Notes

Moco was talking with Uncle out in the hallway. It was useless to eavesdrop, as all walls and doors were soundproof, so he could only wait for their conversation to end. When Moco came inside to continue their etiquette lesson, there was a devious smile on their emotion-sensing mask.

“Have you ever hugged your uncle?” They asked.

“No,” he replied.

“Re~ally?” Moco tilted their head to the side, their voice modulator distorting to keep the emotion out of their voice. A pause, as they fiddled with the knobs on their mask. “And I’m the king of Atlantis.”

The two stared at each other like it was some poor imitation of a Mexican stand-off.

“Yo~ou know, family is supposed to be affectionate with each other. Hugs, kisses, words of affection,” they made exaggerated motions for each example, something that he couldn’t replicate, not with the books Moco assigned for him to balance on his head for “posture”.

For his part, he didn’t spare a glance at them. That didn’t stop Moco from entering his field of vision anyways.

They bopped his forehead with the tip of their finger and took the books off his head. “Tell you what, I’ll end your lesson early. Your assignment for tonight is to do something nice for your Uncle. Help him out, spend some time, maybe return one of his hugs. Oka~ay, [ ] ?”

He nodded, and went back to his room.

As usual, he forgot everything they said once he walked out the door.

…

His Uncle placed the chicken soup on the nightstand.

When he asked why he wasn’t doing whatever he did throughout the day, his Uncle just laughed and said, “My little guy got sick, of course I have to take care of him!”

A trash can was positioned next to the bed, half full of tissues and cough drop wrappers. Comforters upon comforters were piled atop his legs, a heating pad over his stomach, and a damp cloth over his forehead. Lying next to him was a water bottle, half empty, not full of water but some gatorade that somehow tasted more awful than normal gatorade.

A spoon poked the side of his mouth as his uncle said, “Say ‘aaaaah’.”

He bit the spoon and noted that there must’ve been some medicine mixed into the soup. From above, he heard his uncle huff out a laugh. Even when he stared at him, his uncle’s smile didn’t diminish.

This happened a few times, until the soup was no longer warm, when he heard the *clank* of the spoon being thrown back into the soup bowl. The room descended into silence, and when he looked up at his uncle, there was a frown on his face and he asked, “Can I hug you?”

He didn’t nod nor shake his head, but his uncle must’ve taken that as a sign of acceptance, as he went to hug him anyways. He was squeezed tight. It was too warm and he felt the urge to hack his lungs out again, but his uncle didn’t relent, staying like this for what felt like a couple minutes.

“You’re going to get sick,” he told him.

His uncle took a deep breath, “Let me stay like this a little longer, ‘kay little Holt?”

When he finally released his hold on him, he felt a fluffy presence tucked into his side. It was a fat, fluffy chicken plushie.

“It was the closest thing that I could find,” his uncle said, looking very proud of himself. “It’ll keep you company when I’m not around.”

He didn’t really have a choice in the matter, and the chicken stayed right on the bed until he was better, then which it was fostered onto Kay, who liked those sorts of things a lot more.