Work Text:
Being sick at home has its advantages. Normally, you can play video games all day and not have to worry about school because someone is going to bring you homework and notes. You can laze around and get pampered all you want by someone else because you’re supposed to stay in bed and do nothing. You’ll get served whatever you want too! It’s the dream life.
Yeah, it’d be the dream life if you actually didn’t have a killer headache and a throat that won’t stop itching.
It sucks, it really sucks! Really, what is this stupid virus doing?! You’re supposed to be able to roll around in bed and play an MMO without a bother, not actually dying! Man, this really, really stinks, and you know what it means for your day – and you won’t be stopped, this time. There’s no work that will prevent you from making at least someone else suffer through this!
Big brother, I’m dying! My head hurts really, really bad!
As expected, he looks positively annoyed. He’s not even dressed for work yet, still lying around in his pyjamas as he puts a thermometer inside your mouth, checks it, and tells you you’re staying home today. What is he going to say next, then? That he’s bringing you to the doctor and staying home with you so your nasty bit of the flu doesn’t grow worse by the end of the day? That’d finally be something good about this stupid illness!
“Umaru, nobody skips work because their sister is sick,” he says in that annoying matter-of-fact tone of his. “I’ll be back early so we can go to the doctor. If you absolutely need me, you can call me, but only if you really need to.”
You hate this dumbass. Even the flu won’t make him not go to work!
The day is boring. You can’t sleep because you feel too hot or too cold and your head hurts too much. You can’t find a peak position guaranteeing a superior comfort. You can’t play video games because it’d require you to roll out of bed and your limbs hurt too much to do so. You can’t even reach your handheld, it’s too far away… The only thing that can bring you out of bed is wanting to use the bathroom and, every time, you forget to pick your console. It’s despair.
And you can’t stop shivering, no matter how you put your blanket on. You can just fall asleep, wake up in a cold sweat, try falling asleep again, dozing off in a feverish haze, attempt taking some medicine, and sleep yet again. It’s the worst.
When your brother comes back from work, you two immediately go to the doctor’s. It sucks even more because now you need to be dressed and walk around, even if he’s ordered a taxi. You suppose he’s not entirely cruel, but couldn’t he bring the doctor to you, really? Bringing you outside with nothing to keep you busy other than your half-discharged phone is torture! It’s only going to make you even sicker! Does he want to kill you?!
The waiting room has to be the next layer of hell. It’s hold and cod – hot and cold –, everyone is coughing or sneezing or sniffling, the atmosphere is miserable, and your phone is still less than half-discharged. Your brother is telling you to stop whining, but are you supposed to survive otherwise – he’s putting you through hell, that demon! It’s like Bomber told you about their high school days: he’s an awful, terrible mean demon and just because he kept getting hundreds on his tests!
You both go back home, after which you crash straight into bed. Your brother goes out again to get your medicine: whining about wanting to go home immediately has worked perfectly! You’re now going to be pampered, finally, it’s about time you get to enjoy the luxuries of being sick.
The evening is calm. You get served egg porridge with prickled plums, but you’re not hungry enough to finish the dish. You expect him to scream at you but, to your surprise, your demon of a big brother doesn’t say anything of it. He just gives you medicine, goes to put the leftovers in the fridge and prepares you a cup of tea. It’s so weird to see, but really not bad, so you just enjoy it. Finally, something good! If only this idiot would allow you to play video games instead of telling you to “take it easy, in the right way”, then it’d be perfect.
The night is long, too long. Big brother wakes you a couple times during the night to take your temperature and change the cloth on your face because it keeps heating up. You cough a lung out and almost die a hundred times in a mere few hours but, every time you complain, he tells you you’re not actually about to die and to go back to sleep. Meanie.
When the morning comes around, you don’t hear nor see your brother leave for work. Instead, when you wake up, it’s already bright outside, you feel less like death and there’s both medicine and notes on the table. That gives you something to do, at least, so you read them and realize your headache has subsided enough to play some video games on your bed. To the handheld console you go!
There’s egg porridge in the fridge again, probably the dish you didn’t finish eating yesterday. Your brother mentioned in the notes you need to eat light and easy-to-digest foods, so you can’t have fun while eating and are forced to just comply with whatever bad things he wants you to gulp down. Well, you’re much too lazy to cook you something anyway, and you’re still drained from the mean flu raging on like a fire burning a forest.
The day is less boring. You can play games, after all, so of course it’s less boring. You watch anime on TV, you watch videos on the Internet, you watch the time fly by when you want to doze off and forget about the fever. You get a text message asking you about your temperature, you reply to your worried friends and ask them not to come. You’re too tired to put on your civil form or give advice to Kirie. They better stay far away, especially since you must have gotten the flu from one of them.
Big brother comes home with a corpse’s face. It’s not exactly unusual, as work seems tough on him (but it could also be because this idiot always works overtime, hmm?), and he goes to continue on his routine. He changes back into casual clothes, asks her if you’re fine, takes your temperature again, sighs and cooks dinner. He’s really stubborn on having you eat healthy foods when all you deserve to eat is nice hamburger steak and potato chips to your heart’s contents. Still, you find yourself unmotivated to fight against him tonight, perhaps because you’re tired yourself. It sure sounds like a hassle you don’t want to handle right now.
He’s out like a light, even before you are. It’s not odd, considering he’s always tired and sleeps much better than you’ll ever do. Heh, whatever: at least, this night, he doesn’t bother you with regular temperature check-ups! You can finally sleep on your two ears as long as you’re not getting bothered by cough fits again, hallelujah!
When your third day off rolls around, the morning already feels different. You’re feeling energized, despite the light fever remaining and the lingering coughing urges; but you can’t say the same about your brother. He looks drained, even after a night of sleep where you’re sure you didn’t bother him. There’s red creeping on his cheeks even you’re not trying to embarrass him. He’s not fine, even if that’s what he tells you.
He doesn’t listen, I need to earn us money or something, and leaves you all alone yet again. You’re pretty sure you didn’t consume all of the tissues piling up in the trashcan. You still let him go anyway. Why, you don’t really know. Maybe you’re just too lazy to stop him.
Like your health, your sick days keep getting better. The headache and terrifying shivers are nothing but a bad memory by now, so you’re playing to your heart’s contents. You chat online with TSF who’s also home with the flu. You beat a difficult boss in an MMO. You finish a tedious side quest in an RPG you’ve started months ago and just picked back up. It’s great, you feel accomplished.
From time to time, you think about your brother. Should you try calling him, just to see if he’d take the call and come home if you’re good enough at acting. Surely you’re not just going to do that just because you may be afraid he’s not doing too hot. He knows what he’s doing, he’s a grownup, he doesn’t need you to worry over him if he’s well enough to go to work. He’d have stayed in the futon otherwise. Yeah, he’ll be fine, no need to think about him!
You doubt your afternoon statements when you see him come back home yet again looking like a corpse. It’s not exactly the most unusual thing around here, as he always works hard and tends to do a little too much even when it’s not asked of him (at least, you’d guess so much: this guy is a real workaholic, it’s funny to think you two are blood-related. Maybe you could ask Bomber, if you ever need even more dirt to tease him with). But, even then, even when considering this, and even when trying not to let it spoil the better mood the flu has finally allowed you to reach… you’re concerned.
He’s paler than the sheets he sleeps in and doesn’t even bother speaking. He just takes your temperature, sighs when he sees it’s finally gone back to 36.6, goes to take a shower, and slips into the futon with only a timid “goodnight”. Instead, he coughs violently, and you can’t find much sleep because of that, instead wasting the night on video games because it’s just impossible to find sleep in these circumstances. Maybe that’s his revenge for technically keeping him all night with your own fits, but still, you weren’t responsible for these! He’s got no right to do that to you!
…that logic doesn’t work, though, right?
Maybe you should be more worried about the fact you’ve had to wake your brother up the next morning. When was the last time you woke up before he did, all-nighters put aside? That’s right, never. It’s especially odd because he’s supposed to be working today, it’s Thursday… He didn’t even hear his own alarm clock, you did! He must be tired, that’s it. He probably hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep because of his constant coughing.
Does that mean you’re going to cut him some slack? Of course not! He can suffer with you, that way. That’ll teach him for leaving you home alone with the flu three days in a row! (Just don’t forget not to mention the fact you’re doing much better and are just convalescent now). Well, on second thought, maybe you shouldn’t woken him up, he looks positively miserable, forcing himself out of bed like that…
“I’m off to work, see ya…” He says in a trailing voice, suit already tainted with sweat. You really wonder if you shouldn’t stop him from going to work, if you shouldn’t use it as an opportunity for a vengeance you’re not sure you want to inflict on him or not.
“Are you okay, big brother?” You ask, no bite to be found.
“Fine enough,” he replies, dryly, covering his face with a mask yet again. You doubt it’s because you could give him germs, this time around.
“You’ll go the doctor after work, right?”
He smiles timidly and responds in a raspy voice, “yeah.”
You watch him leave through the door, suddenly feeling powerless. You don’t know why your thoughts don’t exit your mouth when they should. Your voice just dies before you can stop him.
Surely you’ve just played too much Plague Inc. lately and that’s why you’re so paranoid. Big brother is always reasonable; he wouldn’t go to work if he felt too sick to do so, right? He’s probably giving you more leeway because you’re sick and he doesn’t want to get more of your germs on his face if you ever find the courage to dive right onto his face. Yeah, that must be it! He can’t be sick, especially when you’re still so yourself! It must be in your head! You should just read more manga and play more games before your mind drifts again.
…and yet you’re still thinking about that when playing. You pause and unpause, you try to shake the pictures your mind makes up about this, and yet they keep coming back. You keep imagining him passed out in front of his screen like he was completely dominated by his fever a while back. It just won’t leave your mind. Maybe you should call him, after all.. No, let’s just go back to playing. You’ll be back to school before you know it, you better have a nice time with it.
You almost don’t hear the doorbell ringing over the background music of your video game and of the white noise of your mind trying to focus on said video game. You put it on pause, transform back into your civil form, take off your hoodie and slide to the door. Something in the air tells you nothing good is waiting for you, about to jump at your throat like you’d jump on your brother to complain about him having put green bell peppers in your lunch (how dare he?), and yet your hand slowly opens the door, resulting in it creaking.
You face Bomber with a funny face holding your brother having a much, much less amusing expression on his.
Something in your brain immediately switches as you rush to the closet to take out the futon. You hesitate actually giving him your bed and, instead, decide for the best of both worlds: your bed, his bedsheets. Bomber complies, putting his friend on the mattress, and you’re both shaken by the very picture before you. But first…
“Hey, how did that end up happening?!” You ask, panicked, terrified.
“W-well…!” Bomber doesn’t sound any calmer or knowledgeable than you do, frankly. “H-he just… collapsed! One minute he was typin’, and the other, he was out cold! Kanau panicked, she sent me straight to the doctor with him urgin’ me to wear a mask!”
“And what does my big brother have, then?!”
“T-the flu! But, like, a massive flu! The doctor was, like, panicked!”
“H-help me then!”
You try repeating in your head everything your brother has done for you these past few days. You put on a mask, prepare a cold washcloth, send Bomber get the medicine at the local pharmacy while you keep an eye on your brother. You force the thermometer in his mouth after disinfecting to the best of your abilities, read the number, and you’re horrified – 39.8, that’s ridiculously high.
His entire face looks wrong. It’s so pale it threatens to go see-through; his cheeks are redder than a tomato and his skin is just covered in a sea of sweat. His cough doesn’t make the portrait much better and you wonder how this somehow grew this bad right under your nose. You’ve not paid attention, haven’t you? You’re at fault there, aren’t you? You infected him and now he’s in a very bad condition! You should be ashamed, you monster! You lazy, horrible monster!
Bomber brings medicine but soon leaves as he has to go back to the office. You’re stuck dealing with your brother as the rightful punishment for letting the situation gets this bad and – oh God, he could… He could… No, don’t think about that! If you think about it, then it’ll happen, and that can’t happen! You can’t let that happen!
Big brother won’t wake up, instead panting like his life depended on it, and you’re busy looking over everything he’s done for you yet again. You pick up his recipe, take his temperature again and again, in hopes it’ll lower soon, in hopes you can brick-break it through whatever means necessary. You make sure he doesn’t cook himself to a bad ending.
The afternoon and early evening are long but, at last, your brother wakes up. You’ve managed to bring some of the fever down, but it’s still too high to anyone’s tastes; but, at least, he’s alive and looking at you with unfocused eyes. You serve him egg porridge (just don’t mention that you’ve failed your four previous attempts and threw all of them in the trash) and tall glasses of water so he doesn’t dry to a crisp. You decide you’re going to stay up all night to watch over him in case something is to go wrong, resting on the futon and playing video games with the sound turned off to keep you awake. Use your talents for good, for once!
Big brother doesn’t speak, he just whispers and coughs. Still, whenever you look at him and he looks at you, he has a little smile on his lips, so you try having one on yours too. You need to show him it’ll be alright, even if you’re yourself unsure. You’re the heroine of this story, show it!
The night is long, very long; but it’s important and it’s worth the pain, for once. It’s worth interrupting your game once every hour to read the new number on the thermometer or to bring him what he needs. What would do otherwise anyway? It’ll be worth the hassle, at the end of the night… It’s about time you show some actual gratefulness.
By the time the sun rises, you’re both still alive and his fever has subdued again. He still looks miserable and there’s got to be something more to it you don’t want to open the can of worms of just yet; so you just content yourself with pretending you’re in a nurse simulator. That’s a nice way to ignore just how scared you are of a game over.
Even if he’s the one in bed, your brother still nags you. Wash your hand, put on a mask, wash things properly; for once, you obey. He sounds just serious enough about it and neither of you want him to tear through his vocal cords to tell you to be a nice sister for once. You’ll make an exception, this time, for now… but you’ll make sure to nag him a good amount once he’s better.
The day ends with his temperature finally being reasonable. It gives you hope and, honestly? You’re proud of yourself for pulling through this. You can do it. He can do it. The thank you so much, Umaru you almost don’t hear is good enough. It’ll soon be back to normal before you know it.
Your brother may reek of green onions and medicine by the end of the week, sure; but it means the storm is over.