Good's POV:

I was surprised that Jef apologized.

I didn't expect him to at least.

"It's alright, Jef, I forgive you," I say, looking down at the younger boy in front of me. "I am sorry for guilt-tripping you and making you feel that you hurt me . . . ," Jef added. "No, no, . . . no, it's alright." "But I hurt your feelings . . . I hurt you," Jef sniffled.

"No, you didn't," I pulled Jef into a hug. "Trust me, you didn't. People that I care most about could never hurt me. You . . . you, Jef, are one of those people. I care more about you than votes or becoming king," I said, reassuring him he didn't hurt me emotionally.

*     *     *

Jef's POV:

The next day, I woke up on my bed. I still felt a little guilty for what I had done. I shouldn't have guilt-tripped him.

I'm such a bad person . . . Why can't I be like the others? Full of mercy and compassion, never hurting anyone. Somehow, I manage to break all those rules.

I sat up, looking down.

Today was the day; the day that people would vote for Quackity and Jschlatt to keep their roles or Good to become king.

If Good did become king, would he be too busy for me? I shrugged the thought off. Good would never be too busy for me.

I stood up and walked to the closet, digging in a cardboard box full of clothes Good had lent to me, pulling out a few pieces of clothes. I changed into a orange t-shirt with a black long sleeve underneath, and some jeans with black boots. Today, we'd start off with eating breakfast with Jschlatt and Quackity.

That's going to be awkward . . .

Jschlatt's POV:

I grabbed four bowls and placed them on the counter of the kitchen.

One by one, I poured soup into each. I looked over at the cleaning cabinet before heading over to it. I opened it, grabbing a bottle of bleach.

I brought the bottle back to the counter and poured ⅛ of the bleach into one of the bowls before screwing the cap back on the bleach.

I put the bleach back in the cabinet before grabbing four spoons.

I put one spoon in each bowl, stirring the soup that had the bleach with the spoon. The bowl with bleach was made out of wood and had tinted in color because of it.

I called one of the servants to me.

I had told them to serve the tinted bowl to someone in particular.

Someone that would buy me time if they had gotten sick . . .

A smug look appeared on my face as I left the kitchen.

I sat down at the dining table with Quackity, Good, and Jef. The servant brought over a cart with the bowls of soup, serving them to us. The servant had given the bleached soup to the correct fellow. I smirked as I picked the spoon up and scooped up some soup, slipping the cutlery into my mouth.

Jef's POV:

I looked down at the soup I was given. Something felt off . . . Something was . . .wrong.

I gulped, picking up the spoon, scooping some of the soup up. My soup looked lighter than the others. Perhaps it was just the lighting. I put the spoon to my mouth, swallowing the liquid. As the soup ran down my throat, it left a burning sensation.

I coughed, putting my hand over my mouth.

This didn't taste like normal soup . . . The burning sensation only got worse, causing me to cough more, and more. "You alright, Jef?" Good asked, concern heard in his voice. "Ya, I'm fine," I coughed out. "You don't look nor sound alright ," Good told me.

My eyes watered as my body started to feel dizzy.

Good got up and patted my back. I looked up, seeing Quackity and Jschlatt.

Quackity had a more confused expression while Jschlatt seemed . . . happy? Excited? "Come on, you need to get some rest," Good spoke. "No . . . , I'm fine," I mumbled, accompanied by another cough.

The burning in my throat only got worse. "Jef, you literally sound like you're dying, come on," Good said. I got up, walking to my room, Good following close behind.

Jschlatt's POV:

I watched the two leave the room.

I chuckled, knowing now that Jef was sick, I'd have more time to persuade people into voting for me. "Why are you laughing?" Quackity asked.

"I am laughing because I was the reason he is sick. Now I have more time to get people to vote for me," I replied. Quackity turned to me. "What did you do?" he asked with a serious tone. "Chill, chill, I only gave him food poisoning. He won't die," I spoke.

"You poisoned his food so Good would be busy helping him, giving you more time to tell people to vote for you." I nodded. "Jschlatt, . . . that's kind of an asshole move right there," Quackity said.

"What do you mean!? We have more time to get people on our side!" I said, raising my voice at him. "I know, but really?".

"What? Are you taking Good's side now?" I ask with an attitude. "I . . . I'm not sure." "Come on, Quackity. you're better than this," I said, standing up and leaving the room.

Is he taking Good's side?

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Word count: 883