Why Don't We Sickfics

Stomach Virus

Corbyn slouched down on the couch, mindlessly flicking through TV stations. He'd been nothing but bored since quarantine started. They were a few months in and he was missing the studio. Stuck at home, he really wished he had something else to do. After three weeks straight of pumping out songs, his creative streak was over and he was in the bored mindset now. Ordinarily, he would have wanted to play his song to the band, see what they were thinking. And while they texted ideas back and forth, nothing compared to being in a studio together, being able to plug your phone into a speaker and hear the music out loud so everyone could listen together. It felt a lot safer when you were there and could judge the reactions in the room.

He'd been looking for some new hobbies. Anything would work, really. Drawing occupied a bit of his time, but he got halfway through a drawing of a lunar module before he gave up. Then he tried swimming in the pool in his backyard, but swimming laps got tiring fast, and there wasn't much fun in having a pool with nobody else there.

At least he had one useful hobby he was trying to pick up-- cooking. Before quarantine, his culinary skills amounted to pouring himself a bowl of cereal, or making a sandwich. That was good enough when he was with the rest of the band, when their label was paying them enough money that they could afford to order food delivery most of the time.

Now, he wanted to really learn. He was tired of eating tasteless, simple meals that came from the frozen aisle of the grocery store. So, when it came time to go grocery shopping, he collected some recipes, donned a mask, and picked out the perfect ingredients.

His first trial run in the kitchen was chaotic, to say the least. He thought he could manage making a spaghetti and meatballs dish, with chocolate chip cookies afterwards. It was simple... or so he thought. By the end of his cooking escapade, there was flour all over a counter, tomato sauce smeared in the sink, and his apron was covered in random food splatters. The food was... fine. The meatballs might have been falling apart, he might have served an overly massive portion of spaghetti, and perhaps the cookies were a little... burnt. But, hey, it was edible. Kind of.

But he was convinced he could do better. If not for his own sake, then for the sake of being able to sing his song "Friends" without feeling a pinch of guilt every time he lied when he sang about his cooking skills.

It was lunch the next day that changed the game. Corbyn had been thinking about a shrimp fettuccine alfredo that he'd tried back when the boys were on tour in Europe. He was hoping that maybe he could recreate it by himself. Carefully watching out for the mistakes he'd made the previous day, he actually ended up with something that looked fairly decent. He was happy enough to send a picture to his family group chat, proud of his accomplishment.

He sat down at the TV to eat his finished meal, switching on the news. It was sad, as always, hearing about the cases and deaths, the nursing homes and hospitals and frontline workers. More than anything, he wanted to do something to help. The social media break that the band was on blocked him from posting, so he couldn't try to start fundraising, or do any online concerts, or anything. It was frustrating how much he wanted to help, but couldn't.

The news ended, and a documentary about some sort of endangered frog species began to play. Uninterested, Corbyn switched off the TV, kicking his legs off the couch and walking upstairs, his bare feet brushing against the smooth hardwood. Mildly amused, he decided to hop the last step--

and managed to stub his toe.

Grabbing his foot, he hopped over to his bedroom, and flopped on the bed, rubbing his toe gently. "That's a shame." he mumbled to himself, checking to see if a bruise was forming or anything. But his toe looked fine, so he shook it out and rolled over to lie on his back. It was actually quite comfortable on his bed, and he felt his eyes closing as he slowly fell asleep.