Chapter Text
White's eyes blurred together, the colors on the screen illuminating together like water colors, the edges of objects radiating. He shook his head, squinting at the screen in an attempt to bring back the proper figure of the items. Guardian's ears fell back, feeling their head tighten and twist uncomfortably. Her head felt like it was splitting in half, like a canyon was being created through her brain somehow.
White couldn't help but let out a small noise of pain as they grabbed their head, trying to soothe the spot of where it was most evident. His nose scrunched, his teeth clenched to keep himself from making anymore hints at his lack of comfort. A sigh could be heard from outside the pain although it was loud, making it fuzzy and muffled to White.
"White, are you sure you're okay?" The frustration was evident. "I asked you ages ago and you claimed to be, I can't see that being true anymore."
White wanted to deflect, to tell the other that he was fine and dandy, but white was soft and couldn't bring himself to lie. Not after everything that's happened, she couldn't afford another failure like that. "I've got this splitting headache, that's all. I can still work though. Thank you, but don't worry yourself, Ron." Wasn't a total lie.
Ron frowned, letting out a noise to inform White that he was not convinced in the slightest. It did look like a headache, sure, and it would have been believable considering all white did was watch a computer screen in order to do his job, but White's body was trembling to a noticeable extent.
"You're shaking, White." Ron tried again.
White removed their hand from their head, turning to look at Ron—who sat behind him. "I.. It's just cold, that's all." White deflected again, poorly.
“You're red, White.” Ron snapped back almost instantly, White's excuse not taking any effect. “That's not even your color pallet, It's Po's!”
“Well, I don't know what you want from me, Ron! God, why must you know everything!?” White groaned, rolling his eyes.
Ron growled, his ears falling to the side in anger and defence. “Well maybe because I can't trust you? You haven't exactly redeemed yourself after everything.”
Ron had spoken without thinking. The silence rang throughout the room, the banter between the two drowning them. White felt like he wasn't allowed to breathe other than carefully. He stared at Ron in disbelief, like he'd offended him in the worst way possible.
White scoffed bitterly, whipping their head away so they didn't have to look at Ron. “So much for caring, right? Tch.”
Ron rested his hand to his knee for support as he got up. White watched from the corner of his eyes bitterly as the blue tubby moved closer towards White til there was little distance between the two, no longer in their own spaces. White's breathing was steady, forced really.
There must be something wrong with you. It's literally October, and the heat is on." Ron's eyes narrowed. "I ain't exactly buyin' your lie."
White felt heat rush to his face, clenching his jaw with a frown. Ron folded his arms to his chest, tapping his foot as if impatiently waiting for a reply. White got rid of the anger on their face, clearing their throat to feel confident.
"Maybe I'm just cold blooded." Idiot.
Ron couldn't help but roll his eyes, his shoulders moving with the gesture before resting the back of his hand against White's head. White blinked, leaning back a bit before settling against the other's hand unwillingly. Ron gave a small smile, only noticeable if you looked too close into his face structure at the given moment.
"You're a mammal, you're warm-blooded." Ron said bluntly, frowning.
White's face went a light shade of red—pink—as she looked away to avoid looking at Ron to their embarrassment. "Uh, yeah. I knew that.." White concluded roughly.
Ron huffed before removing his hand. The small detail that White's head slightly chased for the touch when he removed his hand was noticeable. Ron let the moment linger before pushing to the back of his mind, deciding not to dwell on it. White couldn't help but miss Ron’s cold hand against their hot, sticky, sweaty skin. It was warm, warmer than she felt right now. White’s ear flicked at the side—which could mean anything.
Ron noticed the act, his eyes darting at White’s ear and then back. He decided to ignore it in the end, wanting to stay on track and getting the situation at hand under control. Ron felt his skin, the heat and lingering sweat against it was evident of a fever. His hand fled to his side, leaving it to be as he looked at White.
"I'm no doctor, but you're burning up." Ron spoke, turning to the side only to look back at White. "You need to rest, I'll call us out today, let COAT know you're sick." Ron finalized.
White tried to hold himself back, bite his tongue, and did not say anything. "Wait! Don't do that." White asked.
Ron raised an eyebrow, giving White a gesture to give him a reason before he decided he was going to turn away and call COAT against his plea. White swallowed loudly, the silence ringing in their ears afterwards.
"I've already lost too much here. I can't afford to be fired." White whispered, his eyes not meeting Ron's. “I just, I wouldn't want to risk more than I already have.”
Ron frowned noticeably, more than he usually does. "Look White, that's cute." Ron sighed before looking away with an expression that was a mix of anger and understanding. “... But you can't exactly change the past.”
White's eyes grew sad, the words sliced him in the stomach. It felt like someone was stirring their stomach fluids around, messing with them to make them uncomfortable. Guardian really couldn't hold it against Ron though, he wasn't wrong, but that didn't make it hurt less.
"They'll understand if you take a day or two off." Ron concluded bluntly, turning away completely towards the nearby phone.
White felt the twist in his stomach, like it got worse out of nowhere. He wanted nothing more than to cry and curl into himself. White didn't let himself dig farther into the feeling, pushing it to the tips of his feet and out rather than letting the feeling sink and cling to the bottom of his stomach. Ron could be heard dialing the numbers, talking—firmly like he always did—and hanging up with a soft but firm click.
Ron came back to White, neutral yet clearly bothered. "Alright, I got us the day off. Let's get you in bed."
White looked up at Ron, feeling her eyebags against her skin as she did so. White's eyebrows furrowed as his eyes squinted, as if trying to take in a small detail he couldn't quite catch.
Ron raised an eyebrow in confusion, a mix of irritation in his face. "Is something on my face, White." Ron bit.
White cleared his throat, shaking his head roughly before tipping over slightly. Ron was quick to put his hands out in case White fell—which didn't happen, thankfully. Ron looked at White, a bead of sweat dripping the side of his face.
"Jeez.. My bad." White blinked, dumbfounded.
Ron sighed, shaking his head. "You'd rather die than take care of yourself, hm..?" Ron whispered bitterly.
White's ear twitched, a frown taking them over. "Whatever dude, you don't need to bitch about everything I do." White couldn't help the anger they felt.
"Maybe if you'd done right from wrong I wouldn't have to think of you as I do.”
"Ron, please. I know you're upset with me, You won't let it go, but could at least try to avoid that fact? I'm trying hard here." White pleaded, her frustration clearly coming across.
Ron hesitated before answering. “I don't think you deserve that kind of mercy from me, not after everything I went through because you failed to do your damn Job.”
White nodded slowly and silently, only looking down as the silence replaced words. The white tubby stood up, staring into the distance before freezing with a jolt. Ron raised an eyebrow, confused.
“Are you good?”
“M’ scared to move.”
“White, come on now.”
"Everything started spinning, Ron.”
Ron opened his mouth to argue before snapping it shut. He's been on White's ass all day, the least he could do right now is at least try and be patient. On top of that, Guardian's sick, so they could simply be dizzy.
Ron took in a deep breath, letting out a sigh to follow. “What can I do for you..” Ron asked hesitantly.
White swallowed, unsure of if this was a way to snap at him again or bring up past mistakes. “I uhm- J-just keep me up? I feel like I may fall here soon.”
Undelighted, Ron raised one of White's arms, throwing it over his shoulder while he slipped an arm around her waist. He could feel white vibrating slightly. Ron had forgotten White was shaking, the tubby was previously shaking anyways. The only difference now, is that it's felt and not just seen. Ron let out a sigh, tightening his grip on the fragile tubby. White leaned against Ron for support, making Ron flinch a little. It didn't scare him, just unexpected.
Ron let a small hum of acknowledgement leave his chest, low and smooth. White's ear flicked—which, again, could mean anything. Ron started moving, leaving the "cage" of where the monitors were. Luckily for Ron, they were provided rooms down here in this place that weren't completely horrible. Ron stopped at the door to White's room, looking down at the other to make sure he wasn't asleep.
"You lock your door, don't you?" Ron asked.
White looked up at Ron, his eyes clearly tired. "Huh..? I usually do. Think I forgot today though." White shivered, her ears lowering at the sides as she let out a hot breath through her mouth.
Ron frowned, opening the door without another word to White. Clearly it was straining them to talk to him right now, so he wouldn't push it any further. Ron stepped through, closing the door behind them both. He made his way to the bed that sat in the corner of a one-room space and laid White down—who now looked worse than they previously did.
"There was no way you were going to make it through the rest of the day." Ron said, placing a hand on his hip. "You look fragile."
White didn't respond, only heavy breathing replaced his words. Ron concluded that their nose was stuffy and that maybe White didn't want to go through the trouble of sniffling every second. The blue Tubby mumbled something incoherent, even to himself, as he crouched near White's bed.
Ron took in White's state. Her fur was ruffled like grass going in different directions, she was grabbing onto the bed oddly tight, like he was trying to ground herself, and her eyes were only slightly open, with gloss; tears. The Tubby was sweating bucket tons on top of everything. Ron placed a hand to White's head again.
Ron let it rest before pulling it back with a bead of sweat on his face, his eyebrows knotting together. Ron rose to his feet, finding White's bathroom and yanking a rag and dragging other materials down with it without caring for the mess left in the vicinity. The blue tubby turned on the sink in the kitchen, letting it just run for some time before putting the rag beneath the cold water. He turned the water off and squeezed the rag, leaving some of the cold residue to reside in it.
He walked back over to White, who was curled up like a fetus. Ron frowned, grabbing white and propping his head up against a pillow. He rested the towel against Guardian's forehead while she let out a small groan, clearly not holding it together the best.
"How did you even let it get this bad? I don't understand how you could have gotten this sick." Ron monologued, part of him hoping for an answer.
Ron pondered for a long moment, beating his brain for some kind of clue. ("Maybe an open wound? He could've gotten one from the custards incident and it could only now just have affected him.") Ron thought to himself. His gaze fell back to White, who seemed to be having a battle with his body about whether he was going to sleep or stay up. Ron sighed looking around White's body for any injuries.
"White, do you have any wounds?" Ron asked, anticipation creeping through.
White took a bit to reply, but was able to shake her head “no.” Ron sighed, standing to his feet and turning towards the kitchen. While White rested, he may as well begin cooking something to help his co-worker. Yeah, he'll do that.