Red Velvet x Licorice PG Connected One-Shots

My diagnosis is that no one has been treating you well (Unconnected)

(Bookclub AU)

Licorice is clearly sick, much to his behest. The stains under his eyes are darker and he constantly complains about the cold. Red Velvet also sees who Licorice is still wearing pajamas instead of his usual attire.

Right now, Licorice is slumped over the cafeteria table, snoring to everyone's behest. Every once in a while, he coughs or sneezes, then immediately falls back into an fitful sleep.

"We can't let him just stay like that," Strawberry Crepe says in disgust, poking Licorice with an unused spork. "Can't you fix him?" Strawberry Crepe demands. They look Red Velvet hopefully.

Red Velvet sighs,"People can't be repaired like your robots can." Strawberry Crepe huffs, and continues flicking food at Black Raisin.

Licorice starts coughing again, this time go as far as to fall out of his seat. Red Velvet helps him up, frowning when he realizes that Licorice is far warmer than usual.

"Licorice, my favorite person here and the only one I can tolerate, you need rest," Red Velvet pleads.

"But- Bookclub? That's today, isn't it? I don't want to miss it." Licorice shoves his face back into his arm, but Red Velvet shakes him, preventing him from falling back to sleep.

"That's not as important as your health, as you're not going to be much help in this state." Licorice sighs and jerkily gets up, forgetting his books.

He stands still for a few moments, slightly swaying. Licorice stares blankly at the exit.

"What are you—" Red Velvet starts, interrupted by Licorice coughing again.

"I forgot I need to move my legs to walk." Licorice slurs and starts walking away, still unsteady on his feet.

Red Velvet sighs, again, and collects Licorices things. He'll need to skip school, to help Licorice, who's still slowly leaving the cafeteria.

Licorice doesn't comment, which strikes Red Velvet as strange. Licorice is insistent on doing everything on his own and rejecting offers of assistance. Instead, he clings to Red Velvets arm, muttering strange things under his breath.

"His throat itched with what felt like feathers or at worst thorns and disgustingly sticky mucus dripped down—" Red Velvet feels him shift his weight, and hears him trail off.

"What are you saying?" Red Velvet poses that as a question for himself, but Licorice hears and replies.

"I'm going to write down my symptoms, and use them in my super secret book," Licorice answers. Red Velvet also has a secret: he pays the receptionist, using Licorice's wallet of course, to let them walk out of the school without affecting Licorice's attendance.

He finds it concerning that she's swayed by a mere fifteen dollars, but is ultimately more focused on making sure Licorice won't keel over from the common cold.

Red Velvet reaches his car, unlocking the door and waiting as Licorice fumbles with the seatbelt. He hears the click and starts driving, listening to Licorice's incoherent rambles.

"The grades! They went away so quickly!"

"It's so stupid that I can't leave, I can fly you know?"

"There's nothing I love more on this world than being better than everyone and you, I guess."

Red Velvet's eyes widen, and he sucks in air through his teeth. It has to be the fever speaking, he decides. "You're on no condition to be left alone right now. I hope you don't mind me helping you."

Licorice nods, and presses a metal key into Red Velvet's hand. "House," Licorice says plainly, owlishly looking at Red Velvet. Those wide eyes are going to be the death of him, Red Velvet thinks.

Licorice's house nice enough, for a large suburbs house. It's painted a sickly, off color white, with dull grey shingles and roofing. The only color in the yard comes from wilting fliers and bushes in a straight row near a large window.

Inside is just a sparsely decorated house, neatly organized and clean. It's off putting how nothing seems used, how impersonal everything seems. Goosebumps appear on Res Velvets arm; partially from the cold and partially from how strange it seems.

Licorice stumbles up the stairs, tightly gripping the also grey railing. It seems like his parents are overly fond of that color. Red Velvet follows behind, frowning when he realizes that Licorice is wheezing far more than usual. He asks where the medicine is.

"It's in my room, hurry up," Licorice grumbles. "I use the pink one on days like this." Licorice's room is dark and messy, every surface covered in either wrappers, empty water bottles, miscellaneous items, and books.

Licorice collapse face down into his bed, pulling a thick blue blanket over himself. He sighs contently, but Red Velvet pulls it off, handing him the small cup of medicine and a water bottle.

It takes less nudging for Licorice to drink the medicine than he thought it did. Red Velvet decides on making soup. Using his superior intellect, and the bits and pieces of the more tangible of Licorice's mumbling, Licorice is far from the most healthy person. Getting sick is a bi-weekly occasion for him, though it never hits him as hard as this time.

The soup will be one of the hardest things Red Velvet will ever make. Licorice's parents have an expensive collection of microwaveable food,  but hardly any fresh ingredients or any ingredients really, other than a pricey bottle of red wine.

Once a hot concoction of water, seasoning, a singular chicken leg, and several vegetables is poured into a white bowl, Red Velvet walks upstairs, carefully handing the soup to Licorice.

Licorice stares at the soup, an oddly pensive look on his face. Then he starts bawling.

"This- this is the nicest t-thing anyones done for me," Licorice wails, getting tears into his soup. Red Velvet stands awkwardly, handing Licorice a used tissue.

"You-you-" Licorice brings a spoonful of soup to his mouth, drinks it, and says," This is actually a very nice soup."

Eventually Licorice downs the soup, his sobs dwindling down to light hiccups and the occasional sniff. Red Velvet takes the bowl and moves a few books to make extra space as Licorice enlightens Red about  his parents.

"They don't do anything for me, they don't care about me." Licorice rolls his eyes and clutches the cat tighter to his chest and the fluffy blanket soften his words. "All they wanted was a little baby to flaunt to their rich friends." His face is crestfallen, and he curls into himself. "I just wanted them look at me, to give me the recognition I deserve."

"Licorice, if they don't care about you, then why should you care about them?" It comes out of his mouth a little harsher than Red Velvet means it to be, but he already hates Licorices parents without even meeting them. (Though he probably would never be able to meet them, if they don't notice Licorice.)

"They have the best person in the world as their son, and they can't appreciate him," Red Velvet continues. "Do what makes you happy, not what you think will grab their attention."

Licorice stays silent, staring at a point on the wall. "You're right. That's why I have a crush on you. I like your eyes they are very blue." Red Velvet doesn't process the words quick enough to respond before Licorice passes out, his cat hissing and jumping off of the bed.

Red Velvet texts Strawberry Crepe frantically, excitably informing her that he'll plan an elaborate confession before the end of the month. They answer to pick them up in a few hours, and they sarcastically congratulate him on finally figuring it out. Red Velvet ignores them, taking the soup downstairs, into the sink. He'll talk with Licorice about the more heavier ramblings later.

A/N
Very sorry for the late-ish update, my weekend has been unfortunately busy. I worked on a painting, tried cooking which did not work well, and needed to work on a speech. i hate college and careers, i don't learn anything and i don't see why i need to do public speaking for that class. thank you for reading and have a good day/night!