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“Right then, how are we going to clean this up?” Duck squawks while he points to the floor, soaked in glittery vomit right before the bed. He scrunches his face in disgust before turning to the tallest member. “Fetch me my bucket! And take the blue one, not the red one! The red one is not quite fixed just yet! I’ll keep watch on the little one while you go and get it.” He now points to the ill boy, restlessly sleeping beside him, groaning softly.
Red frowns at this statement, yet takes pity on the smallest one. “Why should I do it? You go do it.” He frowns even deeply when Duck contradicts his complaints, paying no mind to his words. “No buts! The bucket is on the top shelf of the bathroom, therefore you can only reach it! I and the other one won’t be able to reach it even with both of us combined.” He confidently declares, a slightly smug expression displayed on his face as he knows red can’t deny his claims to be false.
Red huffs and steps out of the room, annoyed. “Why is it even on the top shelf? It doesn’t make sense,” He grumbles as he twists the knob of the bathroom door and almost reaches for the red bucket out of spite, but decides against it just so he can prevent another argument that would last for 2 days at worst, he estimates, and he isn’t in the mood to argue with his infuriating housemate. The youngest of them is ill and won’t stop gagging since this morning, the two can’t afford to fight, it’ll end up horribly and they both knew that.
“HURRY UP HE’S GOING TO DO IT AGAIN!” He hears him yell from the bedroom. That’s all it took for him to dash for the bedroom, and lay the bucket down before looking away. He just hears heavy breathing and the sounds of hurling. Oh god , he wouldn’t dare to try and see that . He feels the uncomfortable imagery pop up in his head and he desperately tries to mentally shove it away from him. It continues for a few minutes before he hears panting and breathing, showing that he’s probably finished. Red sighs in relief at the sound.
“mh…tummy hurts..” Yellow complains to both of them. Duck tries to soothe him using his wing, rubbing his back and shushing him to sleep, insisting he needs it.
“Hush now, I shall make you tea and scones if you really need it.”
“But you don’t even know how to make those!’
“How rude of you! I am already taking care of you, and I know how to make one perfectly!” He scoffs at him, feeling offended by such claims. “Yeh, I guess you probably know how to. You know how to do everything.” Yellow says as he weakly smiles at Duck, breathing softly. Soon, his breathing turned into small snores, indicating his slumber. The boy drifted off to sleep, unaware of the impact he had on the older man. Duck’s heart swells at the boy’s compliment, but he pushes it down, to be forgotten at a later date.
“Of course! I’m the best one!” he quietly shouts, careful to not awaken the small boy, even though the conversation died down a few moments ago.
“Is he gonna be alright?” Red questions, his words lacing with concern. Duck doubts that he realized he slipped up, as he tends to lock up emotions and not show much care. He, too, pushes this moment down, wanting to forget the small little moments of too much emotion, or maybe the little details he notices sometimes.
“Guess so, but he won’t be getting better anytime soon without food!” Duck jumps down the stool and makes way for the kitchen. Halfway through the doorframe, he turns around and asks, “Are you coming with me?” He cocks his eyebrow, awaiting an answer. Red sighs at him and follows.
“Why so upset? Don’t you want to be with me?” He says, sounding betrayed, more than he wanted to let out and he regretted that mistake. Red looks at him for a split-second before averting his eyes. He parted his mouth to speak, letting the tension brew for a few moments before answering,
“I don’t, hate you. I guess. So don’t say that kind of thing, it doesn’t suit you sometimes, old man.”
Duck’s heart flutters, but he took those butterflies one by one and crushed them all, before shoving them deep down once more.
“Such impolite behavior towards me! Hmph! If I leave, then there will be no one left to organize this house!” He walks faster than the other, trying to sound and look annoyed. Red just looks at him in amusement. “Now you’re really sounding like an old man.” Red chuckles at him before catching up.
The pair reached the kitchen, and they basked in the comfortable silence that surrounded them. Today has been a good day, no singing inanimate objects yelling at them how plates work, or how the sky can change colors, or something stupid they’re already aware of but they would still need to pretend to not know what it is to gratify whatever thing is keeping them here.
Duck starts to prepare the tray for the scones, and grabs the ingredients one by one. He as well takes his clipboard from the table, and starts to list down the ingredients they need before checking them one by one.
“one bag of flour, sugar, salt, baking powder, measuring cup…”
He goes on and on and Red just listens to the man rambling about how they’d need to “buy” more eggs despite the fact that they would be refilled by tomorrow automatically, or how they need to lessen sugary food for the yellow one to recover despite how upset he would be from hearing the news, or maybe how there was this certain store he saw from the newspaper that sold different varieties of pie and how he’d love to visit it. He doesn’t pay much mind to the man’s words, just tuning out and focusing on his voice.
How soothing it sounds, and how he can sound dumb and professional at the same time. He hums and agrees with the smaller member of the clump despite not listening to his nonsense about whatever it may be. He decides to make the tea instead, still watching Duck closely to avoid any potential fires or maybe a possibility of injuring himself.
He fills the kettles with water, and he watches it sparkle from the light reflecting the liquid. Red then carefully places it on the stove and lets it heat itself.
While sitting down on the chair to wait, he catches sight of the scar on Duck’s chest, and it fills him with dread. Something was wrong with that scar, and he dare not to question what had happened.
But he does, anyways.
“Hey, where did you get that scar?”
Duck completely freezes, and slowly turns his head to Red.
“I-I don’t know.”
What a lie. And Red knows that too. Fear starts to build up in Red’s stomach and his head was screaming at him to drop the topic. So, he does. “I, uh, I s-see.” He responds, voice shaking. The air was replaced with heavy and unspoken tension, and Red mentally slaps himself for ruining the moment.
“Uh, the vomit is still…” His voice trails off, before shaking his head. “No, I’ll clean it up.”
Duck looks at him in confusion. “I thought you didn’t like it?”
“Well, I don’t, but you’re busy, so I’ll just, do it I guess.” Duck shrugs at him, and he takes a piece of cloth from the kitchen and walks to the bedroom. His steps thudded against the floor, and his rhythmic steps made him feel uneasy.
With every single step he made, it felt like someone, or something was watching him closely, and he felt like prey under that watchful gaze that paid attention to him. His head was beginning to feel fuzzy, and he stumbled upon the bedroom door without even realizing how he got there.
Nonetheless, he opened the door and saw the boy still sleeping soundly. His heart softens at the sight of the peaceful child, and he makes his way down to the pool of vomite. He grimaces, but not as if he has a choice, and he wanted to give Duck space after the small interaction they just had.
Ugh.
He tries to finish it as soon as he can, immediately speed-walking to the kitchen and throwing away the piece of cloth, immediately washing his hands in the kitchen with far too much soap that’s needed. Smelling the scones, he turns around and sees Duck holding a tray, raising it to him and urging him to try it.
“I made it myself!” He proudly states, seemingly happy about his creation of the sugary biscuit. “Wait, hold on, I thought we weren’t supposed to give him sugar?” Red asks, still confused as to how he missed that detail.
“Yeah, I thought that, but my hard work will go to waste if he doesn’t even eat it! And I already made the tea, it’s chamomile! Good for sleeping, I read that somewhere!” He smiles at Red once again. Red looks at him, and he looks like he’s been having fun making the food. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try.
He takes one and tries to part his hair before nearly forgetting he was ever there.
Duck frowns, disappointed. “Do you not like it?” Red immediately tries to counter him.
“NO! I-I mean-” He shouts accidentally. He clears his throat before attempting to speak again. “I-it’s just, you have to turn around.” “What, why?” “Just do it mate.” Duck tries to press for more answers, but he silently decides against it before obeying.
Red parts his yarns once again, and he bites into the scone.
“Well? How is it?” Duck asks for answers once again, with his back still turned around. “I didn’t expect you to be okay at cooking.” Red plainly says, before realizing the indirect compliment. He chokes on the food, suppressing a cough. Duck turns to look at him and scoffs, “Huh, well, thank you I guess.”
“Well? We better get going. We need to feed him every single one! And the tea! He needs to drink it all to sleep properly.”
“Are you sure he won’t go on another sugar rush after that?”
“Hm, that’s a fair point. We will all share it then!”
The pair makes their way to the bedroom again and gets lost in their conversation. The house may be a hard place to live in, but living in clumps helped them survive all those horrible lessons. To be in a family, and to never leave it. Maybe sometimes families can be clumps, and clumps can be families. Who cares if they just shared a lawyer and a wallet, or that they would soon die on the same day in the same style of action but in different locations? What matters was that they were here in the present, being near each other, and they might even be enjoying it without ever knowing it.
The sun’s final rays leak through the window. Time has never felt so fast, but at the end of the day, the three of them will eventually depend on each other.