[Gift] [Chester] Sick Day

Chester could probably count the number of times he had gotten sick with his fingers, or so he would claim if someone asked him. They were also never serious, limited to at most mild flus or upset stomachs that would keep him in the house for days at a time. He was able to take care of himself, as painstaking a task it was at times, and he definitely did not want anyone to come over for assistance (he didn’t feel like he had any sort of relationship that could warrant such trust).

Today was no different, though the bun had spent the past twenty minutes in bed mulling over how he even got sick in the first place. Surely it was not the fact he only got four hours of sleep last night (perhaps a total of sixteen this week), or he only had one meal (a heavy lunch of rice, rice, and more rice), or he had supplemented said meal with some milk tea. He then recalled that there was at one point, while he was commuting home, that there was someone who was violently coughing their lungs out. A bug, perhaps. An unfortunate incident of him being targeted out of a sea of buns.

Feeling horribly sluggish, he grumbled audibly as he pushed himself up from the mattress, making sure that his body was not squishing the sleeping Bearly on the side. He then flipped his ears away from his face before sitting upright; the pulsing on his head was notably worse. Well, that was okay, it was a weekend, right? No work today, though it took him a couple of moments to recall what he was supposed to do today, if there was anything planned.

Nope, he was in the clear. He ran one of his hands through his hair before slightly pulling on his face. Ches needed something to eat before he could collapse in the bed again, so he forced himself to get up and–making sure to grab his phone from the bedside–slowly made his way to the kitchen that was less than thirty steps away. No coffee, just water, he thought as he filled a clean cup from the filtered tap. He then had to hold the counter to steady himself for a few moments before drinking. Ughhhh.

A little tap-tap on the tiled floor alerted him to Graham’s presence, who had probably woken up since there was no one else with it in bed. The little Bearly, who he had gotten as a white elephant gift last December, had become glued to his hip whenever he was at home (and would get rather pissy if he had to go outside without it). It toddled close to his legs, tapping with cold round paws on skin, gesturing to be picked up. Usually, Ches would oblige, but he certainly did not feel like he was in any shape to bend over.

“Later, Graham. Stay closer to the chairs.”

He didn’t turn to see what the imp’s expression was, but he did feel more tapping on his exposed leg. He wore pajama shorts whenever he slept since the weather was actually getting warmer. He hadn’t gotten sick ever since he got the Bearly, but he only realized now how cold imps were.

“I’m sick.”

Ches didn’t expect the Bearly to understand what that meant, though. He decided to ignore it while trying his best not to accidentally step on it, moving around the kitchen to prepare some instant noodles with a water heater. He also pulled out last night’s leftovers from the fridge for lunch and refused the urge to sit down, even if he felt that his legs were shaking.

Eventually, he was able to get the cup of noodle filled with boiling water on the table. A silver fork sat on the wood as he sat and stared at it. His phone was on his left, screen on and time counting down. He reached down to offer a hand to Graham, letting it stand on his palm before slowly raising him to the table’s surface. The Bearly would sit and watch its owner with wide, white eyes. 

He looked at it back. “Do imps get sick?” The question was more out of idle curiosity than anything else.

Graham idly tapped on the wood, so the bun figured he was not going to get an answer.

Ches ate the cup noodles slowly, partially because he was scrolling through his phone as a means to distract himself from how shitty he felt, and also because he barely had an appetite. Eventually he gave up on trying to force himself to eat, though he was rather annoyed that he was only able to eat perhaps a third of the cup.

After letting himself slouch on the chair for a while, he eventually felt that it was better to lie down and sleep this off. Helping the Bearly get on his shoulder, he made his way back to the bed, falling face first and grumbling on the pillow before clumsily getting the blanket over him. Graham had hopped off before the moment of impact, and was making itself comfortable somewhere on the side of the mattress and the pillow.

Unfortunately, the throbbing headache prevented him from falling asleep easily nor immediately. His eyes were closed tight, but he had to consciously tell himself to slacken his jaw and relax his shoulders. He curled up but swished his tail, switching between inside and outside the blanket.

He wasn’t going to die, but he sure hated feeling sick.

Ches wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was sure he had passed out before his sleep had been interrupted by a loud doorbell. Curling his fingers and scowling, he thought to ignore it before the ringing had echoed in his apartment a second time, and then a third time after some pause. He blearily pushed himself up, still in his pajamas and once again leaving Graham to snooze as he hobbled towards the door. He struggled for a moment to open the lock, but once he did, he opened it only slightly to see who was outside.

It was a bun he didn’t recognize, that was for sure.

He seemed like someone who had stepped out of a neon arcade into a baggy, dull delivery uniform. Even if his head was foggy, he could tell that this was not the stranger’s usual attire, but he had an easygoing smile on him, and more notably, a brown box in his hands. “Delivery!”

Ches blinked, “I don’t have any scheduled deliveries for today.”

The stranger looked confused, fiddling with his bright pink glasses for a moment before pulling out a clipboard with a few papers wedged under the metal holder, “Your name is not Chuckie?”

“Do I look like a Chuckie to you?” the sick bun snarled, but that seemed to have no effect on the stranger.

“Hmm.”

Was this guy actually thinking it over?  Ches thought with furrowed brows.

The delivery bun eventually gave his decision, “Maybe?”

If he had more energy he would've squabbled this to high hell, but he didn't, and just wanted some peace. “Well I’m not, good day to you, Sir.”

And then Chester closed the door before letting out a weary sigh.

But then before he could move away, he heard a gentle series of knocks. Ches had a feeling that this wasn’t someone different, but he wasn’t so impolite that he would just ignore him. So he opened the door, without realizing that he looked more like a hermit gremlin than before. “What.”

The delivery bun still had that same smile on him, holding the package towards the other. “Well, I still think you should have this.”

“But it isn’t mine?”

“No worries, turns out the system errored out and this one’s an extra.”

No way that was true, that was simply too much of a coincidence.

Ches lightly shook his head, “Wait here.”

And this time he didn’t close the door, only leaving it slightly ajar, because he didn’t really feel like this delivery bun was out to mug him or something. He went over to his desk near the bed and grabbed his wallet. He then glanced at the Bearly that was still sound asleep before returning to the door.

“How much was it?” Ches asked; one hand already ready to dive into his carat pouch.

This notably confused the delivery bun, “Huh? I said it was–”

“Look, I’m sick as fuck but I hate being in debt to someone. Just take these carats and I’ll take the box, so that we're all good and I can get back to my bed.”

And the delivery bun looked a little more flustered now (and Chester felt the slightest hint of triumph at that, for some reason), but he soon relented, with the exchange happening quickly. He was about to close the door again so that he could head back to bed, but the stranger still had another question for him, apparently, “Hey, so if you aren’t Chuckie, what’s your name?”

The sick bun hesitated for a moment, “Chester.”

“Oh, it’s quite close, actually?”

“Guess you could say that.” maybe it was the illness, but he decided to let that go with a small smile; a little bit of a chuckle. How silly it would be if someone misspelled his name so terribly, “Yours?”

“I’m Nier.” the smile seemed to be a bit bigger, or maybe the bun was imagining things.

“Right. As much as I’d like to chat, well, I’d rather sleep. Good night.”

Once again the door was closed, and he could feel some weight in the box, whatever this was. He was going to check on it later when he wasn’t feeling too much like shit.

Outside, the delivery bun was a little saddened that he was so quickly shooed off, but it was also understandable–that bun definitely looked under the weather. He had intended to take the fall himself, since it was an honest mistake on his part, but it was nice that he had gotten some of the carats back, even if it wasn't going to fully cover the cost. Though...“Hmm. I hope he’s into dildos.”