Archive of Our Own

Second is abnormally healthy in comparison to his friends. 

Unlike Yellow, Second never finds himself locked in his room, tinkering like Victor Frankenstein to create the incomprehensible; often met with awe or mortification. He actually spends loads of time “outside” or the equivalent of outside on the desktop, getting whatever digital sunlight and vitamin D he hypothetically needs. He also sleeps far more than Yellow ever does if he thinks of all the times he wakes to loud banging and metal scraping across the floor at night.

Green, although more tame in comparison to Yellow, is arguably more competitive than the rest of them. For example, that boating race they had once upon a time, in which Green was in the lead before being shoved off his boat by Blue and Yellow. He’d been sick for a solid week after and Second felt glad he’d been the one left with a stopwatch. 

Speaking of Blue, he almost always gets sick. Despite all his denial, it roots to his nether wart addiction. Like blue cheese, it’s harmless in small amounts, but putting it in cake, tacos, pizzas, or even eating it raw 24 hours a day, seven days a week, doesn’t really do wonders for a person’s stomach. 

Then there’s Red, always taking good care of his animals. As much as Second loves his passion for animals, sometimes the stray wolves and cats are carrying fleas or ticks. That one time Red had found a hurt bat and not too surprisingly it bit him. It was probably the worst he’s been sick. It’s fair to say Second tends to keep some distance from the new animals he brings in.

In short, Second hardly puts himself in a situation to get sick and the only time he does is when he has to play nurse. He’ll look for healing potions while Blue feeds Yellow mushroom stew, try to sing for Green again so his friend actually stays laying down, limit Blue’s nether wart intake (which is more difficult than you’d think), and stick to Red’s bedside like glue while ignoring Green’s smirk each time. The weird thing about this is that, even while caring for his sick friends, he never gets sick. 

He doesn’t take any precautions that aren’t normal. It’s not like he walks in there in a hazmat suit and a long stick to push potions to them. At most he’ll wash his hands and that’s absolutely it. Yellow theorizes that it may have to do with him being a hollow head, but it’s not like any of them know if Chosen or the Dark Lord have some super immune system either. It makes sense though, in theory. 

So when Second woke up that morning and sat up, how was he supposed to know his vision would spin 121° before toppling off his bed and landing a full 180° on his head? A face full of wooden planks isn’t exactly a pleasant awakening, yet when he tries to push himself up, his arms and legs quiver beneath his own weight. All his muscles are burning and when his face inevitably slams back into the floor his pained cry comes out as a croak. And, ouch, his throat feels like it’s swallowing itself whole. Just the small attempt at a groan was enough to make him shut his mouth all together. 

As strange as it felt to be ill, he could piece it together rather quickly. A sore throat, dizziness, burning muscles, and a killer headache are all common symptoms of illness. He’d seen it enough times in his friends to recognize it in himself. It was just a bit baffling to think he’s actually sick. Second’s not injured or exhausted, he’s full on ill. At least when one of them finds him laying on the floor in a pool of his own sweat and leaves to find the others, Yellow will have a field day with this. That would be fun. So fun. 

The idea of just how fun it’d be motivated Second to try and lift himself again. Only to fall back on his face with a gargled grunt. Now his head is pounding and his vision hazier. Did he really fall on his head that hard? Then he feels a pressure beneath his armpits and he’s lifted up, legs dangling off the ground while he kicks in a panic. 

“Sec, Sec! Stop! It’s me!” The voice feels like a hammer being thrown into his skull but he does recognize it. Peeling his eyes open and squinting through his tunnel vision he sees a bright red blob with touches of yellow. Then oh, the pounding in his head were actually footsteps. Red found him first. 

“R…Red…?” Second manages to mutter before hacking, throat aching. 

“Yes, Yes, it’s me.” Red replies in a more hushed tone and Second can feel a softness envelop him, being laid across something warm, probably his bed. “You look terrible…” 

Second, for all his pain and agony, laughs. “No… shit.” Red shoots Second a disapproving glare but it only makes Second’s grin grow. The bed bounces when Red sits down, the mattress sinking beneath his weight. A welcomed coolness presses against Second’s forehead which he only realizes is Red’s hand after leaning into it.

Red hisses, “Holy shit, dude… Since when have you been so hot?”

“Since always.”

“Har, Har, very funny.” Second laughs but it quickly turns into a coughing fit and Red’s hand, to Second’s chagrin, leaves his face. “Oh my god, dude! Chill out!” Red seems to be at a loss as to what to do, blurry blob for a hand hovering over Second in a panic. Second almost feels tempted to reach out and grab them, but they pull away before he can. 

“I’m… I’m gonna go get the others…” Red says. “You stay here.” Second feels disappointment stir in his gut, listening to Red’s frantic steps grow distant, followed by the creaking of his bedroom door. Where does Red think he’s going to go? Back on the floor? Maybe.

Second weakly rolls onto his side. The blanket is too hot. He misses Red or more accurately: Red’s hands. They were so cool and soft. It’s weird because usually Red is so warm and snuggly, yet his hands felt freezing. So wonderfully freezing. 

Second wants him back here right now. He wants Red’s hands back on his forehead or maybe dragging down his cheek… He wants to hold Red’s hands and stare into his stupidly worried gaze and feel it cool him off.

Second twists and turns for a bit longer until he doesn’t have the energy to twist and turn. Just faintly could he hear the door open just as his eyes fell shut. 

“Sec… Sec…” Second groans and his eyes flutter open weakly. It seems a little rest helped his vision clear up, eyes darting to his hands, flexing them. His head is still pounding but not nearly as bad as before, and judging by his involuntary swallow, his throat is still burning. “Looks like you finally got sick, hm?” Second put in the embarrassing amount of effort to lift his head, gaze locking on bright yellow hair and red glasses. 

“Yellow?” He mumbles before coughing a bit, nose scrunching up as pain soars through his head. “Yeah… Yeah, guess I did.” 

Yellow hardly reacts besides a tight frown. She reaches her hand out of his sight and toward the chest placed behind his bed, but he never hears it open. From thin air her hand returns with a healing potion, bright pink liquid sloshing inside while she tugs the cork out. Second makes a face. 

“Where’d you get that?” 

“I laid it on top of your chest, moron.” Yellow returns his look with narrowed eyes. “Now come on, open up.”

Second rolls his eyes. “I get sick once and you can’t even be bothered to be nice.”

Yellow barks out a laugh, shaking her head. “It’s about damn time! Besides, this is nice! Or do you want me to show you mean?” Second grimaces and shakes his head. Yellow smiles. “Good, now say ‘aw.’” Second opens his mouth and lets Yellow pour the potion into his mouth. He would have asked to drink it himself but the slight quiver in his wrist tells him he shouldn’t bother. 

The healing potion tastes as sweet as ever, probably the glistering melon, but just as he swallows there’s a taste he doesn’t recognize. He frowns. “Did Blue alter the recipe?”

Yellow raises a brow. “I wouldn’t think so, but technically Red made it.” 

“Red?” Second blinks in disbelief. 

Yellow snorts, “Yeah, since finding you on the floor this morning he’s been all over the place. When Blue went to make potions, Red went off with him.” Yellow casts her gaze back over the empty bottle. “It looked like a normal healing potion, so there must have just been a slight difference in ratios… But I can still ask Red if he tried adding anything if you’d like?” 

Second looks at Yellow, then back at the bottle. He has a bit to process. Not only did Red make a potion, which he never does, but he had made it out of worry for him? Okay. Cool. That’s fine. It totally doesn’t make something in Second’s stomach twist. Not in the slightest. Then memories flood back to him of Red’s hand on his forehead and the embarrassing way he leaned into it. 

Oh god, he’s absolutely terrible. 

“Uh… No, No… It’s fine. It’s not like it tasted wrong, just different.”

“Like you’d know what “wrong” tastes like…” Yellow snarks, smirking in some kind of odd pride. “Blue makes all his potions flawlessly and you’ve never had anything else.” Second sends her a weak glare as she stands from his bedside, dusting off her skirt.

“Well I’d still rather believe Red did something right and not poison me.”

Yellow sighs and speaks in a sing-song way, “You and your sweet, sweet bias…”

“As if you’re any better about Blue,” Second deadpans, not missing the way Yellow’s eyes flicker away. 

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“You have every idea.”

Yellow pivots on her heel, dramatically huffing as if exhausted. “Oh, my dearest friend… As much as I’d love to argue with you in your hour of need, I must be off. You rest up in the meantime.”

As tempted as Second is to retort or shoot a glare at her, he softens. “Yeah, Yeah, I will…” Yellow seems to deem that acceptable enough of a fair well, heading toward the door. That was until Second speaks up, trying not to wince while raising his voice. “And sleep. Make sure you sleep… And maybe hang out with Blue? Watch him tend to his garden?”

Yellow spins back around and of all the looks she could give Second, he wasn’t expecting one so aggravated. Her eyes narrow. “Are you seriously saying that now?”

Second feels a heat along the back of his neck. “...Yeah?”

Yellow sighs, adjusting her glasses. Second can only wait and stare while Yellow collects her thoughts. “Look,” She starts, looking him back in the eye. “It’s sweet you care about us, really… I do appreciate it. We all do.” Her heels click against the wooden floors, stopping back at his bedside. “But right now, focus on yourself. Stop thinking about how to help us and think of how to rest.”

“But–”

“–No.” Yellow cuts him off stubbornly, leaning over the bed to glower at him. “Rest so that Red doesn’t have to keep pacing back and forth fretting over you, and so the rest of us can relax too. We’re worried about you.” Yellow then pulls away, twists on her heel, and strolls off. “Ta-ta, Sec!” She calls out in farewell, shutting the door behind her before he could reply. Not that he could even if she waited. He is completely frozen with his eyes blown wide in shock. 

He never really thought about it like that. He’s always been strong and dependable, especially for his friends. He watched his friends die and although he can’t remember it, he knows he did all he could to protect them. He knows he’s stronger, tougher than the rest of them. He knows he’s done the impossible more often than not. He’d grown to almost think that he’s invincible. So much so that he’d forgotten how scary this must be for them.

“Hm.” Second thinks between each pang shooting through his brain, relaxing in his bed and curling up beneath the blanket. It’s still too hot. His hands feel clammy. 

He shuts his eyes. 

When Second wakes he wasn’t expecting to see Green at his bedside. He was hunched over Second’s crafting table which Second can only infer had been moved while he slept. Interestingly, Green wasn’t crafting anything at all. He had a book opened to an unknown page, running his quill across the paper with his brows pinched together. Different colored inkwells were lined across the edge of the crafting table, Green dipping the tip of his quill into one of them every so often. 

Second hesitantly pushes himself up, not feeling nearly as sore as he had before. He has to thank Yellow for the medicine. 

And Red.

Especially Red. 

Second must not have been as quiet as he’d like because Green’s hand stills and he twists his head back to meet Second’s eyes. Green smiles cooly, appearing as collected as ever. “Hey Sec, sleep well?”

Second returns his smile with a drowsy one of his own, yawning. “Yeah… I feel better than I did this morning.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Green hums, turning back around and returning to whatever he’d been doing before, scribbling across the page. “Red’s been worried sick about you. He hasn’t shut up about how bad you looked this morning.” Second tries not to wince at the reminder, a pang of guilt jabbing his lungs. 

“So I’ve heard…” Second’s eyes follow the fragile movement of the quill’s feather. “...Is he alright?”

Green’s eyes briefly dart to Second before returning to the page, a knowing grin growing on his lips. “He’s just fine. He’s helping Blue prepare dinner right now, but really it’s just an excuse to make soup for you. You don’t need to worry about him though.”

“I know.” Second replies easily yet he sucks in a breath, smile faltering. “I just can’t help but worry.” 

Green huffs, amused, and dipping his quill back into the green inkwell. “It’s just like you two to worry over each other.” He presses the tip of the quill back onto the page. “Think about it like this… The less you worry about him and the more you let yourself rest, the sooner he won’t have to worry over you. Plain and simple.”

As “plain and simple” as he made it sound, it certainly doesn’t feel like it. Second tries not to scowl. “But why is it that I should stop worrying? If that’s your logic, shouldn’t Red stop worrying too?” 

Green pauses for a moment or two, completely still in thought. Then he places down his quill completely, turning his body to face Second. “Generally? Sure, yeah, worrying isn’t exactly good...” Green shrugs. “But there’s a distinct difference between how Red worries and how you worry.”

“How?” Green shoots him a bemused look. 

“Well for one, Red worries when he should… Or sometimes not at all.” Green muses, leaning back and letting his head rest against Second’s legs. “You though, my lovely friend, worry constantly.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do,” Green grins ear to ear and if Second weren’t sick right now he would launch himself at him. “You literally have, like, a mini heart attack any time anyone leaves to collect supplies. You’re a worry wart.” Second grimaces at the label, but finds himself struggling to retort, stammering. 

“W-well, maybe… But isn’t Red being just as worried?”

“Tsk-tsk-tsk…” Green clicks his tongue, and as if to further shove it in his face, he wags his finger side to side. “Red’s stress is a healthy stress. We’re all worried for you and it’s not a bad thing that he’s going out of his way to care for you. That we all are to some degree.” Green rolls on his side, propping his elbow up on Second’s leg to rest his face against his palm. “It’s just not healthy when you habitually patrol the whole house multiple times in a row and walk back and forth to the portal to make sure it’s shut. Some of it borders on straight up being distrusting of us.” 

Second swallows and his gaze falls back down to his lap. He gives it some thought despite already knowing the answer, flopping back down into his pillows and groaning in defeat. “Fine, fine! You’re right! It’s excessive, okay?” Green’s eyebrows raise and Second bites his tongue. “...But can you blame me? I’ve almost lost you guys so many times and… You guys are the only friends I’ve got…”

Green hands him a more sympathetic look, sitting up with a puff. “I don’t blame you but you’ve also gotta learn to let go. You know Purple had that kind of issue… Clinging to past pains… It doesn’t do you any good.”

Second stares into the ceiling a mixture of shame and uncertainty swirling in his stomach, creating a deep and foreboding pit in his mind. Paranoia. He hadn’t wanted to recognize it before, having long since labeled it as “looking out” for his friends, but Green is right. He’s always right. 

Second takes a deep breath in. Then out. He looks back down at Green. “How’s Purple doing anyway?” 

Green either miraculously doesn’t notice the topic change or he chooses to let it be, answering. “She’s doing well. She said she hopes you get better.”

“She knows?”

Green laughs, “With how Red’s freaking out, everybody knows.” Second feels guilt simmer in his gut again. He dutifully ignores it. 

“Oh! Actually speaking of Red,” Green’s face lights up and he nabs his note book from the crafting table. He presents the page he’d been scrawling on to Second, Second shocked to find that Green had been drawing not writing. It looked to be a doodle of Second and all his friends hugging with “get well soon!” written at the top. Green continues, “You know how you always try to distract me while I’m sick or whatever and you, like, try to sing and stuff?”

Second’s eyes continue to trace over each stroke along the page, nodding.

“Well, I wanted to do something like that for you, you know? I wasn’t sure what though and then Red suggested that I should draw. You know, dabble in your talent and things like that? Definitely not as good as your art but it’s an honest work.” Second’s eyes snap back to Green and he feels a warmth fill his heart. For all his worries and grievances, he loves his friends. He loves them so much. 

“No, it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen…”

“You don’t gotta lie–”

“–I’m not lying!” Second shouts despite the way his throat cries in protest, feeling the smile breaking out on his face. “Hang it up on my wall right now.” 

Green’s face contorts into disbelief but he gets up anyway. “You got an item frame in your chest?” Second shakes his head and Green huffs, stretching out his arms and legs. “Alright, I’ll be right back.” 

Second waves to Green as he leaves, sinking into his sheets once the door shuts. He takes another look at the drawing and his mind fills with happy thoughts, endeared completely and totally to his friends. He’d better get well soon so he can join them again. He wants to join them as soon as possible. 

Before he knew it his mind drifted off, his eyes shut. 

“Sec! Guess what time it is!” Second’s eyes snap open and he looks towards his door to see Blue step inside cheerily as ever, holding a tray in his hand with a bowl sitting on it. Yellow also enters, trailing behind him with her arms crossed as if she’d rather be anywhere else. Yet that clearly isn’t true based on the nervous flicker of her eye. She came to visit again. 

“Guys! Great to see you!” Second greets with a grin Blue giggling whereas Yellow cocks a brow. 

“You seem happy…” Yellow comments plainly, sitting on his bedside while Blue sets the tray down on Second’s crafting table, stirring the soup. Second smiles smugly, turning towards his wall and eventually spotting Green’s drawing now hanging in an item frame. 

“Just look at what Green drew me!” Second gestures to the wall and Yellow’s eyes follow, brows raising. 

“Huh, nice.”

Blue twists his head and he gasps a bit, eyes lighting up. “Aw! How sweet! Green did this?” Second looks back at Blue and nods, watching his friend shake his head with a fond look. “He is just amazing at everything, isn’t he?”

“Unless we blow it up.”

“Yellow, we’re not blowing up Sec’s lovely gift.”

“Y-you know that’s not what I meant!” Yellow bristles, eyes narrowing at Blue bitterly. Blue casts her cheeky look, snickering. 

“Moving on, I can’t imagine how hungry you are…” Blue mumbles thoughtfully, lifting the bowl to place on Second’s lap. “Red and I made this for you, mushroom stew. He is a great little chef when somebody’s keeping an eye on him…” Second holds back a laugh at the implication of that, taking the bowl into his hands and feeling the warmth emanate through his fingers. Steams wafts through the air paired with a savory, seasoned aroma. Second’s expression softens. 

“What’s Red up to now anyway?”

“Oh my cursors! Of course you’d ask about your precious, Red…” Yellow scoffs and Blue shoots her a disapproving look. The sight of Yellow biting her tongue is almost laughable. 

“Can you blame me? I haven’t seen him since this morning.”

“You haven’t?” Yellow looks befuddled, tossing Blue a look. Blue returns the look with bemusement, shaking his head and shrugging. They turn their attention back to Second.

“Red’s been visiting you all day, Sec… I guess you just slept through it each time.”

“And that’s saying a lot about how much you sleep,” Yellow adds with a snooty expression, looking about ready to continue nipping at him before faltering. “...Though I am glad you took my advice.” Second hands her a small, thankful smile. 

“You know, it would explain why Red is still so worried…” Blue thinks aloud, biting the inside of his cheek. “You seem to be getting better but that’s hard to tell when you’re napping all the time…” 

Second’s expression sours but before his mind could think too hard on it, Yellow cuts in. “No, no, no, Sec. I see the gears churning. Quit it. Eat.” Blue’s eyes widen at her demanding tone and his mouth opens for a scolding. Only Second beats him to it.

“Thanks, I will.” 

Blue blinks, mouth clamping shut. Yellow seems to hesitate, averting her gaze to adjust her glasses. “You’re welcome…”

Second turns his attention to the mushroom stew, watching a few ripples warp his reflection in the broth. His warped form grins between the bits of mushroom that float by, and the steam continues to spin in the air, brushing across Second’s face. He presses the bowl to his lips and it tastes warm, homey. It soothes the dull aching in his throat and flows down to his stomach without issue. It tastes like everything mushroom stew should… and a little more. Literally a little more. It’s sweeter than usual. 

Second swallows and he pulls the bowl away to stare into it, sensing the odd stares he’s getting from his friends. 

“...What is it?” Second’s gaze shifts to Yellow. His stomach feels so fluttery. This is terrible. 

“It tastes different… like, sweeter.” Second’s eyes fly to Blue, a teasing smirk on his lips. “You didn’t add nether warts, did you?” 

Blue shoots him an unimpressed look. “No? If I did, it certainly wouldn’t be sweeter.” Blue squints into the bowl, tapping his chin. “Maybe Red added sugar?”

Yellow hesitates, eyes darting back to Second. “Maybe it’s a difference in ratios…?” Yellow and Second look to each other knowingly, all the while Blue hums, staring into the soup none the wiser. 

“Maybe…? I mean, I wasn’t paying so much attention to what measurements he used…” Blue seems to ponder on it for a few moments longer, watching the mushrooms bob in the broth before sitting up, deciding on something. “I’ll go find him and ask…” Blue dismisses himself before leaving, shutting the door firmly behind him. 

Yellow and Second sit in complete silence, Yellow’s eyes darting to the door hesitantly. Second huffs, eyes straying back to the soup with a dopey grin.

 “Everything Red makes is so sweet…”

Yellow looks back at Second with a scowl, nose wrinkling. “Ugh, You’re such a sap.”

She stands up to leave and Second laughs, holding the bowl steady in his lap to keep it from spilling. When the door slams shut, he lets himself relax into the sheets. Silent, he brings the bowl back to his lips. 

Red has always been the sweetest, caring for everyone and everything. Technically, between the 5 of them, Blue is the sweetest and most gentle of them all, but Second knows he has a bias. Everyone knows he has a bias. Everyone but Red anyway. 

Maybe that’s what it is. Red is just so sweet in Second’s eyes that he inevitably has a magic touch, making every edible item warm and sugary on Second’s taste buds, and not for any reason but that it was done by Red’s hand. 

Red’s hand. 

Second thinks back to when he’d been in delirium, head spinning while Red took his temperature, the chilly hand pressing into his forehead. The blanket doesn’t feel nearly as hot as it did then, and Second isn’t dripping in cold sweat now either. Yet he finds that he still wants to reach out and grab Red’s hands, to feel their fingers slide between one another. And like before he wants to see him, but actually see him. Not just a red blob spinning hazily before his sight, but Red with a stupid drowsy grin when he comes back to visit Second. 

Based on what everyone’s said, he’s bound to come back. 

Second waits, eyeing the door.

The sun was beginning to set through Second’s window, the light casting a hazy, purplish hue across his room. It was dead quiet besides the patter of his friends’ footsteps above him, no doubt getting ready for bed or working on their own projects. The fireplace crackled from behind his bed and in the distance he could hear the mooing of one of Red’s cows. Second sighs, glancing back to his door. 

Yellow, Blue, and Green had visited earlier but when asked where Red was, they said he was caring for an injured rabbit he’d found and planned to collect flowers after. As lovely as Second thinks caring for an injured rabbit is, he’s getting impatient. And what does Red need flowers for anyways? For dye? Maybe, actually… Red did get a new dog recently. It would make sense if he’d want to dye it’s collar, but even then, they said “flowers” plural not "flower" singular and to need so much dye makes no sense. Maybe he plans to dye wool? For what though?

Second just wants Red to get over here already, flowers and rabbits be damned. Red’s potion, soup, and ideas had held him off for a while, but those were mere scraps of Red’s presence. It wasn’t Red. It wasn’t Red’s hands interlaced with his own. Yellow would be vomiting if she could hear his thoughts. Good thing she can’t, hopefully… 

Second’s focus stays stuck onto his bedroom door like glue, tracing the small oak frame in contemplation. He almost feels tempted to walk out and look for Red and by “almost” he really means “completely and utterly.” He knows Red would probably be angry, let alone any of his friends, and on top of everything, he doesn’t know if his legs would carry him that far. Or anywhere at all. He felt loads better than he did this morning but it’s still a concern.

Second takes a cursory glance off the side of his bed, gaze following each line and indent in the wood. He takes in a breath, tugging off his blanket and sliding his legs off the bed, letting them dangle for a second or two. With a puff of air, he uses his arms to push himself up. His legs wobble a bit beneath his weight, but otherwise he stays up right. Second loosens up in relief. 

Quietly, Second inches to his chest, eyes darting to the ceiling. When Yellow’s pistons grunt, Second throws the chest open, hiding the sound of it creaking. “Now lets see…” Second squints through the dark, having his hand feel out the items inside. He nearly cuts his finger on his sword, hissing softly before finding the hilt, tugging it out. The diamond sword shimmers a deep blue against the moonlight and Second nods, pocketing it into his inventory. He waits again for the noisy sound of machinery before shutting the chest, scurrying off to his door. 

He stops to listen again, confirming Green and Blue weren’t anywhere near the staircase before swinging the door open, darting across the bottom of the stairwell and pushing himself outside. He doesn’t waste any time running out into the open, flinching when the cool air hits his face, but ignoring it in favor of running faster. He dashes past Blue’s garden and skids to a stop in front of a relit portal. Swallowing his distaste, he jumps on through, letting himself be taken into the nether. Feeling the lumpy netherrack dip under his weight, he continues until he finds the familiar cobble path with portals lined up side by side, rushing past a few before entering a final portal. He only stops running once grass brushes against his ankles and his lungs are on fire. 

Second stands panting in front of the portal, hands on his knees while he coughs between breaths. The soup and potion had done wonders for his throat but it’s not exactly magic. Each hack into the silent air feels like a stab to his esophagus, and with what little exertion he gave, each of his joints croak with aching. His headache had been gone for hours but the dizziness returned now. Though it’s more due to the difficulty in breathing between coughs than anything. He should regret this. He really should. Yet across the torched flower fields, he sees him. 

Red is crouched beside some tulips, brows scrunched together in deep, unwavering thought. He carries a basket already spilling over with poppies and daisies, the knotted part of his bandana being blown back by the wind from around his neck. The torch light emanates a harsh, warm glow across his face; whereas the moonlight subtly trickles down his back.

Second is frozen, chest heaving for air while his coughing comes to a hiccupping stop. His eyes trace over Red’s figure once and then again. Before he could think he’s running again, this time finally able to see what he’s been after all this time. For a few moments Red doesn’t hear him, thumb running along the bulb of an orange tulip. He seems to come back to earth when a twig snaps beneath Second’s foot. Red’s head swivels around. His eyes grow wide. “S-Sec…?”

Before Red can question much else, Second catapults himself forwards. Yelping, Red falls back into a flower patch, the air knocked from his lungs. Second’s arms latch onto Red, curling around his waist and Second presses his face into Red’s chest. They topple over, rolling over one another before coming to a stop in the tousled patch. Red manages to wriggle out from Second’s grasp and push himself up, looming over Second. His eyes dart across Second’s face, gasping in disbelief. “It’s… It’s you. It’s really you…” His expression melted, eyes glistening in the torchlight in a way that made Second’s stomach flip. 

“Yeah… Yeah, it’s me.” 

It’s silent for a beat or two, eyes locked on each other in befuddlement. Then Red blinks from whatever stupor he’d been in, expression shifting from shock to admonishment. “W-wait a second, what the heck are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting!” 

Second should probably be more concerned about the growing scowl on Red’s face, but he isn’t. Instead he finds himself giggling, pulling Red back into a hug and having him fall onto his chest. “Shut up, shut up, shut up…” Second can feel Red tense up in his arms and his hushed intake of breath by his throat. “Right now I just… need you.”

Red seems to loosen up a little at that, laying across Second’s body and ruminating. “...You’re going to get me sick.”

“You’ll live.” Second excuses lazily and Red hums, likely realizing he’s stuck here whether he wants to be or not. 

Now that Second is here with Red, he realizes he’s not actually sure what to say. I mean, yeah, he’s missed the guy all day and has been wanting to hold his hand and hug him close, but it’s not like those are all things he can say. Or well, he could, but it probably wouldn’t go over well. 

Second just wanted to see him. To feel him. To bask in his presence rather than the semblance of it. He hadn’t ever particularly needed to talk to him, but now that he’s here… he can tell Red is waiting for it. 

Shifting a bit and glancing down at Red, he swallows. “Did you add anything to the potion or stew?”

Red shifts his head, chin pressed into Second’s chest while he looks up at him. He lifts a brow. “Did Yellow and Blue not tell you?”

“No?”

“Oh… No. I didn’t add anything.” Second is almost surprised. Almost. He lets his thumb run absentmindedly along Red’s back, staring into the speckled sky.

“Well they were both very sweet.” Then more hesitantly, he adds. “I liked it.”

Second’s eyes flicker back down just in time to see the excited glint in Red’s eyes, watching the smile that stretches across his lips. “Did you?”

Second nods, “Yeah… Thanks, seriously man. For everything.”

“...You’re welcome.”

Both their voices veer off and Red settles the side of his head back onto Second’s chest. “So… Why’d you crawl your way out here?”

“I didn’t crawl.” Second refutes, eyes darting from Red to watch a tulip sway. 

“Stop dodging the question or I’m going to carry you home.”

“No you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

“Try me.” Second challenges, eyes snapping back to Red to glare at him. Only he feels the pressure of Red’s body lift from his and with a squawk he’s lifted into the air. Red’s arms are hooked beneath his knees and his back, unflinching to all of Second’s kicking and punching. 

“Okay! Okay! I’ll talk! Put me down!” Red laughs and wow, no wonder Yellow felt like vomiting. All of Second’s fight vanishes from the sound and all that’s left is the bite of his tongue and the hairs rising on his arms. 

Red places Second back down onto the flower bed and plops down beside him. Second wastes no time sidling up into Red’s side. Red makes a face. “You’re clingy.”

“And? I haven’t seen you all day… Is it wrong of me to miss my friend?” Second argues and Red stammers. 

“No? Just…” Red seems at a loss for words before a lightbulb flashes above his head. “Is that why you came here?” Second’s thumb idly tears strands of grass from the ground, nodding. “You know I visited you while you slept, right?” Second nods again, nails digging a bit into the dirt. 

“Yeah, but I… I needed to see you… To feel you. Like… here. Now.”

“Yeah…?”

“Yeah. Needed to make sure the soup and potion didn’t come from the void.” Red snickers at that, his lips twitching into a grin. His head lulls to the side, resting against Seconds. 

“Sorry about your basket by the way.”

“What?” Second can feel Red shift towards him and Second gestures a bit away into the fields where Red’s basket laid on its side. Daisies spilled from its mouth and onto the ground, a few petals being blown out into the fields. 

“Your basket.” Second repeats. 

“Oh.” Red finally seems to see it, scooting a little closer to Second’s side. “Nah, you’re good, dude.”

“Really?” Second sounds disbelieving, looking at the size of the pile. “You probably spent a lot of time picking them.”

“I did.” Red shrugs against Second’s shoulder. “But they were for you anyway, so… it’s fine if you mess it up.”

Second blinks away from the basket, peering down at Red. “Flowers?” 

Red meets his gaze. “Uh… yeah?” 

“For me?” Red’s eyes shift to worry.

“Yeah? Dude, do you got like… an allergy or something I don’t know about?”

Oh Cursors, this is like the potion all over again.

“Nah, Nah… Just surprised?” Second offers out with a frown, though it gradually shifts to a grin. “It’s not like I’m gonna die. No need to plan my funeral so early.” Second snorts in lieu of a laugh. Red jabs his elbow into his side. 

“Hey! I was worried, okay?” Red scoffs and flippantly shoves Second away, much to Second’s displeasure. “You looked terrible this morning and you just kept sleeping… Not to say I thought you were going to die but…I wanted to do something nice for you, you know? Like… for when you wake up…” Red’s voice softens by the end of his tangent, fists loosening to pick at his nails instead. 

Second feels a frown tug at his lips and guilt plummets in his gut. He scoots closer again and reaches his hand out, clasping it over Red’s and pulling his hand away from its nail picking. Red shifts his head to look at their hands. Second bites down on his tongue. “Red… Thank you for worrying about me… and doing everything. I do appreciate it. I’ve gotten a lot better and I know it’s thanks to you…” 

Red’s face scrunches up again though he doesn’t look peeved at all, just conflicted. Red’s gaze slowly finds its way to Second and Second can catch the slimmest glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “I thought maybe it was excessive…” 

“No,” Second quickly refutes and he can’t help the warm smile that climbs up on his face. “It’s not. Trust me, I know excessive.” 

A smile cracks across Red’s face. “That’s true, you’re absolutely terrible, man…” 

Second scoffs, shooting a halfhearted glare at Red, but really his heart is soaring into the air. “Don’t make me take it back.” 

Red only laughs, the corners of his eyes wrinkling while his cheeks rise. He flops over against Second’s side, squeezing his hand tightly. “I’m so happy you’re doing better…” 

Second squeezes his hand back, his freehand digging back into the dirt while his stomach churns with glee. “I am too.” 

Red sighs in content, head pressed into Second’s shoulder. “You need to get back inside so that it stays getting better…” 

Second’s expression turns a tad bitter, looking back down at their hands. He lets his thumb run along Red’s knuckles, eyes following the shape of their fingers locked together; letting himself cherish the feeling of Red’s palm pressed into his. 

“Just a few more minutes?”

Red frowns but when he follows Second’s gaze to their hands he turns his face away, expression left unseen.

“A few more minutes.”