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pips-fics · 2 years ago

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this is a (late) submission for @monthofsick day 17! (i promise i'm trying to get these done on time, i'm just not very good at it 😬)

ask by @writercloud: (thank you for this ask, friend <3 and sorry it took me so long to fill!!): Can you write an emeto Sick Wonsang and Yechan finds him sick in the middle of the night, with extra Fluff!! (idk why I love that trope so much. Its like all I write lmao.)

tw: vomiting, fever

totally drained/exhausted ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

it had been an extremely long week. with half of their members sick, the days and nights had begun to run into each other. yechan had been so busy cleaning up messes or trying to prevent them that he’d forgotten to sleep. even when gwangil and sangyeop were napping, yechan was constantly anticipating the calm silence inevitably being broken by a retch, or a shout from someone trapped in a nightmare. but it had been nearly two days now since someone had gotten sick. now the adrenaline was gone, leaving yechan drained and boneless. he checked on the others, popping his head into their bedroom and finding the two who had been sick sound asleep. the remaining tension quickly seeped out of his shoulders.

wonsang was in the main part of their dorm, on the couch with his limbs splayed wide and awkward, even in sleep. yechan smiled slightly. they’d made a good team, but despite sharing the living room as a sleeping space, it had been a while since he and wonsang had been able to have an extended conversation. they’d been stretched so thin trying to take care of the others that it was hard to keep up with each other - in fact, most of what yechan had heard about wonsang recently had come from sangyeop or gwangil. he wanted to check in with him soon. tomorrow, he thought. things were calming down now.

drowsy and reassured, yechan almost tripped on his way to his bed, but managed to catch himself on a table. he chuckled at himself a bit, stumbled a bit further, and was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

——

waking up was disconcerting. yechan felt dizzy for a moment, and unsure of where he was. even as he struggled to discern reality from whatever dream he’d been immersed in, his first thought was that if he’d woken before the sun - which he had - then someone was almost definitely getting sick.

“wonsang, wha’s goin’ on?” he mumbled, burying his face in his pillow. surely wonsang could deal with this, he thought. after all, the bassist had gone to sleep early, and long before yechan had. when a few seconds passed without a response, he groaned and rolled over with a huff. “wonsang– oh.”

the couch was empty. yechan relaxed. he hadn’t woken up because someone was puking, then - he’d woken up because wonsang had gotten up to use the restroom, he thought. it made sense. wonsang was moderately clumsy even in the daylight, and was known for running into walls when he got up at night, so that was probably it.

and yet.

yechan tossed and turned, but he couldn’t fall back asleep. the feeling that something was wrong clung to him and made him sweat. he’d take a walk, he decided. he’d check on the others to calm his mind, and then he’d take a walk, and when he got back, it would be easier to sleep.

he didn’t get very far. walking past the bathroom, yechan heard a whimper that stopped him dead in his tracks. he knocked, and heard a surprised gasp.

“wonsangie? is that you?” yechan asked, concerned.

“hyung,” wonsang’s voice came out pleading, which was normal, and shaky, which was not. he sounded like he’d been crying.

“are you– are you alright?”

wonsang was quiet. yechan fidgeted. he hated not knowing what was happening. most of the time it didn’t bother him - but not knowing whether someone he cared about was suffering was almost physically painful. if he strained his ears, yechan could hear wonsang breathing, heavier than normal, he thought. he tapped his fingers against his knee and bit his tongue. just as yechan was about to start speaking again, wonsang broke the silence, voice quiet.

“can you come in?”

“of course,” yechan breathed, relieved. it didn’t last long. he opened the door to find wonsang on the ground, legs askew, slumped back against the wall as if he had no bones in his body. he looked absolutely miserable. when he looked at yechan, his lips were trembling. “oh, wonsangie…”

“hyung, i don’t feel good, i’m sorry,” wonsang said, words rushed. “i don’t know what to do, i–”

he stopped when yechan put a hand to his forehead. “no fever,” yechan said, smiling gently. “have you been sick?”

wonsang shook his head. “that’s why i– i can’t tell if i’m sick or tired or if it’s just in my head. it’s been almost two hours. what should i do?”

yechan considered this. it wasn’t impossible that wonsang had gotten sick - but he thought it was unlikely, considering how the other two strongly suspected their illness to be food-related. with no fever and no vomiting, it could very well be a simple case of exhaustion. either way, he thought, wonsang desperately needed his rest.

“i think you need to get some more sleep.” yechan brushed a hand through wonsang’s hair, massaging his head. “how about i get the trashcan from under the kitchen sink for you so you can get back to bed for now? you can sleep with me if you don’t want to be alone on the couch,” he added, hoping to provide an extra bit of comfort.

looking relieved, wonsang nodded. yechan went with him guiding him by the arm back to bed, and retrieved the trashcan as planned before joining him.

yechan had always liked this kind of thing. having someone else sleep with him, platonically. it was warm and comforting. he was pretty sure wonsang was the same way, though they’d never talked about it directly.

he had actually planned to stay awake for a while, thinking he’d keep an eye on the bassist, but with wonsang’s arm warm and heavy on yechan’s chest, the tug of sleep was impossible to resist.

——

yechan woke up to wonsang doubled over the side of the bed, vomiting onto the ground, sobbing.

“oh, wonsangie…”

the smell was wretched, but yechan wasn’t going to leave for anything. he flipped on the dim lamp on the table at his bedside and placed a steadying hand on the back of wonsang’s neck. the bags under wonsang’s eyes were even starker than normal as the younger man belched up another brown stream of sick. wonsang’s hands fluttered for a moment, as if to try and catch the mess, but yechan gently guided them out of the way. “don’t worry about that, hyung will take care of it,” he said calmly, meaning it. “it’s not a big deal.”

wonsang didn’t respond, probably only because his jaw was still wide open with vomit spilling over his lips. there was no longer any doubt about a fever; heat was radiating from wonsang’s body, a pink flush coloring his cheeks. he looked very young and very, very tired. yechan’s own body was aching from exhaustion; he could only imagine how wonsang’s must be feeling as it battled his illness.

the floor was a mess, and worsening by the minute. wonsang seemed to have lost any sense of control over his body. the poor guy was wracked with hiccups that came with a side of watery puke. on one particularly brutal occasion, he cut himself off with a blech that brought with it a heavier splatter of sick, which was then followed by another heave and more vomit. yechan could do little more than hold wonsang’s shaking body up while it emptied itself, and then remind him to breathe as his heaves became unproductive. he found himself mindlessly tracing small, invisible tattoos onto wonsang’s back in an attempt to ground him, and smiled as the retching eventually tapered off.

“sangyeop told me you’re thinking about getting one,” yechan said, voice soft. “a tattoo.”

wonsang, who had been struggling to catch his breath, stilled.

“he said you were worried i’d try to talk you out of it.”

wonsang shrugged, and slumped back onto the bed, stomach settled for the moment. yechan helped him find a comfortable spot, and then quickly retrieved cleaning supplies before continuing talking.

“i won’t,” he said, wiping sweat and sick from wonsang’s face. “talk you out of it, that is, if it’s what you want to do. on one condition.”

wonsang cocked his head to the side warily.

“let me come with you.”

yechan wanted to make sure it was safe. he’d had a big scare when he was younger, a tattoo infection that could have become much worse than it was, but only because his brother was the most observant person yechan knew. the last thing he wanted was his influence over wonsang to put his life in danger.

“really, hyung? you would?” although wonsang looked nothing more than drained, there was a tinge of wonder in his tone. yechan nodded, surprised, as he repositioned the trash can to be even closer to wonsang than it originally had been.

“of course! did you want me to?”

“i– well, yes,” wonsang admitted. he eyed yechan and seemed to anticipate his next question. “i know, i could’ve asked! i just, i knew you’d say yes even if you didn’t want to, and i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or to make you do something that you didn’t support.”

“it’s your body, wonsang, i don’t care what you do with it. as long as you’re safe, i’ll support you in anything.” he brushed wonsang’s hair out of his face gently as the younger cuddled into his side. “how are you feeling?”

“dizzy, but i think i’m just tired. my stomach feels a bit better.”

yechan smiled, pushing away a wave of dizziness of his own and joining him on the bed. “i’m glad. let’s both get lots of rest, then, okay? wake me up if you need anything.”

but wonsang - face smooshed into yechan's side, limbs once again chaotically splayed about - was already sound asleep.

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