Summary - you take care of Louis when heâs sick!
You donât realize somethingâs wrong until he doesnât text you back.
Louis is usually the type to spam you at the most random times. A picture of his half eaten breakfast. A voice note of him humming a melody he swears is going to be in the next comeback. A blurry selfie with the caption âI look good right now donât lie.â
So when your phone stays quiet all morning, it sits weird in your chest.
You try not to overthink it at first. Heâs busy. Practice. Meetings. Maybe he just fell asleep again because he stayed up too late. That happens all the time.
Still, you check your messages again.
By the time it hits early afternoon, you cave.
You: if you died im gonna be mad
The message delivers, but no read receipt. Thatâs what makes your stomach drop.
You stare at the screen for a second before grabbing your hoodie and heading out. You donât even really think about it. Your body just moves.
The dorm isnât far. Youâve been there enough times that the walk feels automatic, but today everything feels a little too quiet, a little too slow.
When you finally get there, you donât bother knocking lightly. You ring the bell and then knock again.
A few seconds later, the door opens.
Woojin blinks at you. âOh. Hey.â
âIs Louis here?â you ask immediately.
He nods, stepping aside to let you in. âYeah. Heâs been in his room all day.â
Something about the way he says it makes your chest tighten. âIs he okay?â
Woojin shrugs. âHe said heâs fine, but he looks like he got hit by a truck. Wonât come out. Didnât eat either.â
You thank him quickly and head straight down the hall. You donât even hesitate before knocking on Louisâs door.
You press your ear lightly against the wood. You can hear something faint. Movement maybe.
âHey, itâs me,â you say, softer this time. âOpen up.â
Thereâs a pause. A long one.
Then you hear a quiet, scratchy voice. âGo away.â
You frown immediately. âNo.â
Another pause. Then a soft groan, followed by slow footsteps. The door cracks open just enough for you to see him.
His hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction like he hasnât bothered fixing it. His face is flushed, eyes glassy and half lidded. Even the way heâs standing looks off, like he doesnât have the energy to fully hold himself up.
âWhy are you here,â he mumbles.
You push the door open wider without waiting. âBecause youâre obviously dying.â
âIâm not dying,â he says, voice hoarse.
He huffs, but it turns into a cough halfway through. Youâre already inside, closing the door behind you as you take him in properly.
His room is dim, curtains half closed. The air feels stuffy. Thereâs a blanket tossed on the bed, but it doesnât look like heâs been resting properly.
âYouâre sick,â you say, like itâs the most obvious thing in the world.
âIâm fine,â he insists weakly.
You raise an eyebrow. âYou literally just coughed like your soul was leaving your body.â
He doesnât argue with that. Instead, he just kind of⌠sways.
You step forward immediately, grabbing his arm. âOkay, yeah, youâre not fine.â
Before you can even guide him anywhere, he leans into you.
Like heâs been waiting to do that.
His forehead presses against your shoulder, and his arms come around you in a loose, tired hug.
ââŚhi,â he mumbles into your hoodie.
Your heart does a weird flip.
âHi,â you say softly, steadying him. âLetâs get you to bed.â
âNo,â he mutters, tightening his hold slightly.
You blink. âWhat do you mean no.â
âIâm already comfortable.â
You stare at him for a second. âLouis.â
You almost laugh, but you donât. Instead, you gently push him back just enough to look at his face.
âYouâre being difficult,â you say.
âYou came here just to insult me?â
âI came here to take care of you,â you correct, brushing his hair out of his face. Itâs warm. Too warm. âWhich I canât do if you donât listen.â
He stares at you for a second, like heâs thinking really hard about it.
Then he sighs dramatically.
You guide him to the bed, helping him sit down. He moves slowly, like everything takes more effort than usual.
The second he sits, he reaches for you again.
You barely have time to react before his hand grabs your wrist, tugging you closer.
âIâm not going anywhere,â you say.
He doesnât seem convinced. His grip tightens just slightly, like heâs afraid youâll disappear if he lets go.
âHey,â you murmur, crouching in front of him. âIâm right here.â
He looks down at you, eyes tired but focused.
âDonât leave,â he says quietly.
Your chest aches a little.
That seems to be enough. He relaxes a little, though his hand doesnât leave yours.
âOkay,â you say gently. âNow lie down.â
He lays back slowly, still holding onto you like youâre some kind of lifeline. You adjust the blanket over him, tucking it around his sides.
âHave you taken any medicine?â you ask.
âOf course you havenât.â
âI didnât feel like it.â
You sigh, but thereâs no real annoyance behind it. âIâll get you some.â
The second you try to pull your hand away, he frowns.
âIâm just going to get medicine.â
You smile a little. âI wonât.â
You gently slip your hand from his and stand up, heading out to the kitchen. Woojin glances at you from the couch.
âBarely,â you say, grabbing water and medicine.
âYeah, sounds about right.â
When you come back, Louis is exactly where you left him. Except now heâs staring at the door like heâs been waiting.
The second he sees you, his expression softens.
You snort. âI told you I would.â
He sits up a little, wincing.
âDonât move so fast,â you scold, setting the water and medicine down. âHere.â
You hand him the pills, watching to make sure he actually takes them.
He does, though he makes a face after.
âYouâre acting like youâve never taken medicine before.â
He huffs again, but itâs weaker this time. Once heâs done, he hands the glass back to you and then immediately reaches for you again.
You donât even question it this time.
You sit on the edge of the bed, and he shifts closer, resting his head against your side.
ââŚyouâre warm,â he murmurs.
You glance down at him. âYouâre just freezing.â
You smile a little, running your fingers through his hair. Itâs soft, even when itâs messy.
He practically melts under your touch.
For a while, itâs quiet.
You keep playing with his hair, occasionally brushing your hand over his forehead to check his temperature. He stays close the entire time, like he physically canât bring himself to move away.
At some point, his hand finds yours again.
He intertwines your fingers loosely, holding on without even looking.
âYouâre really clingy right now,â you whisper.
âYou literally wonât let go of me.â
ââŚI donât feel good.â
Your expression softens instantly. âI know.â
Another quiet moment passes.
âStay closer,â he mumbles.
You shift slightly, letting him lean more fully against you. His head rests in your lap now, and he lets out a small sigh, like heâs finally comfortable.
Your fingers move through his hair again, slower this time. He closes his eyes, his breathing evening out just a little.
âYou should sleep,â you say softly.
âDonât stop,â he whispers.
That seems to be enough. Within minutes, heâs asleep.
You stay exactly where you are.
Time passes slowly. The room stays quiet except for the soft sound of his breathing. Every now and then, he shifts slightly, his grip on your hand tightening like heâs checking if youâre still there.
And every time, you squeeze back.
ââŚyou still here?â he mumbles, eyes barely open.
He relaxes immediately, eyes closing again.
âYou didnât leave.â
âI said I wouldnât.â
He hums softly, nuzzling closer without even realizing it.
Your heart feels full in a way thatâs hard to explain.
You lean down slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his hair.
âGet better soon,â you murmur.
He doesnât respond, already half asleep again.
But his hand tightens around yours just a little more.
And you stay right there with him.
