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Sneeze. Sneeze. Sneeze.
“Are you going for a record?” Conk asks, and if he had eyes, Joll’s confident he’d be getting the side-eye of his life right now.
“No. That’s stupid. There’s not a record for that.” There probably is, but Joll is willing to lie a little. Conk doesn’t seem to care, going back to humming as his footsteps click across the tile floor. They’re supposed to be meeting back up with Golem soon, though Golem had insisted ‘not too soon’ so Conk would leave him alone for more than five minutes.
“When do you think we’ll find them?” Conk says, interrupting the silence.
“I don’t know,” Joll says, trying not to sound irritated as he wraps his arms around himself.
“You’re quiet today.”
“Really? I didn’t notice.”
“That’s why I pointed it out. You’re welcome.” Conk pauses. “You were being sarcastic. Nevermind.”
Joll doesn’t say anything. Quite frankly, he’s freezing right now. This stupid dungeon had them doing stupid missions and he was ever so kindly assigned to the one in the frozen wasteland of an area. They’d retrieved the item they needed to, sure, but Joll was having a bit of a moral dilemma. His chest felt tight when he woke up this morning, which was always a great sign (great, he’s even being sarcastic in his own thoughts), and he’d spent the whole morning spiraling about nothing. So when it came time for them to go out, it didn’t even cross Joll’s mind that as a frog, he was going to absolutely hate this. No sweater. No jacket. He sneezes again.
“Bless you,” Conk says.
“Shut up,” Joll grumbles.
“Stop being mean to me because you were stupid.”
Joll opens his mouth to argue, but honestly, Conk’s right.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, suddenly finding it difficult to walk. Conk slows a little bit.
“Are you okay?”
“Conk, I’m fine. Keep moving.”
“You don’t look fine.” Joll can feel him scrutinizing him. “You look gray.”
“Since when can you see colors?” Joll snaps, and Conk steps back.
“Okay,” he says, and Joll immediately winces.
“Conk– wait, I’m sorry.” He lifts his arm to reach out, but he’s moving so much slower than he wants to. Conk’s disappearing into the distance and Joll can’t even tell if he’s moving anymore. What is happening to him?
He blinks, and suddenly he’s moving again. But he can’t feel his limbs, and– okay, he’s on Conk’s back. He’s being carried.
“Conk?” he squeaks.
“Joll? I–” Conk cuts himself off, but Joll knows.
Conk thought he was dead.
“I’m alive.” Joll tries to cling a little tighter, but he really can’t feel anything. “Sorry. I, uh. Don’t know what’s happening.”
Conk doesn’t say anything, and Joll doesn’t really blame him. But the silence is suffocating him, so he keeps talking.
“I’m sorry for being mean earlier,” he mumbles. “You were right. I was stupid and I was angry and–”
“Joll?”
“Yeah?”
“Just be quiet.”
Joll doesn’t argue, pressing his cheek into the top of Conk’s head and closing his eyes. It feels like forever until there’s noise, and Joll hears barking, but he can’t open his eyes. It’s so cold.
“There you are. It took you long enough.” He can hear Golem’s voice, god, if he could just open his eyes, move, move– “Why are you carrying Joll?”
“He stopped moving,” Conk replies, and Joll swears there’s an undercurrent of fear in his words. Why can’t he move? God, he’s making everyone think he’s dead, he’s awful–
“He’s cold.”
“Is that a frog thing?” Conk asks.
“I think so. Probably. If it isn’t then he’s dead, so I’d like to think it isn’t that,” Golem responds. Joll wants to scream. He wants to do a lot of things, actually, but no matter how desperately he sends signals to his body, nothing happens. He still doesn’t move. Nothing.
He was right. That whole spiral he’d blown off as nonsense this morning– he was right. He really is a terrible person. His chest hurts.
“Is he melting?” Conk asks, and his voice sounds so distant to Joll.
“No,” Golem says, sounding… shocked? “He’s crying.”
Oh, great, so he’s not dead. He’s just alive enough to not be able to move at all aside from crying. How embarrassing.
He’s pretty sure he’s moving again, or someone’s moving him, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care anymore.
—
When Joll finally opens his eyes again, he mostly sees gray.
As his vision focuses, he realizes that Conk is just directly above his face.
“Conk…” he croaks. “What are you doing?”
“Um. Nothing.” He leans back, and Joll can hear his hands tapping against his knees.
“I’m not dead, Conk,” Joll mumbles in a weak attempt at reassurance.
“I know that now.” He fidgets a moment. “I forgive you. By the way. For being mean.”
“I didn’t need you to do that,” Joll huffs.
“Okay, well, I wanted to say it,” Conk retorts.
“Conk, I’m not dy–”
“Stop saying that,” Conk interrupts. “I get it. I know you aren’t really dying and I know you aren’t dead. It still scares me.”
Joll doesn’t say anything for a minute, just carefully flexing his extremities to see if they’re actually functioning now or if they fell off. It seems like it’s somewhere in the middle.
“I’m sorry,” he says eventually.
“It’s okay,” Conk replies. “At least you’re alive.”
“You’re still stupid,” Golem says from the doorway. Joll didn’t even know he was there. “I told you to wear something warm.”
“I was preoccupied,” Joll groans, rubbing his eyes.
“What could you have possibly been so preoccupied with that you almost froze to death?”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
“Whatever.” Joll can’t see him, but he can tell Golem’s rolling his eyes. Conk lays his head on the side of the bed, bumping Joll’s arm. “You really are an idiot.”