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It was morning. Sunlight gently seeped through the curtained window, warming Red’s fur and leaving him pleasant and comfortable. He always enjoyed lingering in bed before he got up for the day…
Before it was interrupted by a little green bird.
“Come on! Rise and shine! Time to wake up, sleepyhead!”
Red groaned as he felt a hand roughly prodding his shoulder. “Okay, alright, I’m up. You can quit doing that.”
Duck gave him one more prod for good measure before taking a step backward. “Well, I’ve got to get your attention somehow, don’t I?”
“Not really,” Red said. "I have no idea why you insist on waking up early every day. It’s not like we have anywhere to be.”
“That’s beside the point!” Duck said. “Now get moving, we’ve still got to wake the other one.”
Red responded with a grunt. He sat himself upright, allowing his back to pop into place.
“Hurry up!” Duck called, already halfway out the door. Red took one last longing look at his bed, stifled a sigh, and followed him to Yellow’s bedroom.
Duck was already prodding Yellow’s shoulder by the time he walked inside. “Up, up, up! Morning time!”
Usually when the Duck did this, Yellow would immediately leap to his feet, eager to please. Today, however, there was no response.
Duck seemed to realize this after a few more seconds of aggressive prodding. “What the-? How dare you! Wake up now, or else I will be forced to bite!”
That seemed to get his attention. Yellow blinked his eyes open and looked at his companions blearily.
“There you are!” Duck said. “Come on, off the bed, we can’t waste any more time waiting on you.” (Red, once again, felt the urge to point out they did, in fact, have time to waste, but decided to pick his battles.)
Yellow looked at them for a few more moments before closing his eyes again.
Duck did not like that one bit. He growled dangerously and leered toward Yellow, opening up his bill to-
Red quickly put a hand on the angry little bird's chest. “Woah, pump the breaks, big guy.”
“But he ignored me!” Duck squawked.
“Let me talk to him." Red crouched down by Yellow’s bed. “Hey… you. What uh, what seems to be the problem here?”
“Don’t wanna get up,” Yellow said, voice mumbly from the blankets.
“You’ll have to eventually,” Red said reasonably.
“Don’t wanna,” Yellow said again.
“See?” Duck glared daggers over Red’s shoulder. “I told you, he’s being-”
“Relax, I got this,” Red told him. He turned back to Yellow. “C’mon, don’t you want breakfast?”
“No,” Yellow said.
Red thought for a second. “I could carry you to the kitchen if you want.”
There was a moment’s pause before Yellow, ever so slightly, nodded.
“Told you,” Red said to a seething Duck, unable to refrain from gloating. He stood up and scooped Yellow into his arms, allowing him to climb atop his shoulders.
“Well, don’t get a big head about it,” Duck grumbled.
After the three made their way to the kitchen, Red grabbed Yellow and sat him in his chair. He began his usual process of brewing tea and Duck began his usual process of cooking breakfast, completing the routine in relative silence. Red placed the three finished teacups on the table, and Duck began to hand out plates of toast and eggs.
Duck looked expectantly at Yellow, anticipating his usual ‘thank you’. But, nothing. Yellow just stared at his plate with an empty expression on his face.
Irritated, Duck cleared his throat and prompted him, “Well?”
No response.
Duck scowled but thankfully didn’t react further. He sat in his chair and began eating his breakfast, and Red quietly followed suit. But after they finished, Red noticed that Yellow had barely touched his food, instead stabbing at his eggs with a fork.
Okay, this was starting to be a bit concerning. Red turned to the Duck. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”
“What? Aren’t you talking to me right now?”
“No, I mean-” Red rolled his eyes. “Privately.”
Duck gave him a curious look, but nodded. Together they walked to the living room. Yellow didn't try to follow.
“Something seems wrong with the other one,” Red said once they were alone.
“I agree,” Duck said. “He’s being extremely impolite.”
“That, and he seems kind of miserable. Well, more miserable than usual.”
“I suppose that’s also true,” Duck said. “You didn’t mess with his batteries, did you?”
“Of course not.”
“I don’t know what the problem is, then,” Duck said. “He’s probably just a bit moody today. You’re moody plenty!”
“Says you,” Red said. “Besides, it’s not like him to be moody.”
“Well, what are we supposed to do about it?”
“We could, uh… try to cheer him up, I reckon.”
“And how are we supposed to do that?”
Red shrugged. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead. “I’m sure there’s something we can do.”
Duck was quiet. “... Why do you want to help so badly?” he asked eventually. “You've never cared about such things before.”
Huh. Why did he care? He wanted to believe it was simply because Yellow was acting wrong, but deep down he knew it was because Yellow was the most optimistic of the bunch, and seeing him so distraught was making Red feel kind of hopeless.
But the Duck didn’t need to know that.
“It’s not like we have other plans today,” he said.
Duck tapped his bill thoughtfully before grabbing his clipboard. After a few moments of scanning its contents, he said, “You’re right, we’re completely free! Thus, ‘Operation: Cheer the Other One Up’ can commence!”
“Please don’t call it an operation, that sounds dumb,” Red sighed, but Duck was already halfway out the door, head high with unearned confidence.
… Maybe this was a bad idea after all.
***
The first thing they decided to do was to watch some television. It wasn’t too different from their usual order of business, after all, and it was something he knew Yellow enjoyed.
When they began, Yellow didn’t even bother to point out that Grolton is the dog, which was troubling, to say the least. Though, after a few minutes, he seemed to relax, widening his eyes with interest and leaning subconsciously toward the screen.
Red couldn’t help but smirk. Why had he even been worried? He knew cheering him up would be easy…
Until the screen suddenly went black.
“What the?” Red got up from his chair to press the power button on the TV, but it didn’t have any effect.
“Can you, uh, can’t you fix it?” asked Yellow.
“I don’t think so? The power button isn’t working for some reason.”
“Let me try!” Duck walked up to the TV and, without warning, whacked it with the back of his wing, causing it to rattle violently. Unsurprisingly this also had no effect. “Well, I’ve done all I can do!”
“Damn,” Red said. “It must have broke. I guess we can't watch any more TV today. Sorry, guys.”
Yellow let out a sniffle. Red bit back another curse and crouched down to urgently whisper into the Duck’s ear. “This is bad- the TV has only made it worse!"
“I noticed,” Duck whispered back, just as urgently. “The operation is failing!”
“I told you, mate, don’t call it that-”
“Shut up, I'll call it what I wish,” Duck snapped. “Anyway, we should try something else. But the question is, what?”
Red took a moment to think about it. It struck him that he didn’t exactly know the things Yellow enjoyed off the top of his head. He always went along with whatever he and Duck wanted to do and never complained much. But, he was pretty sure he vaguely remembered Yellow mentioning he enjoyed the outdoors.
“We could go for a walk, maybe?” he suggested. “Could be nice to get ‘em out of the house.”
“Okay!” Duck agreed. “A walk sounds perfectly enjoyable.”
***
“Actually, this is stupid and I want to leave," Duck declared.
“Don’t say that,” Red said.
“It’s hot! It’s literally the hottest time of day!”
“It’s not that bad.”
That was a lie. Duck was definitely right: the walk was pretty bad. Red was sweating so much he wanted to peel his fur off, they were being swarmed by mosquitos, and worst of all, Yellow didn’t seem to be enjoying himself at all.
But damn it if Red wasn’t going to keep trying.
“It’s healthy to get some sunshine once in a while,” he continued and looked expectantly at Yellow. “Don’t you agree?”
Yellow didn’t respond.
Ugh. This was turning out to be a huge mistake. He considered calling it quits and steering them back toward the house to try something else… until something caught his eye.
He leaned down and whispered into the Duck’s ear. “Look, over there!”
“Hm?” Duck followed Red’s line of sight. “A flower patch?”
“Yeah,” Red said. “I think I see some green ones in there.”
“So?”
“Green is the other guy’s favorite color,” Red explained. “Maybe he’d appreciate it if we picked him some.”
“That’s not a horrible idea,” Duck said.
“Wow, thanks.”
Duck turned to address Yellow. “The other one and I have some business to attend to, and you're not invited. So stay right here!” He paused before adding, “and keep your eyes closed while we’re gone!”
Yellow followed the order without asking questions. Which only served to make Red more worried.
“Come on!” Duck called. Red let out a huff before he followed, wondering for the third time that day how such a tiny bird could be so much faster than him.
“How do you know his favorite color, anyway?” Duck asked after they had reached the patch, glancing at Red through the corner of his eye.
“I dunno. He must've told me at some point." After deciding he'd picked enough green flowers, Red reached for a blue one and began to mindlessly weave it into his yarn. “Hey, what's your favorite color?”
Duck gave him a once-over before sneering. "None of your business!"
“Rude,” Red said. “Anyway, think you got enough?”
“Yes.” He held out his wings, showing Red the fruits of his labor. “I got more than you, so I’ve certainly got enough.”
“It’s not a competition.”
“That’s what you think!”
Red contemplated strangling him but ultimately decided against it. “Okay, let’s give him the flowers.”
When they reached Yellow again, the Duck instantly tapped on his shoulder. “We’re back! You can open your eyes now!”
When Yellow opened his eyes, Duck and Red presented their individual flower bunches to him. “Green flowers, just for you,” Red said, making sure to put extra emphasis on the green.
“You guys… got those for me?” Yellow asked.
“We sure did,” Red said. “Do you like them?”
Yellow opened his mouth to reply, but before any words could come out, he was interrupted by a low rumbling sound. Three heads looked up to discover an aggressively dark storm cloud.
“When did that-” Red began, but the cloud interrupted his sentence by downpouring. The flowers in Duck and Red’s hands immediately became waterlogged: drooping and losing petals at an alarming rate.
“Oh,” Yellow said, watching as the flowers were swept away. “They died.”
“Those flowers must have been weak,” Duck said unhelpfully, holding up his wings to shield himself.
“B-but… they were so pretty…”
“Where did the rain even come from?! It was blue skies not five seconds ago!” Red hissed. And as if the world were toying with him, the rain let up and those blue skies were back, hot sunshine beating down on Red’s drenched fur. Three heads looked down to see a muddy puddle filled with broken flower bits beneath their feet.
Yellow let out a sniffle. He was just as miserable and pathetic as before, but now he was also wet. “Can we go home please?”
“Yeah okay,” Red said, defeated.
***
After the three had returned back to the house, and Red finished the laborious process that is drying off his pelt, he found the Duck sitting alone in the kitchen, scanning through a book. Letting out a sigh he slumped next to him in his usual spot.
“Where’s the other one?” Red asked, not bothering to mask the frustration in his voice.
“In his room moping,” Duck said. “You know, I hate to say it, but I think that walk might have backfired.”
“I am aware,” Red replied dryly.
“No matter!” Duck placed his book on the table with a thump. “I have an idea that will surely prove the operation successful.”
“I told you, it’s not an operation-”
“Perhaps we could try another tactic,” Duck continued as if Red hadn’t spoken. “Instead of making him participate in an activity, why don’t we get him a present?”
“I mean, we did try to give him the flowers,” Red pointed out.
“Yes, but that failed miserably,” Duck countered. “I was thinking we could bake him something. He does have a sweet tooth, after all.”
“Hm… that could work,” Red said. “Hey, how do you know he has a sweet tooth?”
“I just know these things,” Duck said, waving his wing dismissively. He tapped a feathered finger on his book. Upon further inspection, Red realized it was actually a cookbook open to a page for a recipe entitled ‘Strawberry Shortcake’. “Something tells me this is the right thing to bake. Now, let’s get started!”
Red nodded. He decided to help prepare by letting the meat thaw beforehand. He walked over to the fridge and grabbed a generous helping of raw beef.
“What are you doing?!” Duck asked.
“Getting the meat,” Red replied confusedly. “Won’t we need it for the recipe?”
“No! We’re making a cake, you wanker!”
“Oh, sorry mate, I just assumed…”
“Ugh, you’re hopeless. Just follow my lead, alright?”
Duck left Red in charge of making the frosting. Even though the task left Red relatively busy, he couldn’t help but watch his companion as he worked. Duck seemed to know exactly what he was doing, stirring and mixing in a flourish. After he finished and placed the cake batter in the oven, he brought out a cutting board and showed Red how to mince strawberries- and after the cake was finished baking, the two decorated with the frosting and fruit.
Red had to admit, it was kind of fun.
“Voilà!” Duck said, staring at their creation and sounding extremely pleased with himself.
“Wow, that looks great. You’re really good at this,” Red told him.
“I know!” Duck said with his usual confidence, before pausing and glancing at Red with a curious expression. “But… do you really think so?”
“Uh, well, yes.”
Those eyes widened, just slightly. “Thank you, I suppose.”
“Y-you’re welcome,” Red replied. Duck was still looking at him. Red wondered why he suddenly felt so nervous.
“... Wot are you two doin'?”
The sound of Yellow’s voice broke them out of the trance. They both turned to see Yellow standing by the kitchen entrance with a confused expression on his face.
Duck found his voice first. “O-oh! You’ve! Returned!”
“Yeah?” Yellow said.
“We’ve made something,” Red said quickly before any questions could be asked. “Come here and see.”
Yellow did as he was told. “What’s that?” he asked, glancing at the table.
“Strawberry Shortcake,” Red said. “It's for you.”
“Oh!” Yellow’s eyes lit up, before frowning. “Wait, is that a, is there a strawberries in there?”
“... Yes?”
Yellow’s frown deepened. “I’m allergic to strawberries.”
“WHAT!” Duck cried. “Since when!”
“I don’t know. Since I was birthed?”
Red felt like he could scream. Christ alive, he just couldn’t win, could he? Why is it that when he tries to do something nice for once, it bites him in the ass? Was he doomed to fail from the beginning? Why did it feel like the world was against him?!
That hopeless feeling began to seep into his stomach…
Until a last, desperate idea sparked in his head.
“I need to speak with you privately,” he told Duck and hastily made his way across the kitchen, out of Yellow’s earshot. Duck let out an irritated noise but followed.
“What do you want now?” he growled, crossing his wings. “Surely you’ve run out of ideas because I certainly have!”
“I have one more,” Red said, “and it involves something you aren’t going to like.”
“Well?”
“You know how the other guy loves your clipboard-”
“What?!”
“- and I was thinking maybe you could maybe let him hold it-”
“No!”
“Come on, you know it’ll make him feel better!” Red insisted.
“I don’t care! No one touches my clipboard but me!”
Red crouched down to the Duck’s height and gave him the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. “Please? For me?”
“I said no! And stop making that face, you look like an idiot!”
“But…” Red paused before coming to a realization that made him freeze in place. He now knew what he could say to persuade Duck, but it would require him to swallow his pride. Suppressing a sigh, he mustered up as much sincerity as possible and said:
“He needs it… for the operation.”
That seemed to do the trick. Duck’s stubborn expression immediately melted away into a pleased one. “So you finally admit it.”
“Yes,” Red said through gritted teeth. “Now will you please let him hold your stupid clipboard?”
“Alright,” Duck agreed. Red didn’t think he’d ever heard him sound so smug (which was really saying something).
After Duck fetched his clipboard from the living room, the two walked back to over Yellow, who was now staring at his forbidden cake with crestfallen eyes.
“You there, boy!” Duck used his free hand to point at Yellow.
Yellow looked at him. “Huh?”
“I am going to let you hold my clipboard.” Duck was grimacing and said every word like they physically hurt.
Yellow blinked. “What? Really?”
“Only for a few seconds!” Duck held out the object in question. “Now take it before I change my mind.”
To Red’s horror, Yellow turned away. “No thanks, I don’t want it right now.”
When the Duck’s eye twitched, Red knew he was at the end of his fuse.
“That’s IT!” he squawked. “I can understand why the telly, the walk, and the cake didn’t work, but this?! This is unacceptable! I just made the greatest sacrifice known to mankind and you don’t even CARE! The other one and I spent all day trying to make you feel better, damn it! The least you could do is show some appreciation!”
That seemed to catch Yellow off guard. “You… tried to make me feel better?”
“Yes! What do you think it was all for?!”
“I… didn’t realize,” Yellow said.
“Clearly,” Duck growled. But even though he sounded bitter and entitled, Red could tell that his feelings were genuinely hurt. He wondered if Yellow could tell, too.
They stood in awkward silence for a few moments.
“I think I feel better now,” Yellow said eventually.
Red perked up. “What? Really!?”
“Yeah,” Yellow said. “'Cause, even though my brain makes me think bad things sometimes, I still have the bestest family in the whole world.”
… Oh.
“That’s… that’s good,” Red said, his throat suddenly far too tight.
“Yes,” Duck agreed. “That’s good.”
He looked up at Red, and Red looked down at him. They didn’t say anything, but the message was clear nonetheless.
Operation: successful.
***
“What was wrong, anyway? You never said,” Red asked Yellow after the three cleaned up the baking mess, and were sitting quietly in the living room.
Yellow’s face scrunched up; he obviously didn't want to admit the answer. But before Red could take the question back, Yellow continued.
“I thought you guys didn’t… you didn’t like…” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think that anymore.”
Red didn’t respond. He felt far too guilty to speak.
“I like your flower,” Yellow added.
Red glanced at the flower he’d mindlessly weaved into his yarn earlier that day. “Huh. I didn’t realize I still had it. I thought the rain washed it away.”
“It’s pretty,” Yellow said.
Red supposed it was pretty. It was his favorite color, after all.
“...Thank you. Seriously.”
~