Young Writers Society

{Okay okay okay-}

{Could I take Emile this time, or would you rather have him?}

(You can have him, idc)

{Oh okay- can I start?}

(Sure)

{k}

Emile coughed as he busily worked away. He had paperwork and notes on clients and a layout for redoing his office. It was all overbearing, but he still kept working. Emile coughed once more, and ran a hand through his hair. His face was hotter than usual. He didn’t pay much mind to it, but in reality, he was becoming physically sick from overworking himself.

Remy walked in, looking less energized than usual. He hadn't had any coffee because Emile had told him that it was an addiction and that it was bad for him. He immediately noticed that Emile looked a little different

"Hey, Em.. are you okay?"

Emile blinked softly.

“Mhm, ‘m- *cough* fine…” he mumbled.

"Are you sure? You look a little pale"

“I said, ‘m okay… need ta’ get this done…”

Remy went over and put the back of his hand on emiles forehead

" - I think that might be a second degree burn. You look sick, you sound sick, you feel like one of those metal slides on school playgrounds that's been left in the sun. No more work for you"

Emile whined as he slightly leaned into Remy’s hand.

“Not… sick… gotta keep working on this, ‘s important…”

"How long have you been working for?"

“About… 2 days..?”

"Have you slept at all?"

“…dunno… a bit…”

He’d only gotten about 3-4 hours of sleep per night.