#aki requests

San doesn't usually wake up in the middle of the night. He has a very thorough nightly routine that he completes meticulously each evening. He spends upwards of an hour in the bathroom each night, completing his skin care and dental care and emptying himself of anything that might disturb his precious hours of uninterrupted sleep. He swears by this routine. Sleeping in his own bed is a luxury these days, so he doesn't even want to waste 1 precious minute on something as trivial as using the bathroom. 

So he's naturally disgruntled when he wakes in the middle of the night unable to quickly doze back to sleep. Despite his nightly rituals, he still finds himself having to pee at half past 3 in the morning. He blames it on drinking Mingi's leftover coffee. Can't let precious caffeine go to waste either. He only feels a hint of remorse. 

Begrudgingly, he throws the covers off of himself and hustles down to the bathroom. If he's quick, he might be able to get it done without losing the fuzzy feeling of sleep. In and out, then back to sleep. That's the plan. 

That plan comes to a screeching halt when he enters the bathroom to find Seonghwa draped across the toilet seat, skin white as a ghost. And if the sight isn't enough of a clue, there's an overpowering stench of vomit lingering in the air. 

"Hwa-hyung!" San exclaims. He stands petrified in the doorway, like he's awaiting further instruction. He's not really sure what he's supposed to do. Seonghwa is the caretaker of the group, how is he supposed to take care of him. 

Seonghwa lifts his head to look at San, a pained expression on his face and a vacant look in his eyes. He shushes the younger, "You'll-" He cuts himself off with a nauseous burp, "You'll wake Mingi."

Of course, even draped helplessly over the only toilet in their apartment, looking minutes away from comatose, Seonghwa is still thinking about the others. San clicks his tongue. And Mingi, of all people, a historically heavy sleeper. The building could be mid-demolition and he'd be none the wiser. "No I won't," San says confidently. Still he lowers his voice just for good measure. 

The remnants of sleep are gone and he's on high alert now. He knows he won't be able to go back to sleep knowing that his hyung is feeling so miserably unwell. So he enters the small bathroom and closes the door behind him for privacy. He also turns on the bathroom fan, to hopefully ventilate some of the smell out of the room. 

"Don't come any closer, San-ah." Seonghwa stops mid-command to gag. It's unnaturally loud, echoing in the now sealed room, but unproductive. "I might be contagious." 

"I don't care." San replies without thinking, like it's the most natural response in the world. "You need help." 

Seonghwa shakes his head, not making any eye-contact with the younger. "I can take care of myself." He says in such a way that San can't help but be skeptical. "You're younger than me. I'm not your responsibility." 

"You're my hyung," San stands his ground, already resolved to help Seonghwa. At least through the night, he can let Hongjoong know in the morning and they can work out a more long-term plan from there. "And my family is my responsibility." 

Seonghwa looks like he has another objection queued up, but before he can respond he bows his head into the toilet bowl when the formerly unproductive gag returns. This time, a slurry of sick pours out his open mouth. The oldest whimpers and moans as he stomach convulses to get every last drop out of him. 

San notices it's mostly clear and speculates that Seonghwa has been throwing up for so long that he's empty. Since they all ate the same thing, he concludes it's likely a stomach bug, not a lone case of food poisoning. While Seonghwa continues to stare into the bowl, San takes the opportunity to approach his hyung. He crouches down next to him and runs a hand along his back, "You're okay. Get it out. That's good." He whispers sweet reassurances until the episode is over. 

All the tension leaves Seonghwa's body at once, leaving him slack against the toilet seat. San's hand on his back distracts him from the cramping in his stomach, so for now he stops trying to shoo the younger away. The attention actually feels kind of nice, reminds him of home, of being the youngest in the family. Reminds him of how much he misses it. 

The porcelain seat is cold, but San's body is teeming with warmth. He craves that warmth, the comfort that comes with physical contact. It's more alluring than the ceramic bowl. It takes way more effort than it should, but he pushes himself off the toilet seat and into San's open arms. 

San sees Seonghwa's intention and helps him settle in, wrapping his arms comfortingly around his hyung. He uses just enough pressure so that he's hugging, but not squeezing. "Poor hyung, you really must not be feeling well." He soothes, pressing a kiss to Seonghwa's sweaty temple.  

Seonghwa whines, a long drawn out sound that might be an affirmative. He mumbles something about "hurt" and "cold" but all the words are muffled against San's shoulder. 

"C'mon, why don't we get you back to bed?" San suggests. He contemplates getting his hyung in the shower, but decides against it given the elder's weak state. Maybe when some of his energy returns, he'll push for a shower. 

"Couch," Seonghwa counters. 

San's eyebrow raises in curiosity, "You don't want to sleep in your bed. It's much more comfortable than the couch." He recommends, "If you're still worried about waking Mingi, don't be. His door is closed." 

Seonghwa shakes his head the tiniest bit. If San hadn't been critically analyzing his hyung's every movement, he would have missed it. "Not about Mingi," Seonghwa insists. His eyes start to water and his lower lip quivers. "Please, just couch." He begs through a sob. 

Though San doesn't totally understand why, he can tell it's a sensitive topic and surrenders. "Okay, okay," he hushes, "I'll take you to the couch. I'll set up a nice, soft blanket for you and get you extra pillows. Okay, how does that sound?" Seonghwa does like the sound of that, he affirms it with a small "mmhm." 

San pushes Seonghwa away just long enough to stand up on his own. Once he's on his feet, he holds out a hand to his hyung, "Can you stand?" 

Seonghwa holds the outstretched hand, squeezing it with all the might he can muster. He uses his other hand to hold into the edge of the sink, trying to get himself up. He makes it onto his knees, but can't make it any further. With a sniffle, he shakes his head sadly at his dongsaeng. 

San doesn't question it or force anything more from his hyung. He simply steps in and helps Seonghwa to his feet, shouldering much of his hyung's weight onto himself. "There we go, wanna try walking?" When Seonghwa doesn't object, San takes a tentative step forward, out of the bathroom. Seonghwa follows on wobbling knees. 

They make it to the entrance of the living room area when Seonghwa nearly throws himself against the wall. He clings to the wall, slowly sliding down until he's on the floor, head pressed against the wall. San crawls next to him, "What's wrong?" 

"Sorry, I'm… I feel really dizzy." He explains his sudden transition to the floor. "I just need a minute." 

There's a cold hand pressed against Seonghwa's forehead, something to focus on that will hopefully make his world stop spinning. Even with his eyes closed, he feels like he's riding a carousel at 160 kph. "You're burning up." The younger gasps like this is new information. Seonghwa has known of the fever for hours. "And you're probably dehydrated too. We've gotta get some liquid in you." 

A panic shoots through San as he scans the room, hoping that by some miracle someone might be there to help him. But he knows deep down that it's a lost cause. It's still the middle of the night. And the only other person in the apartment is sound asleep. So it's all up to him. "Stay here, okay?" He encourages, "I'm gonna get stuff ready for you." 

Seonghwa just nods, hand resting on his bloated stomach. Without San's cool hand to ground him, his mind is back to whirling around the carousel. He presses his head against the wall and whimpers until San's return. He has no way of knowing if seconds, minutes, or hours pass in his misery. 

San can hear Seonghwa's lonely cries as he passes through the apartment. He starts in the kitchen, setting on a kettle for tea and rummaging through the mostly barren cabinets, swearing up and down that he'd seen a sleeve of crackers lying untouched just a few days ago. When the crackers don’t turn up, San whispers out a curse and peers around for something else that would be easy on his hyung’s stomach. A bowl of jook would be ideal, but that will take a long time to prepare. Seonghwa needs nutrients now. 

He creates a tray of snacks, containing stray food they had in the apartment. He slices up every kind of fruit he could find, microwaves an instant noodle cup and set the flavor packet aside, and he borrowed one of Mingi’s favorite jello cups. San pours the whistling kettle over a peppermint tea bag and allows it to steep for only 1 minute, not wanting the tea to be too strong. Then he adds an electrolyte drink to the tray for good measure before carrying it out to the coffee table. 

He passes through the corridor again, paying Seonghwa little mind. It seems the older has started to drift off as he rested against the wall. San figures it just buys him time to finish setting up the living room. He takes a quick detour to his hyung's room to gather some additional supplies. 

Upon entering the room, San's hit with the smell of vomit. It doesn't take him long to notice the shallow pool of vomit beside the bed. He follows the trail up and sees another small puddle among the bedsheets. It's suddenly abundantly clear why Seonghwa was so adamant about not returning to his room, feeling too sickly to face the mess he'd made at some earlier point in the night. 

He decides to leave the mess for now, recentering his goal of getting Seonghwa nourished, medicated, and rested. He pulls out some fresh clothes for his hyung, figuring that his current outfit is either sweat soaked or vomit stained. Likely a putrid combination of both. 

He forgoes stealing the blankets off Seonghwa's bed and opts to take the bedding from his own room. But he makes sure to pick up Seonghwa’s Star Wars blanket for some familiarity and comfort. It's a child sized blanket. It hardly covers his torso effectively. But it's a great comfort to Seonghwa, especially when he's feeling sick or overly tired. 

Once San spreads out all the blankets to cover the scratchy fabric of the couch, he returns to find his hyung dozed off right where he's left him. He nudges the older awake. “Hwa-hyung, wake up.” He whispers, “You shouldn't sleep here.” 

Ever the light sleeper, Seonghwa rouses, though he immediately resumes his whimpers. “don't wanna get up.” A sob dies out in the back of his throat, “don't feel good.”

“I know you don't hyung,” San sympathizes, “but I have some things set up that will make you feel better.” He doesn't allow time for Seonghwa to refute before he's helping the older man to his feet and guiding him to the couch. 

Seonghwa's whole weight falls onto the couch, ready to sleep as soon as his head hits the pillow that San had laid out for him. He draws the Star Wars blanket close to his face and lets out a relaxed sigh. It feels like home. 

“No, not just yet hyung.” San nearly shouts just to get his hyung's attention. “First, try and get some food down.” He gestures to the options displayed on the coffee table. “Anything, please.” 

“Sannie, my stomach hurts” The older man slurs. “I don't think I can eat anything.” 

“Hyung,” San's voice morphs into a gentle scolding tone. “You need to eat something.” 

“No!” Seonghwa whimpers. “I just need to sleep.” 

“You know if the roles were reversed, you'd be trying to make me eat something.” San doesn't back down, despite his hyung's bratty behavior. He gives up on asking, opting to use a bit more force. He picks up the electrolyte drink and points the straw to Seonghwa’s lips. “take a sip.” 

When Seonghwa opens his mouth to refuse, the straw slides between his lips. He manages three small sips before he pushes the straw out of his mouth. “Cold.” He whines. 

“How about some tea, it's nice and warm by now.” San replaces the drink bottle with the tea cup. “Sit up a bit, I'll help you.” 

Seonghwa finally does as he's told. Propping himself up enough so San can tip the cup against his lips. The tea is warm, sends a wave of comfort through his chilled limbs. And the weak peppermint flavor coats his bubbling stomach. Still, he pushes San away before he's finished the cup. He just found this new comfort, he doesn't want to risk it by filling up too fast. 

San sets the cup down, “jello or apples?” He offers, figuring that the noodles may be too much for his hyung's stomach right now. He's not ecstatic, but he's satisfied with the amount of liquid Seonghwa managed to take but just wants a few bites of food in him as well.

He decides on the jello, likely a result of his natural sweet tooth winning out. San spoon feeds him an astounding five bites before he purses his lips and puts a hand on his stomach. “Done.” The sick man insists. 

“Okay,” San confirms. “Take a little medicine, then you can sleep again.” 

Seonghwa nods and takes the pills San hands him. He only sips a bit more of the electrolyte drink to force the pills down. And finally, he lays back down, settling into the couch and curling himself into a small ball. “You'll stay?” He looks pitifully at San. 

“Of course, hyung. I'll stay.” He leans against the front of the couch, resting his head on his hyung's thigh. 

“Thanks, Sannie.” Seonghwa’s breathing starts to even out as sleep overtakes him, “for taking such good care of me.” 

“Sleep well, Hwa.” San also starts to drift back to sleep, the adrenaline of the past hour finally dying down.

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A/N: Sorry again for another long absence in sharing fics. I have a few more request fics I'm actively working on and some original ideas I want to flesh out. I know my motivations have been wavering, but I'll get through them in time. I'm finally starting to feel more like myself again, so hopefully, I'll get out of this funk soon. But I make no promises to timing. Just know that I'm still here, still writing as I'm able to. Please accept this overdue Ateez fic as a token of my gratitude.

As always, thanks for reading to the end! I really appreciate each and every one of you who make it this far! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. And please call me out for any errors you notice!

Jisung's been staring at the same piece of paper for hours now. He holds his head in his hands as he watches the words blur together, swimming around whatever percentage of his vision hasn't been plagued with floating black spots.

He promised Chan he would finish these lyrics, but he hasn't been struck with a single ounce of inspiration. And he's been re-reading the draft for so long that the words he's already written hardly make sense anymore. As much as it pains him to admit, he's not going to be able to finish it. 

Chan is sitting at his desk, while Jisung's sitting cross-legged on the floor. It's amazing, Jisung thinks, just how focused and dedicated his leader is. It's nearly 2 AM, and they've been holed up in this studio trying to finish this song since 6 PM. Chan hasn't complained once. He hasn't so much as stopped for a bathroom break, still clicking away on his laptop. Meanwhile, Jisung is putting all his energy into making the words on the paper stay still. It's just not fair. 

Eventually, the swirling syllables make his head pound and his stomach roll. He suddenly feels like he's on a boat in the middle of the ocean during a tropical storm. If he so much as glances back at that paper, he's going to lose his dinner. So he pushes the pages aside. 

The rapid fluttering of the paper startles Chan, who turns and looks at the youngest producer for the first time in hours. He looks confused, "You good?" 

Jisung nods, one up and down motion because anymore may make him dizzier than he already is. "I just need a little break. Been staring at the same thing for too long. It's starting to look like gibberish." 

Chan smirks, knowing he's been there before. He glances at the time and is shocked at just how much time has passed. Working until the early hours of the morning is nothing new for him, but usually Jisung calls a quits around midnight. Especially if they have early schedules the next day. 

The leader walks over to the younger member and drapes a blanket over his shoulders, "Take a rest. It might help refresh your mind." 

Jisung only protests for a moment before he rests his head against his folded arms. The blanket brings him a warmth he didn't realize that he was missing,  "Wake me in 30 minutes." He requests before quickly succumbing to the exhaustion. 

30 minutes passes like seconds to Chan, never an expert at keeping time when in the production zone. He falls so deep into the track he's working on that he forgets Jisung is even in the room with him. He's reminded when the young rapper lets out a whine loud enough to break through the leader's headphones.

Chan turns his chair to look at Jisung, who is still curled over the table asleep. Despite the whine that alerted him, he seems rather peaceful. So the leader assumes that it was just Jisung talking in his sleep. He's no stranger to the younger mumbling weird and random things in his sleep. 

He spares a glance at the clock and finds that two hours passed in the blink of an eye. It's after 4 now and Chan thinks maybe it's time the two of them head back to the dorm. Before Jisung wakes up with an awful cramp in his neck and an ache in his lower back. They have dance practice in the afternoon, and Chan knows Minho will not shy away from scolding him if Jisung's not in his best condition. 

Making sure he's triple saved his work, he shuts down his station and slides himself beside the sleeping rapper. As he scoots a little closer, he notices that Jisung's face is glistening with sweat. And his skin is noticeably pale even under the dimmed studio lighting. Weird, he thinks, Jisung seemed fine when they were working earlier. He presses one hand against Jisung's forehead and the other against his own. Jisung's skin is blazing compared to his. 

When Chan pulls his hand away, Jisung subconsciously follows. And when he can't find the cool hand anymore, he blinks himself awake with a quivering pout. His eyes eventually settle on Chan's figure beside him and he whines. "Hyung, where'd the cold go?" He slurs the words together, it's nearly indecipherable. 

Chan quickly realizes what Jisung wants and holds his hand back out for the rapper. Jisung takes the hands and holds it close to his face like a stuffed animal, nuzzling his cheek into the leader's palm. "Feels nice." He mumbles, nearly falling asleep again. "I feel funny," he admits.

"I'd bet you do," Chan uses his other hand to play with the rapper's sweaty strands of hair, "You're burning up." 

Jisung shakes his head, and Chan feels it in both of his hands more than he sees it happening. "No, not that. My tummy." He whines, "my tummy feels funny." 

At that, Chan moves the hand from Jisung's hair and presses it over his stomach area. He finds the rapper's middle swollen. And he can feel the organ gurgling angrily through the fabric of Jisung's shirt. "Oh, Hannie." Chan comforts. "You must've caught some kind of bug. Poor thing." He rubs the younger’s stomach, trying to relieve some of the pressure. 

Jisung leans into the touch longingly, inching himself closer to Chan. "Hyung, ‘m sorry," he whines, "I don't think I can finish the lyrics tonight." The words fall out of Jisung's mouth like an afterthought, a similar slur to his sleep talking voice. 

Chan clicks his tongue. In all honestly, Chan had even forgotten about the lyrics and deadlines and group responsibilities. His sole priority right now is Jisung's health. “Don’t worry about that right now, Sungie.” he reminds in a soft voice as he strokes through Jisung’s sweaty hair. “Let’s just get you back to the dorm.”

What’s usually a simple task seems impossible. Jisung is so out of it, he can’t even force himself to stand on his own. Chan has to pull him up by the armpits. And even once he’s on his feet, Jisung sways a little before his head falls against Chan’s shoulder. “Hey,” he nudges the younger, “Are you still with me?” he panics, thinking Jisung had passed out on him. At this point, he’s thinking of skipping the dorm altogether and going right to the hospital. Jisung’s gotten too sick too quickly. 

When he feels Jisung nod his head against his chest, he relaxes a bit, just relieved that his dongsaeng is still conscious. He does his best to keep Jisung engaged while he thinks up a plan to get them back to the dorm. Walking doesn’t seem like a reliable option. 

While Chan comes to terms with the fact that he’s going to have to carry his sick member home, Jisung pushes Chan away with a force the leader didn’t know he still had. Jisung’s eyes widen and he lets out a wet hiccup. Clamping a hand over his mouth, Jisung runs out of the studio. Chan doesn’t have time to question the newfound burst of energy as he bolts after him. He follows him into the bathroom and into the largest stall at the far end. Jisung doesn’t even try to waste time locking the door. There are no obstacles in Chan’s way, which he greatly appreciates. 

Jisung bends at the waist over the clean bowl, stomach contents immediately slip between his finger tips, staining the seat and the walls. Some droplets splatter on the floor in front of him. He removes his now vomit soaked hand and uses it to grip the side of the bowl, mirroring his other hand. For a second, they are the only thing keeping him from smacking his head against the porcelain. But two hands support him quickly, one on his waist and the other on his shoulder. Jisung doesn’t have the mental bandwidth to resist as they guide him into a kneeling position. It’s probably for the best. His legs have nothing left after his sprint from the studio.

“Okay, okay,” Chan soothes. “I’ve got you.” 

Jisung just shakes his head, tears streaming down his cheeks as he continues to heave into the toilet. He has so many things he wants to say, but he can’t get a syllable out between gags. It’s warm and it burns his throat. The taste left behind just makes him more nauseous. When he sniffles, the sting of vomit burns the back of his nose. It’s a miserable experience. 

Strands of Jisung’s longer hair dangle in front of his face, frequently getting caught up in the sick pouring from his mouth. Chan does his best to pull them back, but every time he thinks he has them all one strand falls loose and dangles around the younger's mouth. It's a never ending cycle of carding and tugging at Jisung's hair. Chan even gets remnants of vomit on his hands in the process. But he manages to hold back the grimaces of disgust to spare Jisung's feelings. 

Jisung momentarily loses his sense of awareness to his surroundings. The only thing he can think about is the eruption of mostly digested food, stomach acid and bile pouring out of him. Every time he thinks it's over, he's starting again before he can even get in a decent breath. After 10 agonizing minutes, Jisung finally catches a break. He's able to take a deep breath that doesn't trigger a wave of nausea and assumes his whole body is empty. There's a hollow feeling in his abdomen and he briefly wonders if he's actually thrown up all of his organs in the midst of it all. 

He's shocked into reality when present company tugs at his hair, jostling his whole head. He's got a headache now, and that didn't help. He looks at the offending individual with as much malice as he can muster. It's a mere 2% intimidating. 

"Do you feel a bit better now that you've gotten it all out?" Chan asks, so gentle and kind and hand still clamped to the back of Jisung's head. He doesn't look mad. 

Jisung can't understand why he isn't. He sniffles, trying to ward off a new wave of tears. He's not sure why he's crying now. Maybe it's shame, or guilt. It could be the headache. It's probably the fever. But there's a lot going on. Jisung is overstimulated by his own emotions. It pours out of him like a fountain. "I'm sorry, hyung!" He whimpers. 

"I'm sorry for being so gross. I didn't mean to. And you had to stay with me." 

"Hannie-" 

"And I missed the toilet a bit. I made a mess here. And some of it got on you. I'm so sorry," 

"Han, it's-" 

"What if you get sick now? How will we get work done?" Jisung's eyes widen, "and I didn't finish the lyrics like I promised. I'm sorry, hyung! I tried. And you couldn't finish your work either. You stopped to take care of me." 

"Han Jisung!" Chan tried a third time in a more demanding tone. It startled the younger rapper, which Chan feels bad about. His dongsaeng needs comfort. Not scoldings. But it did finally got him to stop rambling. He softens his tone quickly. "You don't need to apologize for anything, alright?" He assures. 

Jisung just continues looking at him, still too stunned by his hyung's authoritative tone to react. 

"Everybody gets sick sometimes. It's out of our control. It's my job, as your leader and your hyung to take care of you when you need it. So I need you to let you me. And don't worry about work or the deadlines. I know you're doing your best with the lyrics. And they will still be there when you're feeling ready to finish them. But for now you need to focus on your health and getting better. Do you understand?" Jisung nods. "Good, now. How are you feeling? Any better than earlier?" 

Jisung shakes his head this time. "My tummy feels empty now. But I have a headache, and I'm really really cold." He admits, "Hyung, I just wanna go home." 

"That's my Hannie," Chan smiles, petting the younger man's hair. "Let's get you home. I'll get you two days off schedules so you can rest up. How does that sound?" 

Jisung smiles a bit. Chan thinks it's the smallest smile he's ever seen in his life. "Thank you, hyung" 

"You're welcome Sungie." He helps the younger to stand up and guides him out of the bathroom. He asks Jisung to wait on a hallway bench while he calls Changbin. It's nearly 5 AM now, and the third 3racha member is probably waking up to get ready for his morning workout. Probably the only member ever willingly awake this early, besides the ones who don't sleep.

While they wait for their fellow producer, Jisung bobs in and out of sleep leaning against the bathroom wall. Chan's taken to cleaning the mess that became of the stall without complaint. Because that's just what hyungs do.

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A/N: The ending feels a little rushed to me. I always feel like I want to keep writing until the sickie feels better, but that would be a super long fic. So I apologize for the abrupt ending.

“Cut!” The director calls out and all eight members drop their characters, trying to regain their breath after filming the group dance scene. “That’s a wrap for this location. San-ssi and Wooyoung-ssi, you’re off to the next location to film your scenes. Everyone else, filming resumes tomorrow.” Crew members hustle around the set to collect the equipment. Meanwhile, the members all walk back to wardrobe to get back into their street clothes. 

Wooyoung and San are quickly ushered away by the managers toward the van waiting to take them to the next location. Hongjoong tags along as well. If anyone asks, he just wants to monitor their progress. But the two 99z know Hongjoong’s going to keep an eye on them. And they can’t blame him for it. Not since their last solo shoot. 

“Can we get food on the way?” Wooyoung asks whoever is listening. “I’m starving.” He emphasizes, rubbing a hand over his stomach with a defined pout. 

“Wooyoung-ah, you still have to film. You don’t wanna dance on a full stomach.” Hongjoong reminds, “You’ll make yourself sick.” 

“Just a little something? Please,” the youngest pleads, “It’s mostly acting in the next scene. I don’t really dance. And my outfit’s loose too.” 

Hongjoong reviews the plans for San and Wooyoung’s solo shoot, reading over the notes. And Wooyoung’s right. There isn’t any choreo to film. So he doesn’t see why Wooyoung couldn’t eat something before the shoot. He sighs, “I guess there’s no reason you can’t get a snack.” 

Wooyoung’s pout morphs into a wide smile. “You’re the best, hyung!” He hugs the leader, much to his displeasure. 

Wooyoung chooses tteokbokki as his snack, despite Hongjoong warning him that something spicy might not be the best idea. The youngest 99 disregards the warning, reminding the leader that he loves spicy food. And he can totally handle it. Hongjoong’s skeptical, but the satisfaction on the younger’s face as he slurps up each rice cake eases him. 

“Spicy,” Wooyoung exhales slowly as he swallows the last bite. 

“Cheon-yang gochu vibe” San sings in response. Even Hongjoong has to laugh at the remark. 

When they arrive at the set, the three members separate. Wooyoung is set to shoot first, so he rushes off to wardobe. San’s directed to make-up to start applying his fake injuries. And Hongjoong reviews the set to make sure everything’s in order. He chats with the director and other crew members while he waits for Wooyoung to join them. 

Wooyoung’s not a man of many regrets. He trusts his decisions and makes choices passionately, even if they aren’t always the best choices. He sees no point in reflecting on the past or thinking in hindsight. And he always looks for the bright side of every situation and doesn’t try to assign blame. 

But this time. This time he thinks he’s made a mistake. His stomach gurgles while he’s getting his hair done. He knows something is wrong, and he hasn’t even moved around too much. Even though he’s not dancing on the set, he’s still moving around. And the remnants of his tteokbokki snack will be sloshing around with him. He finds himself wishing he hadn’t chosen such a spicy dish for his snack. 

They’re on a tight filming schedule. So he’s going to have to push through the discomfort and get in character. A few deep breaths and he’s ready to head out to the set. Wooyoung immerses himself in the character in order to suppress his angered stomach. 

The first few takes go on without a hitch. He has to suppress a few sour burps here and there, stifle hiccups every now and then. But there's not much movement. He just needs to sit in the van and let his expressions do all the work. 

He stands close to Hongjoong as they walk toward the boxing set. He contemplates telling his leader about his upset stomach, but he fears the barrage of 'I told you so's and 'I tried to warn you's that he's sure the leader would unleash upon him. So he fidgets with the hem of his button down and listens to Hongjoong's voice as they walk. 

Hongjoong is actually praising him. Or rather, praising his character, as they walk on. "This concept really fits you, Young-ah. The long hair really compliments your visuals." The leader plays with the ponytail, "I think Atiny will really like it." 

Typically, Wooyoung would bask in his leader's praises, even if it's just complimenting his consistent visual role in the group. He would usually bat his long lashes to get more attention. Or tease Hongjoong for showing any kind of affection. But he can't even force a smile. It's taking all of his effort to swallow the growing nausea and keep it at bay. 

The rapper also notices that Wooyoung's not responding to the compliments in his typical fashion. He had suspected that something was wrong during the van filming. He'd caught the younger member grimacing between takes with a fearful look in his eyes. He figured it was just nerves. So he's trying to boost the younger's confidence. It doesn't seem to be working. "Wooyoung, are you okay"? Before he even gives the other member time to answer, he continues, "You know to tell me if somethings wrong." 

A few seconds of silence pass between them and Wooyoung fidgets more. Hongjoong has to stop him before he rips a button of the shirt pulling at the hem like that. "Hyung, I-" he's about to confess when the director calls him to the set. His whole demeanor changes. "I'll tell you later." And he scurries to find the director. Hongjoong sighs as he goes to stand by the monitors. He ensures to keep an eye on Wooyoung and pull the plug if anything seems out of sorts. 

Wooyoung doesn't have any specific role here. He's just supposed to move around the boxing ring. They'll cut the best clips for the video later. It's both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, he doesn't have to move too much. But on the other, it leaves too much time for self-awareness. 

"Can't you give it more passion, Wooyoung-ssi. You're lacking energy." The director scolds. Wooyoung's movements aren't exactly aligning to the beat of the song. Wooyoung is obedient, so he starts jumping around the ring, all smiles and sexy expressions as if his stomach isn't tumbling inside of him. 

"Much better! Keep it up," The director praises. After who knows how long, the director calls a cut. "Okay, how about some shots jumping on the ropes?" The camera crew rearranges to shoot the far corner and Wooyoung gets into position. He turns his back to the camera and rubs his stomach, pleading that it holds out until after the filming. 

He does what he's asked to do. If he were feeling better, he might actually enjoy swinging and jumping around the ropes. But his stomach has had enough of it. The burps are coming more frequently, and they're getting harder to stifle. And each one brings back the spicy flavor of the tteokbokki that he's trying to forget. 

While he plays on the ropes, he feels his hair tie loosen, and with the next throw of his head, the strands fall around his face. The director quickly cuts the cameras and calls for the hair crew on set. 

Wooyoung jumps off the stand and runs off set. Hongjoong assumes at first he's rushing to the monitor to review, but the younger member sprints past the monitor area and past the crew. The leader watches as the long strands of hair bounce as he exits the stage. Before the director can yell at him for unprofessionalism, he apologizes and assures to bring the other back quickly. 

Hongjoong chases after Wooyoung, not with anger but with worry. He follows the patterned button down shirt all the way to the bathroom. "Wooyoung-ah!" He shouts to get the younger’s attention. 

Wooyoung can't turn around, too fixated on making it to the toilet in time. He hovers over the nearest sink with his lips pressed tightly together. As he stares down at the drain, he watches his long strands of hair dangle around what would inevitably be the splash zone. He tries lowering his head, but his hair just ends up sitting in the sink. And that's objectively worse. 

A long belch nearly tears his lips open, filling his mouth with foul tasting sick. But he manages to hold it back with a muffled whimper. He clenched his eyes shut and shakes his head, frustrated with the whole situation. He vows he'll never eat tteokbokki again after this fiasco. 

It's the calming voice of his leader that soothes his nerves. Long, gentle fingers scrape against his hairline, pulling the long strands of hair back. Hongjoong tightly grips the strands to keep them out of Wooyoung's face. 

"I've got your hair. It's okay." He coaxes the younger, placing his free hand over one of Wooyoung's against the edge of the sink. "You can let it out." 

It's embarrassing vomiting like this in front of their leader. But Hongjoong is the only person he feels like he needs right now. He parts his lips just enough to let the sick he had stored in his cheeks fall into the drain. Undigested chunks of tteokbokki fill the sink, too large to fit down the grate. The sight and the smell force another wave before he even has time to breathe. 

While Wooyoung catches his breath, Hongjoong guides the vocalist into a stall. He's easy to maneuver, relinquishing all control to the captain. The rapper situates him in front of the toilet and readjusts his grip on Wooyoung's ponytail. When Wooyoung doesn't immediately puke again, Hongjoong speaks, "Do you think you're done?" 

Wooyoung shrugs his shoulders. He certainly hopes so, but there's still a sour feeling in his stomach. 

"Do you think you can finish the filming?" He asks. He releases Wooyoung's hair, tucking the strands behind each of Wooyoung's ears just so they're out of the way. He makes a mental note to redo Wooyoung's ponytail once they're out of the bathroom. 

Wooyoung knows he doesn't really have a choice in the matter. "Can Sannie film now? I'll finish, I just need a few minutes." 

Hongjoong nodded, "I'll talk to the director. I'll let him know you're not feeling well, and see if they can film San's scenes now while you rest." 

"Thank you hyungie." Wooyoung cuddles against the elder. Hongjoong doesn't shy away despite his distaste for skinship or the putrid odor clinging to the vocalists lips. 

Once Wooyoung's stomach feels settled, he and Hongjoong make the journey back to the greenroom. "You know, this wouldn't have happened if-" 

Wooyoung cuts the leader off, "Hyung, no!" He whines, drawing out the last syllable. "Please no 'I told you so's. I don't feel good. I can't sit through a lecture right now." 

Hongjoong chuckles at the whiny member clinging to him as they shuffle through the studio. "Alright, I'll save it for later," He pets the younger's hair as they walk, thinking to himself about how much he likes the long strands. "kind of like you should have done with the tteokbokki." 

Wooyoung's stomach gurgles at that and a small burp jolts his body, like the mere mention of the food is enough to make him sick, "Hyung~~~." 

"Okay, okay." Hongjoong soothes, "You just rest, Young-ah. Hyung will take care of everything."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I had tried listening to Bouncy on repeat while writing this, but eventually had to stop because I kept getting distracted by the chorus choreo. I had to stop. If this song isn't my Spotify #1 song, I will be legitimately surprised. I listen to Bouncy at least 5 times a day. I also watched the music video a ton and took notes from the MV Filming to include in this request. To say I'm obsessed with Bouncy era would be an understatement. So thank you for the request!

Taeyang was thrilled to finally be on the way home. What started as just some sniffles morphed into a pounding headache, which developed into whole body aches, and then the body aches became an unshakable chill, and by that point, he'd come to the conclusion he's gotten sick.

His members had also figured it out rather quickly. He had no way of hiding it. His usually balanced complexion was pale, with feverish, sweaty blotches of red. And his striking eyes were glossed over with an obvious haze. Keeho's hand on the eldest's forehead only confirmed what they'd all suspected.

"Why didn't you say you were sick?" Keeho questions as he guides Taeyang into his room. He knows that as the leader, he has to reprimand such reckless behavior. But he wants to do it away from the younger members, to spare his hyung's dignity.

"I didn't know, I thought it was just a small cold." He admitted. "I didn't feel really bad until a few hours ago."

"Then you should have told me a few hours ago." Keeho retorts without missing a beat, "I don't care if we're in the middle of something, or if we have more schedules to get through. If you feel sick, you tell me. Nothing is worth risking your health."

Taeyang nods his head as he sits down on the edge of his bed. As belittling as it is, he knows Keeho is right. And he appreciates having a leader who will always put them first, especially when they struggle to do it themselves.

"Think you can go take a shower? It'll help. I'll get you some dinner and meds for when you get out." Keeho doesn't wait for a response before he's out the door, but Taeyang nods his head anyway, gathering his pajamas and staggering to the bathroom.

Intak is sitting beside the bathroom door, playing a game on his phone. When Taeyang sends him a questioning look, the rapper is quick to reply, "Keeho-hyung told me to sit here." He says defensively, waving his hands in innocence. "He doesn't want you to pass out in the shower or anything."

Taeyang doesn't have the mental capacity to ask any more questions, so he gives Intak a quick nod before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door. He doesn't lock it.

Intak is still seated there when he comes out, dressed in his loosest pajamas and hair still dripping wet. "Hyung," the rapper pockets his phone and jumps to stand across from him. "You need to dry your hair. You're already sick, don't want to make it worse."

"Tired." Taeyang pouts. The cool water of the shower took the last remaining ounce of his energy. He just wants to crawl into bed.

Intak chuckles, resting a hand on his hyungs shoulder. "C'mon. I'll do it for you." He guides the vocalist back into the bathroom and sits him on the closed toilet seat. "I'll be gentle, okay." There's a warmth in Intak's smile that allows Taeyang to relinquish any sense of control. He just lets Intak take over. And it's so comfortable. The soft way he towel dries the dripping ends, and the way his long fingers card through as he blows each strand dry. Taeyang nearly falls asleep sitting down.

It's Keeho's voice that breaks through the soft hum of the blow dryer. "There you are," he crouches down to Taeyang's eye level. "Ready for bed?"

Taeyang nods. The blow dryer turns off, and Intak cards through his now dry hair one last time before he creeps out of the bathroom. But not without wishing his hyung good health first.

"Let's get you to your room," Keeho holds a hand out for Taeyang. The older takes it, but makes no effort to list himself up. So the leader puts his other hand behind Taeyang's back and helps him to stand. Thankfully, Taeyang has enough lingering energy to shuffle back to his room.

The bedding is already turned down. And there's a tray of food sitting beside his bed, which is a charming sentiment because Keeho never allows food in the bedrooms. Taeyang drops himself into the bed and quickly pulls the covers over himself. "Keeho, I really don't feel good."

"I know, hyung. You'll feel better after some sleep." The leader sits on the edge of the bed. "I know you're tired, but you need to eat first."

Taeyang forces himself to eat a few bites just so he can satisfy the leader. He also begrudgingly swallows the fever reducers that Keeho demands he take, along with a handful of other vitamins. Once Taeyang sticks out his tongue as proof that he swallowed them all, Keeho stands off the bed. "Okay, you've showered, eaten, and taken meds." He lets out a relieved breath, "I think you're all ready for bed then."

Keeho keeps talking while he scurries across the room, but Taeyang isn't really listening. He's been teetering the edge of sleep for far too long now. And he's ready for his exhaustion to swallow him whole. "I've told the maknaes to sleep on my room tonight, so you can have the room to yourself." Taeyang's eyes widen at that, his heart races in his chest.

He doesn't want to be alone.

As Keeho arranges the items on the bedside table, Taeyang reaches out to grab the leader's wrist. The sudden contact startles Keeho, who flinches but doesn't immediately pull away. "What's the matter? Is something wrong?" He's immediately on high alert. Taeyang's not exactly the clingy type.

The eldest's heart is pounding in his chest. His lip is quivering and his thoughts are racing. He's never felt shy around Keeho before, especially when it comes to asking for attention. But something about the situation makes him feel extra vulnerable. He looks up at the leader with big, watery, fever-ridden eyes. "Can you stay with me?" He finally asks.

Keeho doesn't tease or joke. He takes Taeyang's hand in his own and gives him a soft smile, "Of course, hyung." He replies, "Scoot over and make some room." Which Taeyang does quickly despite the aching in his body.

Once Keeho settles in, Taeyang is quick to latch himself onto the leader. For warmth of course. "I'm so tired." The elder member speaks into the fabric of Keeho's shirt.

"Then sleep," Keeho whispers, running his palm up and down Teayang's back. "I'll be right here."

It's not long until the two of them are fast asleep under the covers.

Keeho's never realized how much Taeyang moves in his sleep. One minute, all four of his limbs are in some way intertwined with his own. The next, Taeyang is pressed up against the wall. The blankets are constantly shifting between being pulled up and being kicked down to the bottom of the bed. It's an uncomfortable nights sleep, but Keeho finds a way to sleep through it all.

Around 2 AM, Taeyang's tossing and turning is accompanied by whimpers and gasps. He mutters the names of his members and flails his limbs around. One final gasp has the older shooting up in the bed, heart racing, tear tracks running down his cheeks. As he gasps for air, he looks to Keeho, who is still sleeping beside him. His back is turned facing the door, seemingly on the edge of the mattress, allowing Taeyang to take up as much space as he needs.

The sight of his sleeping leader brings him instant comfort. He takes a deep breath before he lays back down, pulling the covers back up to his neck. He's still tired but can't bring himself to sleep, afraid he might have another horribly graphic fever dream. So he stares at the back of Keeho's head, trying to convince himself that he's in a safe place.

Keeho can feel every movement that Taeyang makes. He can hear Taeyang sniffling as he tries to subdue the sadness presumably brought on by whatever nightmare startles him awake. In one swift motion, Keeho turns over and wraps an arm around the older's torso, pulling him close. Taeyang's face fits right into the crook of Keeho's neck. The feverishly warm skin presses against Keeho's chin. He can feel the cold remnants of tears on his neck.

"It was just a bad dream, hyung. Go back to sleep," Keeho slurs when he feels the tickle of Taeyang's eyelashes on his neck as he blinks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the director calls cut, all seven of the boys run off the set in pursuit of the catering table. Due to a company misunderstanding, the boys had to be on location earlier than their schedules had said. Meaning they all had to forgo breakfast in order to catch the vans in time. Meaning they are all nearing the point of starvation after a grueling seven hours of shooting. 

There are several trays of mandu lined up on the table with a variety of labels and fillings. Jimin is more excited than most. He’s finally coming off his most recent diet, permitted to eat more freely than he has in months. When he sees the line up of food, he fills his plate. He hasn’t had carbs in so long. He’s really really excited for the mandu. He knows if he overdoes it, he’ll end up on another diet plan. But just a little splurging can’t hurt. So he limits himself to one of each filling. 

No one is shy about helping themselves to the food and enjoying their fill. Who knows when they'll have time for another meal. While they eat, they discuss what the rest of the day has in store for them. After the meal, they scatter. Between working on choreography, collaborations, producing, photoshoots, and sponsorships, each of the members have a pretty busy day ahead of them. 

Jimin is supposed to be working on choreography. His schedule dictates three hours of creating the choreography for his solo music video. His album is heavily influenced by his contemporary background, purposefully so in order to showcase the skills he's only able to demonstrate during their classically inspired songs as a group. He's been looking forward to choreographing his own songs for months. He has so many ideas. 

He's warming up alone in the studio when he feels the first cramp. It hurts enough to make him cringes a bit, his usual stretching routine aching more than usual. But decides to push through. He thinks it’s just the result of exercising too soon after eating. Maybe he ate too much for his first off-diet meal, or maybe he ate it all too quickly. It should go away after a bit of digestion. So he buries the pain and cues the first track. 

He’s on the fourth track when the cramping becomes more prominent. It’s not impossible to dance through, but it’s distracting. And he needs to be fully focused. He’s still forming his choreography. The ache is limiting his movements, he can’t think straight about his transitions. He doesn’t feel very graceful. It hurts too much to focus. 

Jimin recalls that Namjoon is still in the building. Namjoon had some scheduled time to work on his album, so he should be in his studio. He wants to ask Namjoon for the rest of the day off, just in case he’s coming down with something. He’d rather catch it early, he doesn’t want to be held up with an illness. 

So he hurries over to Namjoon’s studio and knocks on the door. “Hyung, it’s Jimin,” the small dancer announces. 

“It’s unlocked,” the leader calls out, not even sparing a glance back toward the door. He keeps his eyes glued to his screen as Jimin walks in. 

“Namjoonie-hyung, I’m not feeling too good.” Jimin walks right over to Namjoon’s desk with a hand on his bloated stomach. This catches Namjoon’s attention. He turns his chair to look at Jimin, a sympathetic look in his eyes. 

“What’s wrong, Minnie?” He eyes the dancer up and down, escorting him over to the couch on the other side of the studio. Jimin all but throws himself on the soft surface. 

“My stomach hurts.” Jimin explains, rubbing his stomach. He lets out an airy burp before continuing. “I thought it was just some indigestion from lunch, but it feels really bad. It’s not going away.” 

Namjoon rests the back of his hand on Jimin’s forehead, feeling for a fever. There isn’t one. Namjoon presses around Jimin’s cheeks and neck, just in case. But the dancer feels cool. There aren’t even beads of sweat from his dance practice. “Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?”

Jimin continues to rub his stomach with a grimace. He presses on his stomach a bit. It sends a surging cramp throughout his abdomen that leaves him whimpering, but he doesn’t feel the tell-tale urgency of nausea. “No, not really.” the dancer admits. 

Namjoon clicks his tongue and rubs the bridge of his nose. Per company policy, Namjoon can’t authorize a sick day unless a member is feverish or actively vomiting. So much to his own disappointment, he can’t send Jimin home. But looking at the small dancer, Namjoon knows he shouldn’t continue his schedule. Jimin looks so sick, muffling sharp winces against his sleeve and squirming around the seats in any attempt to find a comfortable position. Jimin shouldn’t be dancing in this condition. He could risk hurting himself.

“Did you take any medicine?” Jimin shakes his head, “Do you want some?” Jimin nods. So Namjoon shuffles around his studio, looking for his meager medication stash. He happens to have just a few antacid tablets left in the bottle. He delivers them to Jimin who takes them greedily. 

“I’m sorry I can’t send you home,” Namjoon pouts while watching Jimin try to get comfortable. He snaps his finger in an epiphanic moment. “Why don’t you rest here for a bit, see if you start feeling any better.” Namjoon offered, seeing that Jimin was already dozing off. "And I'll keep an eye on you, just in case you get worse." 

“Jus’ for a bit,” The dancer slurs, curling in on himself. Namjoon runs his fingers through Jimin’s silky strands of hair in a repetitive motion. Once he's sure Jimin is asleep, he goes back to his desk. He resumes working on his music, pausing every so often to sneak a glance at Jimin’s sleeping figure. 

After two hours, Jimin wakes to a gurgling in his stomach. Namjoon hears it too, giving it his undivided attention. Jimin massages the area slightly. The pressure triggers even more persistent rumbling and the dancer springs off the couch and runs out of the studio. Namjoon stays back, recognizing Jimin’s need for privacy. He waits to see if Jimin comes back to the studio, but instead he receives a message from Jimin that he’s feeling better and going on to resume his schedule. Namjoon replies with the thumbs up and smiley face emojis before getting back to his open track. 

But it’s not a one time event. It goes on like this for a few days. Jimin’s been eating well, sleeping well, trying not to overwork himself. But nothing helps. His tummy always hurts. He feels like he’s been bloated for days with minimal relief. It’s starting to affect his work. He can’t dance, he winces every time he bends. He can’t sing, small belches and hiccups interrupt every take. 

Jimin makes a habit of gravitating to Namjoon’s studio every time he feels unwell. Something about being close to the leader puts his mind at ease. Like nothing bad can happen to him when Namjoon’s around. It always plays out the same- Jimin will find him, complain of a stomach ache, and rest on the studio couch. It always ends the same. Jimin jolts awake with an urgency to get to a bathroom and then says he’s feeling better.

But Namjoon is out of his league here. He knows Jimin’s been sick for days. But there’s no fever or vomiting or legitimate reason to have him stay home. It might just be a rough patch. He makes sure to keep Jimin well fed and keep an eye on him, which is easy because Jimin seems to be seeking him out as well.

Namjoon never pushes Jimin away, always inviting and caring for his dongsaeng. But after a week of the same routine, he’s genuinely concerned for Jimin’s health. When Jimin stumbles in shortly after lunch time with the signature hand on his stomach, Namjoon ushers him to the couch and sits beside him. He allows Jimin to rest his head against his thighs. “Jimin-ah, I think it’s time to see a doctor.” He speaks in a hollow voice, carding fingers through Jimin’s hair. 

“I don’t need a doctor, hyung. I just need to rest. It goes away on its own.” Jimin reassures. He hates the doctor, hates the very mention of needing to see one outside of his routine appointments. 

Namjoon huffs, “But it happens every single day. Sometimes more than once. I’m worried that something might be wrong.” He stops himself abruptly with a deep breath. He doesn’t want this to turn into a lecture. "Maybe just get it checked. Maybe there's something causing the stomach aches." 

Jimin continues to whine and complain, tears pool in his eyes. "I don't want to go. Please don't make me. I'm fine." 

"Jimin, taking hours-long naps in the middle of the day every single day is not fine. Intense stomach aches every single time you eat is not normal." Namjoon reminds. He knows he's coming off as harsh, so he starts rubbing Jimin's stomach as a form of comfort to balance it out. 

Jimin's about to cry. He knows it's not normal. But he's scared. He doesn't want to go to the doctor. He doesn't want there to be something wrong with him. What if it's a terminal disease? Or something chronic and fatal. Or what if the doctors won't know what's wrong with him. He doesn't want to be a medical mystery. "I don't wanna see a doctor." He begs, fat tears starting to slide down his round pale cheeks.

But Namjoon is nothing if not persistent. "Will you go if I go with you? I'll be with you the whole time." The leader's voice is soft, gentle as he offers his time to ensure Jimin's comfort. He wipes away tears as they continue to fall. 

"The whole time?" Namjoon nods. "You promise?" Namjoon nods again, holding out his pinky. 

"I promise." Namjoon confirmed. Nothing bad can happen to him when Namjoon is around. 

"Okay, I'll see the doctor." At that, Namjoon wastes no time scheduling the appointment while Jimin rests on his lap. 

They sit in the office waiting room. As per the new normal, Jimin's stomach aches. It gurgles audibly in the small room. Namjoon can sense Jimin's discomfort, so he starts talking. He fills the room with his voice, commenting on the medical periodicals on the end tables and the framed art hung to the walls and the obscure paisley-like pattern of the wallpaper. Anything to drown out the sounds of Jimin's belly. 

The conversation is not two-way. Jimin stays silent. He’s too focused on the swirling heaviness in his middle and the impending diagnosis to think about the color combinations on the walls or new models of stethoscopes. But he knows what Namjoon is doing. And he appreciates it. He takes one of Namjoon’s hands into his own, squeezing it tight.

Jimin flinches when he hears the nurse call his name. He makes sad, fearful eyes toward Namjoon. The leader looks back at him with a comforting smile and gestures for Jimin to stand. Namjoon stands as well, following the nurse back to a room with Jimin latched onto his arm. When they arrive in the room, Namjoon makes sure Jimin’s comfortably seated on the table before he takes a seat in the chair against the far wall. 

The nurse starts preparing the room, setting out unopened examination tools. “I understand you’re here for some abdominal pain, Jimin-ssi?” He doesn't even look at Jimin while he speaks, too busy examining all the instruments. He makes quick work of checking Jimin’s temperature, blood pressure, and other vitals. 

“Stomach aches,” Namjoon answers when he sees Jimin is too tomato-faced to reply. The dancer is frozen still, letting the nurse move around him. “Daily stomach aches.” 

The nurse nods to Namjoon, then looks at Jimin again. “Do you have a stomach ache now?” he asks softly. Jimin shyly nods, moving his arms to cover his bloated stomach. “Okay, the doctor can take a look at it when he comes in. For now, you can lay back if that will make you more comfortable.” Without a second of hesitation, Jimin leans back onto the examination table to ease the pressure on his stomach. The nurse smiles, filling in the patient chart and stepping out of the room without another word. 

Once it’s just the two of them in the room, Namjoon moves the chair closer to the raised table. Jimin whines and holds his hand out. Namjoon takes it without hesitation. “Hyung, I’m scared.” the dancer admits. 

Namjoon squeezes Jimin’s hand, using his other hand to rub the smaller man’s back. “You have nothing to be scared of, Minnie. Everything is going to be okay.” Namjoon reassures without a trace of doubt. “Once we see the doctor, we’ll know what’s been causing your stomach aches and we’ll be able to avoid it in the future.” 

“What if it’s something bad?” 

Namjoon doesn’t miss a beat. He’s quick to dismiss Jimin’s pessimistic thinking. “Then we figure out how to fix it.” Jimin doesn't have a retort for that. He just keeps a steady hold on Namjoon’s hand. Nothing bad can happen when Namjoon is around. Jimin replays it in his head like a matra.

Not long after, the doctor knocks on the door and steps inside. Neither Jimin nor Namjoon pull away from the other. It’s only when the doctor approaches the examination table that Namjoon slides away, keeping his grip on Jimin’s hand for as long as he can. 

“You’re here for severe, regular abdominal pain, correct?” He asks as he pulls latex gloves onto his hands. 

“Yes,” Jimin replies. 

“And how long has it been going on for?” 

“Every day for a little over a week.” Namjoon answers. 

“Okay, have you changed anything about your lifestyle in the last week?” the doctor starts feeling around Jimin’s stomach. “I’m going to keep asking questions while I do the examination, just tell me if it hurts too much. 

Jimin tenses up as the doctor’s fingers move across the sensitive skin of his bloated belly. He knows it’s the doctor’s job, but it doesn’t make him feel any less embarrassed. He tries to swallow away his embarrassment and explains that he recently ended a diet. 

“That’s good. Can you tell me what you’ve been eating in the past week?” 

Jimin goes on to explain his usual daily meals, specifically the ones that seem to be associated with his stomach aches. He has to stop speaking every so often when the doctor presses against his stomach and he feels the sharp cramps spread. He tries not to wince, so he just bites on his lip and squeezes Namjoon’s hand. 

“And when you get these stomach aches, what does it feel like? Any vomiting or diarrhea?” He continues on with his examination, now proding lower, beneath Jimin’s belly button. 

“It feels mostly like indigestion for a little. Really bad aching and cramps. Bloating. Sometimes I feel nauseous, but I haven’t thrown up. Usually, after I take a nap and use the bathroom, it goes away.” Jimin’s starting to feel less shy. Maybe it’s Namjoon’s presence or the simple nonchalance of the doctor. But this wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. He still feels awkward and vulnerable. But he trusts Namjoon. Everything is going to be fine. Namjoon is there.

“How long were you on your last diet regimen exactly? I think I might know the problem.” The doctor finally pulls his hands out from under Jimin’s shirt. 

“About 4 months.” Jimin supplies. 

“You think you know what’s wrong with him?” Namjoon asks excitedly. 

“Based on my examination and the information you’ve provided, it sounds like a case of gluten intolerance. It is a chronic condition, however managing it is as simple as avoiding foods with gluten content. You weren’t intolerant to gluten before your diet?” Jimin shakes his head, “It’s likely that since your body hadn’t digested gluten in so long, you developed an intolerance when you introduced it back into your diet.” 

While Namjoon thanks the doctor for his diagnosis and asks more questions about managing gluten intolerance, Jimin sits sulking on the examination table. He’s listening to the doctor rattle off all the foods that contain gluten and thinking about how restrictive a gluten free diet will be. And it’s a diet he has to remain on for the rest of his life. Pizza, pasta, bread, and even beer. He really loves beer. Correction, he loved beer.  

“The important thing to remember is that this condition is an intolerance, not an allergy or anything of that sort. It’s not going to be life threatening to accidentally consume something with gluten. Like you’ve been experiencing, it will just result in an aggressive stomach ache. It’s similar to lactose intolerance in that way. However, unlike lactose intolerance, there’s no pill or supplement you can take to reduce the effects. It just results in waiting for the gluten to pass through the digestive system.” The doctor explains as Namjoon asks more and more questions. “I recommend starting the gluten free diet right away. If you’re still experiencing the stomach aches, come back and we can take another look. But I’m fairly confident that it's gluten sensitivity.” The doctor fills out the chart then leaves the room. 

Namjoon is still raving about what a simple fix it is and how he’s thrilled that it wasn’t anything more serious. He doesn’t seem to pick up on Jimin’s sadness at the diagnosis. So Jimin just reaches for Namjoon’s hand, squeezing it tightly to convey his need for help. Namjoon finally looks at him. “What’s wrong, Jimin-ah.” He can sense the others’ sadness. 

“It’s not fair,” a few tears fall down Jimin’s cheeks as he speaks, his breath hitching with each broken sob. 

“Oh, Jimin-ie.” Namjoon pulls Jimin into a tight hug. He’d been so excited that it wasn’t something more medically serious that he’d completely overlooked how Jimin would receive the diagnosis. Namjoon takes a moment to put himself in Jimin’s shoes and he draws the same conclusion, a lifelong gluten free diet would be a pretty sad reality for all of them. “I’m so sorry. You’re right, it isn’t fair. But life hardly ever is.” Namjoon tries to remind him, rubbing his back as the dancer continues to cry. “It’s going to be okay, Minnie. We will do more research and find alternatives for your diet. And I think it would be good if we all start cutting back on carbs.” 

This makes Jimin chuckle a little, “Hyung, just because I can’t eat normal food doesn’t mean you guys have to stop too.” 

“I can’t speak for the others, but if you’re going to be eating gluten free, I’ll try it too.” Namjoon pets Jimin’s hair. “Come on, let’s get you home. We have a lot of research to do.” 

Namjoon stays with Jimin for the first few days. They raid Jimin’s kitchen, getting rid of everything with gluten in it. Taehyung is more than happy to make sure the food doesn’t go to waste. And Seokjin comes to finish off the last of the beer he has in his fridge. Namjoon and Jimin sit together on the couch, searching for gluten free recipes and how to substitute ingredients to make any recipe gluten free. They go grocery shopping together to re-stock Jimin’s kitchen with gluten-free essentials. 

After three days of eating on his new diet, Jimin feels astoundingly better. He’d nearly forgotten how it felt to not have a stomach ache. His stomach hasn’t ached, he hasn’t needed to use the bathroom as much. He feels like his digestive system has done a complete 180 from last week. And despite what he previously thought, there were still tons of things he could eat that wouldn’t upset his stomach. 

Maybe it’s not so bad. Just like Namjoon said.

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A/N: As always, thanks for reading to the end! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

Also, just a personal side note- I have a gluten sensitivity, and I do eat gluten free. But I don't think it's better to eat gluten free. And I don't think it's bad to eat gluten. I think everyone should eat whatever makes them and their body happy. I'm realizing while posting this there were some parts of the fic that seemed critical. But I promise that's just to include more emotion and realism into the fic, and not to stand on some kind of soapbox.

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"Jimin, love." Jungkook coos softly into his husband's ear, "You need to wake up now." He rests a hand gently against the sleeping dancer's shoulder, shaking lightly. 

He hates to wake Jimin. Since the early weeks of the pregnancy, Jimin has lost days worth of sleep to morning sickness. It's like clockwork, starting before the sun comes up and continuing until the early afternoon on most days, into the evening on bad days. 

According to the pregnant dancer, the pain is unbearable. Like a rock that hits him first thing in the morning, then keeps playing paddle ball with his stomach all morning long. Jungkook knows it's bad if Jimin's complaining. He's always known the petite blonde to be a suffer-in-silence kind of man. But now he's suffering, loudly, for hours on end. But it might just be the raging hormones. 

Their doctor has finally been able to prescribe something to help Jimin sleep. It does little to help the nausea or the cramps or the stabbing feeling in his gut. But it knocks him out enough to fall back to sleep between episodes of painful vomiting. Jimin's been on the medicine for three days so far and it's the best naps he's gotten in weeks. So Jungkook hates to wake him. But the managers are waiting. 

"Minnie, please," Jungkook pleads when he previous attempt only got him a garbled hum. "I know you're tired, Jagi. But we need to go to the company. They called an urgent meeting." He explains, hoping it will help pull the older out of bed. 

"But I'm sick," Jimin whines, pulling covers tighter around himself. In his defense, he was awake at two o'clock vomiting the remains of the fancy dinner Jungkook treated him to. He remembered how delicious it was to eat, and how grotesque it was coming up. He was suffering through it until 6, when his stomach finally settled and he managed to get back to sleep. "I can't work when I'm sick." 

Jungkook startles at that. Jimin never admits to being sick. He presses a hand to Jimin's forehead. He fears maybe Jimin's developed food poisoning on top of the morning sickness. Or maybe he caught a bug. Or maybe there's something wrong with the baby. But there's no fever to be found. "Where are you feeling sick, hyung?" 

Jimin lowers the covers to just below his waist. He presses a finger into the soft middle that has become the protruding bump where he's growing another human life. He pouts looking up at Jungkook and the younger man knows Jimin just means he's still writhing from the previous bout of morning sickness, as usual. He's not sure how many times he's going to fall for that. So he just rubs Jimin's bump and presses a few kisses to the stretched skin that's protecting his child. 

He loves the kisses and attention. Jimin basks in it while he wakes up. "Do we really have to go?" The dancer asks. It's not even 8 yet. He hasn't had a schedule before 2 pm since he briefed the company of the pregnancy. They have been so accommodating and understanding about the circumstances and reworked Jimin's schedule so he wouldn't be feeling too sick during work. So he wonders why they suddenly scheduled a meeting so early. 

"I asked Namjoon-hyung the same thing when he called," Jungkook confesses, drumming his fingertips to a familiar beat against Jimin's belly. "He said you're the one who has to be there the most." 

This catches Jimin's attention, and not in a good way. Now he's scared, terrified of what the meeting might be. Are they looking to make a formal announcement? Are they pulling the plug on his solo work? Are they kicking him out of the group because he's pregnant? Thousands of scenarios flow through his head, none of them pleasant. 

Jungkook senses the sudden shift in Jimin's anxiety levels. He can see the fear in Jimin's eyes. "Relax, Minnie. Namjoon didn't sound too serious on the phone. I'm sure it's not something bad." Despite the need for them both to get out of bed, Jungkook scoots himself against Jimin and holds him. He cards delicate fingers through Jimin's knotted hair. Jungkook allows Jimin 15 more minutes to cuddle before forcing him to get up. If anyone at the company asks why they're late, they'll blame it on the morning sickness. 

They are the final members to stroll into the conference room, but Jimin looks like hell so no one questions them. It's been a while since anyone besides Jungkook has seen him in the early morning hours. The managers start to feel bad for calling him in, but they had no other choice. So they get things started. 

One of the managers starts talking, apologizing profusely for the short notice and explaining that they were just recently informed themselves. Another joins the conversation explaining that they are still working things out but they need the artist's agreement to move forward, given the circumstances. The disorganized ramblings go on for too long. Jimin's stomach is starting to hurt again. He rubs it under his sweatshirt. 

"A live broadcasted interview?" Yoongi sums up the long, rambled explanations of the managers in just four words. 

"Yes," a manager confirms, "broadcasting from New York." 

Jungkook tries to recall the time difference. Based on the expressions on the other members' faces, they're doing the same. "What time?" He asks. 

"The show airs at 9 PM Eastern Time." 

"So 10 AM here," Namjoon clarifies. The managers nod.

"We can't," Jungkook interjects immediately, "Jimin-hyung…" the maknae squeezes Jimin’s shoulder. He’s been there for every episode of morning sickness, supporting his husband. He knows how violently ill Jimin gets every morning. He knows how quickly it starts. He knows how long it lasts. There's no way Jimin can sit through an interview. 

"Which is why we wanted to meet with you all before confirming a date." A manager responds. "We were tossing around the idea of having Jimin-ssi sit out the interview. There has been no formal notice regarding the pregnancy, so we could just issue a standard leave notice before the interview." 

"But that might lead to scandals or rumors." Hoseok reminds. "Why not just announce the pregnancy early?" 

Jimin's offended by the question, by the whole conversation really, but Hoseok's question gets under his skin. He understands his relationship with Jungkook has always been a nuisance to the band, moreso now than ever before. But Jimin's starting to feel like he doesn't have control over any of his choices. "We agreed to announce at the second trimester." He remarks with a sharp glare to Hoseok, "I want to stick with that plan." He then looks at Jungkook. "And I want to do the interview. No matter what time it is." 

Jimin gets his way. He usually does.

He manages to convince them that he can make it through. He promises to eat light meals leading up to the day. He swears he will drink ginger teas to settle him. He talk about a dozen other tips and tricks he'll try to prevent him from getting sick on stage. And they all believe him. 

The morning of the interview, Jimin only threw up once. It makes Jungkook feel more at ease about Jimin partaking in the interview. He knows how much Jimin has been trying to suppress his morning sickness. He's been diligent in taking his medications and minding his meals. Jungkook actually believes they will pull it off. 

It isn't until they start fixing his hair and make up that he starts to feel the weight of nausea settle in his stomach. Being tossed around from hair stylists, to wardrobe stylists to make up stylists make him feel like his stomach is in a pinball machine. But it's too late to back out now. So he swallows it down and devises a plan to get through the interview. 

Things start off well. Since it’s a foreign interview, Namjoon carries most of the conversation. The rest of them throw in overly rehearsed bits and random English words from time to time. But when they are asked a question, they usually just whisper something in Korean and Namjoon translates.

Jimin participates with mostly giggles and small gestures. It’s not uncommon or out of character for him though. It's no secret that his English is among the weakest out of the other members. Achieving global fame has been hard for him in that respect. But for the first time ever, he’s thankful that English doesn't come easy for him. Because he really feels like if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll likely puke on set. Right on Hoseok's back based on their seat arrangements. And that would be a whole different disaster itself. 

So he keeps his composure like he's been trained to do. He takes turns smiling into the lenses of the five cameras oriented at the members. There’s a nervous sweat building against his brow and he can feel the droplets sliding down his cheeks. Subtly, he leans over to squeeze Jungkook’s thigh for comfort whenever he can. They agreed before going on set that a thigh squeeze implies the threat of morning sickness.

Jungkook registers it immediately, returning from his previously zoned out state. He glances quickly at Jimin and watched the pregnant man swallow heavily. The maknae tries to get Namjoon's attention, but the leader is too busy speaking on all of their behalf. He's in leader-brain right now. He doesn't recognize the individual concerns, only seeing the group as a unit.

Jungkook shoots Jimin a look of sympathy and grabs the dancer's hand with a tight squeeze. Jimin never has much luck holding back the morning sickness, but Jungkook watches and Jimin takes deep breaths. Jimin's eyes are fixed to the clock on the wall behind the crew, watching the seconds tick by ever so slowly. 

The host announces a commercial break and the director in the studio calls a cut. As soon as the word leaves the director's mouth, Jimin jumps out of his seat and runs toward the nearest bathroom. 

But he only makes it as far as the edge of the set before he bends deep at the waist and vomits up the tea he drank before the shoot. It's violent and sour, a growing puddle of liquid around all the camera equipment. He's ashamed, but still in the throws of sickness and unable to move. His stomach isn't going to let him run away, he's in too much pain. Instead, he collapses to his knees, landing in his own sick and heaves another violent torrent of stomach contents. This time he spews a thicker stream, bringing up remnants of last night's dinner. He sputters around the lingering chunks and cringes at the acidic aftertaste. 

Jungkook reacts as soon as he hears the splash of liquid against the tiled floor. He's out of his seat and by Jimin's side despite the disgruntled protests from the staff. The break won't last too long. Only a few minutes. They know that one member missing is easy to explain. But two members suddenly leaving the interview in the same brief period becomes a bit of a scandal. But Jungkook will gladly take another lecture on professionalism and decorum if it means he can be present to support his husband. Eventually, the crew backs down. It quickly becomes abundantly clear that Jungkook won't listen to them.

Jimin’s upset, tears mixing in with the brown puddle below him. He did everything right. He drank the tea for nausea. He made sure to eat only light and bland foods, supressing his sugary cravings. He took all of his vitamins and even sucked on those disgusting ginger candies. But he still ended up getting sick anyway. "It's not fair," he whines. He said he could do it. He promised the members he wouldn't be a hindrance to them. But he feels so sick. "I want to finish the interview." The effort of crying forces another wave of vomit out of him. "It isn't fair," he sniffles.

Everyone is watching. The other five members sympathize with him from their places on the set. The crew stand dumbfounded, knowing there isn't much time before they have to get back on air. The sound operators disconnect Jimin's and Jungkook's mic packs from the audio equipment. They don't want to rush Jimin off the set when he's clearly so unwell, but they also don't want to risk the mic picking up Jimin's cries, or worse, another gagging heave. 

Jungkook seems to have the same idea. He carefully pulls Jimin closer to him, unclipping the mic from the older man's collar and tossing the pack to the side. He flicks his off for the time being. "Oh, Jiminie." He consoles, rubbing Jimin's back as he hiccups and sniffles. "I'm sorry you're sick. I know you did everything you could. We all do." The maknae presses a kiss to Jimin's salty cheeks. "It's totally normal at this stage of the pregnancy, right? It's not a reflection of you. It happens to everyone." 

"You should go back to the interview," Jimin suggests, though the way he snuggles further into Jungkook's side sends a different message. "I ruined everything. You need to get back." 

"You didn't ruin anything, love. You shouldn't worry about it. We all knew the risks of accepting this interview. We knew what it meant for you. We should all be sorry to you for making you be here." Jungkook has to pull back. He was against Jimin doing the interview from the start. He knew something like this would happen. But he also knows Jimin's not the type to sit things out. They should have put their foot down and not accepted the invitation. 

The camera's point back to the set and they can hear the host's voice as he counts only five members on his screen. "Jungkook, they need you. Go back." Jimin gags, pulling away from Jungkook. The maknae has managed to avoid getting any vomit on him so far. Jimin wants to keep it that way. 

"Not a chance," Jungkook easily lifts Jimin and walks him far off the set. He spares a glance back at Namjoon, who's speaking in quick English to pick up the interview and finding some professional way to explain their absence. He sets Jimin on the leather couch and pulls a waste bin over for Jimin to finish into. 

Jimin gags a few more times before his stomach finds contents to rid. And even when he's empty, his body wrings him out with a series of painful dry heaves. It takes everything out of him. He rests his hand on his belly and rubs with light pressure. The cramps make it impossible to move. And no amount of forced bravado can wipe the grimace off his face. But this episode is finally over, and all Jimin can think about is sleep. 

"Go," Jimin whispers as his eyes slip shut. He tries to make himself more comfortable, but that proves impossible. So he settles for not moving at all. Once Jungkook is certain that Jimin's asleep, he returns to the set. He glides past several infuriated staff members and reclaims his seat behind Namjoon. His reappearance does not go unnoticed and the host asks him what happened. When Namjoon translates, Jungkook smirks and responds "family emergency" in English. 

He puts a finger over his lips to signify that it's a secret. At least for a few more weeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“HEEEtsch, EETthhu, HEHnxtch”

Taehyung’s sneezes are louder than any alarm clock Namjoon's ever owned. So when Taehyung sneezes three times in the middle of the night, it startles Namjoon awake with a gasp. 

“'M up. 'M awake” Namjoon slurs his words, scanning the room with squinted eyes. Everything is still dark and blurry, but he can tell it’s still the middle of the night. He swears he set his alarm for 8:30. He is certain that a loud noise invaded his dream and pulled him from sleep. But now that he’s awake, the room is silent. 

Well, mostly silent. Taehyung is sniffling from his bed. There’s a lot of shifting, even for Taehyung, and Namjoon figures that the younger is awake. “Tae-yah? Did you hear something?” He asks. He needs the validation just to ensure he’s not going mad. 

“Sorry, hyung. It was just my sneezing. Did I wake you?” Taehyung feigns ignorance. He knows the answer is a blaring yes. He had been enviously listening to the sounds of Namjoon’s peaceful sleep. Because he’s been awake the whole night, bargaining with his budding cold symptoms. Negotiations have gotten him nowhere.

Namjoon nods, “S’okay. Are you okay?” If the rapper were fully conscious, he would have quickly recalled that Taehyung does not sneeze in multiples unless it’s illness related. He might have noticed that Taehyung doesn’t sound sleepy at all, but rather a little congested. But he’s still swaddled in the warmth of his covers and clinging onto a promised sleep. Too close to the edge to notice those intricate little details. Not all of his neurons are firing. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to think about how his roommate usually sneezes right now. 

So Taehyung takes advantage of it. The vocalist knows he’s getting sick. He could feel it coming on since the previous day. And he feels like it’s going to be a bad one. But he knows Namjoon is trying to sleep, resting well after a long day. And he wants it to stay that way. He promises to tell someone in the morning. But for now, the others need their rest. It’s too early for Namjoon, or any of them, to be taking care of him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tickle. Must have been some dust on my bed or something.” The lie comes easy. It has been a while since he changed his linens. He’ll add that to his post-cold to-do list. “Go back to sleep, hyung. We still have a few hours.” he gently encourages. Namjoon doesn’t fight it. 

Taehyung feels more sneezes inching their way to the top of his nose. But he doesn’t want to bother Namjoon anymore than he already has. He doesn’t want to risk waking him again. So he holds them back, shaking his head and tucking a finger under his nose to scare them off. But that’s only a temporary solution. They still lie in wait for a loud and wet release. So he waits until he’s certain Namjoon’s sleeping deeply again. Once the leader’s snores confirm it, Taehyung sneaks out of the room with his blanket and relocates to the couch. Hopefully far enough away from the bedrooms to sneeze freely without waking anyone up. 

Sleep doesn’t find him any easier on the couch than it did in his bed. He’s still turning over every time his sinuses shift. He’s still coughing as post-nasal drip fills his throat. And he’s still sneezing when he feels the tickle in his nose. It’s impossible to even get a few minutes of shut eye. And when he does feel on the brink of sleep, a feverish chill shakes him back to consciousness. It’s hell on earth, he thinks with a whine. 

He does manage to fall asleep at some point. He wouldn't believe it given how exhausted he still is. But he's awoken by the sounds of voices nearby. He keeps his eyes closed, pretending he can't hear them. But it's Seokjin and Namjoon, neither of them do well with hushed conversation. It sounds like they are arguing. Or maybe Taehyung's headache is just amplifying the sound of their voices. Any noise at this point is too loud for him. 

He picks up bits and pieces of the conversation. From what Taehyung can gather from his eavesdropping, Seokjin is angry at Namjoon. Something about the Daegu vocalist spending the night on the couch. And even though Namjoon seems equally upset about it, the oldest hyung is blaming the leader. 

The realization that his hyungs are fighting because of him hits his fevered mind. That's silly. Namjoon didn't do anything wrong. It was his decision to leave the room. It was his decision to sleep on the couch. He has to take responsibility for it. He needs to end the argument with the truth. Because he hates it when his hyungs fight. 

Maybe he also hates it when they are loud. Maybe he has a splitting headache and wants to sleep more. Maybe he knows that Seokjin and Namjoon can go on for hours with petty arguments like this and he just wants them to stop. But he doesn't feel well, so he can be a little selfish. The outcome will benefit them all in the end.

His body aches as he sits up on the couch. He pulls his blanket around his shoulders and clutches the corners around his chin to fight the chill. The ends of the blanket drag behind him as he follows his hyung's voices to the kitchen. It's a long, shuffling journey. His whole body tells him to stop. 

Two loud sneezes alert the two older members to Taehyung's presence. They both turn and look at the sick member. He has definitely seen better days. His skin is blotchy with fever spots, the tip of his nose is bright red, and he can barely keep his eyes open. He looks so small wrapped up in a blanket, quaking at the knees like standing is simply too much. 

"Tae-yah, you should go rest." Seokjin's voice is gentle and caring. "Hyung will get you something to eat, go lay down." 

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak. He wants to say that he didn't want to bother Namjoon with his cold. He wants to say he chose to leave the room when Namjoon fell asleep. He wants to say he chose to sleep on the couch and it's not Namjoon's fault. But croaky broken syllables and raspy breaths take the place of his words. His voice is completely gone, but he doesn’t remember losing it. It was fine enough when he was talking to Namjoon in the middle of the night. 

He pouts in frustration, massaging his throat with the hand not clutching his blanket. His neck feels hard and swollen, but he aims to be able to speak again. He clears his throat with some wet coughs before attempting to speak again. But it’s the same result. Nothing intelligible comes up, he ends up hunched over coughing deeply into his fist. 

Seokjin’s expression softens immediately. He forgets entirely about his spat with Namjoon and runs to Taehyung’s side. He immediately goes into mother hen mode, pressing a palm to his fellow vocalist’s sweaty forehead. “You’ve caught yourself quite a nasty cold, Tae bear.” He consoles once Taehyung’s done coughing. “Don’t you worry, you’ll start feeling better soon.” 

Taehyung leans against Seokjin, too weak to support his own body weight for another second. He lets out a whimper and a yawn. “You’re tired,” Seokjin understands, “Let’s put you to bed then.” He starts guiding Taehyung toward the bedrooms. The younger man makes it as far as the stairs before he quits. He looks at Seokjin with desperation. There’s no way he can climb the steps. He just won’t make it. 

The oldest understands instantly. “Alright, Tae. Can you get on my back?” He squats to make it easier for Taehyung to climb on. He scrambles for a few minutes while trying to push himself up, but he’s lacking the usual upper body strength he needs to latch on. With a little help from Namjoon, Taehyung is able to secure himself to his hyung for the journey to the bedrooms. Seokjin marches up the steps with ease despite the added weight and deposits the sick member in his bed. “There you go. Hyung’s going to go get some supplies for you. Can you stay awake for five more minutes?” 

Taehyung nods with no confidence in his answer. Seokjin doesn’t believe it either given the way the vocalist’s eyelids droop as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

It actually takes Seokjin about 15 minutes to return to the room. So he can’t blame Taehyung for being asleep when he returns. He looks so peaceful while he’s resting, Seokjin doesn’t want to disturb him. He looks like death warmed over. He needs every second of rest he can get. So he decides to do the best he can while still ensuring that Taehyung stays asleep. He scans his forehead with a temporal thermometer and confirms the presence of a significant fever. With gentle motions, he smooths a damp rag over the sick vocalist’s forehead. Food and medicine will have to wait until he wakes. 

Seokjin does everything he can for Taehyung before he absolutely does have to leave the dorm. He’s got schedules to attend, things to do, places to be. But he doesn’t want to leave Taehyung alone, so he recruits Namjoon to look after him for the day. It may be more of a demand, a repentance to compensate for the fact that Taehyung slept on the couch. But Namjoon accepts it regardless. He knows he can work on things from home. It’ll be easy enough to work on tracks on his laptop while keeping an eye on Taehyung.

“HEP’tichi, HESHhu, ehh-HE’tch”

Taehyung’s nose only allows him a meager half hour of sleep before he startles himself awake with forceful sneezes. Despite losing his voice, his sneezes are still monstrous roars that claw through his throat with vengeance on the way out. There’s an ache that grows each time he pitches with a harsh sneeze, traveling from the bridge of his nose to the backs of his eyes all the way around to the base of his neck. It hurts everywhere. 

He’s in too much pain to sleep, despite how his body yearns for a few more hours. His body is playing tricks on him, making him believe that he’s thirsty. But it seems to be just a cruel way to trick him into swallowing. The action is painful and does little to soothe his raw throat. Every time he starts to doze off, another string of sneezes forces him back to consciousness. 

There’s no relief. He tries to massage around his temples, he tries to shift positions in the bed. He tries pulling the blanket over his head to block the light and even tries to bite the tip of his thumb because he heard somewhere that it's supposed to help with headaches. But nothing eases his ache in the slightest. The humming of the air conditioning is deafening. The dimly lit lamp is blinding. The pulsing pressure of blood against his skull is agonizing. It’s a waiting game against the pain. And just when he thinks the drumming ache is receding, he sneezes again and he’s right back where he started. 

After repeating the cycle four times over, he can’t maintain his composure. He cries. He weeps in desperation and in pain. He feels the most miserable he’s ever felt in his life. He doesn’t see an end to the suffering in sight. He has no hope for any relief. So he cries. 

He wants comfort. He wants to draw someone’s attention, someone’s sympathy, someone’s love. He wants someone to coddle him, just a bit. He wants to be reassured that he will be okay. But no one will ever hear him. His cries are silent, nothing but heavy breaths and pitchy croaks as tears pour mercilessly down his cheeks. He tries calling out for the members, but he can’t force a single syllable. As therapeutic as the crying seems at the moment, it only proves to make his headache even worse. 

Eventually, Namjoon returns to the room. It’s been a while since Seokjin checked Taehyung’s temperature and he wants to know if the rest has been doing the vocalist any good. He opens the door to find Taehyung sitting up in the bed, sniffling as tears drip quickly from his chin onto his blanket. His expressions are devastating, eyes squinted shut and mouth hanging out like he’s trying to scream. He scrubs at his face with balled fists and jerks with sobs that just land him coughing into the open air. The urge to comfort him is immediate. 

As soon as Namjoon lays a finger on Taehyung’s shoulder, the vocalist wraps his whole body around the leader. Similar to how a boa constrictor would envelop their prey, only Taehyung is much more distraught than intimidating. The vocalist will never let go. He never wants to be alone again. The pain is too much for him to cope with by himself. 

Namjoon’s struggling to breathe in Taehyung’s clutches, but he could not care any less. Because watching Taehyung bawl his eyes out makes Namjoon’s stomach flip. So he doesn’t care what happens to him if it means that Taehyung will calm down. He consoles, brushing fingers through Taehyung’s hair and scratching gently against his back. His skin burns, Namjoon suspects a fever spike played a part in Taehyung’s breakdown. He keeps his verbal reassurances low and rhythmic. 

It’s a long while before Taehyung finally calms himself down. He’s still sniffling and catching his breath. His eyes are bloodshot and watery, but finally open enough to look pleadingly into Namjoon’s big brown eyes. “There you go, Tae Tae. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. All better.” 

Taehyung tries again to speak, but nothing comes out and he realizes he’s right back where he started. He’s not better now. He’s worse. He’s miserable and he still doesn’t feel well at all and it feels like it’s never going to end. And to make matters worse, he can’t even express that appropriately. So he tries to make Namjoon understand, through the sheer power of body language. 

But Taehyung’s gestures are flailing and vague and just hard to understand. Namjoon can’t make sense of it. Until he sees the events in action. 

All the crying had shifted the contents of Taehyung’s sinuses. His nose runs relentlessly in an effort to clear it. Taehyung sniffles harshly in between gestures to ward off the tickle but it eventually wins out. “EHRshhh, ee’NXTtch” He pitches forward with a messy double. When he picks himself up, his hands shoot to his head as the splitting pain returns with a vengeance. He winces and shuts his eyes, pressing himself impossibly closer to Namjoon. And Namjoon finally understands that Taehyung’s got a headache. A borderline migraine by the looks of it. Suddenly all the flailing makes sense. 

“Is it your head, TaeTae?” Namjoon questions, whispering. He starts to pull himself away. Taehyung nods, a small movement so he doesn’t have to jostle his throbbing head too much. 

Namjoon has to pry the vocalist off of him before he manages to get Taehyung to lay back down in bed. There’s a few whimpers and a whole lot of teary-eyed pouting, but Namjoon assures him he’ll only be gone for a few minutes and then they can resume cuddling. Taehyung accepts with the promise of more cuddling.

Namjoon hurries to gather the supplies Seokjin left for him. He finds the bottle of painkillers and gives a dose to Taehyung. He turns the lights off in the room, leaving only the minor light of a dimmed desk lamp to make sure he doesn’t trip over anything in the room on his journey to the bed. He climbs into the bed and leans against the headboard, arms wide open expectantly for the vocalist's arrival.

Taehyung finds some comfort in pressing himself to Namjoon’s stomach, arms wrapping around his torso to once again prevent his escape. Namjoon allows it, gently massaging the area around Taehyung’s temples until the younger member is finally able to fall into a steady sleep.

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Jungkook wouldn't say it's been a bad birthday. Not by a long shot. He only had a brief solo schedule in the morning and has been enjoying the rest of the day to himself. He spent most of the day at home, enjoying his free time. 

He would have gone to visit his family, but he knows he has an early schedule the next day. Which doesn't leave him a lot of time to travel all the way down to Busan, spend time with his family, and travel back to Seoul by morning. So he's made arrangements to celebrate with them over the weekend. Thankfully, he has a full three consecutive days off. That never happens. 

Throughout the day, several members stop by before, between, or after their various schedules. They all came bearing gifts and sweet sentiments for his birthday. Spending time with their precious maknae and cursing at him for getting older. Reminiscing of when he was only 15, wide eyed and painfully shy. Jungkook jokes with them, they say the same things every year. 

It's almost 8 PM and the only member who hasn't stopped by is Namjoon. He figures the BTS leader has been working non-stop. He keeps saying he'll be next to debut. They all let him think so. At least Namjoon had the courtesy to text him early in the day. 

Jungkook's casually browsing his DVD collection when there's a knock at the door. A quick peek reveals it's Namjoon. Jungkook really didn't think he'd come so late at night. But he's not upset at all. He quickly opens the door and lets the leader in. He eyes Namjoon's hand in curiosity as he walks in and kicks off his shoes. 

"Happy Birthday, Jungkook-ah," Namjoon greets and holds out a container for Jungkook to take. "25 looks good on you." 

"I look the same as I did yesterday, hyung." Jungkook accepts the container graciously. He holds it close to his chest while they walk to the kitchen. The contents are still warm. Namjoon fills the short walk with apologies and excuses. He claims he didn't have time to shop for a gift and didn't have any time earlier in the day to pay him a visit. To be fair, Jungkook does live a good distance away from the company building. That was kind of the idea.

"It's homemade beef gukbap." Namjoon smiles shyly when Jungkook opens the container. He quickly reads the skeptical expression on Jungkook's face. Namjoon's cooking has been less than edible in the past. "I've actually been taking cooking lessons in my spare time. Since we're living alone now, I don't want to eat take out all the time. So I've been cooking a lot more." The leader explains, hoping to ease Jungkook's concern. 

"And you haven't made yourself sick?" Jungkook asks, no humor to his tone. 

"Okay, maybe like twice." Namjoon's honesty is always admirable. Jungkook laughs. "But most of the time, I get it right. I've made this before and it was really good." 

Jungkook pulls out a clean pair of chopsticks and digs in, "Okay. I'll trust you, hyung." He picks up a large chunk of beef, "Thank you for the meal." 

It's actually not bad. The maknae quickly goes back for more. And soon the container is empty, even slurping up every last drop of broth. Namjoon smiled proudly when Jungkook finished it off. "I never thought I'd say this, but you can cook for me anytime, hyung." Jungkook smiles. 

"I'm glad you liked it. I know it's one of your favorite dishes." Every dish is Jungkook's favorite dish. 

"Do you wanna maybe stay a bit, and hang out? I was about to watch a movie before you showed up." Jungkook asks, walking back to the living room. 

"I don't wanna stay too late. We do have a taping tomorrow. Maybe just one movie." He follows.

"Spiderman?" There's a small pout on Jungkook's lips. Namjoon rolls his eyes, they've watched all the Spiderman movies probably 100 times. But it's Jungkook's birthday, so Namjoon gives in without any argument. 

After one movie (Jungkook tries to rally the leader for a second, but Namjoon puts his foot down), Namjoon leaves for the night. Jungkook starts his evening routine with a wide smile. He couldn't have asked for a better birthday. Sleep and sweet dreams find him easily when he lays down. 

Unfortunately, he wakes up only a few hours later to an aggressive rumbling in his stomach. He tries to ignore it, turning over and squeezing his eyes shut. He can still sleep for three more hours. He wants to sleep for three more hours. 

But the rumbling turns to churning and the churning turns to a burning nausea that demands his attention. Any hope of sleep is gone. He sprints from his bed to his bathroom and curls himself around the toilet basin as thick waves of vomit shoot out of him. It's relentless. No matter how much he throws up, there's always somehow more. He doesn't even want to lean away from the toilet because each heave comes without warning. 

He's confused. He didn't even eat that much today. He had a coffee with Jimin in the morning. And Hoseok brought him a cake, he ate a few bites of that. Got some take-out with Yoongi. And then Namjoon's gukbap. 

Namjoon. He felt totally fine before Namjoon came over. And the only thing he ate while Namjoon was there was the food he prepared. He knows it's not from eating too much. He's eaten more in single meals than he ate all day today. So there must have been something wrong with it. 

Jungkook hates to come to that conclusion. Because he knows Namjoon was proud of his cooking. He was proud to share it with Jungkook. And the maknae had even praised it in the moment. He knows how hard Namjoon worked just for him. But it's the only thing that makes sense. 

The early prickling chill of fever seals the deal. It's food poisoning. Succumbing to the self-made diagnosis, he groans miserably as another wave of vomit pours out of him. He spits over and over to try to get the taste out of his mouth. He can't even bring himself to get tap water, the sink feels so far away. 

Once this round ends, he drops his head onto the toilet seat trying to remember the last time he cleaned the bathroom. He doesn't care, won't pick his head up either way. But any thought to distract him from the endless nausea and painful cramps inside of him. 

It continues in waves for the rest of the night. Jungkook can't even close his eyes without heaving. He doesn't know how long it's been until he hears his cell phone alarm start to blast from beside his bed. It's 6:30. He needs to start getting ready for his schedule.

The only thing he has for the day is a Run BTS taping. But who knows how long that could take. They never brief them on the episode until the day of. It's both a blessing and a curse. It means that all their reactions are 100% genuine when they are told the games. But also does not help them know how to prepare. 

He prays it will be something easy, like board games or computer games. Something that doesn't require a lot of movement or motion. He's not sure how he'll manage to get through the taping, but he knows he won't last if it's something physical. He can barely hold his head up. 

Despite throwing up for hours, he still feels the lingering urge to vomit at any second. He feels uncomfortably unwell. But he's a professional. He can’t just call in sick. So he forces himself to get ready. He gets his ass to the agreed upon location and he's ready to get it over with. On the drive over, he prays that it'll be an easy episode

He's the last member to get on set. And he's technically late. But it's really not his fault. He had to pause his morning routine 4 times to be sick. That's also four extra trips to the sink to brush his teeth. The members are a little disappointed when he stumbles his way to the briefing, but they don't say anything about it. 

Jungkook's heart sinks when the director explains the concept. It's a team cooking competition. Cooking foreign recipes. Using foreign ingredients. He really doesn't think he can handle being around food today, especially foreign foods. But he's going to try his best. 

He receives several concerned comments from the stylists and he just jokingly flirts it off. He lies, telling them he's just a bit hungover from a night of partying for his birthday. Several of the younger stylists giggle at that. He believes he's getting away with it and asks them for their patience in making him look presentable. More giggling follows. The team of stylists blush and assure him that he will look perfect for the recording. 

When one of the stylists is working on his hair, she stops midway through separating his part. "Jungkook-ssi. I think you have a fever. Should I call for a medical staff?" She whispers to him, not wanting to draw any attention.

He looks back at her with pleading eyes, "Please don't tell anyone, noona. I'm okay." 

She thinks about it for a minute, putting her hand back on his forehead to feel for a more accurate reading. After a minute, she nods and agrees to keep his secret. He doesn't seem too delirious or anything. So he'll probably be fine to record. She finishes fixing his hair. 

After all of the stylists are done with him, he makes his way to the set with the rest of the members. He makes a slight detour to run off to the bathroom when he feels a familiar warm feeling creeping up his throat. It's hard trying to control his vomit while simultaneously trying not to ruin his face, but he manages. He has to empty all the reserve strength he has left to bend at the waist over the toilet seat so his mouth is directly over the basin. His hands grip tightly to the rails along the stall to keep him standing for the whole ordeal. When he opens his mouth in conjunction with a deep gag, the thick sick pours directly into the bowl. He manages to keep any from dribbling down his chin. After four productive heaves, he jerks with two more dry ones before snapping himself back into character. 

Once he finishes, he slowly sucks on some mints he's keeping in his pockets to mask the smell. He doesn't have time to go through the whole ordeal of brushing his teeth again. Everyone is waiting for him on set. He hurries to join them. 

The rest of the members are visibly unimpressed with him for being late and running off unannounced, so he doesn't say anything. He just joins them on set again and avoids their side glares. He pretends he doesn't hear Jimin's sarcastic "nice of you to finally join us." But it stings like acid. He wishes he could just tell them he’s not well. But that the unprofessional thing to do. 

He keeps a hand on his stomach, rubbing casually, while the director explains how they are going to assign teams. It's a determining game of Kai Bai Bo that lands him on a team with Namjoon, who also stuck out a scissors gesture. Yoongi, Taehyung and Jin all revealed paper. And Hoseok and Jimin chose rock. 

With teams decided, it was time to choose an international dish. Three covered metal trays appear before them, each one hiding a different meal to prepare. The paper team has hyung privilege and are allowed to choose first. Taehyung does the honors and grabs the tray in the center. Namjoon chooses the tray to the left for their team, which leaves Hoseok and Jimin with the right tray. 

When the covers are lifted, Jungkook's face visibly falls. Shutki Maach, a spicy traditional Bengali dish. He loves spicy food any other day. But today, he was hoping for something a little more bland. South Asian cuisine is known for its ample use of strong flavors and varied spices. Even standing so far away from the dish, he can smell the spicy aroma overpowering any scent the other dishes might give off. 

Speaking of, he looks over to the other trays and immediate feelings of envy fill his chest. In the middle tray, there's a dish of lasagna and some roasted vegetables. And on the right is an Irish stew. Not only do they look easier to prepare, but they also have much less powerful aromas, and probably much less potent flavors. He thinks about asking the director to switch teams. 

But they’re still taping. Namjoon brings the finished dish to their station so they can look at it more closely. Jungkook has to step back, swallowing down the urge to gag. He gulps hard trying to keep his stomach at bay. He’s biting on his tongue to try and keep his expression neutral for the cameras. While they're watching the instructional video on how to prepare the dish, Jungkook feels a greater nausea turn in his stomach. Spicy peppers, garlic, onions, turmeric, chili powder. There's not a single mild ingredient. 

Namjoon offers to prepare the Shutki and suggests Jungkook chop the vegetables. The maknae agrees. He rewatches the video and picks out all the ingredients he'll need. Before he starts chopping, he takes a deep breath hoping that will help him keep his stomach in check. But when Namjoon opens the bag of dried Shutki, he audibly gags. The smell is so potent, it doesn't take long for it to overwhelm their small work station. Jungkook only now realizes that shutki is a dried fish dish. 

“Kook-ah, you’ve gotta smell this.” Namjoon brings the bag with him as he approaches the focused maknae. He practically shoves Jungkook’s nose into it. Jungkook’s known for his stomach of steel. Namjoon doesn’t think he’d be so affected by the smell. But Jungkook crouches down behind the kitchen counter and gags. 

They aren’t the same kind of humorous and entertaining joking gags that Namjoon had, they are loud and deep and eventually going to be productive. Each deep breath Jungkook tries to take just fills his lungs with the aromas of the garlic, onions and peppers he had been chopping. And he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to erase the smell of the Shutki from his nose. 

After gagging for what feels like hours, Jungkook heaves a mouthful of sick onto the floor. It's followed by more deep heaves, wave after wave of stomach contents spilling onto the set. It's still chunky and Jungkook lets tears fall. There's no way he still has food in his stomach, he has been vomiting for hours.  Where are the chunks coming from?  

Namjoon hears the splash onto the linoleum flooring and yells for the director to stop shooting immediately. He kneels down beside the still vomiting maknae. Namjoon immediately blames himself for making Jungkook smell the Shutki. He starts apologizing. 

When Jungkook finally stops gagging long enough for a decent breath, he leans against Namjoon. Namjoon holds him, starting to think this episode was more than just a reaction to the Shutki smell. Jungkook realizes now there's a small audience around his workstation, looking down at him with sympathetic eyes. He hates that. They weren't all so sympathetic when he was struggling out the gate. "'T's not your fault." His voice is grating and slurred. "I was sick overnight. The smells just triggered it again." 

"But we were…and you didn't…how?" Namjoon stutters pointlessly for a few more seconds, unable to form a coherent sentence. But Jungkook watches as the leader's whole expression falls, "Was it the food I made for you?" 

Jungkook doesn't have the heart, or energy, to answer. But the silence speaks volumes. No answer gives the answer. 

Namjoon pulls Jungkook into his arms, hugging him with just the right amount of pressure. "I'm so sorry, Jungkook-ah. I didn't mean to make you so sick!" Namjoon apologizes, "I didn't taste any before serving it to you. I should have just picked up some take out." Namjoon rambles on and on with remorseful apologies. 

"You didn't know, Joon." Jungkook burps. "It was the thought that counts, right. I'm still so happy you cooked for me." It hurts to be sick, but it hurts Jungkook more to watch Namjoon beat himself up about it. "Once it's out of my system, I'll be good as new." 

The director interrupts their moment to ask for an update. He asks if Jungkook will be able to resume the taping. It's a unanimous no from all the members. Some are even offended the director had the nerve to ask. They leave the reschedule up to management and all head their separate ways, eager to get a head start on other schedules. 

Everyone parts, with the exception of Namjoon and Jungkook. Namjoon still feels responsible for Jungkook's condition. And he wants to take responsibility by making sure the maknae is going to be okay. 

When Jungkook is finally able to move his own two feet, Namjoon escorts them to a company car. He wishes he could just drive Jungkook's car, but alas, still no license. He orders the driver to take them both to Jungkook's home. Jungkook dozes off before the car leaves the parking lot. 

He wakes up in his bed, which initially startles him. He doesn’t remember getting home. He does, however, remember getting sick on the set. He remembers the odor of fish. And he remembers Namjoon. Just as Jungkook pieces together the events of the unsuccessful taping, Namjoon enters the room with a tray. “Good, you’re awake.” Namjoon greets, setting the tray aside momentarily. 

“How long was I asleep?” Jungkook slurs. He tries to shimmy out of the covers, but Namjoon tucked him in so tight and he’s got barely any energy. 

“About two hours,” Namjoon puts a hand on his forehead. The leader’s hand is cool against his too warm forehead. Jungkook loves it. “You were out cold the whole drive back. I couldn’t wake you if I tried. So I figured your body needed the sleep.” The leader explains as he pulls his hand away. Jungkook misses it already, “Still a bit feverish. I want to give you some medicine, but it might upset your stomach.” 

Jungkook pouts at the mention of medicine. He doesn’t like to take it, especially if his stomach is already upset. “No medicine.” 

“I know. Not until you eat something first.” Namjoon goes back to the tray, bringing over a bowl of jook. Jungkook eyes it skeptically. “It’s from the convenience store! I swear I didn’t cook it.” 

Jungkook can hear the sarcastic humor in Namjoon’s voice, but can’t shake the very real possibility that guilt is eating Namjoon alive. He knows Namjoon’s nursing him out of guilt, and he doesn’t want to be an ungrateful patient. So he accepts the bowl and takes a few spoonfuls. He only manages a quarter of the bowl before his stomach warns him to stop. As soon as he sets the bowl aside, Namjoon puts a small cup of liquid medicine in his hand. “This might help settle your stomach. I found it in your medicine cabinet.” Jungkook doesn’t remember ever buying it. 

“It’s not expired, is it? I don’t know how I’ve had it.” Namjoon’s eyes widen and he runs out of the room. He returns seconds later with the blue bottle in hand and nearly out of breath. 

“It’s still good. Hasn’t expired yet.” Namjoon replies and Jungkook gulps down the medicine, just wanting to get it over with. The liquid leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and his stomach gurgles in immediate complaint. His face is pinched in dissatisfaction while he rubs a hand over his middle. 

Namjoon notices Jungkook’s discomfort. He leaves the room again, much slower this time, and returns with a heating pad. Jungkook wonders how Namjoon knows the layout of his house so well, but he’s not about to question it. Maybe everyone keeps their heating pads under the bathroom sink? 

“This might help,” Namjoon’s voice is so soft and gentle as he plugs in the heating pad, making sure it reaches Jungkook’s stomach, with enough give so he can turn on his side. “Your stomach must be hurting. I’m so sorry that you got sick because of me.” Namjoon apologizes again, even though Jungkook has already forgiven him. He was never really mad in the first place. In addition to the heating pad, Namjoon starts to rub his stomach as well. It’s a comfortingly human gentle presence on his skin. He hopes Namjoon won’t stop. 

Jungkook asks to watch a movie with Namjoon while he tries to fall asleep. “Iron Man?” 

“1, 2 or 3?” Namjoon asks, though he already suspects the answer. 

“All of them?” His big doe eyes looking up at the leader. Namjoon’s silent for a remarkably long time before Jungkook pouts and speaks again. “Isn’t it your fault that I’m sick? Remember? The least you could do is watch some movies with me.” 

Namjoon huffs, giving the most obvious eye roll, “You’re so lucky you’re cute.” He replies as he snuggles into the bed beside Jungkook. The maknae is already pulling up a streaming app.

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