Chapter Text
Junko had been in the middle of composing an email on the school's computer when her phone rang. The first time, she let it got to voicemail without even looking to see who it was. She had good reason. A potential buyer had contacted her about one of her paintings from the group exhibit a few weeks ago. Sure, he was a doctor who probably didn't know the difference between primary and secondary colors and was only looking to spruce up his waiting room with cheap, student artwork, but Junko couldn't muster indignation. Her first sale of an artist was still her first sale. And she wanted her correspondence to be as professional as possible. But when the phone rang immediately again, Junko quit debating on the proper formal salutation and picked up her phone in resignation. She nearly put it back down when she saw Nana's name, but it was too late—her concentration had been broken.
Sighing heavily, she flipped open her phone. "Yes?"
"Excuse me, are you Junko Saotome?"
Junko blinked and pulled back her phone. It was definitely Nana's number, but the voice on the other end sounded distinctly motherly and middle aged. She put it back to her ear. "May I ask who's calling?"
"Of course. I'm Ayumi Mudo with the temp agency Nana Komatsu works through. She has you listed as her emergency contact?"
Junk pushed back in her chair, causing the steel feet to scrap loudly in the computer lab, garnishing the attention of the few other students who had come in between classes. "Is she okay?"
"Yes, I'm sorry dear. But she is feeling a bit under the weather—"
I'm fine, really! Nana's voice in the background insisted
"—and she got sick during work. Do you think you could come pick her up and make sure she gets home all right?"
Junko felt relieved at hearing Nana's voice in the background. She rested her head into her palm. If Nana was feeling fine enough to whine, she should be fine getting home by herself. But if her boss had called despite Nana's insistence…
"Yes that's fine, and, oh shoot!" Junko lifted her elbow, realizing she had set it down on the enter button on the keyboard. Her composition was nowhere in sight. She rolled her eyes and pressed the backspace button, waiting for her email to reappear. "Yes, sorry, I can pick her up. What's the address?"
Tell Junie I'm fine and she shouldn't—
"Now hush," Mrs. Mudo reprimanded Nana with all the sternness of a honeypot. "You really shouldn't be alone." She gave Junko the address and told Junko that she would make Nana wait in the pharmacy area of the store. "If you get some flu medication, I'm sure that would help," she told Nana in the background.
… Maybe you're right.
Junko frowned. Nana had been so hell-bent and energetic on her insistence not to come, but now the muffled words she heard through the phone were flat and low - completely unlike the Nana she knew. Maybe she really was sick.
"I'll be there as soon as I can,. Thank you Mrs. Mudo," Junko said before she hung up the phone. But when she turned her attention back to the screen to finish up her email, she realized she had completely erased her message. Growling under her breath, causing the student next to her to scoot his chair further away from her, Junko gave up and stalked out the door. She sent a quick message to Kyosuke so he knew to go home without her.
She better be really sick, Junko thought as she kicked open the school building's door.
***
When Junko arrive at the supermarket twenty minutes later, she quickly found the pharmacy area tucked in the back corner of the store. Nana was nowhere in sight. Eyebrow twitching, Junko sent Nana a quick text.
If you left the market when I left school to pick you up, I'll make sure you never have a Jackson burger again.
As soon as Junko snapped her phone shut, she took another look around the pharmacy area. There were only three aisles and the shelves were a little higher than Nana. Maybe she had crouched low to look at some medication labels? But a quick inspection proved that idea false, so Junko went up to the window in the back where a man in a white coat filled a prescription medication bottle.
"Excuse me," Junko asked. "Have you seen—Nana!"
Nana had just exited from the side door beside the pharmacy window —the bathroom. Junko was ready to lecture her (despite feeling slightly foolish that she hadn't thought to check the bathroom), when she truly looked at Nana's face. Her face was white, her eyes were wide, and her hair was sticking to her forehead in small clumps from sweat. Junko's shoulders slumped. Nana looked terrible.
She walked over to Nana and placed a hand on her back. "Do you need to go to a doctor?" Her art buyer actually didn't live too far away. If she took Nana there, she wouldn't even have to write that damn email.
Nana's face, if possible, went even whiter. Her eyes darted down to her hand, where she a held a shopping bag. Full of medicine, Junko presumed. "I think I want to go home right now," Nana said, her voice shaking. Then she had tried to smile and added, "I'm really sorry Mrs. Mudo called you. I would have been fine."
"Well, I'm here, so at least let me help you get home. Is Nana there? Will she be able to watch you? Or should I call Nobu?"
"No!" Nana cried out. Junko's eyes narrowed and Nana fluttered her hand in front her mouth, trying to backtrack. "I mean, no. Blast has rehearsals tonight."
"Okay… how about tomorrow?"
"I think both of them work. Moving company or something. I think." Nana's mind clearly wasn't focused on the conversation. When her eyes weren't staring in the distance, they sneaked glances to the shopping bag in her hand.
Junko was about to press for details when her phone rang. She held onto Nana's arm like a mother would a child as she flipped her phone open. Her lips curled in an exasperated half-smile at her boyfriend's message.
Don't lecture her this time. Women deserve to be spoiled when they're sick. Men for that matter, too.
Remembering her disaster with the post-Shoji breakup (and the not too subtle reminder how she had left Kyosuke to fend for himself when he had gotten a cold during their midterm), Junko squared her shoulders fiercely. She would be nice even if it killed her.
"You're coming home with me," Junko demanded. Or, at least, as nice as Junko knew how to be. She reached for Nana's purse and shopping bag. "Here, let me carry—"
"No, I'm fine, really!" Nana practically pleaded, pulling the shopping bag away from Junko. "I shouldn't depend on you. I need to—"
"It's different when you're sick dummy," Junko said, strengthening her hold, not noticing the plastic bag's handles stretching dangerously thin. "Now just let me—"
"I can take care of my—"
The bag ripped open. Before Junko could break her promise to Kyosuke about not lecturing Nana, Nana gasped. And then Junko looked down to see the fallen cargo and made the same sound. It was a box with a picture of a white stick embellished with a plus and minus sign. The package had said two applicators, but the box was already open and only one had fallen out. Nana kneeled on the floor, practically shielding her fallen goods with her body.
"Nana?" Junko sputtered.
The kneeling girl burst into tears.