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“You’re an idiot.”
“Ouch.” Hamuko mutters, sinking deeper into her mattress, while Goro sits uncomfortably on a metal stool propped up beside her bed, a tray of steaming hot porridge in his lap. Pushing his glasses further up his nose, he grits his teeth and tuts at her, displeased.
Hamuko has half a mind to roll over and plug her ears so she doesn’t have to face his nagging - the cloudiness of her head and stuffy nose is only making matters worse. But she knows that when Goro’s like this, ignoring him so brazenly would only tick him off further, so she bites her cheek and tries to focus her eyes on the curtains, thrust open at Goro’s insistence. You need sunlight, he’d told her matter-of-factly earlier, despite the fact that the brightness of the room only exacerbated the headache Hamuko's been nursing since this morning.
“You- honestly, what were you thinking? Weren’t you already busy with club and student council activities? Why would you go and take on even more work on top of that?” Goro scolds, scraping the top of the porridge carefully with a wooden spoon and puffing on it with the vigor of an 80-year-old man, before extending it towards Hamuko, who accepts dutifully. She decides not to comment on how readily he’s feeding her despite declining to do so many times in the past, and instead chews quietly, watching as the steam mists his glasses over for a fifth time, much to his annoyance (and her amusement).
Ham swallows the lump of porridge before speaking, albeit hoarsely. “The tennis club needed my help...they were a person short on the team, and I had some extra time because the council meeting ended earlier than usual. I didn’t think it’d run over for so long.”
Goro sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to decline. That good samaritan complex of yours is going to land you in hot water one day.” He opens his eyes to glance over at Hamuko, who’s adjusting the cold compress on her forehead. “If it hasn’t already.”
“It’s not wrong to want to help people,” Hamuko jokes between coughs, though her tone betrays a hint of petulance. “And you’re the biggest people pleaser I know, so don’t nag. Plus,” she adds playfully, “I know you like that part of me too.”
Goro stiffens, before feeding Hamuko another spoonful hastily. “Shut up and eat.”
Hamuko wants to laugh, but having a mouthful of porridge makes things difficult, so she settles for studying Goro instead. He’s dressed nicely, as usual (getting him to throw away the sweater vests paid off immensely), but his hair is dishevelled, with strands sticking out of his unkempt ponytail, and his eyes dark, as if he hasn’t slept much. He’d arrived in a hurry after Ham called him up early in the morning, sniffing and sobbing, because Aigis is currently away for a monthly tune-up and Ham was alone with a headache that was making her brain feel like soup and on the verge of splitting apart at the same time.
“Did you have anything to do today?” Hamuko asks softly, feeling a tad more grateful.
Goro’s eyes flicker with surprise when he looks up from his phone screen (having pulled it out to mask his embarrassment), but he settles just as quickly. “That’s a first. Asking me about my plans instead of roping me into yours with no consideration whatsoever?” Hamuko pouts, which makes him chuckle just a little. “It’s fine. I didn’t have anything important going on.” She sighs with relief as Goro tucks his phone securely into his pocket so she doesn’t notice it lighting up every few seconds.
“Anyway,” Goro slides the tray into Hamuko’s lap, much to her disappointment, and crosses his legs. “Back to the subject at hand. You need to start pacing yourself, Hamuko. And learning how to say no.”
Hamuko whines. “Can’t this wait until I’m better?”
“What, so you can brush me off and run away like usual? It’s better to get this over with now, while you’re within my grasp.” Goro removes his glasses and examines them carefully, looking somewhat relieved that they’re clear again. “I thought I was a busybody, but sometimes just watching you tires me out.”
“You are a busybody, Goro. Way worse than me. I’ve lost count of how-” Ham sniffs, hard. “How...many times you’ve shown up at my door after work and passed out before you can even take a single step inside. If you’re going to nag me about my bad habits, work on yours first.” She punctuates the end of her sentence with a cough.
Goro clasps his hands together, squeezing them hard. “Working to the bone is fine when I do it, not you.”
Hamuko opens her mouth, incredulous. She’s ready to give him an earful (or as much of an earful she can give with a raging sore throat), but stops in her tracks when he begins to speak.
“I...was worried.” Goro says quietly, each word clawing at his throat.
At first, Hamuko blinks, eyebrows raised, but then she shuffles towards him silently so as not to miss anything. His hand is settled on top of the duvet, near her knee, but she doesn’t reach for it, because right now, she knows it would probably mortify him. “This morning, when you called me. It was the first time I’d heard you like that.”
He doesn’t look up at her, but Hamuko understands, no words needed. It’s not often that Goro lays out all of his cards in front of her like this. It’s a plea, one that makes Hamuko’s chest tighten with shame.
He’s right, of course. They’re both similar in that hiding the most vulnerable aspects of themselves is all they’ve ever known. Despite the closeness between them, Hamuko has never let Goro see her cry. It’s only natural that calling him out of nowhere, doing just that, would alarm him.
“I’m sorry…” Hamuko bites her lip. Goro peers up at her through his fringe, then leans forward and flicks her right between her eyebrows. “Ow!”
“Stop making that face, it’s fine. Also, your porridge is getting cold. Hurry up and eat.”
“Uuu...how could you treat a sick person like this?” Hamuko wails, but obliges, finishing the rest of the bowl without complaint. Goro watches her with some affection, before reaching out and giving her two pats on the top of her head. Hamuko almost freezes in shock, dropping her wooden spoon, and looks up at him, eyes wide.
Goro groans, embarrassed. “Don’t say a word.”
She ignores him, naturally. “I’ll jump on you.”
“What?!”
Ham grins, watching him sputter - Goro losing his composure has some kind of healing power she can’t explain. Maybe it's the added effect of knowing only she gets to see him like this. He recovers relatively quickly, however, much to her dismay, and straightens up, folding his arms indignantly. “If you’ve got this much energy, I suppose I’m not needed anymore.”
“No….” Hamuko feigns innocence, flopping back into bed with a crash. Goro lurches forward, steadying the tray before its contents can go flying, and shoots her a glare. “I’m...shooooo sick…”
“In that case, get some rest. I can’t have you jumping on me while you’re sniffing and sneezing all over the place.”
“So you’ll let me jump on you when I get better?” Ham bats her lashes, even though she’s certain she has the sex appeal of a dying animal as she is right now. Goro doesn’t miss a beat, however.
“I’ll think about it.”
It’s Hamuko sputtering this time, but Goro doesn’t let her even formulate a response before he can leave, tray in hand. She settles back into her pillow, ignoring the sound of her racing heart as she watches him shut the door behind himself hurriedly - with his hair pulled back for once, the blush spreading towards his ears is clearly visible. Ham smiles fondly. He’s the best kind of medicine, indeed.