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Most people would say that Denver hated people.
Beatrice would be quick to assure that wasn’t the case.
He was just more reserved and found people…distracting from his work.
Denver himself would say that he was intolerant to most.
They were unnecessarily loud and boisterous, and many seemed to have an insufferable audacity that resulted in meaningless interactions he’d rather do without, as well as a general disregard for his highly-prioritized personal space.
Besides, the concept of ‘hating’ people was a mental commitment he wouldn’t waste his precious time and limited energy putting effort into.
Regardless, aside from his twin, Denver enjoyed his own company just fine.
There was a certain tranquility attained only in isolation, when it was just him and the existing world and no one to meddle with his perfectly designed schedule - a lot of his peers would benefit greatly from the self-reflection such a thing provides.
An inconvenient sneeze interrupted his thoughts, and as he blew on a provided tissue from a box on his nightstand, he was reminded of the irregularity to his routine.
Penelope Katchadourian - or, Penny, as she preferred to be addressed - was in his dormitory, humming a soft, indistinguishable melody as she poured tea into his preferred cup, the subtle scent of ginger diffusing in his room.
She had offered her assistance after gently insisting he took some rest, and he unexpectedly found her presence to be quite calming.
He much preferred it over that futile pop-up clinic, as he was certain that dealing with so many bothersome people in such quick succession had resulted in the decline of both his mental and physical health.
The money they used to coerce him into doing that ridiculous interview segment wasn’t enough compensation for his anguish.
Penny set the tea down on his desk, standing close enough to be beside the bed but far enough to not lean over him and intrude on his boundaries, which he appreciated.
“I didn’t boil the tea too hot,” she mentioned, tone soft as if trying not to trigger a headache, “I wanted you to drink it before you took your nap, and I don’t want you to burn your tongue on top of everything else.”
She seemed to have an innate ability to put people at ease with her minute mannerisms, and although he should’ve found it creepily discerning, the thought never crossed his mind.
Perhaps it was due to the fact that none of it was an intentionally crafted behaviour.
It was simply who Penny was.
Aside from Beatrice and their mom, she was the most altruistic person he’d ever met.
Penny’s simple little smile thinned, and it was only then that he realized that he’d lost himself in his musings.
“Thank you, Penny. Your help is appreciated.”
“Of course!”
She paused, as if something was on the tip of her tongue, but ultimately seemed to discard the thought.
There was a prolonged silence, one that Denver found less awkward than he strictly should’ve under normal circumstances, until Penny eventually spoke again.
“I’ll…leave you to rest, then.”
Denver nodded, and let her go, despite the improbable part of him that would’ve preferred her presence for only a few moments longer.
He wouldn’t dwell on those implications, instead drinking his tea and adjusting his schedule - Penny had advised against any strenuous activity, but planning his day was a relaxing task for him - before finally closing his eyes and allowing his body the mercy of unconsciousness.
//
When he unfortunately awoke to face the world once again, he noticed a small plastic bag of assorted pills with a little message attached next to his glasses and water bottle.
It detailed the dosages to take, which was every eight hours, and ended with a little smiley face and an exclamation mark with a heart as the dot.
Denver neatly folded the note and kept it on his nightstand, taking his first set of medicine and contemplating his will to live.
Glancing at the clock told him that he’d taken a two hour and seventeen minute nap.
He felt considerably less ill now that his immune system was able to function with more energy during his sleep.
Still, he felt reasonably sick, and decided that he should perhaps ‘take it easy’ in case he caused his symptoms to flare up again.
He heard a knock at the door, a familiar, light tapping that only had two knocks every time.
To confirm his hypothesis, Beatrice soon entered, holding a container of cookies.
She took one look at him and frowned slightly in obvious concern.
“How are you doing?” she asked, glancing briefly at the medicine on the nightstand, “I couldn’t get out of classes to check on you.”
“Better. I should be fine within the next three days.”
She sighed fondly, reaching out and gently arranging his bed head.
“I’m surprised that you of all people caught the flu. MU really seems to have it out for you, huh?”
“It is…unfortunate,” he agreed, “it seems as though my thorough preventative measures aren’t impenetrable. I’m going to need to make necessary adjustments to further limit human contact.”
Beatrice raised a brow, but didn’t comment, instead offering him the container.
“Penny made them,” she explained, gesturing to the cookies inside, “she insisted I take some to deliver to you during my visit.”
“Hm.”
Denver opened the container in mild curiosity.
Oatmeal cookies.
He had no doubt his twin divulged information about what his preferred type of baked treat was.
“I’d recommend accepting them, Penny’s a great baker. She makes all sorts of goodies to have people try.”
Denver wouldn’t doubt that, deciding that he deserved to indulge in a cookie or two during his recovery period.
//
Beatrice stayed with him for most of the remaining day, reading silently by his desk or catching up with each other or getting him extra water or cooking him soup using their family’s recipe.
She was a grounding presence for him, and the day admittedly went by faster with another person.
When she left, he made sure to give his thanks to Penny for her cookies.
He went through his nightly routine as normal, finding himself staring at Penny’s little note.
Her handwriting was a very neat, rounded print, and Denver found it satisfying to look at.
Eventually, he put it in his planner as a reminder for his medicine tomorrow.
//
A few days later, he met Penny again in the library.
“Oh, Denver!” she greeted, a brilliant smile on her face, “How are you feeling?”
“My symptoms have mostly disappeared.”
He paused, before presenting her with a light blue journal with a magnetic buckle and detailing on the edges of the sewn cover.
It was from a brand he held in high esteem.
The paper was thick and handled felt tips with minimal blotching, it had a built-in loop for a pen, and the cover was smooth with a satisfying texture.
“Here. Take this as my token of gratitude.”
Penny blinked, hurriedly shaking her head.
“Ah, I can’t accept this! Really, it was nothing, you don’t have to give me a gift for anything!”
“No, I insist. It’d be impolite of me to not repay you for your courtesy.”
Penny was hesitant, but eventually accepted the offer after a few moments, her hand gliding over the surface of the cover.
“Beatrice said you were in the habit of journaling?”
She laughed softly, like the gentle wind that carried autumn leaves.
“Um, I guess you could call it that. I sorta use journals for diary entries.”
Denver nodded.
Writing out details of one’s day is a therapeutic habit that has benefits such as the airing out of personal grievances and the identification and regulation of one’s emotions.
There was another period of silence, filled only by the conversation of others in the library or the sounds of footsteps and pages being flipped.
His original plan was to also offer a cup of coffee, deeming the journal insufficient as repayment.
Now, standing in front of her, he found the words hard to articulate.
Perhaps it was a lingering symptom of his flu.
Penny tilted her head slightly.
“Is…everything alright?”
Denver cleared his throat.
His throat was itching and he hoped he didn’t sneeze - or worse, have his voice crack.
“Would you…be open to getting coffee with me before your classes?”
Penny’s expression didn’t change for a second, and Denver started contemplating whether he’d unintentionally crossed a boundary of hers, when she broke out in a huge grin that made her whole face light up.
“I’d love to!”