…S…s-sorry…” The taller skeleton’s voice was sore and croacky. It sounded so bad, sad and miserable. Even he himself felt bad.

  “I-it’s okay, just…don’t do that again…please…”

  All Fresh did was to shake his head. He couldn’t get rid of this. He could not stop working. He knew this was not the best way to work, but that had already became an addiction. He didn’t want to stop it. There was just too much to do first.

  “Waddaya mean ‘no’? This is important, Fresh... You’re hurting yourself…and you can’t even see it…?”

Fresh kept quiet.

"Fresh..."

  Still, nothing came from the other’s mouth. Just some purple tears out of his eye sockets, falling down on the fluffy blanket. Then he noticed. He was on a bed0, their bed, his and Alaina’s. It had been so long since he has been here. He had an iced cloth on his forehead. Was he that fevered?

  An awkward silence came next, making everyone on edge.

  “…I’ll…t…try my b-best…”

Hey, look who decided to be bored :)