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The unthinkable happened.
Mom was on another trip for modeling, and Father was out of house working - that wasn’t anything new.
But Scarlet was sick.
Yes, you heard him right.
His snooty sister had somehow gotten herself sick.
And not a simple bit of sniffles or a cold or anything.
No, like everything that was Scarlet, apparently her illness was just as overdramatic.
She’d vomited within the hour Father left for work, and when she tried to eat breakfast, she had to run back to the nearest bathroom to empty her guts again.
Gross.
Sven tried to make a tease at how pale and ugly she was, but Scarlet didn’t even seem to hear him, more focused on reading the different medicines she’d fetched from the cabinet, and subsequently trying to take the correct pills and actually keep them down.
It was very clear his sister wasn’t going to be of any help, and the fact that Scarlet dragged herself back to bed immediately afterwards only reinforced the idea that this was actually a bit serious.
Still, Scarlet refused to tell Mom about it, and since Father didn’t make an attempt to either, Sven didn’t bother with the subject.
Father always said that they were only needlessly burdening their Mom when they told her these things while she was abroad.
Letting her know Scarlet was sick wasn’t going to do any good.
But this was a disaster!
Not because he cared or anything - but if she was out of commission then it meant he had to run the house until Father got back!
//
Now, Sven was a lot of things, but he wasn’t that much of an idiot.
He knew that he was going to make a mess of this whole thing, and the thought of being scolded by Him was enough for his skin to prickle and for him to instinctively shuffle his feet, trying to make himself smaller.
He’d barged into Scarlet’s room by the first hour of officially-unofficially being in charge - picking the lock after a few attempts - but she was dead-to-the-world asleep, curled up in her blanket and pressing a pillow close to her chest.
It made him pause his original plan of yelling in her ear and shaking her awake so she could help him do the chores he didn’t want to do.
She looked…small?
Maybe even a bit younger.
Weak, shaky, fragile like the jubyeong Mom loved to buy whenever she went to Korea.
It was a very stark difference to what Sven was used to, and he didn’t know what to make of it.
It was…weird to see.
Eventually, after staring for a while, Sven shut the door quietly.
He reasoned to himself that Scarlet would be useless, and there’s a risk she could get him sick too.
Yeah.
It’s best to let her take a break so she can get better faster.
He wanted this responsibility for as short a period of time as physically possible.
//
Over the next few hours, Sven busied himself greatly by locking himself in his room and playing video games.
It was an optimal plan to reduce mess, since nowhere else in the house would get dirty considering Scarlet was out for the count and Simon stayed holed up in his room anyway.
The most he’d do is sit by the couch with his book and look out the window periodically.
It was genius!
All he had to do was shove away the mess in his room and the house would be spick and span by the time Father returned.
He followed this utterly fool-proof plan until lunch, when his appetite got him to pause the game and get out of his bedroom.
Sven went down to the kitchen, yanking open the fridge and confidently tossing his ingredients onto the counter.
He’d winced at the idea of doing the dishes - it was his least favourite chore, along with every other chore - but he quickly got an idea, rummaging around the corner cupboard.
Ah, there it was!
A bunch of those fancy disposable plates and cups Mom used for soirées and birthday parties.
They’d just use that instead and throw ‘em away.
For food…well, he’s never actually attempted to make something, but he knew how to make his favourite sandwich, and that was practically all he needed.
Scarlet never appreciated his impeccable food combinations.
But, then again, she couldn’t even cook to save her life, so she wasn’t a good source of culinary judgement anyway.
If she didn’t want his perfect sandwich recipe - which was essentially slapping every type of meat and cheese on two pieces of toasted bread and butter - then that was her loss.
She could stop being lazy and get out of bed to make herself a salad or something if she wanted to be so picky.
As expected, Simon was on the couch, sitting in his specific position where the afternoon sun hit the pages of his book, providing natural light.
He glanced over at Sven’s meticulously-built sandwiches that were obviously far too stuffed, and made one of his subtle faces.
“That’s lunch..?”
He sounded so disbelieving that Sven looked away from his creations to scoff at his brother.
“Oh c’monnn, He isn’t here. You don’t have to pretend you don’t like it. Plus, I’ve waited specifically for the ham to almost finish so I can throw out the pack when I’m done and they’ll be none the wiser.”
“Yeah I…I get that but…” Simon trailed off, taking a moment to organize his thoughts and carefully chose his words, “isn’t Scarlet sick?”
Sven raised a brow.
“Mhm, what about it?”
“She couldn’t keep down her cereal for breakfast.”
Ah.
That was a good point.
Sven looked at his sandwiches again, reevaluating.
Yeah, no.
Even with the medicine, he doubted his sister would actually be able to eat this.
That…was a problem.
She needed to recover enough to pass as normal when Father returned home, or else they’d all get a lecture on ‘bad foods’ and they’d have to take those disgusting probiotics every day after breakfast and their diets would be even more restricted.
None of them were in a hurry for that.
“Why don’t you call Mom?” Simon suggested, bookmarking his read and gently setting it aside on the coffee table.
“You know what Father said about tellin’ her stuff like this while she’s away.”
Still, Sven couldn’t find it in himself to fully believe his own words.
He really didn’t want that diet restriction - Zach’s birthday was coming up, and he’d obviously throw a huge party with a bunch of sweets and stuff - and Mom’s always been there when they’d get super sick like this.
He wasn’t worried, but if he fed her something that made her get worse…
Sven eventually picked up his phone, looking at his Mom’s contact with lingering hesitation.
Father’s words still gave him pause, but he also knew that Mom would be upset if they didn’t tell her.
Granted, Scarlet was a teenager, so she wouldn’t get too mad, but the point still stands - and he needed the guidance.
Simon was beside him now.
He’d silently padded over while Sven was lost in his thoughts and damn-near jumpscared him into dropping his phone.
Still, he understood it was his brother’s way of quiet support, and he didn’t want Simon thinking he had no idea what he was doing.
That was obviously the truth, but he didn’t want to disappoint his brother.
So, with a shaky but steady resolve, Sven hit the call button and waited.
//
Waiting was always the worst part.
The atmosphere felt like it was holding its breath with them, and Sven could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
He fiddled with his collar, adjusted his hair, made sure his sandwiches didn’t hop off the plate and attempt to escape.
For a moment, Sven thought she might not even answer as the ringing filled the silence in the house.
“Sven, dear?”
He let out a huge breath he didn’t even know he was holding, and could just barely pick up Simon’s sigh of relief too.
He fumbled to put the phone on speaker, clearing his throat and hoping his Mom didn’t hear his nervousness through the call.
“Heyyy, Mom!”
He paused, quickly realizing he hadn’t planned for this in the slightest, and immediately started panicking.
“I…um…uh so—”
“Is everything alright?” Mom asked gently, saving him from blurting out something stupid, “I was just about to call you, actually. Scarlet hasn’t given me an update yet.”
Ah, right.
Scarlet’s supposed to text Mom every day so that she knows they’re safe and all that.
Sven would bet that she’s probably still sleeping.
“Well, actually,” Sven tried to figure out the best way to word this, eventually giving up and biting the bullet when the silence stretched on too long for his liking, “Scarlet’s…sick. Like, um, vomiting and stuff. She took some meds after breakfast, but uhh…she’s asleep in her room right now.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
He heard a muffled voice.
Someone was probably talking to Mom.
After a few moments, he heard her voice again.
“Oh, that’s horrible. Did she eat something bad?”
Both boys instinctively grimaced, coming to the unspoken agreement to definitively not tell Mom about the fast food they secretly ordered last night.
“Umm…we’re not sure. She kinda just woke up like that.”
“She might’ve caught the stomach bug that’s been going around.”
Simon supplied, backing up Sven’s horrible attempt at an explanation.
He could just barely hear the soft hum his Mom always did when she was worrying, already imagining the way she’d subtly adjust her clothes and tuck away imaginary loose strands of hair.
“Has she been able to eat anything at all?”
“No. Not really.”
“What medicine did she take?”
“Uhh…the pink bottle you give us when we get sick. The one with the yellow cap.”
Simon fetched the bottle in question from where Scarlet left it on the dining table, holding it up so Sven could pronounce the name.
“…Pepto-Bismol?”
“Alright, that’s good. Has she drank any water yet?”
Both boys glanced at each other, trying to remember if Scarlet could even keep a liquid in her stomach.
“Yeah, sorta? She had milk, and took water with the medicine.”
There was another muffled voice from the phone, this time sounding more insistent.
“I can’t stay on for much longer, dear, but there’s a red cookbook on the top shelf beside the porcelain dinnerware. There’s a chapter with simple soups that you can make. I want you boys to choose one to make for lunch, give her a dose for each meal, and make sure Scarlet drinks at least four glasses of water throughout the day. Send me a message before you go to bed.”
“Uhuh. Right. Red cookbook, soups chapter, medicine after each meal, at least four glasses of water, update you before bed. Got it.”
Sven tried his absolute hardest to memorize the instructions she gave him, grabbing the cookbook and looking for the relevant subheading.
Make a simple soup, medicine after every meal, at least four glasses of water, and update Mom before bed.
Thankfully, Simon had the sense to search for a pen and paper, scribbling down the instructions just in case.
…
“Sven?”
“Yeah Mom?”
“I’m proud of you, for taking care of your brother and sister.”
Sven felt something heavy stick in his throat, but before he could answer, the call ended.
Simon was looking at him curiously - expecting guidance on what to do.
He took a deep, determined breath.
Mom was proud of him.
He would not mess this up.
//
The brothers decided on a simple chicken and rice porridge called Dak Juk.
It only required them to prepare rice, chop some vegetables and throw that in a pot with chicken pieces and stock to cook for 30 minutes.
The instructions said to stir frequently to avoid the rice from sticking to the bottom, so Sven stayed by the stove, nervously stirring every few minutes - or seconds, if he was being honest with himself - while Simon ate one of the sandwiches he made.
Unfortunately, having to actually cook meant that washing dishes was unavoidable, but Sven was too motivated by his Mom’s words to be deterred by a few dishes.
He did still end up shoving everything in the dishwasher except for the cutting board, but that was progress.
Doing all that hard work and sitting by a pot that smelled delicious for over half an hour was tortuous labour, and Sven rewarded himself by eating both the sandwich he made for himself and the one he originally made for Scarlet while they waited for the soup to cool.
Simon put away all the ingredients they used, and both brothers looked over the instructions again.
They crossed off the first item on the list: ‘make soup’.
Now, they needed to give Scarlet a bowl of that along with the medicine and a glass of water.
After all this time, Scarlet didn’t even seem to stir from sleep, so it was obvious that she wouldn’t have the energy to come all the way downstairs.
So, the logical solution was to bring everything up to her.
//
Scarlet genuinely was still asleep.
They stood at the foot of the door wearily, awkwardly holding the things as they peered into her room like she might miraculously wake up to jump out and bite them if they entered.
After a very unhelpful little nudge from Simon, Sven groaned, stepping in and setting the soup bowl on Scarlet’s nightstand.
He stood there like an idiot, trying to find a way to wake her up without getting yelled at.
A large part of himself really wanted to just leave the stuff there for her to take whenever she woke up, but the fear of punishment if Father were to see her sick rooted him to the spot.
He had to make sure Scarlet did the things Mom instructed, and that unfortunately meant staying and making her sick, sorry self his problem.
Simon stayed by the door like the intelligent coward he was, and Sven sighed, beckoning for him to enter with a bit of silent back and forth.
//
Both boys looked at their older sister, silently contemplating…and admittedly stalling.
Eventually, Sven took the initiative and gently shook her arm, thanking every deity he could think of when he felt her temperature.
She was cold, yes, but it was mild.
Mom always said that the more extreme the temperature, the worse the illness was.
By that logic, it hopefully meant that she’d be fine by tomorrow or something.
Scarlet stirred with a groan after enough prodding, and sat up on the bed, rubbing her face and trying to regain her bearings.
She looked like roadkill, but it surprisingly didn’t give him a sense of satisfaction.
They leaned forward on instinct, trying to evaluate how fucked up she really was.
Scarlet looked at them with her usual annoyance, but then her eyes strayed to the soup.
“You…made that?”
Her voice was normal, just a little hoarse from lack of water.
“Yeah, actually. ‘Cause I’m like - the best brother ever.”
Sven grinned, taking up the bowl again and holding it out for her to take.
She eyed it distrustfully, but her stomach made the decision for her when it rumbled hungrily at the smell.
“This better be edible,” she muttered, begrudgingly accepting the soup and slowly beginning to eat.
Sven and Simon admittedly didn’t try the soup aside from small tastings to adjust the flavour, and they observed their sister’s reaction anxiously, silently hoping they didn’t somehow screw up the recipe at the very end.
To their relief, Scarlet blinked, looking pleasantly surprised.
“Oh, it’s not bad, actually.”
“Do you have any faith in me?”
“Absolutely not.”
Sven rolled his eyes, but that grin was still plastered on his face.
“Well, I guess now we know who got Mom’s culinary skills in this house, huh.”
“Hey!” Simon interjected, poking out from semi-hiding behind his older brother, “I helped too!”
“Oh shut up. You cook one thing and think you’re a chef. It’s a miracle you didn’t burn down the kitchen.”
Scarlet retorted, pointedly ignoring Simon, which earned an exasperated groan from him.
At least it was a sign she was still very much herself.
Despite her snarkiness, she finished half the bowl in record time, clearly starving after her long nap and only talking through spoonfuls of soup.
When she was finished, Simon silently offered the glass of water and the medicine Sven’s already forgotten the name of.
“Mom said you have to take this and drink out all the water.”
“…Mom?” Scarlet immediately questioned, turning to look at Sven like this was somehow his fault, “You told Mom?”
“She called me first!” He said defensively, pointing at Scarlet’s abandoned phone on the nightstand, “You didn’t give her an update!”
“How the hell was I supposed to know I’d sleep for so damn long?!”
Simon pressed the water into her hands.
“Scarlet,” he said firmly, the seriousness and that hint of nervous worry in his tone making both siblings stop their almost-argument, “Mom said you need to take these to get better.”
Scarlet looked at him for a moment, before sighing in defeat.
“Fine. As long as Dad doesn’t find out about any of this.”
//
Scarlet was forced to stay in her room and recover for the rest of the day, and the brothers busied themselves with putting the remaining soup in a container in the fridge and looking around the house to try and hide any evidence that could allude to their sister’s illness.
When Father got home, Sven was sweating bullets, hoping and praying that He wouldn’t notice anything amiss.
Thankfully, He was busy with calls, and spent the evening in his office working on documents Sven couldn’t decipher.
That was until dinner.
Sven knew that He’d question the soup, and already thought up a solid excuse.
Simon missed Mom, and Sven attempted to make one of her comforting soups to help lift his brother’s spirits.
Concise and plausible.
He’d learned over time that the best excuses were the simplest ones.
Still, it didn’t soothe his pounding heart or his fidgeting when Father looked in the fridge and took out the container.
Scarlet was normally the one setting the table in Mom’s absence, but Sven did it instead, primed with the excuse that she was busy doing school assignments and ate her dinner early.
“Is she still sick?”
The spoon Sven was holding clattered onto the placemat. Beside him, sitting and pretending to be focused on his book, Simon paled.
“W-What?”
Father regarded them simply, reheating the soup in the microwave.
“Your Mom told me before I left work.”
The brothers glanced at each other, trying to figure out the best way to approach the situation.
He didn’t seem…mad or disappointed, and neither were sure if that was a good thing or not.
“We…we didn’t plan to tell her,” Sven blurted out eventually, “She called first because Scarlet was asleep and didn’t send her an update.”
Father nodded curtly, distributing the soup into the bowls and letting the silence drag.
“That wasn’t the question I asked,” He said eventually.
“…Scarlet’s…getting better,” Simon answered meekly, shifting in his chair so he could hide behind Sven, “she’s stopped vomiting, and she’s taking her medicine.”
That was the end of the conversation.
They ate wordlessly at the dinner table, Sven stealing nervous glances at Him while Simon tried his best to never lift his gaze from his soup until he was finished eating.
The silence, the lack of response, the inability to gauge what their Father was feeling - it was driving Sven mad, and it took all his strength and patience to keep his mouth shut.
So, when Father went upstairs and audibly entered Scarlet’s room, Sven started rocking on his chair, his anxieties manifesting in the uncontrollable need to do something.
Neither of them tried to eavesdrop, careful of potentially shattering the thin, uncertain layer of peace that rested precariously on their shoulders.
Sven was sure Scarlet was getting questioned, and when Father came back down, they’d earn themselves a scolding and those diet restrictions he was dreading.
What he wasn’t expecting was the gentle but weighted hand on his shoulder.
Sven’s eyes met his Father’s, and he couldn’t discern the emotions in those pools of maroon.
He seemed to be contemplating something, His gaze landing on a perfectly still Simon for a moment, and then sweeping around the room.
…
“You did well.”
Sven almost flinched at the rare encouragement, unable to formulate a response and only jerkily nodding as Father left to his personal study again.
He stood there for a long moment, repeating those words in his mind on loop.
‘You did well.’
With a new confidence unfurling in his chest, Sven felt larger than life, and he met Simon’s confused but hopeful expression with a reassuring impish grin.
He did well.