(Archived) Poth Short Stories and One-Shots

A Brewtiful Beginning - Chapter 13

Goth awoke to silence. He felt noticeably cooler, though the sore throat was still present. Opening his sockets, he shifted under the covers to look at the time.

The clock read two forty-six.

Gazing around the room, it was devoid of Palette or any of their belongings. Gingerly lifting his hand to his forehead, there was still some lingering heat but no cloth. There wasn't a bowl on the nightstand either.

Did he imagine the interaction with his roommate this morning? A fever dream? That had to be the case, the artist undoubtedly had better things to do on his day off. It would make much more sense than Palette hanging out to watch him sleep...

Goth sighed, not liking how the thought settled like a stone in his chest.

Wait... if he was hallucinating earlier, did Palette actually call Mona? Hastily rolling onto his side as paranoia overtook him, the skeleton propped himself on his elbows and bit back a cough, calling out as loud as he could muster, "Pa... Palette?"

Silence met him. Was he not loud enough? Was Palette even in the apartment? Would they really go out while Goth was... no. He couldn't expect his companion to drop everything and take care of him, that would be selfish. Why was he expecting so much? Did he think-

"Goth?" Palette's skull popped through the doorway. His face lit up and he hurried into the room with a bowl in his hands, setting it down on the nightstand, "Thank stars you're awake, I was so worried! How're you feeling? Do you need anything? You called me, right?"

"I...," Goth stared at his companion, unable to really process the rapid-fire question being directed at him. What resulted was a baffled and froggy, "What're you doing here?"

"Making sure you're okay, silly," Palette quirked his socket in disbelief; as if he was stating the obvious. He sat on the edge of the bed as he explained, "While I was talking earlier, you went really pale and started breathing funny, then you just passed out. When I called Mona again and told her what happened, she said your fever probably spiked. You were really worked up before it happened, so I guess it makes sense.

"Anyways, she told me to fill a plastic bag with ice and put it on your wrists for five minutes to cool you down. It seemed to work, so she said to keep an eye on your temperature and either repeat the process if it shot up again or take you to the hospital if it kept rising. It's been about the same since then, though."

"Huh...," Goth exhaled. The heavy feeling began crumbling away as something else took its place, "So... you've been here the whole time?"

"Yup," Palette chirped, "I only left to change out the water and make... oh stars, I left the soup on the stove! Be right back!"

The taller skeleton rushed out of the room before the smaller could say a word. Goth stared at the doorway, puzzling over the odd new feeling. It rose up until it came out as soft laughter. It was only then that he was able to identify the emotion: relief.

He was relieved that he wasn't alone for once, that someone was looking out for him. Sure, Mona cared and treated him like family, but she also had a business to run and other employees to manage. She couldn't always be there... but Palette was.

Goth began to tear up, his laughter mixing with wet coughs as the feeling bubbled over. He slowly sat up, leaning against the headboard while rubbing at his face as Palette pushed the door open with his back, a bowl in each hand, "The broth boiled down a little, but the vegetables should still be-... hey, is everything okay? Does something hurt?"

His companion was immediately beside the bed, setting the bowls down so he could feel the smaller's forehead. Grimacing at the heat, Palette grabbing the wet cloth from the water, wringing it out and pressing it to the sick skeleton's forehead.

Goth took a shallow breath and looked up, regaining his composure as he croaked, "I'm fine, I'm... I'm really happy, that's all."

"Happy? But you're crying...," Palette commented, tilting his skull and quirking his mouth. Something seemed to click as he exclaimed, "Oh, like tears of joy?"

"Something like that," the smaller answered with a faint snort, knowing he wasn't quite prepared for a conversation on the deeper meaning and everything it entailed yet. Palette thankfully let the matter drop as he turned back to trade the damp cloth for a soup bowl.

"Here you go," the taller skeleton handed one over before picking up his own, reclaiming his spot on the bed and stirring the spoon around idly, "I know it's a lot but I didn't know how hungry you were and wanted to make sure you had enough. Just eat what you can."

Goth lifted the spoon to his mouth, smiling as he swallowed the warm broth and said, "It tastes great. Thank you for all of this."

Palette attempted to wave it off, "It's no big deal-"

"It is a big deal," the smaller contested, recalling the years he'd been forced to deal with problems on his own. His eye light fell to the warm bowl in his lap as he murmured, "You didn't have to check on me, you didn't have to call Mona; twice I might add, you didn't have to watch over me, you didn't have to make food for me... but you did, and I really appreciate that. It's reassuring to know I have someone I can rely on, most people wouldn't go so far."

"Oh, uh...," the artist stuttered, his cheeks taking on a slight green tint as he mumbled, "you're welcome, then. Is there anything else I can get you while we're on the topic?"

Ladling some vegetables onto the spoon, Goth was struck with an idea, "Actually, some tea and honey would help a lot with my sore throat. Do you think you could make some?"

Palette's eye lights shined, excited by the idea, "Yeah, I can go do that right now! I know just the one to use, give me a minute."

Watching his roommate race out of the room once more, Goth smiled at their enthusiasm and returned to his food. He really was lucky to have Palette in his life.

***

Word Count: 1,077