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Sick Day

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“Where in the bloody hell is Grian??” Mumbo asked Iskall impatiently. They had been sitting in the meeting room for about an hour now. The Architechs planned this conference right after the grand opening of Sahara so, it’s not like it’s a meeting any of them could pass up. Iskall wasn’t nearly as impatient as Mumbo. One had more to do than the other and the Swed could certainly say he didn’t have anything to do later except repair his gear.
“I’m sure he’ll be here in a minute, dude. Calm down,” Iskall said reassuringly. Mumbo just grumbled irritably. He had been up a lot lately working on the Sahara system, claiming that he wanted to work it out on his own.
The pair sat quietly for a few more minutes before Grian finally arrived. Though they were relieved to start the meeting, the mood was ruined by the Brit’s disheveled appearance. His hair was sticking up in about ten different directions, same with the feathers on his Elytra. The red long-sleeved shirt he usually donned was replaced by the white t-shirt he typically wore underneath it. He looked over all uncomfortable and clammy from sweat.
“Hey, guys…” Grian rasped, sitting down in his chair like a ragdoll. Iskall and Mumbo exchanged a bewildered glance.
“Are… you okay?” Mumbo asked him. The previous impatience he showed had completely disappeared, being replaced with concern.
“What do you mean? I’m f-f-- hAH’SCHIEW!!” Grian cut off with a sneeze. He pulled a tissue out of his pocket to blow his nose. God, he sounded awful.
“Are you having allergies or something?” Iskall said, standing up to go to his friend’s side. Grian shrugged him off.
“I guess,” he replied, “They’re just r-really ba-- one sec,” He huffed before coughing violently into his arm. “Ugh! Okay, let’s just get started…” He said, clearing his throat. Mumbo slid a tissue box next to the shorter man before scooting his chair away a bit. There was no way in the depths of the Nether was he gonna get germs on him.
Iskall shrugged, “Alright then, dude. If you say so.”

 

The meeting was… odd, to say the least. Grian was hardly able to focus the entire time. He’d dose off or stare in random directions. Not to mention the sneezing and coughing that constantly interrupted Mumbo’s dumbed-down explanation of the Redstone that needed to be done. He wasn’t angry, but he wasn’t happy. Iskall had little to say but, he still listened nonetheless. Grian stood up slowly when the meeting had ended.
“Thanks for uh… talking, Mumbo. And for coming here to my, uhh…” He trailed off, zoning out again. Mumbo’s finger’s snapped in front of his face.
“You’re welcome, I guess?” He shrugged.
“Anyway, I’m gonna head back to my base a-and-- aH’CHIEW!! And… beat Scar in the… building thing.” Grian’s voice sounded more and more strained as he spoke. Both now and throughout their little company get-together. Mumbo eyed his shorter friend for a moment before putting his hand on the other’s forehead. His eyes widened.
“Grian, you’re really warm!” He fretted suddenly. “You’re ill, aren’t you?”
Grian grabbed Mumbo’s other hand and put it on his cheek. “Your hands are so cold…” He huffed. His friend pulled his hands away with a small “ew” under his breath from how sweaty his face was.
“We should get you home, dude. You need to rest,” Iskall said, standing up and folding his arms.
Grian pulled up the front of his undershirt to cover his mouth, coughing. He audibly wheezed after the sudden fit, quite roughly clearing his throat. God, he sounded like hell. Now that the meeting was over, the two redstoners could see now that he was, indeed, sick. His cheeks and forehead were pink with a fever and he had bags under his eyes. Though he implied he was hot, Grian shivered furiously. Like he had been left out in the cold during the dead of winter.
“You don’t have to do that, guys,” His voice was barely a whisper at this point and he strained to clear his throat once more.
“Uh, I think we do. You’re in no shape to fly home, let alone continue the building competition,” Mumbo said.
Iskall took out his rockets and went to pick up Grian to put him on his back, “Let’s go, dude.”
“No! I can go by myself!” Grian whined, voice cracking. He flinched away from his friend, suddenly having a shock of achiness course through his body.
“Alright then,” Iskall shrugged, “You can try but we’re following you.” He nodded to Mumbo.
“Hmph… f-fi-- HIH’TCHIEW!!” Grian stumbled forward. “Mmm… ow…” He held onto Mumbo’s arm. The poor thing looked utterly miserable. There was absolutely no way he was going to fly home. Not even if his friends followed him. He ended up leaning on Mumbo from the sudden pain he was in. “Okay… just please take me home…” He sniffled, weakly grabbing another tissue.

 

Needless to say, the trip to Hermitville went smoothly. Grian was on Iskall’s back the whole time, his arms wrapped around his neck as tightly as possible without choking his friend. He was trembling from the ever-increasing fever he continued having. Iskall swore he almost dozed off at some point.
When the trio arrived in front of Grian’s monstrous house, they ducked inside to put him in bed.
The interior of his house was quite the opposite of the exterior. The room was an absolute mess with shulker boxes and chests throughout the walls and floors. Grian’s bed wasn’t any better. His comforter was halfway off the bed and his pillow lay at the foot of the bed. At least his mattress looked comfortable.
“I feel like rubbish…” Grian groaned. He leaned over to try and grab his blanket but stopped mid-way when he felt another electric shock run through him.
“Mmm…” He hummed, defeated. Mumbo frowned, grabbing the cover and putting it over Grian’s shivering frame. Afterward, he started looking through his ill friend’s storage.
“What are you doing?” Iskall inquired.
“Thermometer,” Mumbo said simply. “Soak this wool in that water over there.” He signaled to a four-by-four space of water in the corner of the room, putting a wad of sheep’s wool in Iskall’s hand.
“Aha!” Mumbo said, pulling out a dusty thermometer. He used more fleece to dust it off before stepping over to Grian.
“Open up,” Mumbo ordered. Grian opened his mouth, the taller man sticking the thermometer under the other’s tongue. Iskall came back with the soaked wool, waiting until the mercury in the thermometer stopped moving. Once it did, Mumbo took it and gawked at the result.
“40 Celcius! Grian, you should’ve let yourself rest.” He said, worry striking his face. Iskall held the makeshift cold pack to Grian’s forehead.
“I thought I could handle it…” Grian wheezed, coughing weakly.
The other two Architechs frowned. He never knew his limits. And they both knew he probably never would. Probably. Hopefully, he would learn.
“Well, at least you’re comfortable now and you can get better,” Iskall said, trying to be optimistic. It’s not like Grian was gonna die. It’s just a cold.
Mumbo sighed. A small smile crept onto his face now. “Yeah, you’re right. Do you need anything else from us, bud?”
Grian sneezed, sitting up suddenly. He kept his face covered with his arm. “A tissue, maybe…” He chuckled. The other two giggled along with him.
Yeah. Everything would be fine. Just peachy.