talking to him

wanky wanker

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊

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karl feels like complete and utter shit. he is congested and the room around him feels stuffy and he has to breathe through his mouth like an invalid because he went out in the english rain for literally five minutes and now he's stuck with a cold and doesn't want to move.

and yet, he is still so happy to be here. with his friends. away from work. he might be sick and feeling unmotivated, but the world doesn't feel like it's closing in on him. even with his illness, he has so many reasons to be happy that he can't ignore.

for example: his boyfriend, who is currently curled up by his side, sleeping. he's been asleep for hours now, just trying to nap off the sickness, but karl has a feeling that the ravenette keeps blinking in and out of consciousness because of the occasional cough attacks that he's having.

or, another example: his best friend, who is currently walking through the hotel door with rosy cheeks and a plastic bag hanging over his arm.

"i got soup!" quackity exclaims, and karl sits up from where he had been staring at the ceiling to watch the ravenette boy take three cardboard cup containers out of the bag, along with some plastic spoons. "i got us all tomato, hopefully that's fine."

karl reaches beside himself to shake sapnap awake as quackity brings the soups over to the bedside cabinet that sits between the two beds. the ravenette stirs awake slowly, groaning in discomfort as he does. "it's perfect, q, thank you," karl smiles, and the expression only grows to a grin when quackity climbs onto the double bed with the couple, waiting for sapnap to sit up before passing out their soups.

"you're going to get sick," sapnap mumbles, but it doesn't stop him from leaning his head on quackity's shoulder as the ravenette grabs the remote from the side and switches on the shitty little tv.

"i'm not bothered," quackity replies, shrugging with the shoulder sapnap isn't occupying. "at least if i'm ill too, i can't be a slave anymore."

"you like looking after us, secretly," karl pokes the other's side as quackity picks the only hotel-available channel that isn't airing the news or a kid's show, which turns out to just be some horrible quality british drama series about people who live in the same area. karl pops open his soup as the show starts, and the warm air from the container feels blissful against his face.

quackity hums before conceding, "maybe i do a little bit."

"you're good at looking after people," karl comments, poking his spoon into the orange soup. he stirs it a few times before scooping a small amount and blowing it softly before having a taste. the brunette admittedly can't taste very well because of his blocked nose, but the soup has a rich sort of taste anyway, so he assumes it's from somewhere good. "i feel like i wouldn't worry about anything if i knew you were helping."

"that's why he's going to be the best godfather for our future kids," sapnap points out, tapping a hand on quackity's thigh, but he has to move his head from the shortest boy's shoulder when quackity turns to face him.

karl can't help but think of his own godfather, and how awful he turned out to be. karl would trust quackity with his child's life any day, and he can't help but wonder if his dad felt the same way about ryan once upon a time.