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It was pouring rain outside. MePad is under a tree to try to keep him as dry as possible, while Taco, well she’s freezing and shivering. It’s below freezing, too cold to even snow, so there’s a mix of rain and hail. So, to put it simply, there are less than pleasant conditions. Taco can see Hotel OJ but she cannot enter. She’s simply not allowed to, OJ hates her too much to let her inside, everybody does, even her one ally aside from MePad.
Taco refuses to admit to having friends, she feels as if she’s undeserving of friends or even care. She denies any friendship, even if she cares for someone, and of course she does. She cares about Pickle, even if he hates her. She cares about Microphone, even if she hates Taco. She cares about MePad, he doesn’t hate Taco. Not yet, at least.
Taco is pacing back and forth, rambling about things not going according to plan. There was meant to be a challenge today, she was meant to spy on them, find weaknesses in the contestants, use that against them! But no, it had to rain. This is setting her back. This isn’t right! It’s not how things were meant to go! But alas, it’s how things went, after all, MePhone really isn’t all that smart when it comes to checking the weather.
“Taco, you should really come over to where there is cover, we don’t want you getting sick.” MePad says from under the tree, he’s sitting cross-legged, watching Taco intently.
“Oh please, like that would happen. I’ve been hiding outdoors for months, nothing like that would ever happen.” Taco laughs. She then gets hit in the head with hail. Ugh. Just another inconvenience.
“Taco, if anything happens it will just set your plan back farther, and I know you don’t want that. Please?”
Taco rolls her eyes and sits next to MePad. It’s still freezing cold, still pouring rain, and Taco is soaked. Just one inconvenience after another the hail still manages to pelt her in the head, and the rain still manages to drop on her. She shivers.
“Are you okay?” MePad asks, with all the concern he can manage, which is a lot, when it comes to Taco. She can be reckless, denying all help she obviously needs.
“I’m fine.”
—o0o—o0o—
The rain has turned to snow as temperatures rise to more snow appropriate temperatures, and the snow falls fast and heavy. It’s making persisting through the cold so much harder. Taco thinks about Microphone, and how she must be so warm in Hotel OJ, probably not thinking about the shorter female at all. Taco wishes Microphone loved her.
“You can go seek shelter at Hotel OJ, MePad. I’ll be fine out here alone. You’re not hated like I am.” Taco sighs. She’d rather die out here alone than have MePad watch. She hates feeling helpless, especially in front of others. At her permission, MePad goes to Hotel OJ. Taco tears up at the knowledge that MePad would leave at any chance he got.
It continues to snow, and Taco continues to shiver. She stands up, her legs are weak and wobbly as she walks deeper into the woods, in search of some shelter. She collapses and throws up what little food she’s eaten in the past day. It’s not easy to find appetizing food, let alone any food, out in the woods.
Taco tries to stand back up but is too weak to do so. “Fuck.” She mutters before sighing and laying down on her side. She wishes someone was here. Anyone. Microphone? MePad? Anybody… She needs someone. That’s when she hears it, the sound of… Microphone? Taco sits up, but moves too fast and passes out.
Taco’s eyes flutter open as she sees Microphone above her. “Taco!” Microphone says, as Taco passes out again.
The next time Taco comes to, it’s when she’s being carried by Microphone as she makes her way through the woods with MePad. She was attempting to say Microphone’s name, but all that came out was a muffled groaning noise. She passes out again.
—o0o—o0o—
Taco wakes up in a comfortable bed. She shoots up and looks around, MePad is next to her, sitting in a chair, and Microphone opens the door and enters the room.
“Oh, hello Microphone.” Taco manages to say, though it takes a lot of effort. God her throat hurts. Why does her throat hurt so much?
“Taco! Oh thank God you’re okay!” Microphone says, feeling Taco’s forehead. Why was Mic feeling Taco’s forehead? It’s not like she’s sick. She doesn’t get sick. Taco, without realizing it, pushes Microphone’s hand away. It’s like her mind is taking 30 seconds to catch up with reality.
“What am I doing here?” Taco says. It still hurts her throat, and honestly, it feels worse. The world really does hate her, huh.
“You were passed out in the woods, you idiot! You probably would’ve died if MePad didn’t get me!” Microphone says, a little too loud, because Taco winces. When did her head start hurting?
“You’re running quite the fever, Taco.” MePad says. Taco’s eyes widen, she doesn’t- She’s never sick. She doesn’t do sick.
“No. No I’m not. I don’t get sick, MePad.” Taco glares at him before coughing into her elbow violently.
“Taco, just please rest. OJ is letting you stay here until you’re better. Or until the snow melts, it’s supposed to snow more later.” Microphone says, sitting on the bed with Taco.
—o0o—o0o—
It’s 8:00 am the day after Taco was brought to the hotel, and Taco feels so much worse. She can’t breathe out of her nose, but can’t breathe from her mouth without violently coughing. She feels pathetic. She’s not supposed to feel this way, not supposed to be weak.
Microphone walks into the room. “Hey, I know you’re still in your tuxedo, but that can’t be comfortable. Apple had some PJ’s that were too big on her, if you want them.” Microphone says. The response she gets is a small groan from Taco. Microphone takes Taco’s temperature and it’s pretty high, 102.9. Not good. Microphone gets a cool, damp cloth to put on Taco’s forehead, just to lower the fever. “You should get into those PJ’s, okay Taco?” Microphone says. Taco nods. She sits up and tries to stand, but fails.
Microphone helps Taco to the bathroom. Taco takes the PJ’s and closes the door, leaning on the wall as she gets changed. She re-enters the room with Microphone. Taco lays down and Microphone puts the cloth on Taco’s forehead. She also gives Taco some ibuprofen, they’re painkillers but they can also help to bring down fevers.
Microphone lays Taco’s head in her lap. This is where Taco falls asleep.
—o0o—o0o—
Taco wakes up in the middle of the night. Microphone isn’t in the room, nobody is. Taco stands up and wraps the blanket around her shoulders. She makes her way to the Hotel OJ kitchen for some water, or maybe tea.
Pickle enters the room, presumably also looking for water. Taco freezes and looks at Pickle like a deer in headlights.
“Uhm. Hi.” Taco says awkwardly. She takes a deep breath and continues to make herself tea. They have the good stuff, thankfully.
“Why are you here?”
“In the kitchen or at the hotel?”
“Both.”
“I’m at the hotel because apparently I was passed out in the snow with a fever. I’m in the kitchen because Microphone is asleep and I can’t ask her for tea. I wanted tea.”
“Ah.”
After the awkward interaction, Pickle goes back to his room as Taco finishes making tea. She brings it back to her room, making sure to be quiet. When she’s done drinking it, she goes back to sleep.
—o0o—o0o—
The physical activity from earlier has left Taco feeling horrible when she wakes up. Microphone is in the room now, lecturing Taco for getting tea in the middle of the night. Taco just coughs into her elbow.
“I’m sorry I needed something actually good. Honestly, I cannot survive off of just water. Tea is like a necessity.” Taco rolls her eyes.
“You don’t get it, Taco! None of the people living in the hotel want you here, if they find out you were rummaging the kitchen, they’d blame me! I don’t need you responsible for another shitty thing in my life!” Microphone snaps. By the way Taco reacts, she can tell she fucked up. Taco sighed and faced away. She’s a wreck when she’s sick.
“I’m not normally sick, Microphone. I just needed some tea.” Taco says coldly. She turns away and lays down, ignoring Mic’s apologies. She doesn’t need them.
Taco, in fact, ignores everything Microphone says. MePad is the one who has to talk to her. “How are you feeling, Taco?”
“Shitty.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Tell Microphone to go away.”
At that, Microphone slams the door behind her, making Taco wince and reach for the ibuprofen. There’s not any left. Shit.
“Ask Microphone to get more ibuprofen.”
MePad nods and leaves the room to ask Microphone for more ibuprofen. Taco just lays there, looking exhausted. She can’t sleep, she feels too horrible to move much.
—o0o—o0o—
“Taco?” Microphone asks, re-entering the room with ibuprofen. This earns a groan from Taco. She’s hot and cold at the same time. How? She’s not sure. Mic moves so she’s next to Taco and she feels her forehead. Burning. “You’re still burning up.” Mic frowns.
Taco sits up and hugs Microphone. Taco feels pathetic. Microphone gets a cold cloth, a new one, and puts it on Taco’s forehead. Taco takes ibuprofen, and when that's done, Taco doesn’t let go of Microphone’s hand. Mic sits next to Taco, basically asleep.
—o0o—o0o—
Two days later, Taco feels better. Not enough to leave Hotel OJ, or so she tells herself. She likes it there. She likes to be near Microphone. So, maybe she’ll just stay for a bit longer.. Just a bit. OJ won't like it, but who really cares?