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From the very moment Mapicc started complaining about kids snoddering all over him, Minute shoukd have known that it would end badly.
At this, Mapicc had dragged a very unproportional number of promblems home from the daycare he works at (list provided by Bacon Waffles):
-Lice that spread not only into everyone's hair, but also their entire apartment, seemingly determined to infect everything from Hannah's fur-jacket to Mapicc's plushies
-the common cold, three (3) times, which was workable, despite Minute losing his voice for a week
-the flu, which their floor did not thank them for
-the time he dragged them in on the week-end to help make cards and it ended with sitting at a doctor's office and getting billed way too much for a mandatory tubaculosis testing that they really couldn't afford because one of Mapicc's coworkers had it
-conjunctivitis
Currently, Bacon spends to much time lying miserably on the couch to add the most recent entry of 'Ear Infection' onto that list.
Or probably ear infection, Hannah's nausea doesn't quite match the symptoms the internet lists from what Minute could tell, and his own sore throat tells hin that there was probably more at play.
He sets a bowl of soup down on the table as he helps Mapicc sit up. Mapicc has been hardest by losing most sense of balance, which is not improved by his inability to sleep.
Minute has started to think that maybe, just maybe, that would be something to go to a doctor for, but they're a month behind on rent and have used up their emergency funds after the tubercolosis debacle and Bacon getting sprayed badly by hot oil, which required a trip to the ER.
So Mapicc will have to do with Minute feeding him soup and hoping he can keep it down, despite his stomach being easily upset even on normal days.
"You're the best, man", Mapicc declares around a mouth full of chicken-noodle-carrot soup that Minure is feeding him spoon by spoon but still somehow ends up in large parts on Mapicc's shirt.
Perhaps it has to do with the fact that Minute can't see quite stright either, that his hands aren't completely steady as well.
But if that is the problem, Mapicc is too out of it to realize, and Minute has to tough it out, here. They really can't afford to go to the doctor. Minute had to cut into his carefully saved up birthday-gift-fund to afford the tylenol and ibuprofen. Without a prescription, antibiotics aren't on the table.
Despite all his worries, Minute forces a alugh through his strained voice cords. "D'alllright, bro."
He wraps the towel he warmed by steaming it over their largest pot, to which he had to attach it with some of Hannah's flower hair clips.
Hannah and Bacon at least manage to eat on their own, though whether Hannah will keep anything down is another worry. She's thrown up from only drinking water already, which might put her really close to a bad case of dehydration. Something Minute has unfortunately experienced himself. It involved a lot of vomit for him too, and eventually an IV. He hopes they won't have to go that far with Hannah.
Bacon seems to be doing alright so far, except for the fact that Minute has to write when he wants to say anything. Bacon can only understand Minute when he screams, which is sure to wake up any of their roommates who might have fallen into a fitful sleep, annoy their neighbours, and aggravate Minute's throat. Texting him is easier on all accounts.
It also means Minute has to keep his phone on him at all times.
The phone, which burns where it rests in Minute's pocket, a constant reminder that WebMD was very clear on going to see a professional when symptoms included hearing loss. He sighs to himself as he goes to fetch his own bowl of soup.
With food and meds and warm compresses passed around, Minute slumps down on a kitchen chair himself, his cold soup looking unapethizing in fornt of him. But everything looks unapethizing, it's the sickness. Knowing this doesn't prevent Minute's stomach from rolling at the mere thought of eating his own soup, but he forces it down anyway. He can't skip another meal, after not getting anything down for breakfast.
Minute forces himself through half of his bowl before it gets entirely too much for him and he purs it nack in the pot. They are all sick anyway, it won't hurt any further to share their germs. He'll even boil it up before eating it again maybe that will even manage to keep it warm until Minute has time to eat himself.
It's a shallow hope, but any hope is better than none, with all his roomamtes sick out of their mind and Minute drifting that way too. At leasts it's the weekend. At least only two of them are missing work so far. At least...
Minute's pitiful attempts at optimism are interrupted by having to get up and help Mapicc to the bathroom.
While Mapicc is inside, Minut egathers the dirty dishes to discover that his soup is the only bowl left unfinished. Two things less to worry about, in both Minute's skill at cooking and whether he would have to forcefeed his roomamates to get them the nutrients they need.
He walks past past the couch on his way to getting Mapicc and almost trips over one of Hannah's legs, dangling of the couch. He just barely catches himself on an armrest and ends up inches away from Hannah's face. Close enough to smell the soup on her breath. Minute tastes bile as it cahses his nausea to shoot through the roof again. But he can't throw up.
If Minute vomits, then Hananh will to, and he's only just gotten fluids inot her.
Minute grits his teeth as he stands up. The soup doens't taste any better now that it's in his mouth a second time.
"Minute?", Hannah asks, eyes wide as if only just realizing something, "You're sick too?"
"I need to get Mapicc", Minute only replies. Maybe she'll have fallen asleep when he returns. Hannah is a sleepy sick, Mapicc a loopy sick and Bacon a grumpy sick. Minute himself is a depressed sick, he thinks. Or maybe just a whiny sick.
In any case, he doens't like what sickness does to him as he stumbles along with Mapicc on the short walk from toilet to sofa.
To Minute's misfortune, Hannah is wide awake and looking at him with accusing eyes, something Mapicc picks up on immeidately, because Minute can't have nice things.
"Have you seen yourself?", Hannah demands. Minute hasn't, shakes his head.
"Well, you look terrible", she continues. "A zombie on two legs."
Minute thinks all zombies have two legs, but Hannah is sick, and sick people don't do the thinking thing right.
Her tone softens, "You need to rest, Minute."
The things is... Minute knoes that. It lies on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he knows, that he is very well aware he can't keep this up, that he only does it because there is no other fucking option—
But instead he settles for "I'll get some rest soon, I promise."
More than Minute is angry, is frustrated, is worried, is afraid, he is simply and uttelry exhausted. Tired to his bones.
He doesn't want to fight.