Chapter Text
You know that feeling you get when you wake up one morning, and you discover that your head doesn’t work properly and your limbs are sore and your eyes and throat feel like they’ve been set on fire?
It isn’t the best feeling. In fact, it’s the worst.
Which is very unfortunate, because that’s exactly how Purple wakes up today.
Purple groans when she sits up — a croak, really, reverberating up her throat and making it sting. She wipes her nose, which has been running at full speed all night, despite her many attempts to stop it. Then, she sits there in her little makeshift bed, not feeling like moving at all.
She doesn’t know how she’s gotten sick in the first place. The day prior, she’d been just fine, going out to lunch with King before he left her with the Gang to stay overnight as he went on a three-day business trip. She’d been perfectly okay earlier, talking and laughing and eating with her friends like any other healthy teenager.
Well, shucks. Purple isn’t feeling okay now. For one thing, her head feels like it’s about to explode. Or implode. Maybe both. At the same time, probably.
Her stomach feels like it’s performing gymnastics — jumping and twisting, just like an Olympic gymnast performing for a crowd. Her other insides must be the audience, she thinks, given the way they make her feel so uncomfortable.
Speaking of uncomfortable, Purple’s limbs hurt like she’s done at least twenty battles with an angry cow. Or riding a camel twenty-five thousand something miles over the pyramids of Giza. She can’t decide. She just hurts.
With another groan, she falls back into her bed. The pillow is so nice and soft right now. And the duvet feels like absolute heaven. She isn’t sure what time it is, but it’s fine. She doesn’t mind staying in bed, especially when she feels as terrible as she does now.
Nauseated, Purple closes her eyes to try to catch some more sleep.
Her peace is interrupted in about five seconds.
“Purpleeeee!” calls Red’s voice from outside the door. “Are you awake?! Blue’s making blueberry pancakes!”
Oh no, no, no, no, no, Purple thinks with a silent, panicked groan. Don’t mention food, please don’t mention food! Right now, pancakes sound just as appetizing as mud. Disgusting.
Despite her panicked thoughts, Red opens the door anyway. Too loudly for Purple’s ringing ears.
“Rise and shine, oh friend of…”
By the way Red paused, Purple can tell that he can tell that something was wrong.
“Uh,” he starts, stepping closer to Purple’s mattress. “Purple? Are you okay? You look pale.”
Purple glares at him. He has absolutely no idea of her current pain and misery.
“Sick,” she croaks. “‘M sick.” Then she buries her face under the blankets.
Red quickly pulls them back down, exposing her face again. Before she can protest, he places a hand on her forehead. “Shoot, you’re burning up,” he hissed.
No kidding, Sherlock.
“Don’t — touch me,” Purple grunts. “I’m okay. I just need sleep.”
“You might need medicine, actually,” Red countered. “This could be bad.”
“It’s not bad.” Liar.
“It is bad.” Red stands to his feet. “I’m gonna get Blue,” he declares. “Don’t move.” With that, he escapes the room hollering Blue’s name like some mad thing.
Don’t move? Purple scoffs. Fat chance. I couldn’t move if I wanted to. If she tried, she’d be unconscious before she reached the door.
“BLUE!”
Blue nearly drops the spatula he was holding. “CURSORS– Red, what?” He turns. Red, who’s burst dramatically into the kitchen, looks like he’s seen a ghost. (Which honestly wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest.)
“Purple’s sick,” is Red’s reply.
It’s Green’s turn to react. From the table, he nearly chokes on his water. “She’s — she what?!!”
Red gives Green a glare. “You didn’t do anything, did you?” he demanded, looming closer. “You were suspiciously happy to share a room with her last night, were you not? Hmmm, Green, hmmm? I bet you injected her with something—”
“Red!” Orange gives him a warning look.
“What! No?!” Green looks genuinely horrified. “You think I’d do anything to harm her?”
Red narrows his eyes. His claim was true — Green would never do anything like that to Purple, even if he had the opportunity.
But still.
He shrugs. “Okay,” he says casually. “Just makin’ sure.”
Green shakes his head with exasperation. It was true he’d cleaned up half his room for Purple the previous day, even making her a little mattress to sleep on. They’d stayed up late last night playing card games and just talking to pass the time. He’d thoroughly enjoyed it; why did anyone think he’d ruin that?
Besides, she’s someone Green loves and cares about (way) too much. His girlfriend, in fact. Everyone knew that he would never hurt her on purpose.
“You should check on her,” Red is saying now, picking up a strawberry from the table and popping it into his mouth. “She looks terrible.”
“Oh, alright.” Blue wipes his hands on a dishcloth before leaving the kitchen. Naturally, everyone else follows.
Up in Green’s room, Blue sits on the mattress that Purple is lying on. She’s barely visible hidden under the covers, save the long hair that’s spread out on the pillow around her. Blue taps the lump that’s Purple gently.
“Purple?” he whispers. “You okay?”
Purple peeks out at Blue through tired eyes. “Humph,” she grunts before hiding again.
Blue chuckles before turning to Green. “Help,” he mouths.
Green, who’s perched on his bed, crosses his arms across his chest. “You’re the doctor here,” he says, amused.
“Dude, I’m not a doctor.” Blue rolls his eyes. “Get over here. I need your help.”
“Why?”
Great cursors and keyboards Green, you’re so stubborn.
“Cuz Purple talks to you. You know her. Please.”
Green looks satisfied. “Well, if you say so,” he says, nodding. Finally, he leaves his sitting position to crouch down next to Purple. “Hey.”
Blue can’t help but notice his tone is so much gentler when it comes to Purple. He’s so soft-spoken and just so nice when he talks to her. What a flirt.
Purple shyly pulls the covers down to peer at Green. Blue stifles a chuckle. He’s never seen her look so puppy-eyed like that.
“Are you alright?” Green asks, still as tender as ever. He slowly moves to press a hand to her forehead to feel her temperature for a moment. “Eesh, Purps, you’ve got a fever.”
“Uuuurrrrrrggghhhhhhh.” Purple pushes Green’s hand away and burrows under the blankets once more. Under there, it’s safe and warm.
Green turns to Blue. “What should we do?” He chews his lip, as if nervous. “Should we tell King that Purple’s under the weather?”
“He’s too busy for us to call him,” Yellow countered from across the room. “Remember? He’ll be gone for three days. Looks like we’re gonna have to take care of her.”
“Just, uh, don’t get sick yourself,” Orange reminded everyone. “She could be contagious.”
“Poor thing.” Red gives a pitiful look. “We should give her some medicine or something to help her feel better.”
At this, Purple uncovers and sits up. “No, don’t give me medicine— ooomph.” Just as quickly as she sat up, she leans limply into Green’s arms with a cough, appearing to be awfully dizzy and discombobulated. “I’ll be fine.”
Blue rolls his eyes. He doesn’t mind taking care of a sick person. He remembers he’s taken care of all four of the others when they came down with the flu, when the PC had gotten too hot during the summer a few years back. He’d been the only one healthy enough to care for them then. So no, he didn’t mind doing the same thing for Purple.
He just wishes she wasn’t so stubborn. Green is very stubborn, and Red’s extremely obstinate. But Purple’s stubbornness is both of theirs combined and multiplied by ten. Which is, to save you the math and logic, a lot.
“Let’s move her to the couch,” Blue finally says, standing up. “I can take care of her better then. Green?”
Green nods and obeys.
Well, tries to, anyways. Purple keeps pushing him away, insisting through incoherent words and muttering that she can move perfectly fine on her own, when in reality, she can’t manage to stand on her own two feet without getting dizzy and falling over.
Finally, Green just decides to scoop her up in the bridal-style hold (just like the guy did to the girl in those stupid Hallmark movies he keeps peeking in on), and carries her down to the sofa. Red follows close behind, with clean pillows and blankets and a stuffed pig he’d retrieved from his room. Yellow makes his way to the kitchen like Blue instructed, to put the kettle on the stove.
“Put me dowwwnnn,” Purple whines once Green reaches the couch. Even though she’s not walking on her own, she still feels dizzy. It’s as if everytime she moves, she’s going to hurl. And she doesn’t want to make a mess of herself; how embarrassing that would be.
“Alright, alright, cool your jets.” Green gently sets her down on the sofa. Promptly, Red steps in and makes sure she’s nice and comfortable with the blankets and pillows he’s brought. Fishing through the pile, he pulls out his beloved stuffed pig.
“You can have this,” he says, presenting the toy to Purple. “He’s my very best pig — besides Reuben, anyway. He’ll keep you company.”
Purple takes the pig from the eager Red. Its color has faded, and one of the button eyes have popped out, but she can tell it’s endured years and years of love. Red must adore this thing, she figures.
“Thanks,” she mumbles, barely audible. She isn’t in the mood to be in a good mood, but she still manages a small smile.
She hates to admit it, but she’s very grateful for their help, even their company. She can’t imagine what she would do if she was alone. Was it just a coincidence that she was sick right when she stayed over at the Color Gang’s? Thank the cursors, if so, she thinks.
Speaking of being sick, Purple hates being sick. She hates the feeling of being helpless and vulnerable and in pain that wouldn’t end until you were fixed. When she was a little girl, her mama was always there to give her care, providing for all of Purple’s needs before her own, though she was sick herself.
There was one time she was sick, but Mama was babysitting the neighbor’s child, so Papa had to take care of her until Mama got back. Papa had given her too much medicine, and she ended up getting sick with a tummy ache all over again. Hence the reason she hated taking medicine now. Especially cherry-flavored medicine. Now, she trusts Blue to give her the right amount at the right time so she won’t get sick from it, but she still despises the taste.
“Alright!” Blue’s announcement snaps Purple back into the present. She realizes she’s been dozing off already. How embarrassing. “Purple, I have some tea for you,” he says, setting a tray on a table Green had hastily made out of cherry blossom wood planks he’d found in his inventory. “It’ll help you feel better.”
Purple stares at it with disgust. She loves tea. In fact, she grew up on tea, sharing little tea parties with Mama and such. But by the way that this tea smells, she currently hates tea, too.
She still misses the tea parties, though.
Blue pours some into a cup. “It doesn’t taste the best, but trust me, it’ll help you.”
“Urgh.” Purple brings it to her lips. Taking the tiniest sip, she quickly brought it back down with a grunt. Too hot.
“Drink it all up,” Blue instructs, standing up to bring the kettle back to the kitchen. “But don’t burn yourself. I’ll be back to refill it soon.” With that, he leaves.
Purple casts a glance at Green, who’s decided to stay with her, with a helpless look. He just shrugs. She sighs heavily.
This is going to be a long day.
“UNO! Ha, ha, victory is mine yet again!” Red laughs with glee, throwing his hand of cards every which way.
“I’m so tired of this game.” Green hunches over, crossing his arms and pouting like a two-year-old who didn’t get his way. “Can we play something else?”
“Yeah, another game of Uno.” Red giggles mischievously, gathering all the cards to stack them properly. “How about...twenty-two out of forty-five?”
Purple laughs hoarsely as Green sits back, defeated. But then her ribs start to ache, and she stops laughing. Seeing Green get absolutely destroyed in a competition is hilarious to her. She doesn’t see it very often.
“Play by yourself,” Green grunts, pulling up his headphones.
“Hey! Who’m I gonna skip and slam the Draw Four card on?!” Red begs.
Green replies without looking up. “Yourself, idiot.”
Red sticks out his tongue at him. “Meanie.”
Purple laughs again, this time quietly, so her ribs don’t hurt as much.
“Purple, you wanna play?” Red asks. “I can deal a stack for you.”
“I would love to,” Purple croaks back. “But I can’t. I’m so tired.”
It’s true. She’s exhausted. Yet, she can’t sleep. Sleep has completely abandoned her. Every time she closes her eyes, she feels even more nauseous, and every time she moves, she gets dizzy. So, she made no effort to go to sleep and instead watched Green and Red play Uno for the past hour. She doesn’t know where Orange, Blue, or Yellow are — probably playing Minecraft or something. She longs to join them, but it’s worthless to even try.
“I’m so bored.” Red sighs. “Green, you wanna spar?”
“Nah,” Green mumbles, engrossed in whatever he was looking at on his phone. Music albums, probably. He never gets tired of music. “I have to stay and take care of Purple.”
Red frowns. “Of course you do,” he sniffs. Then, he stands to his feet. “I’m gonna find Reuben and play with him if anyone cares.” With that, he escapes the room, singing to himself.
Green makes sure he’s gone before turning to Purple. “You feeling alright?” he asks, for the twentieth time, yet she’s so glad he cares about her enough to ask her.
He’s such a ladies’ man…
“My answer remains the same,” she replies, a bit dramatically to be playful. (She isn’t sure why. She doesn’t have enough energy to be playful, and yet, here she is.) “I feel as though I might die.”
“Awww, you’re so dramatic.”
He caught on. She gives him a glare.
“What?” he says, as innocently as he can muster. “It’s cute.”
She ignores this remark. Though she knows Green really means it, she hates being called “cute.” Most of the time, the nickname is tolerable, but today, she just isn’t at all feeling it.
Instead of throwing a tantrum, she scoots across the couch and snuggles up beside Green, peeking at his phone screen. Just as she suspected, he’s scrolling through Spotify.
“What are you doing?” she asks softly, though she knows precisely what he’s doing.
“Don’t get me sick,” is Green’s answer, but he slings his arm around her anyway, just to pull her closer.
It’s nice, Purple thinks. He’s warm and comforting to her. Having a shoulder to lean on when one isn’t feeling well really is one of the best things that one could have.
“I’m just listening to some music,” he says now. “You want to?”
Purple tries to answer vocally, but her voice doesn’t work, she discovers after a few useless attempts. So, she just nods.
Green takes his headphones off of Bluetooth before turning on some relaxing piano tunes, loud enough so Purple can hear through her plugged ears. Setting the phone on his knee, he moves his hand to her forehead.
“Still running a fever,” he mumbles, mostly to himself.
Purple groans quietly. She hoped the fever would have broken by now.
“You’re gonna be okay,” Green assures. He picks up her cup of tea from the table and passes it to her. “Here. Drink this. Doctor’s orders.”
Purple obeys, not wanting to cause a scene, though the tea is absolutely nasty. Once she’s done, she hands the cup back to Green. “Gross,” she mutters, before going limp again.
“I know, it’s revolting.” Green chuckles, then uses that horrible British accent he uses when he’s making fun of her. “Positively off-putting, I must say.”
“Shut up.” Smiling, she nudges him weakly. “My accent is not that strong.”
Her accent is hardly noticeable. It slips out on occasion, when she’s upset or excited, but that’s pretty much all. Green sometimes imitates it just to make her laugh. Right now, she needed that laugh.
They both fall into a comfortable silence, letting the music from Green’s phone accompany the stillness. Purple didn’t realize how nice it was, just the two of them, snuggled up in each other’s presence. It was so relaxing. So peaceful…
So sleepy…
Apparently she was more sleepy than she thought, because the next thing she knows, she’s being nudged awake by someone.
“Hmm…hmm?” she hums, head already hurting when her eyes aren’t even open. When she does open them, the blurry image of Blue’s face is barely visible. “Mmmph…”
“Hi, Purple,” he whispers. “Sorry to wake you.”
“Urgh… it’s fine.” It isn’t fine. How dare he disrupt her slumber.
“I know a way that will help you feel a bit better,” he says. Purple gives an interested look, so he continues. “Soaking in the tub with hot water. This has worked with the boys before. It might work with you.”
That sounds nice. She’d kill for a spa day. Purple glances to where Green’s supposed to be, only to discover he’s not there anymore. He must have left her alone to nap, she figures, so she focuses on Blue again.
“Okay,” she agrees.
Leading a sick person up the stairs is a hassle, but somehow Blue manages. Green is waiting for them at the bathroom door, with a robe hung over his arm.
“The water’s ready,” he announces to Blue, who gives a satisfied nod. “I hope it’s hot enough.”
Purple cocks her head at him. Green must have arranged this. How sweet.
Green hands Purple the robe, as if presenting a special gift. “You can use this,” he says. “Don’t worry, I washed it.”
“Thanks,” Purple coughs with a tiny smile.
“Just relax,” Blue is instructing. “Take it easy and breathe. Green put some special salts in the water that will help you relax.”
Purple nods, though the action makes her dizzy. “Thank you both,” she says, before locking herself in the bathroom, surrounded by steam and sweet smells.
The heat is rather uncomfortable at first, but Purple soon gets used to it after a few moments. Slowly, she undresses, careful as to not fall over from being so disoriented and pausing every so often to catch her breath. Then, she sits slowly into the bath, exhaling as she sinks down below the warm water and bubbles.
Blue was right. This is very relaxing. Purple can breathe easily, without feeling sick to her stomach, without getting dizzy. Her head doesn’t hurt so much. There’s no pounding in her ears.
So peaceful.
So warm.
So quiet.
With a sigh, Purple closes her eyes.
Mama was sick.
Mama was very sick.
Purple could tell, because her face was skinny and pale. Her breaths were short. Her energy was failing. Her eyes grew weary.
Papa wasn’t there. He’d left five months ago, leaving Purple and her mama alone for good. Mama was torn to shreds by her grief. Purple knew that’s why she was so sick.
She’d tried to convince Mama that she needed a doctor, or she could find a physician. But Mama insisted she was going to be alright. She insisted that Purple came first, not herself. Purple didn’t want to argue.
Then, after a forced doctor’s appointment, Mama started taking medicine. She carried an inhaler with her and drank more herbal tea than she normally did. Often, Purple found her crying in her room, shaking and sobbing, and she knew it was because of the side effects of the medicine she was taking.
Purple knew something was very wrong with her mother, but she was too busy herself, going into the city to find money. She’d found a job at a laundromat downtown, but that didn’t pay nearly enough. It was enough, however, to pay for groceries and small microwave dinners. When the bills came, Purple stored them in yellow envelopes labelled “to pay.” She knew she couldn’t keep this up for long, but sooner or later, they had to get paid.
It was going fine until Purple came home one evening after work. She opened the door and—
The crumpled, frail form of her mother lay on the floor in front of her, shaking uncontrollably.
Purple dropped all her belongings to kneel beside her. “Mama!” she cried, turning her over to see her face. Blood trickled steadily from her lips, staining her face with a deep crimson. She was coughing up blood, having convulsions.
“Mama. Mama, hold on,” Purple sobbed, cradling her close. “I’ve got you, Mama. I’ve got you.” She wrapped her in a tight embrace, begging her to hold on, but her pleas were uttered to no avail.
Mama reached up to cup Purple’s cheek. “I… I’m sorry…m-my Flower,” she choked.
Purple held onto her mama until she breathed her last, choking and coughing, crying tears that stained her pale face.
Purple always knew this was coming. Mama had been sick for a long time.
She just wasn’t ready for it. She wasn’t ready to let her go.
A loud knocking on the door behind her cut into her thoughts, but Purple paid no heed. Her mama was dead. Whoever was at the door could be tended to later.
But the knocking was insistent, eventually growing into hard pounding on the wooden door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
”Purple! Are you okay in there?!”
”Purple, wake up!”
Bang-bang-bang-bang—
“Purple! Hey! You alright in there?”
It’s then when Purple snaps out of her trance with a sharp gasp. Recollection of her surroundings reveal that she’s still in the tub, the water having gone cold. She takes a moment to breathe before realizing that someone’s still pounding on the door.
“Purple! Answer me, please!”
It’s Green.
Purple is immediately ashamed and embarrassed. Hot tears blur her vision and everything feels disoriented again.
She gathers the strength to answer him. “I’m alright.” That was a lie. She isn’t “alright.” For one thing, she still feels sick. This bath helped, but only a little. At least her joints don’t ache as much as they did before.
“You’ve been in there for a while.” Green sounds concerned. “Are you gonna get out soon?”
Purple glances around. No sense staying in here, where the cold water can easily get her sick all over again. She shudders. “Yes, I’m just getting out now.”
“Okie-doke,” Green says from the other side of the door. “Blue has some soup ready for you and we’re gonna watch a movie for dinner just so you know.”
“Okay.”
“Yell if you need anything!” Purple hears footsteps and Green is gone.
By the time Purple finally finds the motivation to move, the water is freezing, but she doesn’t bother to let it drain. She just stands and climbs out of the tub, fighting the awful discombobulated feeling, wraps herself in the robe Green had given her, and escapes silently to the room she shares with him. Green is nowhere in sight, and neither are the rest of the boys.
Good. The more alone she is, the better.
Progress is slow as she changes from the bathrobe into the pajamas she’s been wearing all day. Green must have been in here earlier, straightening things up like he always does, because they were nicely folded on her mattress before she puts them on.
Finally, she lets out a gust of breath as she lays back in her bed, physically feeling anything but well, but also feeling relaxed than she was before.
Mentally, she’s deeply unsettled. She isn’t sure where that dream came from. Perhaps it was a random fever dream? Or the tea Blue gave her earlier? She wasn’t sure. It wasn’t the best dream to have, but it didn’t matter now. It was over. And she’s fine.
Is she?
“Purple?”
Green pokes his head into the door inquisitively, gently calling Purple’s name. A survey of the room reveals Purple, fast asleep on her mattress.
It’s been at least half an hour since he checked on Purple in her bath. Concerned she might have drowned or something, he’d looked around until he finally found her now.
Green chuckles to himself, quietly walking into the room and sitting down on the mattress beside her. She doesn’t stir. She must be really out of it, he figures.
He gently brushes the hair out of her face, fingers lingering on her cheek, studying her side profile with care, as if to practically engrave them in his memory. Her eyes, closed in sleep, her cheeks, flushed from her sickness. He holds a palm against her forehead. Still warm, but the fever has broken. Relief washes over him. He was glad it wasn’t anything serious.
Purple must have felt his touch. Grunting, she shifts in half-consciousness, eyes focusing for a few moments on Green’s face, slowly processing that he’s there. Then she tries to sit up. “Sorry, I’m coming,” she mumbles sleepily. “You didn’t have to wait for me, I can…”
“No, no, no.” Green pushes down on her shoulder softly, urging her to lay back down. She doesn’t fight back. “It’s alright. You can sleep. I’m just checking on you.”
“You sure…?”
“Positive.” Green squeezes her hand and smiles warmly. “You need your rest. We can watch the movie just fine.”
Purple gazes at him for a couple seconds, slowly dozing off again. “Thanks,” she mumbles, barely audible. “I love you, Green.”
Awww… Green’s heart swells with affection, and he chuckles. “I love you too, Purps.” Then, he leans down and plants a kiss on her forehead. He adjusts the blankets until they’re practically covering her ears, making sure she’s comfortable, before standing up and turning off the light. Casting one last glance at her sleeping form, he closes the door.
Three days later
“It was just a little cold. Nothing more.” Purple kicks the stone in front of her, watching it skip across the sidewalk before coming to a stop. Then, she kicks it again once she catches up with it. “I was fine.”
She and King have just gotten back from Alan’s, and seeing no reason to rush, had decided to take a nice stroll through the park. It’s a lovely day out, and Purple hasn’t gotten fresh air in a while. It feels so good to be out and about, to not feel sick anymore. She sighs contentedly.
This was Mama’s favorite park, she remembers suddenly. Mama always loved the outdoors. When Purple was little, she and Mama, and Papa sometimes if he wasn’t busy at work, would take the five-minute walk from their house to this same park, to play at the playground or have a picnic. Even when Mama was sick, she’d still take the time to get outside.
Purple knows King has good memories here, too, most likely with the little boy he rarely mentions. Every time she and King drive past this park, he’d get a sad, faraway look in his eyes. Purple still has so many questions about King’s deceased child, but she doesn’t want to trigger his grief. It’s so hard for him, which Purple understands more than anything.
King chuckles now, linking an arm through hers to whisper in Purple’s ear. “From what Orange told me, you were practically withering away.”
Purple purses her lips. “I was not! I was doing just… fine.” Green took care of me. I wouldn’t have lived without him probably, she adds to herself. “I only felt a little nauseated.”
“Did you? Blue told me you could barely walk.” King looks amused.
“He’s such a tattletale,” she scoffs. “And he exaggerates.” He wasn’t exaggerating. For some odd reason, Purple feels as though she can’t tell King how she really felt. If she does, how would he know she can take care of herself?
A companionable silence fills the air. Purple bites her lip awkwardly. She hopes King isn’t mad.
“You know, Purple,” King begins. He stops in the pathway, tugging her arm to stop her from going any further. His face has turned from amused to stern, yet gentle.
Purple knows for a fact that that’s the face he makes when she’s about to receive a “dad talk.”
“It isn’t a bad thing to feel sick. It happens to everyone. And it’s okay to admit that you need help.”
Papa would disagree.
Purple frowns at herself. Was that really it? Papa? Why is she so hung up on him?
“If you’re in pain or sick, you don’t need to be embarrassed. Just let us know and we’ll do our best to care for you until you feel better.” He gives a gentle smile. “Okay?”
She stammers. “Uh…”
“How pathetic,” Papa would say if she fell over in pain. “Prove your strength, girl. Don’t let your opponents know you’ve been hurt.”
She frowns at herself.
King isn’t her opponent. Neither are Green or Red or any of them. They’re fighting with her, not against her. Why? Because they love her, of course. Because they’re her friends. Because they care about her. They love her, more than her father ever did.
She realizes she loves them too. She doesn’t need to fight them anymore.
They’re her family.
“Okay,” she finally agrees with a nod. “Okay.”
“Good.” King continues forward, hanging an arm around Purple’s shoulders to practically drag her forward. “Shall we go out for lunch? Where do you wanna go?”
“Hmm…” Purple grins. “How about home?”
King gave a silly face, as if deep in thought. “Never heard of that restaurant,” he says. “Is the food good? What are the ratings?”
Purple laughs.