Impulsive

The SickNESS

(Chapter summary: Everyone is sick and it's driving Arthur insane.)

(The amazing Uncle__Jack is back again with those SPICEY ideas-

Uh yeah, this part has a section of me really indepthly venting. Just to enlighten you guys, when I put parentheses that means me, the author, is talking directly to you, the reader. It's not like, Arthur or someone thinking and adding on to something, that's me speaking and putting notes that I randomly think of that might be amusing or just something that I want to write.)

Arthur was worried. No that was a huge understatement, he was fucking shitting himself; everyone was sick, like not a common cold, no, like REALLY sick. They were throwing up everywhere and were too weak to do anything. Somehow Graham’s exhaustion sickness turned into an actual contagious sickness, catching everyone but Arthur and making them very ill.

 

“If I could, I would take the illness for you,” Arthur had stated many times to the others, feeling terrible for being the only one who wasn’t ill.

 

The house was full of, “Arthur,” this and, “Arthur,” that! Even Ra-fucking-bossan! They were all bloody sick and it was terrible to listen to the hacking and the gagging all night. So Arthur didn’t sleep. He stayed up, listening if anyone was dying out there. (Keep in mind, he still lives in a legit shed) They couldn’t go outside in fear of collapsing, so they had to walk as if they were 100 years old, using a walker to even get to the shitter. Arthur tried, he really did. He helped all that he could but it felt like he was also ill; the mental strain of what happened only a few nights ago was huge and he still didn’t entirely trust this group of strange people, but he was caring for them, putting his untrusting nature behind him to take care of the people who saved him. They saved him, risked their lives, their jobs and positions to save him and take him back to care for his wounds, even getting sick in the name of helping him. As long as they got better, Arthur didn’t care what happened to him.

 

He stayed up with these thoughts. His side with the cut thumped and a twinge of sadness smacked his face. It was his fault why they were sick. If he wasn’t so… So stupid and trusted them, Graham wouldn’t have been worried, he wouldn’t have stayed up and gotten sick. Arthur winced as Watts’s coughing shook the ground, Arthur’s breath hitched as the shed door, that was oh socleverly (sarcasm), disguised as a front door. Graham waddled in, leaning heavily on the door frame. Arthur shot up, ignoring the stab of pain from his wounds, and ran over to Graham, taking him over and siting him on his bed.

 

“Sorry Arthur, I just couldn’t- erm… Sleep with all of the noise. It seams moderately quiet out here,” Graham whispered through his dry and aching throat. ((This part is just me talking about my shitty problems, skip if you don’t want to read my rant/venting) I just went through a really bad illness, it came from my dad’s boss (because he’s a fucking douche). My throat was hurting really bad and the only way to make it stop was drinking tons of cold water, the problem is that I’m chronically dehydrated (Google definition: Dehydration is the term for your body's reaction when you don't drink enough water, resulting in a fluid deficiency. ... Instead, it becomes an ongoing issue where you're forcing your body to function without enough water. Chronic dehydration, when significant, requires prompt medical attention. Not making this up, my doctor legit said that I’m chronically dehydrated because of... *Ahem* moreembarrassing reasons , but also it’s a less hurtful and frankly a much easier way to harm myself) so drinking too much water results in me throwing it back up again, so yeah, lots of throwing up water in the past week)

 

Arthur winced empathetically and lightly rubbed Graham’s back. Arthur isn’t too great at comforting people; as a kid he was great, having practice by comforting Percy and all.

 

He awkwardly patted Graham’s head and said, “uh… There there?”

 

Graham chuckled and coughed, running to the door just in time to throw up.

 

“Ew.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Graham whipped his mouth and stuck his tongue out, making a “bleh” sound.

 

Arthur laughed and sat down with Graham waddling over and sitting next to him, flopping back and groaning. Arthur followed and flopped back too, his eyes growing heavey.

 

“You were right,” Graham said, breathlessly. “It is beautiful in here.”

(So yeah, sorry about the mid-story part vent.)