Chapter Text
White stirred, turning to his side with a whine and shiver to accompany the action. He sneezed, sniffling as he curled into himself as if it'd warm up his cold body and comfort the remaining pain. Guardian's world was spinning completely, it hurt to open his eyes, really.
His eyes constantly moved left to right due to the illusion of his mind that the world spin and then reset, only to spin again. On top of that, his head pounded against his will. It was like his heart was where it wasn't supposed to be, in his head rather than his heart like it was meant to be. It pained him entirely, the way everything was backwards, inside-out, wrong.
"It's hurts.." White weeped, tears pricking at his eyes.
Shuffling could be heard, if your mind wasn't filled with pain. Unfortunately for White; it was. Tears trailed each other down White's cheeks, the sniffling becoming more frequent and sobs beginning to roll in on their own. Guardian's chest rose and fell with his ragged breathing, his body occasionally jerking when he sniffled.
"White..? White, what's wrong?!" White could make out Ron's voice.
Ron's eyes darted around as he sat up White to get a good look at the other. White's face was scrunched, drenched in tears like he was dipped in water. White's ears fell back, like he was a kicked puppy. God, that's what he looked like. A wet, kicked, neglected puppy.
"I... I don't ..." White tried to get out, the sniffling becoming more frequent as he tried to speak
Ron shook his head, holding White firmly by his shoulders and setting him up. "Hey, look. You're okay White, I'm here."—Ron removed a hand from White's shoulder, slipping his fingers through White's, and holding their hands in front of where they could both see them—"You're fine." Ron concluded.
White looked at their hands, fingers intertwined with one another's. The shaking slowed down, not fully cleared from his body entirely, and White's breathing slowed to a normal pace as he looked back up at Ron—who was looking intensely at him.
"Are you... Okay, White..?" Ron asked cautiously.
White nodded, letting out a sob. Ron opened his arms, inviting White to comfort, Which White complied to. White let out a few sobs, his face against Ron's chest as tears stained his coat. Ron ran his muffin-fingers through White's fur, removing the tubby's hat as he did so.
White huffed, curling his fingers into Ron's softly as he let himself rest, his consciousness slipping away slowly. Ron hummed, still slipping his hands through White's fur. Guardian was fully sleep, his head pressing into Ron further as his hands slipped down and his fingers fell through loose fur.
Ron waited some time before stopping his act of comfort, removing Guardian from his chest and resting him back on the bed, this time, he covered the tubby up rather than leaving him to be left bare. The sheets shuffled a tad as White snuggled into the blanket, mumbling something incoherent before leaving his mouth to hang open.
Ron sighed, his shoulders following the feeling. He turned back twords the kitchen, making his way over to the soup he had been working on before White's outburst. He turned back on the stove and began to stirr the concoction once again.
The steam rose from the bowl, evaporating the further it went into the air around it. Ron huffed, feeling complete and finally able to relax a little bit for himself. He made himself comfortable next to White's bed, sitting at the side that wasn't pushed up against the wall. The tubby rested his head against his knees, closing his eyes as his ears flopped down by the sides of his head. Sleep took Ron eventually, he figured he'd just warm up White's soup later.
Ron stirred awake, lifting his head from his knees. He looked around carefully before looking getting on his knees and turning behind him to check if White was in bed.
"Blaauuughh.."
Ron froze. White wasn't in bed, someone was vomiting in the bathroom..
"White?" Ron said, trying not to sound panicked. "Is that you in there? Are you good, dude?"
Ron got up on his feet, approaching the door like it'd be kicked down is he was too close to it. His hands rested against the material, his hand slowly reaching for a knob. Ron took a deep breath as his hand was met with the cold metal. He slowly turned it, opening the door and peeking through.
"oh, white.." Pity laced Ron's voice.
White had tears trailing his face, forced ones from throwing up burning liquid. His breathing was heavy, as he was clearly heaving from the lack of air and the jerking in his stomach. White coughed, snapping Ron out of his thoughts and back to the situation in front of him. Ron walked over, treating White as if he were a fragile piece of artwork, his arms open, inviting, and harmless.
Ron sat next to White, rubbing circles on his back as the other let out a groan. "I need to find you some damn medicine. I don't have any idea what could making you this ill, but maybe you could tell me?" Ron asked, tilting his head as he leaned forward.
White coughed, steadying his breathing before clearing his throat. "Maybe I've had too many Anti-depressants. Fluoxetinum." White admitted, looking away with guilt.
Ron frowned. Is that what all those pill bottles were? Was he struggling that bad after everything that had happened? Ron couldn't blame White, not after lying, witnessing murder, being killed and then put back together. No one just comes back from that fine and dandy, and if Ron remembers correctly, he seen the pills before everything had started.
Ron could feel the swarming feeling in his stomach for not picking up on White sooner. He let out a noise of acknowledgement, letting white know he was listening and understood the situation for what it seemed. Ron sucked in a breath, looking at White intensely.
"I really hate to ask you this, White." Ron hesitated, looking down at the tubby's arms and legs, maybe hoping to see past the fur to the eyes. "But are you hurting yourself? In any way at all."
The silence roamed the room, the tension was heavy. White couldn't exactly meet Ron's eyes. Really, this was all Ron needed as an answer. It wasn't entirely easy to take in, not at all. Ron should have noticed! Wasn't it so obvious with everything that went on? Those pill bottles that were just everywhere wasn't just for emergency allergies, that was addiction.
Ron let out a Shakey sigh, he didn't know he had in him. "I'm really sorry White." Ron hesitated. "I.. can't say I blame you. No, I'm not supporting you in this act, but after everything you went through, and alone, how could I just.. bash you?"
White was now looking up at Ron, his eyes sad. God, this kicked puppy. Ron let out an awkward chuckle, not filled with much humor unfortunately. White sniffled, let out a choked noise before spitting into the toilet.
"Before I feed you your soup, I want to let you know I'm going to help you. Even if it's not what you expected. I haven't exactly been too good to you, especially not in our past. But I'm willing to put that aside to help you." Ron said, giving a small, shy smile.
White hurled, throwing his head to the toilet again and releasing the burning liquid from his throat and into the pool or water. He rose his head with a groan, his ears down at the sides of his head as he shivered uncomfortably. Ron didn't force a current answer from the tubby, and he'd be fine with that til the other was ready.
Ron rose to his feet, taking another gaze over White before leaving the other alone. The door closed behind him again, a soft click could be heard afterwards. Ron sighed, his body trembling slightly as he started walking around the house, picking up all the pill bottles that were labeled "Fluoxetinum." He was quick, efficient, and quiet on his toes as he grabbed a bag and tied it tightly. He'd throw it away when he had time, in the mean time, he hid the bag from White.
White opened the door to the bathroom, his body vibrating mildly as he gripped to the door frame. Ron noticed and made his way over to White, slipping a hand around the other's waist and throwing White's arm around his neck. White would blush, but the sickness was already doing that for him. They both walked over to the bed, slipping White onto the mattress.
The tubby decided to sit up, his posture slouched. That's what being on a monitor does to you. Ron noticed, stifling a laugh as he turned to the kitchen and left to grab White's food. White hummed to himself, wondering how the Tubbies were doing today, and if COAT would truly be okay with White getting ill, especially with the reason for it.
White's thoughts were severed with the scent of steamed vegetables and broth. His ear flicked to the scent. It was the scent of what Ron would bring to work on cold days, frequently more before the Custard incidents. Ron would share with him, helping White with the cold temperature, and in return White would bring some hot-cocoa especially made for Ron.
White couldn't help but smile at the memory. He can't completely say that he missed the old times, but moments like that, he enjoyed to dwell on. Especially on bad days. White sighed, his foot tapping almost impatiently, an irritated hum coming from himself.
Ron came back with a bowl in his hands, steam rising and evaporating. White straightened his posture rather quickly than he initially had wanted, making Ron chuckle.
"Calm down. I know you must be hungry after vomiting your stomach out, yeah?" Ron joked, earning a laugh from himself. "I made a whole pot, so if you ever want more, just let me know and I'll warm it up."
White nodded, eyeing the bowl and looking up at Ron. Ron smiled, handing the bowl over to the other who looked ecstatic. White helped himself, immediately taking the spoon, taking some of the soup, and eating it. White let out a satisfied noise before taking more broth with chunks of vegetables.
Ron sighed, sliding down the side of White's bed and resting his head. White chewed quietly once he let the silence creep in fully. Ron let himself rest, his mind overwhelmed with everything that's going on. Making sure the pills were taken care of, taking care of White, worrying about his well being. He'd rather rest his mind as of right now.
"Hey, Ron." Ron's ear twitched in annoyance, which he didn't display on his face for his sake, and maybe White's too. "Thank you for all of this, truly. I don't really know how to feel, nor thank you properly. You're a good friend."
Ron sat up, turning his head to look at White who was on the bed but next to him, legs crossed like some kid. Ron rolled his eyes with a smile, one that White returned when he caught it.
"I should have, noticed this sooner. Checked to ask if you were okay. You obviously wouldn't have been able to hold it together after the Custards incident, that should have been obvious." Ron spoke softly, catching White off guard. "I'm not good friend, only now making up for my past mistakes. But thank you for feeling that way, and giving me another shot at this."
White's mouth hung open for a moment, his ear flicking before he shut his jaw. Ron sat quietly, looking down at the floor with a small smile that matched his sad eyes. The silence—comfortable but awkward— settled in between them. White smiled, letting out a small huff before opening his mouth.
"I don't think I'll regret it this time." White concluded, looking down of his bowl of—now—broth and downing it in one fell swoop.
He let out a hot huff from his throat, licking his lips before setting down the bowl on his lap. Ron looked over at White, admiring the other before blinking down at the bowl. The blue tubby rose to his feet, using his hand and knee as supports.
"if you're done.."—Ron put out his hands, offering to take the bowl.—"...I'll put it away for you." Ron asked, looking at White this time.
White nodded silently, handing the bowl off to Ron as he took the bowl and rested it in the sink gently. White took the blankets and threw them over himself as he laid back down, snuggling into the covers. Ron came back sitting back down near the end of the bed. White watched, with a tinge of guilt pinching at him.
"Hey, Would you like to join me? You could sleep against the wall.." White asked, hear reaching the tips of his ears as he didn't meet Ron's eyes. "I just feel bad leaving you there, you don't have a cushion to sit on.. so.."
Ron tilted his head as White spoke, taking in the offer to basically share a bed with another dude. "I don't think that'd be a good idea, partly because your sick. I wouldn't want to catch what you have."
"but your literally closer to me now than if you were to be up against the wall."
"..."
Ron might slap this guy. Just to be petty. "Yeah.. you do have a point I suppose." Ron said rather stubborn as he felt the heat warm his cheeks.
The blue tubby cleared his throat, standing to his feet and climbing into the bed. White offered some of his blanket to Ron, which was fortunately big enough to cover the bed and more. Ron and White faced each other comfortably, looking at each other for an awkward amount of time.
"If I get sick. I'll kill you." Ron joked in a serious tone.
White rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "Whatever, Ron."
White eventually rolled over after some time, officially facing away completely. Ron snuggled into the blanket, the warmth was inviting. The silence stretched, Ron resting with his eyes closed, unsure of if white was even still up.
"Goodnight, Ron." White said suddenly, surprising Ron but not in a scared way.
"... Goodnight, White." Ron finished out, let his mind take him else where for the time being.