(Archived) Poth Short Stories and One-Shots

Sharing is Caring - Chapter 2 (End)

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.