A/N: Requested by a reviewer of my Mistaken Identitiy fanfic. Enjoy!
Coco thought that being dead would save her from getting sick. That she would no longer feel feverish or sore. That she would be spared from getting the flu or a cold. That she'd no longer experince feeling like it hurts just to talk or look into a room with all its lights on. That she was immune to all of that wouldn't have to worry about any of it anymore.
But she found out she was wrong when she woke up one morning with an unbearable ache that covered her whole body, with a pain in her head that made her groan at the sensation of it. She felt hot and cold at the same time, and oddly numb, like she couldn't move or do anything. She felt the stiffness of old age returning to her as she tried to get out of bed; it took, it seemed to her, two minutes just to stand.
And with that realization, Coco realized what this meant. What it would mean for at least two to three days if it was as serious as it felt.
Sunlight shone through her curtains, indicating that it was time to start the day. Coco found herself squinting into the light as she slowly walked over to her bedroom window, her legs not moving as fast as they normally would. She contemplated trying to hide her sick feelings from everyone as she put her hands on her window and pushed it open, both relishing and shuddering in the light breeze. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how childish it was. She wasn't a kid anymore. She was an old woman, who knew that it would get worse if she kept it a secret.
And that it would worry her family deeply, including one person whom Coco absolutely hated worrying.
Papá.
Almost without knowing it, Coco thought of when she was little, when she had come down with a severe fever before Papá was about to leave to perform at a concert with Ernesto. He'd postponed the performance and had been so worried that Coco was beginning to wonder if he was getting sick himself. He'd stayed in Coco's room the whole five days she was ill, playing whatever song she requested with tears in his eyes. The first three nights he'd even slept in Coco's bed with her, then slept on the floor next to the bed for the last three.
On the one hand, Coco didn't want a repeat of that. But on the other, a small part of her craved his attention. I
It had been so long since she'd seen him. She'd kept him in her heart for years and now he was finally here. She wanted him next to her the whole time. She almost wanted to be a little girl again so it'd be slightly easier to take care of her.
Coco heaved a shaky sigh as the sun rose higher in the sky, opening the window wider so that more air got in. The rest of her family would be awake soon. She could already hear Mamá and Papá's chatter in the room next to hers.
Again the choice ran through her mind: tell them, or hide it from them.
Longing for the affection Papá showered her with before this day, Coco decided to go with the first choice so she could have what she wanted in this uncomfortable state.