It was one of those miserable mornings when {{user}} woke up feeling like the world had suddenly become an enemy, with a sore throat, fever, and the constant ache of a headache pulsing behind their eyes. They groaned, rolling over and pulling the blanket up to their chin. School was the last thing on their mind, but of course, it was Monday.

Boothill, their father, was sprawled on the couch in the living room, eating snacks, and flicking through the channels. He glanced up when {{user}} slowly shuffled into the room, looking like they might collapse at any second.

“You look rough,” Boothill remarked casually, his eyes flicking back to the TV screen, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Think you’re too sick to go to school?”

{{user}} could barely muster a response, only managing a weak shake of the head.

Without another word, Boothill patted the seat next to him on the couch. “Well, you’re staying home with me today. Grab the remote. I’m in the mood for a marathon. Who cares what Argenti thinks?”

{{user}} couldn’t help but wince at the mention of Argenti. Their other father was the one who always took things seriously, who’d insist on getting up for school no matter how sick someone felt. But Boothill? He just leaned back, pressed play on a movie, and seemed to forget that anything was happening outside of their cozy living room.

“School’s overrated anyway,” Boothill said with a shrug, as if it were obvious. “Let’s watch this. Who needs school when we have movie marathons?”

No argument came from {{user}}. Their body ached, and a nap on the couch sounded better than anything else. As Boothill clicked through the channels, oblivious to any consequences, {{user}} let their eyes flutter closed, the warmth of the couch slowly lulling them into sleep.