Roadside Flower

Spirit would first need to find out that Stein's actually sick. Stein wouldn't go looking for attention, unlike a certain redhead. The official reason, if you ask him, is that Stein is perfectly capable of managing his own symptoms. What he won't admit to anyone—especially himself—is that he thinks Spirit's taking care of him enough as it is.

When Spirit does find him, he fusses. And Stein allows the fussing. Stein might first attempt to give Spirit some directions, which Spirit may or may not ignore. When Stein doesn't banter back much, or even put up a fight, Spirit knows he's chosen right to focus on cozy over efficient.

If he likes it, Stein won't say—but the silent compliance is proof enough for Spirit. And though Spirit may grumble a little about Stein not taking good enough care of himself, he will still make lemon tea standing tall. (Once his prickly worry phase is over.) 🧡

wait...

WAIT.

SINCE AUGUST -25?

NO WONder my back's grown too stiff to do a good back roll. Or maybe that's age.

What is in Stein's medical file?

Oh, from Emotional Support Himbo?

Hmm, wait, just let me... just um... write some, uh...

Mm.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "The RPN is low, just disclose the information."

That's a common pitfall. ☝️

When severity is catastrophic, the responsible thing to do is to reject disclosure. For the time being.

Stay safe.

“You accidentally—wrote this name.” Kid tapped the name in question. “On your application. Instead of ‘Spirit.’” “Now, I can see how that’d sound confusing.” Spirit waggled a finger at Kid. “I’m still baffled, myself.” Kid blinked slowly, face growing from unimpressed to impatient. Spirit’s smirk wilted into a grimace at the same pace. He curled his finger back in, hand drifting to his neck. “Fine.” Spirit scratched behind his jaw. “You know how we’re allowed to go by names other than our legal ones here?” “Yes, like Soul.” “Yeah, like him. Who the hell calls themselves ‘Eater,’ anyway? It’s really raunchy if you think about it.” With a grunt, Spirit pushed himself to his knees and shuffled back to the box of drawings. “Considering how many teenage boys there are around here, I’m surprised he doesn’t get bullied.” He plopped back down, shoes scraping as he folded his legs criss-cross. Kid waited. When Spirit just kept sorting drawings—no cooing, now—Kid spoke softer. “Spirit?” “Hrm,” he grunted. “You should know that I know everyone’s legal name.”

— Chapter 1/22: Since… the Incident