Chapter Text
It had been a week since Y/N returned home, and they’d quickly fallen back into the rhythm of family life. The days were full of laughter, love, and the simple joys of being surrounded by the people who mattered most. For the first time in years, Y/N felt like they could truly relax.
Every day seemed to begin and end with a Mario Kart showdown with their younger brother. The competition between the two had become fierce, with neither willing to back down. Y/N had never forgotten their promise to reclaim the Mario Kart crown, and their little brother, who had grown much more skilled over the years, was determined to make sure that didn’t happen.
One afternoon, as they sat cross-legged in front of the TV, controllers in hand, Y/N grinned mischievously. “You know, I’ve been training for this moment. All those years in the military? They taught me focus, discipline… and the art of drifting around corners.”
Their brother shot them a look, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, all those years you were gone, I’ve been practicing. You’re going down, big bro!”
Y/N laughed. “We’ll see about that!”
The game began, and the screen was filled with bright colors and fast-paced action as the two raced through the tracks. Y/N, ever competitive, kept trying to pull ahead, but their brother was right on their tail.
As they rounded a sharp corner, Y/N’s little brother launched a red shell that sent Y/N’s character flying off the track.
“Oh, come on!” Y/N groaned, throwing their hands up in defeat. “That’s cheating!”
Their brother grinned triumphantly. “That’s strategy, my friend. You’ve still got a lot to learn.”
Y/N narrowed their eyes playfully. “Alright, alright. Best two out of three.”
The playful banter continued for the rest of the day, with the two siblings laughing and trash-talking as they tried to out-race each other. It felt like old times, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel grateful to be back, sharing these moments with their brother.
When they weren’t glued to the TV, Y/N found themselves helping their mom around the house, especially in the kitchen. One afternoon, their mom had roped them into baking cookies, a task Y/N wasn’t exactly skilled at.
Y/N stared at the tray of cookies they had just pulled from the oven, tilting their head in confusion. “Why do they look like they’re from a horror movie? I followed the recipe exactly… I think.”
Their mom peeked over Y/N’s shoulder and burst out laughing. “Well, they certainly have character!” she said, trying to stifle her giggles. The cookies were lumpy, misshapen, and some of them had burnt edges that made them look like little monsters.
Y/N groaned. “I was aiming for regular cookies, not Halloween decorations.”
Their dad walked in, took one look at the cookies, and chuckled. “Ah, now this takes me back. Remember that time you tried to make cupcakes for your little brother’s birthday and they turned out… well, like this?”
Y/N grinned, shaking their head. “How could I forget? I’m pretty sure those cupcakes were classified as a biohazard.”
Their mom patted Y/N on the back. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s the effort that counts. Besides, they’re still edible… sort of.”
“Maybe I should stick to the eating part instead of the baking,” Y/N joked, though they couldn’t help but laugh along with their parents.
Despite the questionable appearance of the cookies, their mom insisted on setting them out on the table. Y/N’s brother wandered into the kitchen, grabbed one, and took a big bite. His face immediately scrunched up.
“Are you sure these aren’t from Halloween?” he asked, struggling to chew.
Y/N rolled their eyes. “Very funny.”
The whole family laughed, and Y/N felt a warmth spreading through them. It wasn’t about the cookies—or even about getting things right. It was about being together, making memories, and sharing moments like these.
Another part of Y/N’s routine was exercising with their father. Every morning, they’d head out to the backyard, where their dad had set up a small workout area. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it got the job done.
As they lifted weights and ran laps around the yard, Y/N’s dad would regale them with stories from his younger days—stories Y/N had heard a hundred times before but never got tired of.
“Back in my day,” their dad began, wiping the sweat from his forehead, “we didn’t have all this fancy gym equipment. We had to make do with what we had. You wouldn’t believe some of the workouts I came up with.”
Y/N smirked. “Oh, I believe it. You’ve told me that story about using paint cans as weights at least ten times.”
Their dad laughed. “Well, it worked, didn’t it? Kept me in shape.”
Y/N nodded, stretching out their arms. “I guess I can’t argue with the results. You’re still in better shape than half the guys at my base.”
Their dad grinned proudly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
As they finished their workout and sat down on the grass, catching their breath, Y/N looked over at their dad, feeling a wave of gratitude. It had been so long since they’d been able to share moments like this, and now that they were back, Y/N wanted to savor every second.
“You know,” Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence, “I missed this. Just being here, with you guys. It’s… different from the military. Slower, but in a good way.”
Their dad nodded, looking out over the yard. “We missed you too, son. A lot. But it’s good to have you back. Even if you can’t bake a decent cookie to save your life.”
Y/N laughed, throwing a playful punch at their dad’s arm. “Hey, watch it. I’m still a soldier, remember?”
The two of them laughed.
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As the days passed, Y/N’s head throbbed more frequently, a sharp, unrelenting pain that seemed to settle deep in their skull. At first, Y/N thought it was just a lingering effect from the long months in the military, stress, or maybe exhaustion finally catching up to them after all the years away. But the pain was different. It wasn’t fading; in fact, it was growing worse.
Y/N sat on the couch one morning, rubbing their temples as they tried to ignore the dizziness that washed over them. Their mom walked into the room, pausing when she saw the deep frown on Y/N’s face.
“Honey, are you okay?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.
Y/N forced a smile, waving it off. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little headache. It’ll pass.”
But it didn’t pass. By the end of the day, the pain had intensified. When Y/N’s younger brother challenged them to another round of Mario Kart, Y/N could barely focus on the screen. The colors blurred, the sounds felt too loud, and the sensation of spinning around the game’s tracks only made the dizziness worse. Halfway through the race, Y/N had to put the controller down.
“I think I need a break,” Y/N mumbled, standing up slowly, trying to steady themselves.
Their brother gave them a confused look. “You okay, bro? You never quit mid-race.”
“Just tired,” Y/N said quickly, though even they didn’t believe it. The truth was, they felt sick. There was a coldness spreading through their body, starting in their chest and moving outward, chilling them to the bone.
That night, Y/N’s family gathered around the dinner table, but Y/N barely touched their food. Every bite felt like it was sitting wrong in their stomach. Their mom, always attentive, noticed and frowned.
“You’ve barely eaten all day,” she said softly. “Maybe we should see a doctor, just to be sure.”
Y/N shook their head. “It’s nothing. I’m probably just readjusting to life at home. My body’s a bit out of sync.”
Their dad exchanged a glance with their mom, but neither of them pressed the issue. They didn’t want to worry Y/N, but the growing concern in their eyes was impossible to miss.
The next morning, Y/N woke up in a cold sweat, their head pounding worse than ever. When they tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through their chest, and before they could stop it, they doubled over, coughing violently. Their hands came away covered in blood.
Y/N stared at the crimson stain in disbelief. This wasn’t normal. Something was terribly wrong.
Panicked, they rushed to the bathroom, trying to compose themselves, but the dizziness was overwhelming. When they looked in the mirror, their reflection was pale, almost ghostly. The blood on their hands looked even darker against their sickly complexion.
“Mom…” Y/N called out weakly, their voice trembling.
Their mom burst into the bathroom within seconds, her eyes widening in horror when she saw Y/N hunched over the sink. “Oh my God, Y/N! What happened?!”
“I… I don’t know,” Y/N whispered, their voice shaking. “It just started… I feel like I’m burning inside.”
Without hesitation, their mom wrapped her arms around Y/N, helping them to the couch. Their dad rushed into the room moments later, and together, they called for an emergency doctor to come to the house. Y/N’s little brother hovered nearby, his face pale with fear. He didn’t understand what was happening, but seeing his older sibling in such pain was terrifying.
The doctor arrived later that afternoon, checking Y/N’s vitals, asking questions, running tests. But by the end of the visit, they didn’t have any concrete answers.
“Everything seems normal,” the doctor said, looking perplexed. “Your vitals are stable. There’s no sign of infection or any clear reason for this. I’ll recommend further tests at the hospital, but… I’m not sure what we’re dealing with here.”
Y/N’s parents looked even more worried after hearing the doctor’s uncertainty. Y/N sat in silence, feeling a cold knot of fear tighten in their stomach. If no one could figure out what was wrong, then how were they supposed to get better?
As the days went on, the symptoms only worsened. The headaches became unbearable, and Y/N found themselves coughing up more blood each day. The pain in their chest felt like a constant weight pressing down on them, suffocating and sharp. Y/N’s family stayed by their side, trying everything they could—doctors, specialists, medications, home remedies—but nothing seemed to help.
One evening, Y/N sat with their dad on the porch, the two of them watching the sunset in silence. The air was crisp, and the sky was painted with shades of orange and pink. It should have been a peaceful moment, but Y/N’s head was spinning, their chest aching with each breath.
“I don’t understand,” Y/N whispered, breaking the silence. “How can no one know what’s wrong with me?”
Their dad sighed, placing a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll keep trying until we do. You’re strong, Y/N. You’ve been through so much already—you’ll get through this too.”
But even as Y/N nodded, trying to believe the words, a part of them was scared. The kind of scared they hadn’t felt since their first day on the battlefield, when every step forward was uncertain and filled with danger. Only this time, the battle was within their own body, and Y/N wasn’t sure they knew how to fight it.