Misc RH OC Scraps

[THE LARSONS] Sick Kid

(As a reminder, Adonis is a trans man who uses he/they pronouns and comes out in high school; but this story takes place when he is only four. Thus, Charlie will refer to them by their deadname and incorrect pronouns in dialogue, but the narrative will refer to them correctly.)

Charlie felt his four-year-old son's forehead, his hands trembling. They were burning up, even worse than they had been before. Little Adonis looked pale and was sweating horribly, he seemed so frail he could break at any moment. Charlie bit his fingernails in worry. He had taken the day off work to look after Adonis, and he had done everything he could— kept a cold towel on the kid's forehead, fed him soup, made sure he had enough water, kept him laying under two warm blankets.

It looked like the only way to break the fever would be to buy some medicine. But there was a fundamental problem with that plan. In order to buy medicine, Charlie would need to have money. That was the only thing he lacked as a parent.

He cupped his child's cheek in his hand. It was hot and wet. Adonis opened his watery eyes a tiny bit. Charlie moved on to ruffling his hair.

"Hey champ, I didn't wake you up, did I?" Charlie asked softly.

"I wasn't asleep," his voice was small and scratchy-- he hadn't used it much that day-- "it's just hard to keep my eyes open."

A jolt of fear went through Charlie. What did that mean? They couldn't be dying, could they!? He couldn't lose his kid this young. He didn't want to think of ever losing his kid. "That's okay, darling. Close your eyes again. Will you be okay if I go out for a little bit? I'm gonna go get you some medicine. It'll make you feel better."

Adonis obediently closed his eyes again, Charlie stopped stroking his hair and his head flopped to the side on his pillow. They didn't answer his question. Well, they would just have to be okay. He was getting that medicine. Charlie threw on his coat and rushed out the door. As he did, he dialed a number on his rudimentary cell phone.

"Mom, please, I need someone to look after Venus while I go to the store. She's sick. Really sick."

The voice from the other end of the line was harsh, maybe even a little triumphant. "What makes you think I should help? It's your spawn. It's your responsibility."

"You live barely ten minutes away, you can spare half an hour to make sure a child doesn't die!"

"If it dies, good riddance! The world could use less reminders of that woman that birthed it." She hung up. Charlie shut his flip phone angrily and put it back into his coat pocket, and he wiped the tears out of his eyes. He had been foolish to turn to her for help. He would just have to be fast about this, but it wasn't up to him, he had to wait for the bus. While he sat on the bench, his leg bounced up and down rapidly, and he couldn't help but think that every moment not spent by his son's side right now was a crime. He could see the image of them overheating in bed every time he blinked. Tears came easily. Finally the bus came and he rode it to the closest store.

He ran down the aisles until he found the medicine. There it was, children's Tylenol, strawberry flavor... Nine dollars. There was no smaller size bottle. No generic brand. He wasn't religious, but in that moment he prayed to any higher power who might be listening, he prayed that he would have nine dollars in his bank account. He took the medicine to the cashier and swiped his debit card.

Declined.

He stared at the text on the little card reader and his heart dropped down to his stomach.

"I'm sorry, sir," the cashier offered her sympathy. But sympathy didn't pay for anything. Quietly and stiffly, he put the bottle back on the shelf and wandered out onto the street. What could he do now? He looked up at the sky. Stars were already coming out. Nobody was around who he could even beg for money from. It was so late, soon no stores would be open, and Adonis would have to go a whole night without help.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned around, surprised, to see the cashier. She shyly offered him a dollar bill. "There's a small gambling parlor down the street, to your left. It's a long shot, but... I don't think you were buying children's Tylenol for yourself."

He could have kissed her, but instead he repeated "Thank you... Thank you!" and ran in the direction she indicated. Soon he saw it, a dingy one-story building with the sign falling off. He went in.

"Hello sir, welcome to--"

"Do you have slot machines?" Charlie interrupted him. The worker must have understood he was in a hurry, and he wordlessly pointed to the back corner where there was a row of them. "Thank you."

Charlie almost hesitated before putting his borrowed dollar into the machine. The last time he had gambled wasn't pretty. But this wasn't for his pleasure. It was for the one in a million chance that he could help his child. Do something right for once. He put the dollar in and closed his eyes-- he didn't dare look at the screen and get his hopes up if it wasn't going to happen. A musical ding rang out, and he peeked through one squinted eye.

It was a win. It was a win! Not the jackpot, but he had won a hundred dollars! Immediately he clicked the collect button, the machine printed him his voucher, and he found the cashout machine and exchanged it.

He held the five twenty-dollar bills he had received in his hands as if they were the finest porcelain. He could hardly believe it. A rush of endorphins, relief, washed over him. He glanced at the clock and remembered he was in a hurry. He thanked the parlor attendant again and went back to the store. The cashier's face lit up when she saw him again.

"Did you get it?" She asked, beaming.

Charlie took the Tylenol to her again, and on a second thought, he also grabbed a cute cartoon character notebook and some colored pencils. "My baby is gonna love these," he said as he handed the cashier one of the twenty-dollar bills.

"I'm glad!" she scanned his items and took care of the money. "Your change, sir."

"Please keep it. You were a lifesaver, thank you so much."

"Oh! It was my pleasure. Please come again, have a nice night!"

Charlie took his shopping bag, just caught the bus at its stop, and soon found his way back home. He burst through the door to his apartment, not bothering to be quiet. "Venus! I got your medicine!" He went to Adonis's room, they were in the same position they had been in when he'd left. He repeated their name, worried, and they opened their eyes and smiled vaguely at him.

"Daddy, welcome home," they whispered.

Charlie kissed his son on the forehead and sat on the edge of his bed, measuring out the portion of Tylenol that the bottle said was appropriate for four-year-olds. "How are you feeling?"

"Bad."

"Well, that's about to change... Drink up."

Adonis moved his arms to grab the tiny cup and drank it. "Bleh. It doesn't taste like strawberries," they stuck their tongue out in a show of disgust.

"That's okay, that's not it's real job. You should rest." He took the cup back and made to leave the room.

"Where are you going?"

Charlie stopped and looked back. "I'm just going to clean the cup and get you some more water. Oh, and I got a gift for you while I was out, I'll bring it here."

Adonis's little eyebrows were knit in a worried expression, but quickly it changed into an angelic smile as if they had never been worried at all. "Okay, dad. I love you."

"I love you too, princess."