Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Relationships:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Series:
Part 2 of but i know you'll take me with you
Collections:
anonymous
Stats:
Published:
2023-06-03
Completed:
2023-06-05
Words:
4,569
Chapters:
2/2
Comments:
62
Kudos:
871
Bookmarks:
57
Hits:
9,437

hollow moon

Anonymous

Summary:

Grian doesn't make a habit of getting sick. His body doesn't give him much say in the matter when he suddenly comes down with the common cold, and he's convinced he's on the brink of death.

Turns out, colds don't suck as much when he has the hermits around.

Notes:

tw/cw: sick character, nausea/sore throat other sick descriptions, no emetophobia warning this chapter but it will be here next chapter!. mentions of inability to eat due to nausea/common cold, etc

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Grian would like to say the virus snuck up on him, but that would hardly be the truth. Yesterday morning he had woken up with a sore throat, to which he had chalked it up to screaming at a PVP match between a few of the hermits. He hadn’t thought much of it, not even when he was wiping his nose on his sweater sleeve more often than usual for a summer night. 

 

Today, however, he feels as if it’s come out of nowhere and struck him like a freight train. His head had been pounding since he’s woken up, but it wasn’t until he got back to his base after working on his latest project that his headache worsened. 

 

Usually, Grian could turn to music for comfort. The peacefulness his discs bring him is usually enough to make him calm down, but his jukebox on its lowest setting is enough to deter him. With his hands clasped over his ears, he rolls over on his bed. 

 

His head pounds as if out of spite. He gives up covering his ears in favor of covering his eyes. Everything is loud, bright, and his headache worsens every second. 

 

The light pouring in through his window doesn’t help. He tries to ignore it. He manages for a good two minutes before he jumps up out of bed to rip his curtains closed. Except the second his feet touch the ground, his legs begin to shake and he topples over. 

 

His knees hit the ground first. He’s stunned to his core as he sits, slumped, in front of his killer bright windows. His headache, his sore throat, and his body aches catch up with him all at once, and he lets out a pathetic chirp. 

 

Everything hurts, and everything is too much. Grian can’t stand to do anything about it when he’s like this, and the helplessness only upsets him more. 

 

His fingers gingerly reach up to grab his blanket, successfully yanking it over him. He curls up into a ball under the blanket, needing the security it provides despite the sweat beading down his spine. 

 

His exhaustion hits him almost as suddenly as this awful virus, and Grian’s out like a light. 

 

—

 

When Grian wakes up again, it’s too loud. His hands move as soon as they’re able, and he clamps down on them as the screeching worsens.

 

It must be him - making those awful sounds. There’s no one else around, Pesky Bird wouldn’t even be around this time of day. 

 

He’d like to think he was independent, able to take care of himself, but he felt like he was going to die if someone didn’t come help him. Standing was impossible, and he was an odd mix of starving and so nauseous he’s not sure he could eat. 

 

He stifled another cry as he tries and fails to climb back onto the bed. His legs shake as he manages to crawl back on top, and he almost collapses until he finds his communicator next to his pillow. 

 

He finds Mumbo’s contact and speedily slams dial only for the call to go straight to his inbox. Grian screeches, regretting it immediately for how much it tore his throat. He hit dial again only for it to shut off. 

 

This can’t be happening. Why now of all times does Grian have to feel bad and Mumbo go awol? 

 

Grian settles for general chat and forces his eyes to unblur. They don’t cooperate as well as he would hope. 

 

<Grian> will pay diamond for health potion delivery 

 

Grian waits a pause before—

 

<Grian> make it double if you’re fast. 

 

He doesn’t wait for another response to come in as his headache overrules and suddenly the brightness of his communicator is too much for him to handle. He drops it as if it’s scalding hot and rolls over onto his side.

 

Grian is sick. He hasn’t been sick like this in a while. Closed off servers are good about not spreading around infections. It’s only when a couple of hermits have returned from an off-server trip do viruses start spreading around. He managed to avoid strep when it was making its rounds, but something must’ve gotten to him.

 

Whatever it was, it was awful. Grian wanted to cry if his sore throat would allow it. He loathed how weak, how small, sicknesses made him feel. 

 

Powerful watcher, builder, taken out by the common cold. What a joke. 

 

His eyes start to close despite only just waking up. His stomach is growling, upset with him for not stomaching anything today or the previous day. His nausea is overwhelming, but he isn’t well enough to feed himself. 

 

He could really go for some soup, some potions, some nice cold rags for his head. If only Mumbo was here…

 

And maybe, maybe cuddles would be nice too. Maybe he wouldn’t feel like he was horribly alone when his body was betraying him. 

 

Grian only has the energy to feel sorry for himself. He whines pitifully aloud - long and drawn out. 

 

Not like there’s anyone to hear it, he thinks, only for that to distress him all that much more. He wants the ache to go away, he wants his stuffy, he wants Mumbo. 

 

His loneliness wins out over his body aches, and he lunges for his closet like his life depends on it. The world spins as he kneels at his little box, and he quickly pulls out Pesky Bird (his toy form, anyways) and clutches it close to his chest. 

 

At least I have you, PB, he thinks, allowing his eyes to drift shut. 

 

--

 

“...found him curled up in the closet, poor thing…” 

 

“...running a fever…” 

 

Grian cringes at the voices filtering in through his ears. He jolts awake and waves his hands, trying to signal for the noises to shoo. 

 

He’s only earned a soft coo for his efforts, and Grian wakes up fully to face Xisuma’s armored chest. His hand slaps against him and tries to curl his fingers into the fabric, but his armor isn’t easily grabbed. His eyes well up with tears at the failure to grasp him, but before they can fall and get worse, he’s adjusted to lay his cheek against him. 

 

“Poor birdie,” Xisuma hums, “not feeling well, are we?” 

 

Grian shakes his head frantically before realizing -- ouch. His hands grab at his head, and Xisuma calls out to someone for a wet rag. 

 

“M’mbo?” Grian slurs out. 

 

“I’m sorry, bubs,” Xisuma apologizes, a frown on his lips. Grian’s heart sinks at the admission, and it’s like something snaps within him. He cries out loudly only for it to aggravate his throat, but he’s like a dam set loose. Once he’s started, he can’t stop. 

 

“Mumbo Bumbo will be back soon,” a new voice says - Grian doesn’t register the talking until after a cold, wet rag is placed against his forehead. Gentle, rough callous covered hands tip his head back against a solid chest so the rag can settle across his flushed skin. His eyes struggle to creak open as the cold seeps into his pores. “Papa K’s here, not to worry. Everything will be okay.” 

 

Grian’s eyes fly open at that. He’s greeted with a warm smile and an even warmer chuckle, “Ohoho, someone’s excited? I missed my little Brian too.” 

 

Grian’s blood runs cold. He reels around in xisuma’s lap to stare up at Keralis with defeated eyes. 

 

“Not -- Brian !” Grian cries out, covering his face with his hands. 

 

Keralis gasps, surprised, and Xisuma shoots him a glare as the little bursts into sobs. 

 

“Sweet angel face, I’m so sorry,” Keralis apologizes whole heartedly as he scoops up Grian. His fingers are pried off of Xisuma’s armor, and he’s lifted up to be wrapped up in Keralis’s arms. Despite being upset with him for being mean, Grian is starving for the contact. He settles in, finding the warm space of his neck perfect to hide in. “Poor little hatchling, you must be hurting so much.” 

 

Grian sniffles against his neck. Everything is suffocating, but Keralis whispering nice things makes it all hurt a little less. His hand rubs circles into his back, and it makes him so happy he can’t help but make small chirps so he knows not to stop. 

 

Keralis carries him into the kitchen. Grian watches as he sets upon brewing a mug of tea. Grian fumbles for his candy slime in the cabinet, but Keralis carefully knocks his hand away. He lets out a short grunt but doesn’t have enough energy to fight him on it. 

 

As the tea steeps, Keralis pulls out a pink bottle and a small cup. 

 

It isn’t until he starts pouring the liquid out does Grian realize what it is. 

 

Despite his body being completely useless to him, he finds the energy to start squirming, desperate to get away from the awful medicine. He already feels so terrible, why must the world torture him so? 

 

“Little bird doesn’t want to feel better?” Keralis coos as Grian shakes his head more. “No? It doesn’t hurt?”

 

“Wanna,” Grian mumbles weakly, “Hurts.” 

 

Keralis clicks his tongue. “Well, this will make a little bird all better.” Grian settles his most convincing glare that must not work because he only holds the little cup higher. “Tell you what. You drink this, and we can take a bubble bath.” 

 

Grian raises an incredulous eyebrow. A bubble bath? Is he crazy? 

 

Grian shakes his head. 

 

“What? You don’t want one of Papa K’s world famous bubble baths? Have you had one?” Grian shakes his head again. “Ohhh, you’re missing out, little Br-- Grian. It’s Bubbles tested and approved, you can ask him yourself.” 

 

Grian doesn’t budge on his terms. If he’s going to have to gulp down that awful medicine, he’s getting something out of it. He points to the cabinet with his candy slime in it and huffs. 

 

“I really wish we could, but it’ll upset your throat more.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Come on, is there anything I can do for you to drink it?” 

 

“M’mbo.” 

 

Keralis sighs, dropping his shoulders. Grian rolls his eyes; if he wanted him to so badly, he’d give him the slime. 

 

“Mumbo’s--” 

 

“Right here!” A voice suddenly exclaims. Grian sparks to life as Mumbo slips into the room. He’s flushed red and soaked to the bone. His elytra is still equipped. He must’ve just landed and sprinted straight here. 

 

Grian starts to twist out of Keralis’s hold, threatening to drop down to his feet. Mumbo makes quick work of crossing the room and scooping Grian up in his arms. 

 

“Hi, G,” Mumbo coos, “I’m sorry you’re not feeling good.” Grian coos at him, curling up against his warmth as Mumbo carts him off to the living room where Xisuma is pulling out the couch. He carefully sinks onto the seat and props Grian up to his chest so they’re both sitting but Mumbo is holding up them both. 

 

Keralis follows promptly - medicine bottle in hand. Grian decidedly ignores him. 

 

“What hurts?” Grian pauses as he thinks. Everything. His head. His body. Breathing. 

 

Grian shrugs. 

 

“Doc’s on his way,” Xisuma whispers, careful to keep his voice light. 

 

Keralis sets the cup down on the nightstand where Mumbo can reach. He mumbles something about bratty littles not being his territory and darts off into the kitchen to grab the mugs of tea. 

 

Mumbo brightens as the mugs are placed in front of them. Grian tries to reach out for the drink, but Mumbo stops him with a twinkle in his eyes. 

 

“Hey, how about we take the medicine super fast?” Grian shakes his head immediately. No way. “We have the tea ready to get rid of that taste. It’ll be like a race.” What an awful game. He wants the tea, yes, but is it worth it? “It’ll make your poor throat feel so much better, buddy. You’re probably hurting so much, yeah?” Grian nods finally, withdrawing in on himself. “It’ll help. I promise.” 

 

Grian doesn’t trust him, not one bit, but he happens to love Mumbo an awful lot. He hates him for making him drink such an awful medicine, but it’s hard to resist when he talks to him so sweetly and makes it sound like something bearable. 

 

Grian grabs the cup of medicine, but he stops as soon as it touches his lips. He pulls it away, wanting to throw it against the couch as a knee jerk reaction, only for Mumbo to gently press it back to his lips. Suddenly he’s being forced to swallow it, and he gags until his mug is in its place. He sips slowly at the warm tea and settles at how it pours over his aching throat. 

 

“There you go, all done,” Mumbo praises as Grian sips at the calming tea. “You did so good, all better.” 

 

There’s no way the medicine’s worked so fast, but Grian feels infinitely calmer from how Mumbo speaks to him. He settles back down, allowing his hand to grab Mumbo’s wrist as he gently brings the mug to his mouth. The small gesture of Mumbo holding the bottle to him makes his heart twirl inside of his chest. He chirps before he can help himself, and he settles for holding his wrist firmly so he can’t draw away. 

 

“Such a sweet little bird,” Mumbo purrs. Grian’s eyes start to falter, and he fights the sleep this time. He wants to stay here in Mumbo’s arms and bask in the way he’s scratching at the base of his wings, at the way he’s bottle feeding him. He doesn’t want to lose this, not when the agonizingly lonely feeling from earlier sits low in his stomach. He wants to stay like this, forever, but his eyelids have different plans. 

 

“You can rest,” Mumbo says gently. It doesn’t feel like a suggestion. “It’s okay, Grian, I’ve got you. I’ve gotcha, little one.” Grian is putty after that. His fingers go slack around Mumbo’s wrist, and he goes lax in his grip. Sleep overtakes him, and he can only hope his dream is as pleasant as Mumbo’s warmth against him.



Chapter 2: how far I've come

Notes:

tw/ general sickness, past angst mentions, etc

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter Two 

 

Sleep isn’t something Grian can hold for long. 

 

He’s awake now. He thinks. It doesn’t completely feel like it. The world around him has all gone blurry, and the hand rubbing circles into his back doesn’t make anything less fuzzy. 

 

The nasty medicine Mumbo and Keralis had cruelly made him take has actually kicked in. The soreness is still there, but it’s in the back of his mind and distant. Xisuma keeps dropping cough drops into his hand once he’s finished sucking on the one in his mouth. 

 

The others are talking in hushed voices. Their words filter in through one ear and out the other. He can’t make any specifics enough, but their muffled words are enough to comfort him anyways. 

 

Mumbo murmurs something to him, but it’s faroff. Grian nods in a haze, perfectly content with whatever he is saying. 

 

That is until he moves. 

 

Immediately, Grian’s calling out as Mumbo passes him over to Xisuma. Mumbo hushes him, but it’s to no avail, Grian’s heart is already spinning in circles. Too exhausted to be upset, he simply huffs at the abandonment and slumps against Xisuma’s chest. 

 

“Poor thing,” Xisuma hums with a firm hand pressed against the back of his head. A soft plushie is passed to him, and he lights up at the stuffed moth handed to him by an eager eyed Keralis. 

 

Grian busies himself with the toy, holding her close to his chest. He coughs weakly against the wing of the toy, and his wings spasm out behind him at the effort. He reaches out for a cough drop, and Xisuma quickly drops one into his palm. 

 

His doorbell rings, and Grian, disgruntled, shoots a scowl to Keralis. He winces apologetically before hopping up off the couch and going to the door of Grian’s living quarters. He startles in X’s lap. Who could it be? Iskall? Scar? Anxious worry blooms up within his chest only for the door to open to reveal a flabbergasted Doc. 

 

Keralis leads him over to the couch where Xisuma is trying to steady Grian so he can sit up straight. He sets his briefcase down on the ottoman for the moment in favor of greeting Grian. 

 

“Hi,” Doc says, and Grian hardly manages a wave. “A little birdie told me a little birdie wasn’t feeling well.” Doc starts to grin as if he’s said something funny. Grian blank-stares at him until he gives in. “Right. I’ll just take your temperature.” 

 

Grian starts to droop. As excited as he was to see Doc, he just didn’t have the energy for him. He begins to hang his head until Xisuma is lightly tapping his shoulder. 

 

“Open up, please,” X requests gently, and Grian jolts once he realizes what Doc wants from him. His hands shoot out to try and snatch the thermometer out of Doc’s hands. He’s quicker, though, and he pulls away before he can take it. 

 

“I can do it,” Grian insists. He means for it to come out as a shout, but his voice is so wobbly and cracked it doesn’t work. Doc doesn’t budge. His grip on the thermometer tightens, but Grian doesn’t stop making grabby-hands at it. 

 

“This is high-grade medical equipment,” Doc tells him. “I don’t want you to break it.” 

 

“Give.” Doc stares at him. When he doesn’t move, Grian crawls out of Xisuma’s lap until his hands are resting on Doc’s knees. The man makes a small scoff in surprise before Grian is crawling on top of him. 

 

Doc is… surprisingly warm. Grian trills at the soft creeper fur he’s exposed to. Doc’s skin is warm from where it’s uncovered, and his pure, unadulterated body heat is pouring out in waves. His instincts used to tell him to run, to fly away without looking back, but now his hindbrain trusts Doc enough to call him flock! 

 

Grian’s wings spread out as much as they can in his weakened state. The tips of his feathers try and wrap around Doc in return as he rests his head against his chest. His heart beats badthump, badthump. It could make a lovely music disc, Grian thinks. 

 

His chest shakes with a deep rumble, jostling Grian where he relaxes. 

 

“What, you giving up, birdie?” Grian blinks warily at the teasing tone. He weakly presses against Doc’s chest until he’s peering up at him. His red eye shines brightly like how it does when Doc’s just made a grand discovery. Grian’s trembling hand reaches up until it’s tapping the side of Doc’s face as if to ask: what’s so funny? 

 

Doc just smiles warmly at him like he’s a scientific breakthrough. Suddenly, an arm wraps around him tightly, and he’s snug against the creeper cyborg’s chest. He spits weakly when tufts of green fur gets in his mouth. He’s wiping furiously at his lips when cold metal presses against his lips and he instinctively bites down on it. 

 

“Just hold for a second,” Doc instructs. Grian’s not sure what he means, but he keeps it in his mouth anyways. A few seconds later, the instrument beeps, and it’s taken out of his mouth. He’s rewarded with a good birdie, but he didn’t do anything. He’s happy to take the praise anyways. 

 

“100.5,” Doc says. “Just a small fever, I think. Most likely caught Stress’s cold from when she went off-server last week.” 

 

“We’ll keep this on the downlow, then,” Xisuma says firmly. “Stress will be heartbroken if she knows she got him sick.” 

 

“It won’t be a problem ‘cause you’ll be better in no time,” Keralis chirps suddenly, reaching out his arms to take him from Doc. Grian shifts his gaze, trying to get comfortable, but he’s ripped out of his arms anyways. 

 

“I don’t like being hot potato,” Grian cries, and Keralis laughs - much to his chagrin. How hard is it for the hermits to leave him in a comfortable spot for two minutes!? 

 

“Sorry, little one,” Keralis apologizes without sounding the least bit sorry. “But we’ve got to move you to a chair.” 

 

“I’ve got to get going too,” Doc says only for Keralis to let out a cry. “None of that, I know. Ren’s waiting up for me.” 

 

Xisuma waves him off as they all start to stand with the exception of Grian, who is cozy in Keralis’s arms. Doc picks back up his briefcase and nods towards the door. 

 

“Next time you need me, ask yourself; do I really need a master’s degree to diagnose a child’s cold?” 

 

“Up-up-up, don’t be like that, Good Doctor,” Keralis tuts. “You’re more than happy to pay little Brian-- ow! ” Keralis yelps as a small hand plants flat against his nose. Grian is glaring daggers at him with furrowed eyebrows and a scrunched up expression. “Grian. Sorry -- a visit.” 

 

Doc chuckles warmly at the sight before leaning over to give Grian a proper goodbye. 

 

“Looks like you’re already getting some of your chaotic energy back, which is my cue to leave,” Doc says. “Listen to me for a second, Grian.” He raises his head weakly and groans in protest. Everyone asks too much of him. Doc taps his chin until he’s met his eyes and once he has his attention, Doc lightly taps him on the nose. 

 

Immediately, Grian lights up with giggles at the stern expression Doc’s wearing versus his own playful antics. 

 

“Oh no,” Doc cries in a monotone voice. “It may be more serious than I thought. He may have a bad case of the giggles.” 

 

Xisuma gasps dramatically behind him with a hand over his heart. “Oh goodness me, I feel faint! Is it fatal, Doctor?” 

 

Doc nods glumly. “Yes, but there is a cure.” Keralis and Xisuma hang on his every word as Grian gawks up at him in confusion. “He has to be serious. ” 

 

“Serious?” Xisuma parrots, face knit in concern. Grian gawks at him as his admin leans over him with the most concerned look he’s ever seen. 

 

“M’ okay, Eggs-eye-so--HEY!” Grian breaks off into a maniacal screech when Xisuma suddenly pokes him in the side where he must know he’s ticklish. Grian gets fed up immediately, and his fluffy wings flap until he’s practically flying out of Keralis’s arms. Keralis catches him once he’s clambering on top of his shoulders. 

 

Panting, Grian digs his talons into his neck. If it’s painful, Keralis doesn’t complain. He only offers a hand to help steady Grian despite his talons already doing the work for him. 

 

“I’m okay,” Grian manages between breathy giggles. 

 

“You will be,” Doc says with a certainty that makes Grian’s heart clench. “There’s a lot of people around here who hate to see you hurting.” His giggles taper off once the words settle on him. 

 

A couple months ago, he wouldn’t believe it. A year ago, he wouldn’t even think the people around him would notice. Things are different now, though, and Grian’s finding new things each and every passing day. 

 

“But nothing to worry about,” Doc says, cutting off Grian’s train of thought as his mechanical hand cups his cheek. He presses against it like a purring cat. “You just worry about feeling better. Okay?” 

 

Grian nods solemnly. He can handle that, he thinks. 

 

“Doctor’s orders!” Keralis sings as Xisuma leads Doc towards the exit. Grian waves him a goodbye as Doc stops with one hand on the doorknob. 

 

“Not a real Doctor.” The door shuts firmly behind him. Xisuma huffs fondly before corralling them into the dining room. 

 

As much as Grian had complained earlier about being passed around like he was in a game of hot potato, he can’t help but feel off once he’s put down in his seat. As soon as Keralis sets him down, he’s gaping up at him like a fish out of water. 

 

“So sorry, sweet Angel Face,” Keralis apologizes as he quickly slides into the seat next to Grian. He nods numbly. He hadn’t meant to make a face. Really, it’s ridiculous. Who gets all upset when left alone for a second? 

 

A mug sliding against the hardwood table brings him out of his thoughts. A sippy cup is waiting for him, one he almost hopes is strawberry milk until he remembers his horribly aching throat. 

 

He reaches to grab it until he remembers Mumbo holding it for him. His hands fall short at the mug. Can he really ask? It’s stupid, he’s not a baby, but he just… he doesn’t want to do it himself. He wants Mumbo, and if he can’t have Mumbo he doesn’t want the stupid tea. 

 

He settles for burying his face into his arms. He feels pathetic, like this. Feeling so small and defeated because of a stupid cold. Not too long ago he’d be perfectly fine, probably holed up in his base all alone. Yet here he was, causing everyone to flock to his side because he was so pathetic, calling out for help in chat. 

 

There’s a small clank in front of Grian. He doesn’t raise his head until he hears Mumbo. 

 

“Hi,” his friend greets him with a smile when he eagerly looks up from his folded arms. 

 

“Hi,” Grian whispers back, voice hoarse. His medicine must be wearing off now because all he feels is hurt and ache. “I’m sorry.” 

 

Mumbo’s smile drops off the face of the earth. Immediately, his face is filled with concern as Grian apologizes like a broken record. 

 

“I’m sorry for - ‘cause you have to take care of me,” Grian apologizes. He hates that he doesn’t feel as guilty as he should. If he’d have it his way, he’d steal Mumbo away. He loves him enough that he could. 

 

“You know,” Mumbo says, slipping into the seat on his other side. “I was so proud when you sent that message in chat.” 

 

Grian’s eyes widen until they’re popping out of his head. 

 

“Really?” 

 

“Oh yeah,” Mumbo says like it’s the biggest accomplishment in the world, like Grian isn’t struggling to pick up a sippy cup for his own sore throat. “Grian, remember when you used to go everywhere sick? And you wouldn’t admit it until you were dead on your feet?” 

 

Grian is shameful to say that he did. Not too long ago was he running around on fumes. He never allowed himself to rest because he never felt like he deserved it. He couldn’t afford to when so many people aren’t able to rest because of him. It simply wasn’t fair. 

 

But Mumbo’s gleaming at him with so much pride like his heart is impossibly full. He wonders if he feels like Grian does when Mumbo’s made a breakthrough in his work, or when Mumbo’s pulled a prank on Grian in retaliation that he never saw coming, or when Mumbo cracked a joke so randomly hilarious that it made his sides ache hours after the fact. 

 

Grian loves Mumbo a lot. And maybe, 

 

“I am so proud of how far you’ve come,” Mumbo tells him. When his hands reach around to grab at Grian, he melts into the touch. He holds onto him with such sheer desperation that Grian’s own shaking fingers rival it. “Thank you for asking for help.” 

 

Maybe, Mumbo loves him too.



Notes:

thank y'all o much for reading !! I really appreciate y'all supporting in means so much to me !! and also thanks for all the get well soon comments, u guys are seriously so precious. I promise im already feeling better. I've eaten so much good soup and hot cocoa lately that I'm practically back to full health. also if something ive written doesn't make sense don't come @ me blame the NyQuil.

anyways thanks so much for reading !! hope yall don't mind me taking a break from solar waltz for a second. I don't DARE mess up mall episode with my fever brain haha

Notes:

obligatory sickfic bc I woke up and promptly got taken out by the common cold.

thanks so much for reading hope y'all enjoyed !! pls disregard any errors I did in fact type most of this on my iPhone w the brightness down low. I will try and beta after my shift tomorrow (this may or may not be a lie)

Series this work belongs to: