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“Ugh, I need someone to vacuum out my sinuses.” Mira groaned, voice rough and scratchy as she burrowed even further into the couch.
“That’s so gross.” Rumi chuckled as she set down mugs of tea on the coffee table. She didn’t sound much better than Mira, words soft and airy in a way that was far from her usual strength.
Zoey just groaned in agreement, fully cocooned in layers of blankets. If you really looked, you could just barely see her eyes peeking from between the folds.
The trio didn’t get sick often, but when they did, it was always all three of them and usually took them down for the count. It was the downside to living in such close proximity all the time.
“I sound like a sickly Victorian widower who’s a father of two.” Mira complained as she picked up her tea.
“Hot.” Was softly croaked from the blanket cocoon, earning a tired chuckle from the other two.
“At least you can talk.” Rumi coughed as she flopped onto her spot on the couch. Her symptoms had focused more around her throat and absolutely tore up her voice. The loudest she could be was a low mumble, and even then there would be times when it gave out.
“Normally, I’d say Zoey can talk for both of us, but I think she’s dead.” Mira joked as she pulled Rumi to lay back against her. Her voice was ever so slightly less scratchy after a sip of tea, but not by much.
“Mrrrrr.” Was all that came from the pile of blankets.
“You want your tea, Zo?” Rumi asked, sipping her own. They watched as two clammy hands poked out from the cocoon, making grabbing motions. “You need to come out of the blankets.”
Another groan was let out, then some shuffling as the top layers were removed to reveal a pale and sweaty Zoey, cheeks pink with fever. Her hair was mussed in a way that was adorable. She made grabby hands again.
Rumi laughed, which turned into a cough, then leaned over and brought the mug closer to Zoey. She snatched it up with a mumble that sounded in the realm of “thank you” before taking a long obnoxious slurp.
Rumi leaned back into Mira, dragging one of her arms around her waist. Mira went willingly, curling around Rumi and resting her forehead against one of her shoulders.
“Whoever invented sinuses needs to be shot.” Mira pressed her forehead a bit harder against Rumi’s shoulder, then suddenly relaxed as she felt Rumi reach back and scratch at her scalp.
“It’ll go away in a few days, you big baby.”
“But I’m your baby.”
“Either, get a room or make space, losers.” Zoey interrupted, her voice cracking several times over the short sentence. She pushed the blankets aside, careful not to spill her tea as she clambers over to them to cuddle up in front of Rumi.
Rumi let out a harsh breath that was probably a laugh, and opened her arms to pull her in. Mira leaned back, letting Rumi recline, and Zoey to flop onto her lap. Together they made a train of poor sick pop stars, their only solace being each other, the couch and their tea.