#lee know sickfic

[dudadragneel]

Hello, guys! It's me!

Sorry for going MIA again, there's just a lot going on 😅

But hey, another fic for you!

This one was a request from @fairyniceyeah !

I'm sorry this took AGES to be ready and posted....(Insert here Sponge Bob square pants "2000 years later")

also I'm sorry if this request took a certain turn...

STP - Standard Temperature and Pressure

BEHIND THE BEAT

Before becoming an idol, Minho was a professional dancer and a backup dancer for BTS, so dancing was a serious topic for him.

He'd always participate in the creation process of their choreographies and it always had to be perfect. Of course they had fun, but when it was time to get serious, they got really serious.

Whenever they had to spend so much time inside that practice room, dancing for hours on end, they remembered their trainee days.

And those days weren't one bit easy.

They had a choreographer but the one who'd mostly work on the choreographies, work with the boys and guide them through it, was Minho.

And when he entered dance practice mode, he could be as scary as pre-debut Chan. So much so that even Chan would get a little scared sometimes.

It was honestly impressive how attentive to details and mistakes Minho was.

They always wondered "how can a single pair of eyes keep track of movements from seven different people?"

Well, that's just how good of a dancer he was.

It was a tiring job and stressful as well, after all he had to be able to deal with seven different dancing styles and personalities.

Felix and Hyunjin were part of Danceracha so he didn't really worry about those two and they did their best to help Minho to the best of their habilities.

But at the end of the day, if anything went wrong or if things weren't going as smooth as everyone wished, he'd take all the blame to himself.

He had pride on what he did.

If the members weren't getting the moves right, wasn't him a bad teacher?

That's exactly how his mind worked, despite everyone trying to tell him he was doing a perfect job.

This time they were preparing for a really big comeback that would be followed by a tour, which meant: no time to rest, no openings for mistakes.

The boys gathered at JYPE's famous cafeteria to have lunch and discuss some of the things they had to work on.

Chan was explaining how they'd record the tracks, how much time he'd need to work with the members on their parts etc.

On the other side, Minho was also doing the same, planning out how many hours they'd have to practice in a day and such.

They knew it all too well how hectic it got when a comeback was around the corner, and yet, they couldn't keep themselves from already feeling utterly tired. Even if they hadn't done much yet.

Sometimes they'd wonder how in heavens they decided on that career and how it would be to just live a normal life.

But those thoughts would always be replaced with some sort of relief, after all they'd also wonder how it would've been if they never met each other. And that thought alone would make any of them tear up. That was just how much they meant to each other.

After they were done with their lunch, they rested for a little while and went straight to dance practice.

Minho's mind was swimming with ideas for the choreographies and he needed to practice them, he needed to see how the movements inside his mind would be shown in real life.

So the dance practices would usually went like this:

Minho would make the boys stretch long enough so they didn't have any cramps or injured themselves.

And then he'd stand in front of the mirror practicing the moves alone for a moment and sharpening them before gathering the others to teach them.

While he did that, the practice room was utter chaos, the boys were running around or lying down or laughing, just simply being themselves.

And while Minho sometimes wanted to punch them, he'd be lying if he said he didn't like that chaos.

- Ok guys! Come on!

After a while, Minho entered his dance practice mode and gathered everyone to start teaching the dance moves.

Most of the time, the group wouldn't make many mistakes, specially Danceracha and more specifically Minho.

Well, sometimes Felix would get some moves wrong or just not do them as sharp as the others but it was due to his back problem. Everyone always reassured him it wasn't his fault but still he was harsh on himself.

And if Felix punished himself like that, Minho did that to himself a 100 times worse. After all, he was a dancer who became an idol, he was a professional dancer before all this, so in his mind, he couldn't make any mistakes.

Yet, while working on the dances for the impending comeback and tour, the universe just seemed to have some sort of conspiracy against him.

Every so often, he'd miss a step, dance off beat, or even forget a little part of the choreography which was really unusual for him.

The boys were already getting worried, they weren't used to seeing him that much out of control of his own movements.

And he was starting to get stressed, really stressed.

Whereas Chan's anger would make him raise his voice a bit and use a harsher tone, Minho's was a more silent one.

Sometimes he wouldn't even mutter a single word.

There would be just this aura surrounding him and whenever one of the boys would dare approach him, he'd just look them dead in the eye.

Like a tiger looking at its prey.

And that was warning enough for the others to back off. In these type of situations, Chan was the only one who could break through Minho's walls and attempt to understand his feelings and calm him down.

The dance practice continued for another hour and so did Minho's mistakes.

"Fuck!"

"Why is nothing going right today?"

He thought to himself.

Not once, not even once he managed to dance the entire routine without making a few, as he'd say, dumb mistakes.

Their choreographer didn't know what was going on. Hell, not even himself was understanding what was happening to him.

Minho was getting progressively stressed and angry. He was acting the same way he acted when he was mad at his stage outfits.

Chan and the boys knew exactly where this was going.

The choreographer called for a quick break so that everyone could catch their breath and Chan took this opportunity to try and talk to Minho, and hopefully understand what was going on.

Minho sat down on the couch, throwing his beanie and cursing.

Oh, he was beyond angry. He was fuming.

Chan sat beside him in silence. Analyzing the situation, the leader understood that trying to get him to say something might worsen the situation.

If Minho needed to say something, he would, if not, Chan wouldn't push him into doing so.

- Damn it! Sorry, hyung.

He immediately apologized for cursing in front of his leader.

And Chan saw that as an opportunity to speak to him, careful not to get him more stressed.

- Is everything okay?

Chan asked with such a gentle tone that Minho almost broke down in sobs.

- Yeah, I'm fine.

He answered, a bit colder than he wanted, but he wasnt in control of his body, let alone his mind.

- Okay.

For a moment Minho thought he hurt Chan's feelings since the leader gave a short answer. He'd even risk saying it was just as cold as his.

But maybe it was just his mind, getting annoyed by the littlest thing.

The fact is, deep down inside, he wished Chan would've insist on asking because part of him wanted to tell someone how he was feeling, if he managed to understand what exactly was it.

The other part, the proud one, didn't want to admit that he wasn't okay. It seemed like this part wanted to show the others and himself, that he could handle things on his own, just like Chan.

And he did manage to deal with things on his own a lot of times but he had already asked for help on a few occasions.

Why didn't he want to seek help now?

He didn't know.

His thoughts were starting to eat him from the inside.

And then, the break was over.

In STP, Minho would be happy to resume dancing. But this time, he was stuck between wanting to dance and make up for his mistakes or not dance at all afraid of keep on making mistakes.

Honestly? It had been some time since the last time his mind took over like this.

And he wasn't liking it, not one bit.

To add to his stress and frustration, his whole body was starting to ache and a weird feeling had settled in his stomach a while ago. But he was so frustrated that he didn't even notice.

Great. Now he had to dance afraid of making more mistakes and conscious of the annoying feeling in his stomach.

And just like the beginning of practice, the mistakes just kept coming.

He was so out of tune with his own dancing that he wasn't even able to analyze the other members.

How could he, when he himself wasn't getting the steps right?

He'd just be a hypocrite.

The members however, were getting really worried seeing Minho like that.

Each time they made a mistake, they looked at Minho, waiting for a correction or something but nothing.

And now Minho was feeling even worse than before.

He felt like his body was about to crumble, his vision was kinda blurry and his mind, oh his mind. It was corrupting him from the inside.

At the same time he couldn't exactly see the members properly, it seemed like he could sense everything inside the room.

And he felt like everyone's gaze were locked on him, piercing through his body, as if criticizing him from head to toe.

Members, choreographers, staff, everyone.

And in fact, they were, but not the way he imagined.

They were looking at him concerned, trying to understand what was happening to him.

Practice went on and so did the mistakes. At some point the choreographer questioned him what was happening but he couldn't really answer so he just muttered an excuse.

Although they had a good relationship with their staff, Chan would get angry at them if he thought they were pushing the members into talking or admitting something or just making them uncomfortable.

And Chan felt something building inside him.

The choreographer didn't use a harsh tone nor was he reprimanding Minho, but Chan since sensing something was wrong with his dongsaeng, he became overprotective.

Changbin noticed Chan starting to get restless and discreetly talked to him, whispering so no one would hear him.

- Hyung.

The younger rapper said, touching Chan's shoulder and bringing him back to reality.

- I know what you're thinking. We noticed Minho-hyung is acting strange. But the choreographer is talking to him normally. Please don't get worked up.

- I know, I know.

Chan sighed and then took deep breaths to calm himself down before he talked back to the choreographer, who was not at fault, and created a bad situation.

And quiet honestly, he also wasn't at fault. He was just caring and protecting Minho, after all he was his dongsaeng and he was supposed to be a leader.

When the choreographer seemed satisfied with Minho's explanation, if there really was one, he resumed practice one more time.

By now it was agonizing to keep dancing. Not only was he not getting the steps right at all, he was also slowing down the others, making practice last way longer.

Minho was feeling so utterly frustrated at himself that the last thin line of focus he had, was completely cut off.

His movements became sluggish, he felt his body tingling and his vision was getting more blurry than before.

He just wanted that practice to end. No, the whole day. And start anew the next day.

It was hurting the boys, specially Chan, to see Minho like that. Because he couldn't get through to him earlier and he knew his dongsaeng didn't like to admit to feeling unwell. But this was getting out of hand.

It felt like Minho had been replaced by someone else.

He kept on dancing, like he was on autopilot, still trying to get the steps right.

Then the choreographer called another break.

And that was when everything crumbled.

The others sat down on the ground, some lay down, feeling tired from the last 3 hours of dancing.

Chan, though, kept his gaze focused on Minho.

The younger man stumbled to the side of the room, bracing himself against the wall.

He would dare say he felt like he was about to die.

When the adrenaline started to subside, he became hyper aware of everything he was feeling, both physically and mentally.

He was overcome with guilt of not getting things right and making the others put on an extra amount of unnecessary effort.

His mind was not giving him one moment of peace and neither was his body.

He couldn't breathe properly, he tried to but it felt like there was no oxygen going inside his lungs, as if his chest was being squeezed. His back was heaving up and down, getting faster each passing second.

His whole body felt like jelly and about to shut down, he felt like all his muscles were close to relaxing all at once.

The rapid breathing made him feel incredibly dizzy, his vision was blurring even more than before and he felt unsteady on his feet, thank god for that wall.

And to top it off, his stomach was rebelling against him. Every single emotion he was feeling, was being reflected in his stomach.

It churned and his lunch was sloshing around like a washing machine, he could already taste the bile in his mouth.

He kept his back turned to the others, desperately trying to get a hold of his own body. But it wasn't working.

His breathing was not going back to normal and it made him feel like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

The nausea was overwhelming him and he tried to fight it back, swallowing convulsively and clenching his fists for dear life. He didn't dare move a muscle and he was actually surprised how he hadn't collapsed yet.

Seeing how his state deteriorated quickly when they took this las break, the members were extremely concerned about him. But at the same time they didn't know if trying to get close to him would be a wise idea.

Almost all of them looked at Chan, desperate for a signal from the leader but before he could raise a hand and nod them a "no", one of them was already missing: Hyunjin.

He and Minho bickered all the time but they loved each other and Hyunjin was just as worried as the others.

He got closer to Minho and placed a hand on his sweaty back making him flinch a little and quickly looking up at him and then dropping his head again, already running out of strength to hold his body.

The younger dancer felt his hyung's back heave up and down quickly and how his hands were clenched in such tight fists, he was worried Lee Know was gonna hurt himself.

Minho tried to focus on Hyunjin's hand on his back for dear life, everything was too overwhelming and he felt like he could faint at any minute. Hyunjin's presence was the only thing that was barely keeping him grounded.

- Hyung?

Hyunjin called out, tilting his head a bit so he could see Minho's face, getting no response.

But the older dancer was in such a state that he wasn't even listening Hyunjin's voice, actually, he wasn't even sure he processed it was Hyunjin who was by his side.

He was basically hyperventilating now and his lunch was threatening to make an appearance really soon.

Minho kept his head low, eyes focused on the ground, fists and jaw clenched, swallowing down the rising nausea. And in the midst of it, trying to get his breathing under control.

But it was no use, it was a battle he wasn't gonna win even if he tried.

Hyunjin moved his hand to his hyung's shoulder, squeezing it and trying to bring him back to earth. And he then positioned himself in front of Minho, lowering himself a bit so he could try to meet his gaze.

But that was the wrong move.

The moment Hyunjin appeared in front of Minho was also the moment he lost his battle against his stomach.

He felt liquid rushing up his chest and hitting the back of his throat faster than he could react.

And then he bent down a little further retching a thick stream of vomit that hit the ground with a sickening sound and unfortunately, got on Hyunjin's shoes.

The younger one was shocked at first but quickly recollected himself while the others rushed to them.

Hyunjin stepped back a bit, trying to stay away from the upcoming mess but kept a firm hand on his hyung's back.

Minho vomited another wave that left him breathless and dizzy.

He was about to lose all strength in his body when Chan and Changbin got by his side and grabbed him.

- Don't worry, Minho-ah, we've got you.

Chan reassured as both him and Changbin gently lowered him down.

- Can someone grab a towel? And some water?

Chan asked and then immediately turned his attention to Minho who was still breathing erratically and gagging unproductively.

- It's okay, it's okay. You're gonna be okay.

The leader cooed, rubbing his dongsaeng's back up and down while also brushing the hair out of his face, only to reveal trails of tears on his cheeks.

Chan's heart sunk to the ground when he saw that, because it only meant that Minho was dealing with something that was bothering him so much to the point of crying.

And Minho crying was a rare sight.

Chan also knew that he never liked to show his weakness to the others, not even tears, so he didn't say anything.

One of the boys came back with a towel and put it in front of Minho to cover the mess on the floor and prevent it from getting bigger.

He kept on gagging unproductively and it was clear that it was hurting him.

-Hey, it's okay.

Chan then noticed that Minho was holding it in, he knew that throwing up in front of everyone, members and choreographer and, well, on Hyunjin's shoes had left him mortified.

Even if the mess had already been done, he'd rather hold everything in than continue to display how out of control he was.

And Chan knew that.

- Kids, Hyung-nim.

Chan said with a authoritative tone, though very gentle at that.

And the others didn't need any other word to understand what he meant and quickly left the room. Too many people and too much attention would only worsen Minho's condition.

- There we go, Minho-ah. It's just you and me here.

Minho was still fighting against the nausea, even though it was just the two of them inside the room.

Wasn't he being humiliated enough?

He grabbed the fabric of his pants, gripping it with all his force, trying to contain the nausea by swallowing convulsively and taking deep breaths.

- It's okay, Minho-ah. No one is watching you, I'm the only one here, okay? Throw up if you need to, don't hold it in, it'll only make you feel worse.

Chan reassured, running his hand up and down Minho's back, his touch so gentle it was making him start crying again, though silently.

He slowly allowed himself to start relaxing and by doing that, his stomach immediately responded by contracting.

Minho lurched forward, more vomit escaping his lips and soiling the towel the boys had placed on the ground.

- That's it. You're doing good, just let it all out.

Chan said with a gentle voice while rubbing his dongsaeng's back up and down and then in circles, feeling how it heaved up and down with each retch.

Another wave came out, even stronger, coming out of his nose as well and hurting his throat in the process.

And feeling the texture of the food in his mouth as well as the tiny pieces in his nose didn't help, it only triggered another wave.

- Hyung....

Minho said with a weak and shaky voice after the bout was over.

- I know, I know. You'll be okay.

The smell of sick seemed to have impregnated in his nose after coming out of it.

He tried blowing it to see if he could get rid of what seemed to be rice and that caused a round of unproductive retches.

Eventually another wave of putrid vomit made its way out and this one left his body shaking from the effort.

And to add to his misery, he managed to choke on a piece of undigested food and started coughing.

- Don't worry, hyung will help you, okay?

Minho didn't even have strength to answer his leader, he just wanted that to be over with.

Chan changed his approach and started to rub Minho's chest, trying to provide comfort and help dislodge what got stuck in his throat.

The dancer kept coughing and gagging, but nothing was coming up and he knew there was more that needed to get out.

He clutched his stomach because it was hurting so much and it wasn't giving him a break.

- Minho-ah, do you think you still have to puke?

Minho nodded weakly.

- Okay, I'll try something but it might be uncomfortable, okay?

Chan moved his hand from Minho's chest to his abdomen, more precisely to the middle and started to massage it, applying a bit of pressure every time.

It seemed to be working because Minho was gagging again and soon it brought up another bout of sick that mixed with the rest in the already soiled towel.

And Chan returned his attention to rubbing his dongsaeng's back, trying to make the ordeal less excruciating.

Minho still puked a few times and it felt like his stomach was determined to turn itself out. Even in his dazed state he was wondering how there was still things in him for him to vomit.

And Chan was getting worried that Minho's stomach was trying to get rid of all the food he ate in the past few weeks.

After about 45 minutes since everything started, Minho was just dry heaving and still gagging a bit. It really looked like his stomach wanted to get rid of itself.

- That's it. You did great.

Chan murmured to him still rubbing his back in soothing circles and his chest as well.

Minho didn't know why but that felt heavenly and comforting, and if he was being really honest to himself, he didn't want Chan to stop it.

- Let's get you away from this mess, okay?

The leader carefully helped Minho to another area in the practice room and sat beside him.

- Hey, can I go and dispose of that towel? Or can I ask someone to come get it?

Minho nodded a weak no.

He didn't want to be alone and he definitely didn't want to be seen.

- That's okay. We'll deal with that later. I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere. Do you wanna try some water?

- mhmm

That was the first sound of his voice Chan heard after that long ordeal.

- Here, rinse out your mouth.

Chan said helping Minho take a sip to just wash his mouth and get rid of the awful taste in his mouth.

- Hey, do you think you can drink a little bit? Just small sips.

Minho hesitated at first but then nodded but he was too out of it and feeling too weak to hold the bottle.

So Chan gently brought it to his lips, tilting it slightly helping him take small sips. And the cold water helped soothe his throat a little bit, even though his stomach wasn't exactly happy about it.

Chan then grabbed a bucket and set it beside Minho so he could rinse his mouth and well, be there just in case.

None of them wanted that room to get any dirtier and they were feeling pretty bad for the staff who'd clean it after.

Chan gently brushed Minho's hair behind his ear to reveal the trails of tears one more time. He also noticed that his face was flushed, most likely due to the embarrassment and his eyes and nose were red from the crying.

He tenderly wiped away a tear that was running down Minho's cheek with his thumb.

- Hey, Minho-ah....do you want to tell me what happened?

He asked with the most gentle tone known to mankind and that broke Minho once more. He started sobbing but he still didn't want to lift his head.

- It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it now. We'll stay here as long as you want, I won't go anywhere.

Chan said reassuring Minho and putting a hand on his shoulder giving it a squeeze, as if proving his words.

He continued to rub Minho's back in soothing circles as the younger boy continued to cry and for some reason the tears just wouldn't stop falling.

Eventually he started to calm down and the sobs stopped, the only sound was now his sniffing.

Apart from that, the room was completely quiet and like Chan said, he was not gonna pressure Minho into talking, so he stayed silent.

- 'm sorry...

The silence was broken by Minho's weak voice, barely a whisper.

He had his head between his knees, looking at the ground with tears still dropping and creating a small puddle.

- Why are you apologizing, hm?

Chan asked softly, stroking his dongsaeng's hair and patiently waiting for his response.

- Because I messed up....and made you guys practice more than needed....

- There's nothing to apologize for, Minho-ah...

- I couldn't get anything right...no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't concentrate and-

He stopped to catch his breath as he felt his chest tightening, a sign that he was on the verge of a panic attack.

- Hey, hey, take it easy. Breathe. You don't need to rush, okay?

Chan reassured as he grabbed Minho's hand and he instinctively squeezed his in return, trying to ground himself.

- Take deep breaths, slowly.

Minho followed Chan's instructions and started to calm down and continued talking.

- Nothing was working and I couldn't even pay attention to you guys and we're so close to the comeback and the tour, this is not supposed to happen....

- Minho-ah, you don't need to put so much pressure on yourself. And this is coming from a person that does exactly the opposite so I don't think I have much say on the matter hahaha.

Chan joked, earning a weak laugh from the dancer.

- But seriously, don't be so hard on yourself. We all have our "off" days, it's completely normal.

- I know, hyung....but-

He was cut off by a sob and then his mind took control again. It flooded with thoughts of not being able to get the steps right even if he tried his best, missing steps during the actual performance, not being able to pour out his 110% on stage.

It was mortifying.

And before he could even notice, he was already having a panic attack. He was hyperventilating, he couldn't stop crying and those thoughts refused to go away.

- They won't stop coming! Hyung, make it stop...

Minho pleaded between sobs and gasps of air.

- Hey, hey, Minho-ah. I need you to breathe.

Chan said placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to bring him back to reality.

- I- I can't--

- Yes, you can. Come on.

Chan was respecting Minho's space to the best of his habilities, but the situation was now escalating and he had to intervene.

He gently lifted Minho's head and turned it towards him, so his dongsaeng was now facing him.

And it took every ounce of strength in his body to keep his composure seeing him like that.

- Look at me. You're gonna breathe with me, okay?

Minho nodded weakly, although unsure if he'd actually be able to.

Chan guided the dancer's hand towards his chest so he could feel his breathing pattern, while holding his other hand.

- You can feel my breathing. It's slow and steady, right? I want you to try and do the same. I know you can do it.

Lee Know tried to but it was just so hard, it felt he was underwater, trying desperately to take in any air but failing. And his mind just kept on repeating the same thoughts over and over again, like a broken record.

He squeezed Chan's hand until his knuckles turned white, his nails almost digging into his hyung's hand, trying to push those thoughts away.

- Keep trying. You can squeeze my hand as hard as you need. But I need you to keep trying, keep on focusing on my breathing.

It took some time, but eventually Minho started to regain control over his breathing. He focused on Chan's breathing as the leader instructed and slowly evened his.

His grip on Chan's hand started to loosen up.

- There we go. Feeling a bit more calm now?

Chan asked wiping away the tears from Minho's eyes and cheeks but never letting go of his hand on his chest.

- Yes...

Minho answered weakly, clearly exhausted and embarrassed about everything that happened.

- Do you think you can talk to me about those thoughts?

- I think so....

Although getting a positive answer it was followed by a silent pause, yet Chan didn't insist.

- I just kept thinking that I needed to do well, that I needed to get everything right and help everyone with their dance. And that we have an upcoming comeback and tour and the choreographies need to be completed by then....and nothing seemed to be working....it was like my body was being controlled by those thoughts and I couldn't shut them up. I didn't want to be a burden and I felt like everyone was judging me for making so many mistakes.

It shattered Chan's heart to hear those words coming from Minho.

- No one was judging you, Minho-ah. No one will ever judge you. We knew something was wrong, that's why we were looking at you, we were worried.

Chan reassured him, running a thumb on his cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

- I'm sorry...

Minho said with a trembling voice looking down but Chan wasn't having it. He gently lifted his face again.

- Don't apologize. Don't you ever apologize for feeling weak, for feeling stressed, for being human. You hear me?

The younger boy just nodded, not really having any words to say.

He felt exhausted.

- Come here.

Chan said gently pulling Minho closer to him and embracing him in a back hug.

Minho allowed himself to be completely embraced by Chan, resting his head on his hyung's arm and the older kept his breathing steady so Minho could match it.

And they stayed like that, for minutes, in complete silence, the room quiet apart from their breathing.

He was so exhausted from everything that happened that in a few minutes he fell asleep on Chan's embrace, the same safe and warm back hug he secretly loved.

[feverishfics]

Burning up then freezing cold

Feveruary day 2

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Minho

Caretaker: Jisung

Word Count: 707

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It was a nice, relaxing Saturday morning. Jisung woke up at around 10, happy that there was no practice until 4 that afternoon. He was planning on eating lunch with Lee Know and then hopefully watching a movie together. As he rolled out of bed and went to the main area, he was surprised to see that Minho did not appear to be up yet. He decided that his hyung was probably just trying to get as much sleep as possible and that he would wake up soon. The rapper sat on the couch and started watching tiktoks on his phone. After about an hour, he decided to go into the kitchen and see what they could make for lunch or if he needed to order something. While looking in the fridge, Jisung accidentally knocked over a bottle of ketchup which fell to the floor with a loud bang. ‘Well, if Minho-hyung wasn’t awake before, he certainly is now.’ Expecting the dancer to be coming around the corner complaining about the loud sound at any moment, Han was surprised when five minutes passed and there was still no sight of the older member. ‘This is weird, I should go check on him.’

Creeping down the hall, Jisung gently opened the door to his hyung’s room. The sight he was met with was Minho laid out on his bed, wearing only his boxers with all of the sheets thrown onto the floor. There was a fan in the corner that was blowing directly at him, but he still seemed to be sweating and uncomfortable. Jisung frowned and walked over toward his hyung. “Hyung. Hyung, wake up.” As he shook the older man, he noticed the heat coming from his skin. ‘Oh yeah, that’s definitely a fever,’ he thought. Minho started to open his eyes and blinked sluggishly up at his dongsaeng. “Jisung? What are you doing in here? It’s too early. It’s so hot. Why is it so hot?” “It’s not hot, hyung. You just have a fever.” Minho stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before saying, “Yeah, that makes sense.” Jisung smiled sympathetically at him. “What feels bad, hyung? Is it your stomach? Your throat?” “It’s my throat. It started hurting last night, but I didn’t think much about it. I guess I should have taken some medicine then.” Running his fingers through Lee Know’s hair, the rapper said, “Well, why don’t you walk out to the couch and I’ll go get the thermometer and some medicine for you to take, okay?” Nodding, Minho slowly got up from the bed and started shuffling down the hallway.

Jisung went to get the medicine and the thermometer along with a bottle of water. When he got back to the couch, he saw his hyung falling asleep sitting up. Lightly shaking Minho’s shoulder, Jisung said, “Hyung, wake up. Put this in your mouth.” Blinking himself awake again, the dancer grabbed the thermometer, pausing to sneeze a few times before putting it in his mouth. Jisung got to work getting the medicine together while waiting for the thermometer to beep so that Minho could take it as soon as it was finished. At the beep, Han took the thermometer and handed his hyung the medicine. “Aish hyung, it’s 38.8 (101.9). That’s not good, but not terrible I guess.” Minho shivered as the water he was using to swallow the pills went down his throat. He continued shivering as he put the water bottle on the table and turned his glazed over eyes toward his dongsaeng. “Aigoo hyung, are you cold now?” “I’m freezing cold,” he replied, crossing his arms over his bare chest to preserve warmth. “Yeah, that’s the fever,” Jisung replied, adding, “I’ll go get you some clothes and a blanket and let Chan-hyung know that we won’t be at practice today. Then we can watch a movie okay?” Minho nodded and was very happy when the rapper came back with his favourite hoodie and joggers, along with a nice fluffy blanket. The two settled on the couch and started the movie. Around thirty minutes into the movie, they were both cuddled together and asleep, which is exactly how Bang Chan found them later that afternoon.

[slayonehundredninetytwo]

unnoticed

“Wake up sleepyhead!” said Han, throwing open the door to the sleepyhead’s room. The sleepyhead being Minho. Minho doesn’t usually sleep this late. But man is he exhausted. They’ve been really busy recently, with little time for rest. Not to mention, this particular morning, his head was throbbing. The obvious beginning of a migraine. 

Han flicked the lights on, watching Minho flinch as the lights stung his eyes. He tried not to make his pain clear, but Han definitely had seen.

“You okay?” Jisung asked, a look of concern spread across his face.

He considered telling Jisung how he felt. He could use the comfort, someone to take care of him. But they had a busy day ahead of them, and missing even one day could set them back by a lot.

So instead, he chose to lie. “I’m fine Ji. Just wasn’t ready for the lights.”

“Okay, well Chan is fixing us bowls of cereal and then we can head out.”

“Alright. Be out in five.”

Han didn’t show any signs of not believing Minho, so for now, he was in the clear. He dragged himself out of bed, picking out his comfiest sweats.

He slowly walked into the kitchen, finding a bowl of captain crunch waiting for him. He didn’t want to eat right now. But Chan was watching him, his own bowl of cinnamon toast crunch in front of him. So, he picked up the spoon (which somehow seemed heavier than usual) and started to take small bites of the cereal. His head-ached, screaming at him “No!! Don’t eat that!!!”, as his brain swirled.

“I think I’m finished. Thanks Chan.”

Minho said, dumping his now mushy cereal down the disposal.

Once again, he seemed to get away with it without much notice. He guessed that everyone was as tired as he was, especially Chan. No one had the energy to worry about him.

-

At 9:00 on the dot, the boys arrived at work, starting off the long day ahead of them. They first had a very long and boring meeting with their managers over something. Something that Minho payed absolutely no attention to, hoping it wasn’t anything important. 

Then it was time for dreaded, dance practice. Minho barely managed to keep up. He thought his dancing must have been pretty awful, but once again, no one seemed to notice. He must be pretty skilled at hiding his sickness, right?

Lastly, they had to go to a music video shoot. This was the part he had dreaded the most. They wanted to get some shots at a new setting, but it isn’t even the main spot for the video. It was just thrown in there to add something variety, but only a couple clips would be used. So, when they arrived at around 1 to shoot, the stylists got minho all dolled up. He usually doesn’t mind the stylists being all over him, their hands constantly applying and blotting makeup and combing his hair all at once. However, Iin combination with his headache, it was extremely overstimulating. His head pounded and a single tear rolled down his face. He tried to suck it up, and stop crying like a baby. He may have been able to if it weren’t for the stylist taking notice to his upset.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Should I get someone?”

In that moment, Minho lost it.

He cried, sobs wracking through his whole body, crying off the pound of makeup applied to his face very quickly. One of the stylists called out for a member to come save the day. 

The one who came to the rescue this time was Changbin.

“Minho? What’s wrong why are you crying?”

Minho couldn’t respond. His head was killing him, the crying only made the throbbing more powerful, and his vision swirled. He paled.

“Minho? Are you okay? You don’t look good.”

Minho pitched forward and puke down Changbin’s front.

Silently, Changbin moved to stand at the crying boy’s side, rubbing his back sweetly.

Eventually, Jisung came to take his place so he could wash up.

“It’s okay bud. I knew you didn’t feel well, I should’ve trusted my gut. I’m sorry. Let’s get you home okay? Manager says we can shoot this scene another day.”

“But we’ll be so behind!” Minho cried.

“Actually, we are ahead right now. We’ll be okay! Come on.”

-

On the way home, they stopped and picked up some advil to hopefully help with the pain.  Minho crashed the moment he got home, sleeping peacefully as a platonic little spoon with his Jisung big spoon at his side. 

-

🫶

this one was lost in my drafts im so sorry i didnt finish it till now! more on the way!

how’s yalls summer?? question: what’s yalls fav cereal? i love captain crunch and cinnamon toast crunch, also the marshmallows in lucky charms 😋

[felixfrecklesandhoneyjisung]

They have to go to hospital (SKZ Hyung line)

Some of these are serious/angsty, others are more light-hearted. Enjoy!

Scenario: You get a text from bf!stray kids to say he's not feeling well

Maknae line

Chris

Lee Know

Changbin

Hyunjin

[hjizngs]

sick days | lee minho

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hi! this is my first ever post on here,, hehe. constructive criticism is welcomed, hate is not.

cw: sick reader, petnames, slight cursing, slightly suggestive (??), angstyish oops, mostly fluff! just minho being the cutest bf :3

another hacking cough forces itself from your throat, leaving behind a painful sting and the inability to swallow. a frustrated groan emits you, followed by disgruntled sniffle. you hate being sick. 

sore throats, gross coughs, painful headaches, and a stuffed nose were all a recipe for disaster — especially today. you and minho had planned out the perfect date; a picnic, stroll in the park, and finally a movie. you had looked forward to it all week, barely getting through. only the promise of seeing your boyfriend kept you going.

you turn over on your side, the gentle movement sending another round of pain signals ringing in your head. tears sprung to the corners of your swollen eyes. you were devastated at having to miss your date. blearily, you swung a hand over to the bedside table, blindly searching for your phone. 

once found, you swiped over to minho’s contact. pressing the call button, you slumped back onto your pillow defeatedly. 

“jagi?” came the sweet voice of your boyfriend. “what’s up?” 

an exhausted whimper answers him. “min.. min i’m sorry” is all you can utter. 

his voice instantly is filled with concern. “what’s my love sorry for, hm? is everything okay?”

“no, m’sorry min.. i feel so bad. my head hurts, and i puked earlier, and it —“ another pained sound exits you. “— it hurts.” 

something shuffles over the phone, and your boyfriend is quick to reply. “oh, my poor jagi. i’m on my way, don’t worry.”

you furrow your brows. “wh-what? no no you don’t have to do that, min!” 

“see you in five.”

your eyes rolled as your boyfriend hung up on you a abruptly (like he always does — and it never fails to surprise you). coughing again, you accept that there’s nothing you can do to stop him from coming over. you scan your messy room and groan. you’re sick! you don’t want him to see you like this! 

you swing your legs over to the side of your bed, only pausing when a sneeze erupts from your pinkened nose. you settle your socked feet on the floor and attempt to rise to your feet. 

you sway, blinking harshly as to try to clear the black spots plaguing your vision. maybe getting up wasn’t the best idea..? oh well. 

slowly, you begin to shuffle around your room, picking up discarded clothes and trying to round up any embarrassing wrappers or trash. you’re halfway through folding another t-shirt when your body flashes hot, then cold. the pounding in your head increases tenfold and you drop the shirt in favor of clutching your temples. spots engulf your sight and you sink to your knees, not even attempting to make it to the bed.

you’re sweating. but the ceiling fan above only makes you shiver, goosebumps lining your arms. everything is too bright, and you squint from a combination of a headache and the glaring overhead light that suddenly feels like a thousand suns beating down on you. 

another whimper crawls out of your dry throat. the only thing your fever-weakened mind can think is minho. where is minho? you need him, it hurts it hurts everything hurts —

“jagi?! oh my god, are you okay?” thunderous footsteps make their way to you and you wince at the sudden exclamation. 

cold, cool hands press themselves to your trembling body and you sigh in relief. they stroke through your hair, carding through gently. you open one eye to see who they belong to, but clamp it shut immediately, the bright light making your eyelids pulse.

 you hear shuffling from the side, and one of the hands leave you. you suppress a whine, but something in your expression must be alarming because the voice coos. “oh, baby, i’m just turning off the light, okay?” 

no, it’s not okay. not when those hands are the only thing grounding you, keeping you from melting. however, as promised, the offending light gets shut off, and you hum in appreciation. 

the nice hands quickly return to their rightful place in your hair, and you bravely attempt to open your swollen eyes again.

your boyfriend looks down at you gently. “my poor girl. let’s get you back into bed, hm?”

you nod pathetically, letting him lift you up and place you softly on your mattress. you murmur a quiet thanks and he kisses your sweaty forehead in response. he sits on the side of the bed next to you, placing his hand on your leg and rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

“have you eaten at all yet?” he inquires.

you shake your head, “no, not yet. i don’t think i could eat a thing without puking it back up, to be honest.”

minho hums at that, scanning your face. he reaches out and places a small hand on your forehead, feeling out your temperature. he frowns.

“i think we need to check for a fever, honey. you’re very warm.”

he moves to go stand and you pout. “don’t leave, please.”

“i’m just going to grab the thermometer and a glass of water, i’ll be right back, okay?”

“be fast!” you plead.

he cards a hand through your hair. “i’ll be so fast, jagiya.”

it feels like an eternity as minho tries to locate the thermometer from outside your bedroom. you shiver again, pulling the closest fuzzy blanket over you and burrowing into it.

and that’s how he finds you when he returns — a sweaty, sick burrito. you watch as he smiles down at you fondly, pulling back the blanket a little to take a look at you.

“think you can sit up for me? need help?” he asks.

“need help, please,” you respond nasally.

minho aids in positioning you up so you’re leaning against your pillow. he holds out the found thermometer and motions for you to open your mouth.

you oblige and he places the thermometer under your tongue. after a few moments, he pulls it out and looks down on it with a displeased expression — like it personally offended him.

“100.” he states, his brow crinkling. “yeah, you’re not leaving this bed.”

you sigh and slump farther into your blanket. “i’d rather hear that in a different situation.”

minho blinks slowly, fondly. “i’ll ignore that, just because you’re sick.”

you stick out your tongue as he rises from the bed to put away the thermometer. he looks down at you, unimpressed, but with a twinkle of amusement in his catlike eyes. “brat.”

“i’m sick!” you whine, “be nice.”

“i am being nice. so nice, in fact, that i’ll ignore this little attitude —“ he reaches down and pokes your forehead, “— because i know that you feel like shit.”

you roll your eyes when he’s turned and putting the thermometer in some drawer, but deep down you’re very grateful he came over to take care of you. for all his teasing, he really does treasure you. you still feel bad for canceling the date.

in some feverish, dramatic mood change, tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes. they’re hot and uncomfortable, and you sniffle. not only did you cancel the date, you’re acting like a brat instead of thanking minho for looking after you.

“m’sorry,” you croak from your cocoon of blankets.

minho turns around sharply and scans your face quickly. he strides over to the bed and sits beside you. “what?”

“m’sorry!” tears begin to trickle down your face, sticky and unwanted. you reach up to swipe them away.

minho’s hand reaches out, grabbing onto your arm and lightly tugging you into his chest. “silly girl. what are you sorry for?”

“f’making you come over and take care of me and being a brat and not saying thank you!” you rush out, slurring some words.

a chuckle shakes minho’s chest. “oh wow, you’re really out of it, huh?”

“i’m sorry!”

“hey, hey,” his joking manner disappears when a fresh wave of tears erupts from your eyes. “you have nothing to be sorry for. you’re sick. you have a fever, baby. you aren’t being a brat, i’m sorry i called you that when you weren’t feeling well.”

you peek up at him. “you mean it?”

minho doesn’t respond, just pulls you tighter into his chest and kisses the top of your hair. his cool hand rubs on your back soothingly under your shirt. he gently lays back onto your bed, cradling you to his chest.

“try to sleep some of this off. take a nap,” he orders you lightly. “i’ll be right here.”

at his words, you snuggle into him. he reaches to the side and pulls a blanket over the two of you. just before sleep takes it’s hold over you, you look up at him, catching his eye.

“thanks for being here, min. i love you,” you murmur, your eyelids getting heavier and heavier as you begin to succumb to sleep.

the last thing you hear before sinking into feverish dreams is, “anytime, baby. i love you more.”

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yas! ok! first post done, please lmk what u think!!!1 reblogs and likes are appreciated:3

[sickskz]

I loved your Lee Know fic 🥺 Could I request exhausted Lee Know getting an awful headcold & fever while they’re on tour, and Felix and I.N taking care of their hyung? ❤️‍🩹 (bonus points if you can include Lee Know’s usual double sneezes turning into triples like they seem to do when he’s sick)

Heeeere you go, sick Lee Know for you 🙂‍↕️ I tried to include the triple sneezes to the very best of my ability😎 This is also longer than usual, so I really hope you like it!!

Ps: also incorporated a couple other vague requests into this one (hint in the alt title😙)

Alternative title: “Of nosebleeds, nuggets and nonsensical dreams“

The cats of Berlin

Sickie: Lee Know

Caretaker/s: Felix, I.N/Jeongin

____________________________________________

Touring was always a thrill; an electrifying, exhausting and unforgettable thrill. New cities, new venues, new faces in the crowd. Somehow, it just never got old. 

There was something so magical about stepping on a stage so far from home, only to hear their fans sing every word from their songs right back to them, in a language most didn’t even speak themselves. 

The energy. The unity. The deafening cheers that echoed in their bones and made their blood buzz. It was a kind of high that couldn’t be put into words, but it was what made being an idol worth it.

It was what made Stray Kids stay. 

So when the eight members finally left the familiarity of South Korea to embark on a brand new world tour, their excitement was palpable. The first leg had taken them throughout southeast Asia, each and every performance leaving them with full hearts and aching bones. Then, they touched down in Europe. 

Germany, to be precise. 

The journey itself had been surprisingly smooth. There had been no delays, no lost baggage, no turbulence or unexpected chaos. After a warm welcome at the airport and a sleepy drive into the city, they checked into a nice hotel nestled in the heart of Berlin.

Room assignments had been finalised ahead of time, an arrangement they had long adopted. It was simpler that way. No need to bicker or draw straws when they were already running on empty. 

Felix was with Lee Know,

Jeongin with Hyunjin,

Changbin with Han,

and Bang Chan with Seungmin. 

It was a relief, really. After the madness of airports, the press, the flashing cameras, stepping into the quiet of their hotel rooms felt as soothing as slipping into a warm bath.

It was peaceful, a place to finally breathe.

But something was off.

Felix noticed it almost immediately after entering their room.

Minho was unusually quiet. And while silence wasn’t necessarily out of character for him, this was a different kind of quiet. 

Normally, even when Minho didn’t say much, his presence had a way of filling the space around him. There was always a subtle mischief in his eyes, exuding a playful and confident aura that made you notice him, even when he sat in silence. 

Minho didn’t need to speak to be heard, which admittedly, was something Felix had always admired about him.

But now, as Minho trudged over to the bed and flopped onto it, that energy was nowhere to be found. He seemed withdrawn, almost sullen, and the silence didn’t feel comfortable or fun, it just felt hollow. 

Felix figured it was probably just jet lag catching up to him. After all, the whirlwind of performances and the leap across time zones would wear anyone down. 

But then another symptom became apparent.

“Aah’TCHHhh, Hhhh’tCHH, hh’TCHHhhs!“

Felix, who had busied himself with unpacking his suitcase, spun around with a start. “Geez.” He fixed his eyes on the man sprawled out on the bed, arms and legs splayed like a starfish. “Bless you.”

Minho grumbled an almost incoherent thanks in return, and Felix couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow at him. The older man held a box of tissues hostage in his grip, ripping out one tissue after the other like the poor box had personally offended him. 

As Felix stepped closer, his expression softened, a hint of concern flickering through his eyes. “You okay, Lino-hyung?” He asked hesitantly, noting his pallid complexion and the warm flush that seemed to have risen in Minho’s cheeks.

Minho dismissed him with a wave of his hand and a low mumble of ‘I’m fine’, his voice hoarse. He fumbled with one of the tissues and blew his nose into it with a resigned sigh, looking utmost defeated as he slumped back down. 

Without another word, Minho rolled onto his side with a huff, turning his back to Felix in quiet defiance. The message was clear; he was done with the conversation. If you could even call it that.

Ah.

Felix paused, his eyebrows lifting mild surprise. The urge to comment on the sudden spike in attitude sat right on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. A grouchy Minho was a force to be reckoned with, and Felix knew better than to provoke him further, especially with jet-lag added to the mix.

Besides, there were now two things Felix knew for sure: one, Minho was definitely lying about being ‘fine’, and two, pushing him right now would get him nowhere.

So, when Minho burrowed himself under the covers, barely muttering a ‘night’ before falling asleep, Felix let it go. He simply let him rest, holding onto the quiet hope that a good sleep would be all the cure Minho needed.

-

The next morning, Felix woke to the sound of soft snoring in the bed beside him, gentle, but unmistakable. It was the third clue in less than twelve hours indicating that something was wrong. That there was more than just jet lag and exhaustion lurking beneath the surface...

Even if the sound was subtle, to Felix, it may as well have been an alarm blaring. Because Minho never snored. Not unless he was congested. Or sick. Or both.

Felix made a mental note to keep a close eye on him throughout the day, unable to shake the way his intuition told him not to brush this off. 

Minho was clearly under the weather, but knowing how stubborn he was, Felix also knew he wouldn’t admit it until his body was practically falling apart at the seams. And before the concert in a couple of days, they had a venue visit to attend…

Careful to not disturb the snoring heap on the other bed, Felix slipped out from under the covers and started getting ready for the day, letting Minho rest as long as possible.

He busied himself with exploring the hotel, talking to some staff, and getting a free smoothie from the very tall, very handsome man in the breakfast bar.

But by the time they were supposed to meet up to eat breakfast together in less than thirty minutes, there was still no sign of Minho waking up. 

That was strike four.

Even when exhausted, Minho was usually the type to be up and on schedule, always punctual and reliable. If he wasn’t, now that was cause for concern

Felix popped his head back into the room after a quick stop by the hallway lounge, and lo and behold, the same blanket-wrapped lump was right where he’d left it.

The same heap on the bed, bundled so far up in the duvet that only his nose and eyes were visible, the sounds of soft snores filling the room. 

He couldn’t help but smile. 

Minho looked so small, so undeniably adorable huddled up in the hotel bed. Even if the cause was less than trivial, there was something so endearing about the way he had cocooned himself, soft snores spilling out like a congested lullaby. 

Felix closed the door with a soft click before padding over to the bed, perching at the edge of the matress. “Liiino-hyuuung~” he sing-songed, gently laying a hand on the mound of blankets and rubbing slow circles through the fabric. 

Minho stirred, grumbling in protest as he sunk deeper into the warmth like a grumpy, old cat. 

Felix chuckled softly. “G’morning to you too, sleepyhead. Breakfast is in thirty, you think you’ll be up by then?”

A muffled sniffle. Then, Minho rolled onto his back slowly, sluggishly, like he hardly had the energy to do so. He cracked his eyes open, lashes fluttering like the effort alone might knock him out again.

“Mmm..” came a raspy hum in response.

Felix narrowed his eyes at the vague answer. “And that means...?”

Minho let out a dramatic sigh, lifting a hand to wave him off with a weak flick of his wrist. “‘M not hungry… I’ll grab something later.”

That made five signs, Felix noted grimly.

He frowned, but he knew arguing was no use, not with Minho, so he accepted his rejection with a nod. 

“Alright.” Felix said, trying to keep his voice light. His instincts were practically screaming at him to fuss, to try and coax an admission out of him. But he knew there was no use, not yet.

“Just… let me know if you need anything, alright?”

“Will do, mom.” Minho muttered hoarsely, the faint, sarcastic lilt in his tone soothing Felix’s worries just slightly. At least the Minho he knew and loved was still in there, even though he was much subdued from his usual vigour. 

Felix scoffed and rolled his eyes affectionately before getting to his feet. He paused at the doorway, blowing an exaggerated kiss in Minho’s direction.

The grouchy scowl and disapproving groan he got in return had Felix giggling all the way down the hallway. 

-

While Felix shone as bright as the sun, waking him up with the tenderness of a loving mother, Minho felt like he’d been run over by a bus. Multiple times, and with a garbage truck in tow.

Every muscle in his body ached, and exhaustion clung to him like a thick fog, weighing his body down like lead.

After Felix left, Minho begrudgingly extracted himself from his cocoon, shivering at the contrasting temperatures between his burrow and the air of the hotel room.

His eyes instinctively flickered to the thermostat on the bedside table, squinting to read the numbers on the display.

23°C (73.4°c)

No way, he thought. There was no way in hell the room was that warm, not when the air around him felt like a chill straight from the North Pole. 

“That’s.. wrong…” Minho muttered, a little surprised by how little sound his voice made. It was barely a scratch of breath, a dry whisper that lacked any strength or substance. Not very suitable for singing, he reckoned with a scowl.

Sitting up, he took a moment to steady himself. His head felt like it had been packed with damp wool, heavy in a way he hadn’t felt in years, the pounding headache amplified by each throb of his heartbeat. His nose was almost completely blocked, his sinuses clogged up to the point in which breathing almost made him feel nauseous.

Because since when does breathing have a taste?

With a low groan, Minho pushed himself to his feet, staggering against the wave of dizziness that instantly crashed over him. He braced himself with a hand against the wall, waiting for the room to stop spinning before trudging into the bathroom.

Once Minho got a look of himself in the mirror, he was convinced he must have caught the plague somewhere along their travels. He wasn’t sure where, he wasn’t sure how, but he was fairly certain that this was the beginning of the end. 

Not only did he feel like death was approaching at an alarming rate, but he looked the part, too. 

Minho winced at his own reflection, blinking a few times to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

His dark, tousled hair stood in stark contrast to the pasty, almost lifeless tone of his skin. The only indication that he was still alive were the rosy blotches on his cheekbones and the raw, irritated tip of his nose. His eyes were dazed, lacking their usual sharpness, and dark, almost hollow circles were etched beneath them. 

Jesus Christ.

Admittedly, Minho had started feeling the preamble effects of his illness on their last flight; the telltale tickle in the back of his throat, the ache in his muscles that seemed to linger just a little longer than usual.

At first, he too thought it could all be chalked up to jet lag and the recirculated air of the airplane cabin messing with his sinuses. But now, there was no denying it.

Minho was sick. On death's bed by the look of it.

A warm shower did little to soothe his troubles, but when he stepped out, he blew his nose in a humbling attempt to clear whatever he could with the help of the steam. The effort left him dizzy and as the lights danced before his eyes, he sank helplessly down onto the closed toilet seat. 

On his phone screen, the numbers glared at him, reminding him of the day ahead. The schedule was set in stone. After breakfast, they were heading to the venue for a walk-through , followed closely by the first round of rehearsals.

Minho wasn’t going to allow himself to fall behind, not yet. He wasn’t going to let this sickness take him down without a fight, even if it was the plague.

As he lifted his gaze, the harsh glare of the bathroom lights made his nose twitch, and he doubled over with a sharp hitch of breath. 

“Hh’TcCH! Hhh’tHhsHQHSH!” He lifted his hand, eyebrows pinched together in a suffering expression until, finally. “HHhH’tCCh-ah… ugh.”

He blew his nose again, less forcefully this time, and pressed his forehead against the cool porcelain edge of the sink as he waited for his vision to return back to normal

Once it did, Minho reached for the small makeup bag Felix had left on the counter with a resigned sigh. He knew the basics, just enough to make himself appear a little more presentable and, hopefully, ease the burden of everyone else’s concern.

With a couple of fever reducers swallowed down and a packet of on-the-go tissues tucked into his pocket, Minho stepped out of the hotel room to face the day. 

And by god, it was going to be a long one. 

-

After forcing down some breakfast, fighting through his rapidly fading appetite, Minho found himself in the back of a van, staring blankly out the window as the streets of Berlin blurred past.

The hum of conversation from the other members was muffled in the back of his mind, tuned into nothing but a distant white noise.

Minho was glad they didn’t pay him much attention, relieved to be able to relax whenever he could, wherever he could, but there was one thing that kept gnawing at him...

Felix.

His designated roommate kept sneaking glances at him from the row in front of him, subtle but persistent, as if he was making sure Minho was still alive at each turn or stoplight. 

If there was anything that could blow Minho’s cover, it was Felix’s quietly insistent, concerned eyes. Despite their softness, they sliced right through him, digging through his very soul until they figured out all his darkest secrets.

Keeping anything from Felix, especially when it came to his well-being, was like trying to hold water in a sieve. Fucking impossible.

The best course of action would be to avoid him completely, but given their circumstances and the nature of their relationship, that wasn’t really an option.

-

As if sensing his frustration, Jeongin shifted in his seat beside him. He saw Minho staring blankly out the window and carefully nudged him with his shoulder. "You okay, hyung?" he asked quietly, as if trying to keep the moment between just the two of them.

Minho forced a small smile, weak and unconvincing, and nodded. “Yeah, ‘m fine… ‘ust tired, y’know, jet lag.” 

Jeongin studied him for a moment longer, eyes narrowing in a way that made it clear Minho's act wasn’t fooling him as much as he wished it would.

For a split second, Minho wondered if Jeongin was in on the whole ‘not so subtle surveillance’ thing Felix had going on.

But then Jeongin gave a small nod and turned away again, and Minho let out a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding. 

Turning his attention back on the cityscape outside, he could feel sweat beginning to trickle down his back, the fabric of his shirt already sticking uncomfortably to his skin. 

He could make it through a small venue visit…

Right?

-

Wrong. 

As they sauntered through the second part of the venue, trailing behind a broad-shouldered man speaking with a heavy Germanic accent, Minho could practically himself deteriorate with each step. The lights above them seemed to follow his every movement, imprinting in his vision like drops of oil in water and distorting everything around him into dizzying swirls.

The chills were becoming harder to hide, and the faint coverage of makeup he’d applied earlier had long since melted away, washed off by the relentless streams of sweat trailing down his skin. He lagged behind the rest of the group, head ducked low and eyes blinking rapidly as he struggled to keep pace with his own unsteady feet.

With each shuffle, Minho’s limbs grew heavier, his head cloudier, and the deep, relentless ache burrowed even deeper into his bones. Maybe, he thought hazily, maybe he really was dying.

The air of the arena felt thick and muggy, clinging to his damp skin like a heavy, suffocating weight. No one else seemed bothered by it, though, which already confirmed what he already knew. The air wasn’t the problem. He was.

And as if being on the verge of death wasn’t miserable enough, every time a light flashed in his direction, the tickle in his nose flared up, reflexively triggering another sneeze. 

He hacked out a series of chesty coughs into his elbow, following it up with a triplet of sneezes that left his head spinning. The sting of tears burned in his eyes from the effort, and he quickly dug a tissue from his pocket, trying to stem the relentless pressure in his sinuses. But the moment he blew his nose, he felt something pop, and before his brain could even register it, warm liquid was gushing out.

He had a nosebleed, he quickly realised.

Not the kind that just lightly spotted the paper, but the kind that spilled out in heavy and alarming amounts, quickly turning into something out of a horror movie.

Minho let out a choked gasp, cupping his other hand under his face as the tissue instantly soaked through, warm blood dripping past his lips and down his chin. His sneakers squeaked against the polished floor as he stumbled to a halt, his brain stunned and struggling to catch up. 

“Oh shi—hyung?!”

Someone grabbed him by the shoulder, firm and steady, but Minho was already unraveling. His knees buckled, dropping him to the floor with no grace whatsoever. One hand braced against the floor as the other still desperately tried to catch the blood, and he ducked his head, mortified. 

God, talk about causing a scene. 

Minho could hardly register the words passing between the group over the sound of his own pulse beating in his ears, embarrassment curled tightly in his chest like a vice. All he could feel was the weight; of the fever, of the blood, of the pain, and now, of everyone’s eyes on him. 

“Lino-hyung!” Felix’s voice reached through to him, cracking with panic, footsteps pounding over as he rushed to his side.

“I’m fine.” Minho mumbled quickly, voice barely audible, thick with congestion.The blood was running down his throat, making him swallow helplessly, his breath hitching in small gasps. “I’m oka—”

“You’re not.” Jeongin cut him off, already crouched beside him with a hand on his back. Ah, so he was the one who’d grasped his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here…” 

Minho wanted to protest, but the warm blood sliding down his knuckles and the black dots clouding his vision left no room for argument. He let the two of them steer him away from the main floor, his gaze down, not daring to look at any of the staff or meet the concerned eyes that followed them.

He didn’t look up until he was ushered to sit on a bench, breathing shakily as he took a moment to compose himself. The blood was slowing down, but he was pale as a ghost, his hands trembling and sweat clinging to his hairline. Probably dying, he reminded himself.

Felix knelt before him, dabbing a damp tissue to his upper lip with the sort of tenderness only he could pull off. “Oh, hyung…” he muttered softly, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “You should’ve said something earlier.” 

Minho scoffed weakly, shutting his eyes against another spell of dizziness. “Didn’t wanna make a fuss…” he muttered, jaw clenched in embarrassment.

“Oh yeah, because collapsing on the ground with blood gushing from your face is totally lowkey. I see your vision.” Jeongin quipped dryly, though an edge of concern still laced his every word.

If the joke hadn’t been at his expense, Minho might’ve actually been proud. Honestly, as much as it was unexpected, it was a solid line. Sharp delivery, perfect timing…

“You’re lucky being stubborn hasn’t killed you. Yet.” The maknae added, dropping onto the bench beside Minho with a huff.

Minho turned his head just enough to shoot him a tired glare, but before he could make a feeble attempt to snap back at him, a cold water bottle was pressed into his palm.

With a resigned sigh, he accepted it.

Minho leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees as he let the coolness of the water bottle press against his forehead. His hands were still shaking, smeared faintly with dried blood, and remnants of it still stained his upper lip and chin despite Felix’s best efforts to clean him up.

The backstage area was quiet compared to the open floor of the venue, and Minho could feel his headache gradually receding to a dull throb the longer he sat there.

He could hear the faint murmur of voices in the distance, some clattering when gear was being moved around, but in the little pocket of space he shared with Felix and Jeongin, it felt blissfully still.

Felix pressed his hand against Minho's cheek, his fingers brushing over his flushed skin so tenderly it took him by surprise “You’re burning up.” he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. His eyes flickered to Jeongin. “Can you text Chan-hyung and tell him we’re taking him back to the hotel?” 

Jeongin was already typing. “On it.

“N-no..! wait–” Minho sat up straight, his body swaying as his eyes opened wide. Hadn't it been for Jeongin’s steadying hand against his back, he might as well have fallen off the back of the bench. “We still.. I can’t– we still have the floor markers.. And the lightning cues…”

“Hyung, stop it, please..” Felix pleaded, exasperated. Minho met his eyes, swallowing thickly.

“But…”

Minho sighed shakily, letting the water bottle drop from his forehead as he hung his head between his knees, reluctantly accepting his loss. “I’m sorry..” he rasped, his eyes fluttering shut. “This is so...”

“Don’t.” Felix cut in immediately, his hand gently pressing against Minho’s shoulder to push him back up, not wanting to trigger another nosebleed. “You’re allowed to not be okay, y’know? You’re sick, hyung.” he said, his voice both calm and resolute.

Jeongin handed over a fresh wet wipe without a word, having gathered a box from some staff passing by. Felix took it, gently cleaning off Minho’s hands and wiping away what was left of the blood, his eyebrows drawn tight in a worried frown. 

Once satisfied with his work, he forced Minho to meet his eyes, offering him a thin smile. “Your body is literally screaming at you to stop and take a break, so please… For once, don’t push back and just.. listen to it.”

Jeongin had finished sending the update to their leader and slid his phone back in his pocket, leaning in to join the conversation. “Felix is right.. We just want to help you, alright? Let us.”

Minho’s gaze flickered between them before his shoulders dropped with a sigh. He knew protesting would get him nowhere so long as he could hardly even keep himself upright, and the dull roaring in his eyes .  “Okay, fine…” he said, so quiet it almost didn’t carry. “Just get me out of here.”

-

Minho didn’t remember anything from the drive back.

Much to Felix and Jeongin’s horror, his fever started spiking the second he was seated in the van, turning his brain into hot mush in the blink of an eye. As he slipped in and out of consciousness, moaning and sighing with discomfort, all they could do was try not to panic and keep him upright.

By the time they reached the hotel, Minho was deadweight, slumped over Jeongin’s back as the maknae carefully carried him up to their room. They managed to get him onto the bed, where he collapsed, sprawled out like a discarded ragdoll.

For a moment, the two of them just stood there, catching their breath and staring helplessly at their sick hyung.

Felix was the first to speak, his voice low and shaky. “I’ll go get some cold rags… and call down to the reception for supplies.”

Jeongin nodded his head faintly and sat down at the edge of Minho’s bed, watching over him with a scowl etched on his face.

Minho’s breathing was laboured, clearly congested, and his skin was so pale, his eyes so sunken that he looked more like a ghost than a living man.

Jeongin found himself zoning out, counting each shallow inhale and exhale as if to reassure himself that Minho was actually alive, and that it would stay that way... 

When Felix returned, he laid a cold compress across Minho’s forehead. Minho groaned disapprovingly as water seeped out the fabric and trailed down his skin, trying to swat the washcloth away with a grumble.

“Shhh...” Felix soothed, catching his wrist and wiping the water droplet away with the pad of his thumb. “Sorry, hyung, but you are in no position to refuse our care right now.” he murmured sympathetically, shaking his head as he grabbed ahold of the cloth.

Minho slowly blinked his eyes open, staring up at the white ceiling with a dazed expression while Felix carefully smoothed the washcloth down his face and neck. His eyes kept fluttering, shutting for a few seconds before opening again, still as glossy and distant as before.

He was awake, but he wasn’t really there, Felix noted.

Every now and then, Minho would mutter something incoherent under his breath, his words slow and slurred as if he were trying to remember how to speak. Jeongin stayed close, only leaving his spot to retrieve the supplies the hotel staff had kindly sent up for them.

At one point, Minho’s glassy eyes slowly rolled towards Felix, his brows pinched in a hazy, scrutinizing look. He blinked a few, sluggish times, before whispering. “Yongbok-ah..” 

Felix paused his ministrations with the washcloth, immediately leaning in closer to hear him. “Yes, hyung? I’m here.” 

Minho squinted up at him, confusion clouding his features. “How… How’re you doing that?” he asked incredulously, lifting his hand as if trying to grasp onto something.

Felix blinked, his eyes following at his hand as if trying to see what he was grasping at. “Uh… doing what?” 

Minho sighed heavily, his own brows pinched together as his glossy eyes roamed over Felix’s frame. “You’re all… pew-pow-heee..wow.” he gestured vaguely, his wrist flopping side to side. “You’re… glowing.”

Felix stared for a moment, processing his words. Then, he turned to look at Jeongin, who only shrugged helplessly in return.

“Oh, uh.. thanks?” Felix said carefully, letting out a faint chuckle as he continued wiping at Minho’s flushed cheeks. “Pretty sure that’s just your fever talking, hyung...”

His eyes flickered to the boxes of medication that they received, a hint of desperation in his eyes once he realised Minho’s fever was starting to distort his grasp on reality.

But Minho was already too far gone, sheathed in a haze of fever and tipping on the edge delirium. His eyes fluttered shut again, his hand flopped back down to the bed, and a dopey, lopsided smile spread across his lips. “Yongbok-ah, I…I’ve been thinking.”

Felix held his breath, waiting patiently for him to continue.

”I think I’d like to try it someday…” Minho sighed almost dreamily, a chill running down his spine and making his teeth chatter. 

Felix and Jeongin shared a look, both equally confused. They had no clue what Minho was going on about, but then again, they realised he probably didn’t know himself, either.

“Try what, Lino-hyung?” Felix decided to ask lightly, his lips turned up in a small reassuring smile.

Minho’s head tipped to the side of his pillow, an exasperated groan slipping past his lips. “The nuggets, duh…” he mumbled thickly, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Chick’n… but dinosaur shapes..”

Suddenly, his fever-glazed eyes popped open wide, as though he had just realised a critical flaw in his wish. “‘Wait, Lix-“ he gasped softly. “ ‘r you one of ‘em..?”

Silence hung heavily in the air, broken only by the faint, whistling wheeze of Minho’s congested breaths.

"One of them?" Felix echoed, stunned.

“Oh lord, it’s started..” Jeongin muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. Minho looked exceptionally regretful as he grasped at Felix's arm.

“‘m sorry… If-if you know them..” he inhaled sharply, his chest heaving with the effort of drawing in a proper breath. “Then I won’t… won’t eat ‘em.”

Felix felt his eyes soften, and though his chest still felt tight with concern, he felt a wash of affection filling in around it. “Pssh..” he scoffed gently, reaching out to brush some sweat-matted hair out of Minho’s face. “Gee, thanks, hyung.” a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “you’re so considerate sometimes~”

Minho smiled sleepily, seemingly pleased with the praise, before his eyes fluttered shut again, slipping back into a hazy state of unconsciousness.

-

A few more minutes passed in silence.

Felix had a fond look in his eyes as he wrung out another cool cloth and replaced the tepid one on Minho’s forehead, careful not to startle him.

Jeongin was still rifling quietly through the small collection of medicine and supplies they’d gotten from reception, looking increasingly frazzled as he skimmed over each and every user manual.

“Oookay..” The youngest muttered at last, frowning at a packet of fever reducers. “I think this is the one we give him? Or- wait, it might’ve been the last one..” 

Felix sighed softly. “Just bring it here, Iyen-ah.” he chuckled, beckoning him over with his free hand. “I’ll check.”

As Jeongin sat down beside them, Minho stirred, mumbling something unintelligible once more. Felix and Jeongin fell silent, exchanging a k nowing glance before leaning in to catch fragments of his fevered rambling.

“‘S raining… gotta save the cats…” Minho slurred urgently, his forehead creased in concern. “Tiny.. tiny shoes… no puddles.”

Jeongin shot Felix a bewildered scowl, as if expecting him to somehow be able to decode the nonsense. “…What does that even mean?”

Felix covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Ah, I think he’s on some sort of rescue mission.” He said softly, voice thick with amusement.

Jeongin still looked far too serious, so Felix gave his shoulder a reassuring pat to appease him. “He’s dreaming, Innie, the fever is messing with him. one of it’s supposed to make sense.”

Minho twisted and turned weakly, but a determined look had washed over his slack features. “No, no… rain.. ugh.” His fingers twitched against the sheets, reaching aimlessly, and Felix instinctively grabbed his hand, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles to calm him. 

Jeongin cast a glance at the window, and sure enough, the sky seemed to have opened up. Fat drops of rain cascaded down over the city in an endless pour, tapping gently against the glass.

The soft pitter-patter seemed to have stirred something within Minho’s fever-addled mind, and despite their worry, Jeongin and Felix shared a small, helpless smile at the way their hyung was weaving reality into whatever fever dream he was lost in.

“Yongbok-ah.. Promise  me…” Minho blinked sluggishly, squeezing Felix’s hand weakly. “No puddles… the cats, they get cold beans..”

Felix didn’t even try to hide his smile this time. He gave Minho’s hand a reassuring squeeze back, nodding along earnestly. “Mhm, got it, Lino-hyung. No cold beans on my watch. I swear on my life.”

Jeongin let out a breathy laugh, half exasperated, half endeared, shaking his head. “I’ll make sure to fetch those tiny shoes too..” He added as he finally handed Felix the right pack of medicine

But before they could start coaxing it into him, a rattling noise rang from deep within Minho’s chest. His whole body tensed up as a brutal fit of coughing wracked through him, his eyes screwed shut and every muscle straining. 

Felix’s eyes widened in alarm, but Jeongin was quick to respond, rolling Minho onto his side and patting his back in firm, steady thumps. Felix fumbled to grab a few tissues, holding them up to Minho’s mouth just in time to catch the miserable glob of phlegm that the heavy, congested coughs dragged up.

When the fit finally tapered off, Minho was left trembling from the effort, his chest heaving in short, wheezy gasps. His skin was still ashen and slick with sweat, and every breath sounded patchy, like the air was somehow clawing its way out of his lungs. 

Jeongin kept rubbing slow, grounding circles into his back, his jaw clenched tight with worry. Meanwhile, Felix wiped the remnants of mucus from Minho’s lips with tender and precise movements, before ultimately tossing the tissues away in a nearby trash bin.

“See..?” Minho slurred out hoarsely between shallow breaths, his voice raspy and thick. His body slumped heavily against the mattress, his eyes cracking open to just a sliver. “Even ’m drownin’… s’too much rain for the kitties.”

Felix let out a small, shaky laugh. Not because it was funny, but because it was just so Minho to still be worrying about the imaginary cats his fever had conjured, even while he was hacking up a lung. 

The stubborn, deep-rooted sweetness of it made Felix’s heart flutter with tenderness, a small smile pulling on his lips. "It's okay, hyung.." He reached out, smoothing a hand over Minho’s damp hair. “We’ll make sure to keep ‘em dry, okay? You don’t have to worry about it.”

Jeongin gave a low huff of agreement and tucked the blanket a little more securely around Minho’s legs, his expression unusually tender. “Yeah, we’ve got the kitties, hyung… You just focus on breathing, okay?”

With that, the tension in Minho’s face eased, and his features softened as he slipped back into a restless slumber. His breathing slowed to small congested snores, and the faint furrow in his brow loosened, replaced by the faintest traces of peace.

The medication would have to wait for now, but that was okay, it wasn’t going anywhere.

For now, what mattered was the comfort they could offer him, in whatever form it took. As long as Felix and Jeongin were there, grounding him, assuring him that the imaginary cats of Berlin were safe under their watchful eyes, Minho would be alright.

It didn’t need to be spoken, but there was a quiet understanding passing between Jeongin and Felix as they watched over him.

They grew more confident as the hours dragged on, and their actions started to flow more effortlessly, almost as if guided by instinct. What once felt awkward and uncertain slowly morphed into something smooth, like a rhythm they were just starting to discover.

They worked together like a finely tuned instrument, finding the right notes together, knowing exactly where to be and what to do at just the right time.

Though a long night lay ahead of them, they were both resolute in seeing it through to the end, side by side. With their seamless teamwork in motion, they knew they could face anything, coughing fits and feverish fantasies alike.

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Was originally planning on ending it here, but I wanted some more tender loving care for LK the day of the concert soooo… <3

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A couple days later, Minho was finally on the mend.

Felix and Jeongin had both stayed with him the entire time, refusing to leave his side.

They took turns sleeping on Felix’s bed throughout the nights, watching over him in shifts. During the light of day, the other members stepped in to lend a helping hand as well in between rehearsals and concert preparations.

Chan had made sure to organise a doctor visit when Minho’s fever kept spiking throughout the first night, reaching a peak at 39.4°C (103°F). 

After a quick and thorough examination, the doctor concluded it wasn’t the plague, as Minho had initially suspected, but the flu.

Which was a relief, of course, but he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. Surviving the flu just didn’t have the same dramatic flair as surviving a plague…

Later that same night, the stadium buzzed with light and noise, and the energy of the crowd surged like a tide. Minho sat offstage, bundled in an oversized hoodie, sipping water out of a glittery straw Changbin had gifted him, and wrapped in a blanket that someone (probably Chan) had tossed over his shoulders like a cape.

His fever hadn’t completely broken yet, and he was still too out of it to perform whatsoever, but the staff had agreed to let him watch from the wings if he stayed seated.

So there he was, quietly cheering from the sidelines, his voice barely there and his lips pulled in a lazy grin, as his members owned the stage the way they always did.

Every now and then, Felix would throw a glance his way between formations, offering him a toothy grin or a cheeky wink.

Han and Changbin sent him finger hearts and blew him exaggerated kisses, Seungmin gave him the annoyingly teasing smiles of his every time he caught his eye...

And Jeongin? Jeongin sent him a thumbs-up as he passed by him during a quick transition.

But Minho noticed the way he kept checking up on him, too. It was more subtle than the others, but it was there, and it made Minho’s chest feel warm for reasons other than the lingering fever.

Chan explained his absence to their fans, and Minho stifled a fit of laughter that quickly turned into coughing as he watched Seungmin pull up Chan’s shirt on the big screen shouting: “FOR LEE KNOW!”

The crowd roared in return, and Minho struggled to catch his breath between coughs and giggles, watching Chan stumble backwards and sheepishly pull the shirt back down over his toned stomach.

Despite the way his lungs ached and his vision blurred, a sense of ease washed over him.

Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye from the effort, Minho flashed a genuine smile and gave a very smug, expectant Seungmin the most enthusiastic thumbs-up he could muster.

For once, Minho didn’t feel as guilty for sitting out. There was peace in knowing his team had him covered, that even when he was struck down by illness, he could always rely on them to pick him back up again.

Even from the sidelines, Minho was still a part of them. His absence didn’t erase his place in Stray Kids; they didn’t forget him. His contribution mattered, and they made sure he knew just how much they missed him.

They were a team, a family, and even when Minho wasn’t dancing beside them, he knew he would never be out of step.

E N D

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Hope you enjoyed this piece 🙂‍↕️ I’m already looking forward to write more LK delirium in the future lol

Also, I just realised this is my first fic writing LK as Minho! Because, well.. it's just simpler than writing Lee Know all the time

[eternal-stay]

MILDLY SCREWED

SICKIE⇒CHAN

4.1k words

snowy winter day, late morning, light schedule, it was going to be the perfect day for chan. but when he woke up, he felt wrong.

he could see the snow through his window and his phone showed 11:37, the dorm was- fuck, 11:37. he never slept that late. yet, somehow, he didn’t feel well rested either.

he really didn’t feel like going about his day. dance practice would start in an hour, then he guessed he’d have lunch with 3racha, and lastly they had recording in the afternoon.

it wasn’t much, really, but his motivation to get out of bed was about zero. he was deep in self pity when a loud noise from the kitchen startled him into sitting up.

‘clumsy maknae’, he thought as he heard the familiar sound of a pot clattering to the floor. sighing, he forced himself to stand up and his vision immediately filled with dots. yeah, that was his blood pressure dropping as fast as his mood.

he groaned as the dots finally faded and grabbed grey sweatpants and a matching hoodie and beanie before walking into the kitchen where jeongin was, in fact, glaring at a pot on the floor.

hearing the approaching footsteps, the maknae looked up at him and gasped.

“woah, hyung, you look super pale! like, more than usual”, he said, walking over to chan as the older shrugged.

why did jeongin look so worried? he must look worse than he feels. “i don’t feel bad”, chan told him, “just off”.

jeongin raised an eyebrow at that, “very descriptive, hyung. explain a bit?”. chan chuckled and rolled his eyes, starting the coffee machine.

he noticed that the maknae was ready to go out, shoes on and everything.

“i have no energy”, the leader said, “but like, i slept a lot”. the maknae hummed and crossed his arms as he about it for a moment. “maybe you slept a lot but not well?”.

assuming it was indeed just tiredness, chan nodded, “probably”. after some more light chatter, he went ahead with his morning and made some toasts.

i.n had actually woken up a long while before ago, so when chan sat down with his coffee and toast the boy was already going to leave the dorm. “see you later, grandpa”, he said with a smile that showed his dimples, and left.

as for chan, he spent the next half an hour completely spaced out. he barely registered finishing his breakfast and was only brought back to focus by the chills that had started going through his body.

he groaned, annoyed that the heating wasn’t on, and made his way to the thermostat before stopping on his tracks. oh, so the maknae did turn it on. why was he so cold, then?

chan didn’t bother thinking about it and instead went back to his room since he still had a while until dance practice started. he sat on his bed with a blanket to try and stop the shivering. it didn’t work.

actually, the longer he sat there, the worse he felt. somewhere during the last 10 minutes his head had started to throb. it wasn’t bad, it was barely there, but it was still annoying.

his eyes had started watering too so he put his phone down and dabbed under his eyelashes with his sleeves. what a great fucking morning.

when he felt like he’d silently complained enough, chan reluctantly got out from under his blanket, put his phone, keys, computer and bottle of water in his bag and deemed himself ready to leave the comfort of his room.

he wasn’t ready at all though. the pounding behind his eyes had only grown stronger and when he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, he saw what jeongin had meant when saying he was paler than usual.

he genuinely looked like a ghost. a hot one, but a ghost nonetheless.

chan splashed his face with cold water in hopes of regaining even the slightest bit of colour, but he was unlucky. thinking about it now, there was no denying that he didn’t feel good.

could he stay home today? it might be an option, but the schedule was so light that he doubted he’d be allowed to skip it. plus, he wasn’t sick sick, because he didn’t have a fever.

‘that’s dumb, you don’t need a fever to be sick’ chan thought, but soon forgot about any chances of missing work when his phone rang with the managers number.

oops, he was going to be late, and if the manager had gone as far as calling instead of texting then he definitely couldn’t stay back.

deciding not to waste anymore time dwelling on his discomfort, chan got out of the bathroom, put on some random nikes he found, grabbed a jacket and finally left the dorm.

the cold winter air greeted him mercilessly and he almost called a cab before deciding that the cold wasn’t worth risking getting recognised by the diver and having to have a conversation.

antisocial chan was a rare find, but he came to the surface every once in a while.

it felt like an eternity before he finally reached the company, and by then his teeth were chattering and his body was trembling from the cold. at least, at the very least, he didn’t have a stuffy nose. or a fever, that would be even worse.

luck wasn’t on his side that day because chan ran into more people than he had talked to the whole year, and everyone seemed to have a conversation to strike with him. yes, he was definitely going to be late to practice.

when he finally made it to the practice room, he was greeted by lee know’s glare. “you’re late. very”, the dancer said, but he was quick to let it go when he saw chan’s lack of response and the way his face had less colour than a paper sheet.

the leader himself felt bad for making his members wait, but he found himself not caring that much.

he’d showed up, that felt like enough effort today. quickly dropping his bag to the side, chan walked to the centre of the room and was relieved to see that the others had waited for him before stretching.

“you didn’t take off your jacket”, changbin pointed out when chan sat next to him, “oh- never mind, hyung, you’re shaking. are you okay?”.

the leader caught sight of the worried expression on the rappers face and it made his chest feel warm. he shrugged and said “its freezing out there and i came walking, i feel like an ice cu-”.

“YOU CAME WALKING?? IN THIS WEATHER??”

startled by the yell, both chan and changbin looked up to an amazed han. “hyung, you have superpowers or something”, the youngest member of 3racha said, wincing when he saw chan’s shaky hands, “not very good decision making skills, though”.

chan chuckled mid stretch and argued that “it didn’t feel so bad when i left the dorm”. their discussion halted when minho walked over to the speakers and started looking for a song to dance.

he must’ve caught felix making puppy eyes at him because he chose mountains. that was a fairly easy dance compared to what they had and chan silently thanked god for it.

the rest of practice was uneventful, mostly. they had to learn a dance for one of the next comeback songs and chan struggled more than usual to get the moves down, but it could have been worse.

through the fog that had settled over his brain and the constant waves of pain in his head, the leader didn’t notice lee know’s careful eyes watching him throughout the whole practice.

instead, he was just grateful that the dancer was in a seemingly unprompted forgiving mood and said nothing when he kept making the same mistakes in a row.

of course, minho had a reason to be so patient. all of the members had noticed chan’s low mood today and the way his face lacked colour. the flush on his cheeks made up for the paleness though, but it eased no one’s worries.

moreover, none of them missed the leader’s winces whenever the music’s bass echoed louder in the room or the way he’d quietly sit down next to his water bottle during the breaks. normally, whenever he had trouble with moves, he’d spend the breaks practicing them, but he didn’t today, and they could guess that he didn’t feel the best.

lunch with 3racha passed in a blur for chan. he didn’t pay attention to their conversation at all even if he probably should have and he appreciated the fact that neither changbin nor han forced him to talk.

dance practice had messed up his stomach, maybe he’d drank too much water? whatever it was, he didn’t feel like eating, but changbin didn't let him leave his food untouched.

‘probably for the best’ chan thought ‘it’s not like i have enough energy to just not eat’. yes, his stomach felt kinda bad, but he was thankful that he didn’t feel actually nauseous. maybe it was just sore from so much dancing? most definitely not.

walking to the studio, chan assessed the situation. his head was pounding, his stomach felt sore and the chills that racked through his body hadn’t completely disappeared.

not good, but not too bad. on a scale from 1 to 10, he was mildly screwed.

now that he thought about it, what bothered him the most was the exhaustion that hadn’t let up ever since he woke up. okay, he could deal with being tired.

han grabbing onto his arm pulled him out of his thoughts and he smiled at the rapper. “what’s up?”, chan asked, slightly amused at the gesture. han replied with a soft “nothing”, so the leader just let him be clingy. he was warm anyway, chan welcomed that.

out of the corner of his eye, he saw changbin jokingly pout over ‘not being chosen by han’ and he couldn’t hold back a laugh. could he ever not laugh while he was with 3racha? probably not.

when they got to the studio, he was surprised to see that the equipment was already set up. changbin must’ve caught his confused expression because he giggled. “we were recording han’s song in the morning, hyung”, he told chan in a playful tone, “you’d know if you had listened to us during lunch”.

the leader rolled his eyes and smiled, plopping down on the couch and pulling out his phone before replying “y’all talk too much, i can’t listen to everything”.

at that, han gasped like he was offended and sprawled out on the couch half on top of chan’s legs. “how could you, hyung, you like listening to me talk”, the boy complained, and then bragged, “everyone does, actually”.

the two older boys laughed and chan ruffled han’s hair playfully, which sent the younger on another round of whined complaints even though he had no intention on moving off of chan’s legs, which at some point started to feel numb from the lack of circulation.

“let him breathe, hannie”, a teasing voice said from the door. 3racha looked up to see minho there. “whats with the looks”, the dancer questioned, “wasn’t i first for recording?”.

to be honest, chan had no idea. he hadn’t checked the order at all but minho was responsible enough. if he said he was first, then he probably was.

“sure”, the leader answered, acting like he knew, “you know the lyrics or…?”. lee know seemed to ponder the question for a moment before saying “let me read them again. han can start recording if he wants”.

the truth was, he did know the lyrics, quite well actually since for once they weren’t in english, but he wanted changbin and han to focus on recording so he could check on chan.

and hey, it worked. han left the couch and got into the booth while changbin sat on the producer’s chair, so now lee know had chan all to himself.

“hello, hyung”, he said a little too sweetly, sitting down next to chan on the couch, “how are you feeling?”. he couldn’t help but laugh at the leader’s surprised expression. he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“is it that obvious?”, chan asked quietly, not wanting the other two to hear them, “i don’t even feel that bad”

lee know smiled at him, trying to seem reassuring, “not that obvious, just enough. so?”. chan internally cursed but decided to keep it simple. “my head hurts”, he said, “and i’m cold. freezing actually”. a shiver accompanied his words, giving away just how freezing he waqs.

still, the dancer didn’t look convinced. “you made way too many mistakes earlier to be just that”, minho said, and then winced at his words, “no offence”.

chan fidgeted with the sleeves of his hoodie, feeling bad that he did so bad at practice. surely he had been an inconvenience, but he swore he did as well as he could. “sorry”, he mumbled, “i don’t know. i’m really tired but i don’t have a fever, so i- i don’t know”, he looked at his lap, “my stomach feels bad too”.

lee know frowned, getting kinda worried. he reached up to feel chan’s forehead with the back of his hand and then moved it down to the older’s cheek.

“not a fever”, he agreed, smiling slightly when chan unconsciously closed his eyes and leaned into his touch. “see? i’m f-” chan tried to speak but lee know interrupted him with a firm “yet”.

“what do you mean yet”, chan huffed, maybe a bit childishly if the amused expression that took over minho’s face was anything to go by.

“i mean,” lee know started, dropping his hand from chan’s face and smirking at the sad expression the older made, “that you don’t feel too warm. but you don’t feel cold either and your cheeks are rosy, so lets see how long ‘no fever’ lasts”.

chan glared at him and automatically reached up with both hands to touch his face. “i don’t feel warm”

“yes you do”

“no. i’m not warm”

“yes you are, hottie”

“minho!”

the dancer laughed and stood up. “my turn”, he said, pointing at han that was leaving the recording booth. chan rolled his eyes and moved to sit next to changbin, now frowning.

“what’s with the grumpy look, hyung?”, the rapper laughed, playfully nudging the leader’s arm when he mumbled “i’m not grumpy, focus on the recording”.

while minho was smoothly recording his lines, jeongin and seungmin came into the room and sat on the couch to review their part, quietly talking between themselves.

chan liked it when the boys recorded in korean because they barely made any mistakes and didn’t need help with the pronunciation. that meant he, as a producer, didn’t need to be that focused.

of course he always payed a lot of attention to everything, but on days like this when he only wanted to be in his warm bed, a break from hyper-focusing on every detail was very welcome.

changbin was there anyway and he was just as professional as chan was. in fact, it was the rapper that was doing the most work today, because chan soon realised that his headache was steadily getting worse and he couldn’t help but zone out for the most part.

he was still halfway in a daze when minho finished his lines for the day and seungmin took his place in the booth.

“chan hyung”, minho called, standing next to chan who was now slumped over the table with his head resting on his crossed arms. no response. “channie hyung, channie hyung, chan-”

“what.”

lee know smiled at him, “you look dead”, he said, resting his hand on chan’s back. “i feel dead”, the leader groaned, wrapping his arms around his stomach and dropping his head on the table, “everything hurts”.

“sounds fun”, the dancer replied sarcastically, but against his words, he crouched down next to the leader and ran his hand down his back, “do you want pills?”.

chan cracked a smile at that and propped his head up on his hand, “don’t say it like that, it sounds sketchy”. minho laughed and shrugged, “not unless you make it sound sketchy. do you want painkillers or not?”.

when he received a nod in response, he went over to his bag and rummaged through it it until he found pills. “tell me you ate something at lunch”, the dancer said, walking back to chan, who nodded. “changbin made me”.

the rapper seemed to hear their conversation because he smirked, “you can thank me now hyung”. chan glared at him and sat straight to take the pills, which he swallowed dry. “disgusting” changbin mumbled, to which minho agreed, “very disgusting, are you dumb? you have water right there”.

“leave me alone”, chan complained, annoyed that his members were teaming up against him. the other two laughed, but let him be since seungmin needed to start recording.

chan couldn’t really complain right now. changbin was carrying most of the recording, the maknaes’ voices sounded as angelic as always and felix and hyunjin arrived on time to record their parts. everything was going perfectly well.

but still, the later it got, the worse chan felt. don’t get him wrong, the painkillers did work, but they had worn off way too quickly. now, his head was throbbing intensely, making his eyes water.

at some point, changbin had called han to take chan’s place because anyone could tell that the leader wasn’t able to do much even if he tried.

chan himself didn’t even put up a fight, instead giving up his seat to walk to the couch. as soon as he stood up a wave of dizziness washed over him and he was sure he’d have fallen if minho hadn’t been quick to steady him.

the dancer helped him to the couch where chan sat with his knees to his chest. minho felt his forehead again, and in a low voice so as not to make the headache worse, he announced “you now have the fever”.

chan bit his lip, of course everything had to take a turn for the worse before the schedule was over. if he was honest, he could cry.

“of course i fucking do”, he mumbled shakily, rubbing his eyes. at least if he ended up crying he could blame the headache for making his eyes water.

lee know looked surprised at the leader’s reaction. he usually coped well with being sick. apparently not today. “hey”, he said softly, “it’s fine, you’ll be good tomorrow. do you want to go home?”

did chan want to go home? yes he did. he was cold and tired and sick so he legally had absolutely no reason to be here. but he didn’t want to go home alone and miss what little was left of the recording, so he shook his head.

“no? why not? this is almost over- oh, that’s why, this is almost over”. it was almost funny, really, how the second oldest was able to read his mind, but he appreciated it. “then…”, minho continued, “try to fall asleep? you can at least rest, can’t you?”.

chan shrugged. could he? he always found it hard to sleep when he was in pain, so probably not. but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

seeing how he was having an internal debate, minho gently pushed chan’s head to his shoulder and rested his arm over the older. “just try, hyung, it’s fine if you can’t”.

so chan tried. he closed his eyes and tried to focus on the background noise. felix’s and hyunjin’s raps were great for stage, but weren’t exactly relaxing, so it wasn’t long before he needed to grab his airpods to block the noise.

minho winced in sympathy at the way chan kept moving in his seat because he couldn’t get comfortable and started rubbing the leader’s back in a way he hoped was comforting.

it was comforting, that was for sure, but chan felt too bad to rest. he kept moving around, trying to get comfortable, but he didn’t get anywhere. “i can’t”, he whimpered quietly, sitting up and struggling to take a deep breath in without breaking into tears.

minho bit his lip sadly. the leader looked awfully pale and his eyes were glossy, wether that was the fever or tears he couldn’t tell. “i don’t know, hyung…”, the dancer said softly, “i really think i should take you home. binnie and han got this”.

chan didn’t even find it in him to say no this time. his head hurt so bad, his stomach was flipping and he still felt as freezing as he did in in the morning.

plus, he was sure he’d end up crying and he didn’t need everyone watching him. “okay”, he told minho, looking down at his shaking hands, “i-i just want… i r-really want this to s-stop”.

“of course you do”, minho hummed, standing up and giving the leader an unusually gentle smile, “we’ll go, just let me tell changbin first”.

he went over to the rapper and whispered “i’m taking hyung home, he’s dying over there”, to which changbin’s eyes widened in worry.

chan watched the interaction, not even able to feel guilty because he knew there was no way he could stay here, in the crowded recording room, any longer.

out of the corner of his teary eye, he saw changbin shoot him a reassuring smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back, albeit a bit unsteadily as a tear rolled down his flushed face.

when minho came back, took his hand and helped him up and towards the door, he didn’t resist.

when he was gently pushed to the backseat of a car and minho had to buckle him up because his hands were shaking too badly to fasten the seatbelt himself, he didn’t protest.

and when the soothing and constant motion of the vehicle finally lulled him into a light doze, he didn’t catch minho’s loving smile.

but the short drive to his dorm was too short for sleep to help him, and he was woken up by minho slowly shaking his arm. minho, who had apparently taken the role of chan’s pillow.

the leader sat up, a bit shy that he’d acted so… soft? was that even the word? his clouded mind didn’t even know, but he was embarrassed.

as for the dancer, he simply chuckled and waved his hand in front of chan’s face, breaking into a laugh when the older looked up at him with a very not intimidating glare. “let’s go”, he said, leaning across chan to open the door for him, “what a gentleman i am, hm?”.

chan rolled his eyes at minho’s cocky manners, but the movement made him wince. right, his head was killing him and he was feverish. he almost forgot. slowly, so as not to trigger another wave of pain, he got out of the car and thanked the driver.

immediately, minho wrapped an arm around his shoulders and walked with him. once again, chan’s shaky hands prevented him from unlocking the door and, with a poorly concealed pout, he gave the keys to minho.

“can’t believe you’re still cold”, minho teased, opening the door quickly to let chan out of the winter air asap. “don’t believe it, then”, snapped the leader. more like mumbled, actually, because his voice was weak and his expression not offensive at all.

the dancer laughed at him yet again. how many times would he today? it was unfair. chan took small steps into the elevator and slumped against the wall, not having the energy to stand up on his own.

when minho got inside too, next to him, chan couldn’t help but drop his head on the younger’s shoulder.

the dancer let him and even brought a hand up to his neck, but removed it when it’s coldness made chan shiver. “sorry”, he apologised quietly, instead touching his forehead again, “still too warm. you’re taking more pills as soon as i find them”.

true to his word, minho didn’t waste a second, and when they finally got into chan and jeongin’s dorm, he made the leader change into warmer sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt—he didn’t think the thick hoodie would be of any help to the fever, so he made chan take it off—before finding fever reducers and giving them to him.

“comfy?”, he asked after a while, proudly looking at the way he’d gotten chan settled on his bed under a fluffy blanket and looking the slightest bit more colourful. yeah, not colourful, he wasn’t a rainbow (lowkey tho-), just less pale. chan, for maybe the first or second time that day, giggled quietly and nodded.

“won’t you sit with me, lino-yah~?”, he asked in a playful voice, but there was a slight pleading hidden in his words that minho couldn’t ignore, so he just nodded and sat next to the leader, letting himself be used as a pillow once more.

chan was still hurting, of course, but he was in his comfy warm bed and had his ‘cutest little thing’ next to him. and minho would make it better if the pain got worse again, would wake him up if the fever gave him the nightmares that always chased him when he was sick.

minho was there, and would take care of him, right? yes, 100% right.

[valkyriexo]

You have a Migraine | Seungmin

ᑉ³pairing; Seungmin x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff

ᑉ³warnings; Reader dealing with a migraine, Pills mentioned

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon! Edited.

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as you lie in bed, cocooned in blankets. But despite the peaceful scene outside your window, there's no rest to be found within the confines of your own mind.

Your temples throb with a relentless intensity, each pulse sending shockwaves of pain through your skull. Migraine days are the worst, and today seems determined to be the pinnacle of that agony.

You try to ignore the pounding in your head, focusing instead on the rhythmic ticking of the clock on your bedside table. But even the steady beat seems to mock you, a reminder of the passing minutes that only serve to prolong your suffering.

With a heavy sigh, you reach out for the bottle of painkillers that has become a permanent fixture in your life. You're all too familiar with the ritual of opening its childproof cap, but today, as you twist it off, your heart sinks.

The bottle is empty.

With a groan, you try to summon the strength to get out of bed, but the pain pins you down like an anchor. Frustration, thick and palpable, mixes with the pain, creating a cocktail of misery that threatens to engulf you entirely. Each attempt to rise is met with a wave of nausea, a cruel reminder of the physical toll this puts on you. The room spins, a dizzying carousel of sensations that leaves you disoriented and defeated.

You clench your teeth, willing yourself to push through the fog of agony that clouds your mind.

Every muscle in your body protests as you attempt to sit up, each movement sending shockwaves of pain radiating outward from the epicenter in your head.

With a final, desperate effort, you manage to swing your legs over the edge of the bed, your feet meeting the cold, unforgiving floor below. But even this small victory feels hollow, overshadowed by the relentless drumbeat of pain that reverberates through you.

You close your eyes against the harsh glare of the morning light. But even in the darkness behind your eyelids, the pain persists.

You can't bring yourself to stand, the pain worsening with each passing moment. Doubts gnaw at the edges of your consciousness. Were there even any pills left in the medicine cabinet?

The thought of standing seems utterly futile, a mountain too steep to climb in your current state.

Your mind races, searching desperately for a solution amid the fog of agony. There's only one thing you can think to do. With trembling fingers, you reach for your phone, wincing at the harsh light it emits as you unlock the screen and dial Seungmin's number.

Each ring feels like an eternity, each passing second an eternity of suffering. But then, finally, his voice breaks through the haze of pain.

"Hello?" His voice is filled with concern.

"Seungmin," you manage to choke out, your voice barely more than a whisper. "It's... it's bad. I need... help."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, a heartbeat of uncertainty before Seungmin's reassuring voice fills your ears once more. "I'm on my way," he says, his words a promise of relief.

As you wait for Seungmin's arrival, time seems to stretch into eternity, each moment punctuated by the relentless throbbing in your temples. The minutes drag on, each one feeling like an eternity as you struggle to hold onto a semblance of composure amidst the storm of pain.

Finally, just when you're beginning to fear that he might not come, there's a soft knock on the door. You struggle to open your eyes, squinting against the harsh light filtering through the curtains. "Come in," you manage to croak out.

It swings open to reveal Seungmin standing on the other side. His eyes widen in concern as he takes in your disheveled appearance, and without a word, he steps forward to wrap you in a gentle embrace.

"I'm here," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing balm against the raw edges of your pain. "Everything's going to be okay."

"It hurts so much, Minnie," you say, tears escaping despite your efforts to hold them back.

"I know, I know," he replies, his voice laced with empathy, his eyes reflecting the depth of his concern.

His eyes scan the room, searching for any way to alleviate your suffering. Spotting the dimmer switch, he stands silently. With a flick of his wrist, he adjusts the lighting, the soft glow casting shadows that offer a respite from the harsh brightness.

Not content with just that, he strides over to the window, pulling the curtains closed carefully. Each movement is precise, deliberate, as he ensures not a single ray of light infiltrates the room. The darkness that envelops you feels like a sanctuary, shielding you from the pain.

As he returns to your side, you feel a sense of gratitude wash over you, a warmth that eases the chill of pain.

"Better?" he asks, his voice gentle as he takes a seat beside you on the bed, resuming his previous position.

You nod gratefully, the gesture feeling like too much effort.

Seungmin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bottle of pills. He had remembered your preferred medication, and he always keep it on hand, whether in the dorms or car. With a reassuring smile, he hands you a couple of pills along with a bottle of water from your nightstand.

After a few moments of silence, the medication starts to work its magic, gradually easing the relentless ache in your head.

"I'm sorry," you say softly, breaking the silence that envelops the room.

Seungmin turns to you, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What for?"

"I know you're not really big on physical touch," you explain, your voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry I bothered you with all this."

His expression softens, and he reaches out to gently squeeze your hand. "Hey, don't apologize. I'm here because I want to be. Helping you through this is the least I can do."

As he spoke, your head pinged with pain, every word feeling like a hammer striking against your skull. You wince, from the noise, the throbbing in your temples growing more intense with each syllable.

"I know noise tends to be painful when this happens, and I just want to let you know that I'm okay with sitting in silence, as long as you're comfortable," Seungmin says quietly.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, both from the pain and from the overwhelming kindness of his words. Despite the agony you're enduring, he remains by your side, offering his own version of comfort.

Seungmin's touch is gentle as he runs his fingers through your hair, his movements soothing against your scalp. His fingertips tracing delicate patterns across your skin as if trying to soothe away the pain with each caress. His kisses are soft and fleeting, pressed gently against your forehead and temples, a gesture of comfort and affection in the midst of your suffering.

"Thank you," you manage to murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

He shakes his head, his expression gentle and reassuring. "Stop apologizing. Just rest."

With a nod, you lean back against him and the pillows, finding solace in the silence that descends upon the room. At that moment, despite the pain, you feel a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that whatever happens, you will always have him by your side.

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

[20mins-at180]

The Ickies

warnings: vomit, overall sickness, extreme cuteness, age regression if u put your glasses on and squint

Summary: When a member isn’t feeling good, they always see Bangchan for comfort and cuddles.

Sickie: Hyunjin

Caregiver: Bangchan/Lee know

___________________________________________

Bangchan was last to get home to the dorms, as usual.

Quietly locking the door behind him, he made his way into the kitchen and put his stuff down.

As he walked passed the island as he was about to get to his room for some well needed rest, but the small black tubberwear on the island caught his eye.

It was an old take out container filled with tonight’s leftovers. On top of as a little sticky-note, showing a note left from his Hyung.

‘Eat. Then bed. Night’ it read, with a heat and an angry face drawing next to it. He recognized his Lee know Hyungs messy scrawl and chuckled to himself, grabbing the container and a pair of chopsticks, the began walking up to his room.

~

After setting us food and stuff down in his room then grabbing his pj’s, he began to walk to the bathroom to wash up, but the light was on and the door was cracked.

and a terrible noise was coming from inside.

He quickly dropped his pj’s and opens the door slowly, peaking in.

The sight was terrible.

Hyunjin was was on his knees, grinning the side of the toilet bowl so hard his knuckles were white. He was painfully gagging, but nothing was coming out, and tears were rapidly falling down his pale face.

“oh honey,” Bangchan muttered, quickly kneeling beside him and bunching his hair into a lose bun, grabbing one of Felix’s hair ties from the vanity drawer.

Bangchan gently rubbed his knuckles up and down Hyunjin’s back as he had his head in the toilet.

~

Finally being able to take a breath, Hyunjin collapsed into Bangchan, sitting between his legs and leaning into his chest, his hands moving to grip onto his hyung’s legs.

Bangchan held him, moving his arms around to hyunjin’s front and holding him gently but just firm enough.

“…hurts Hyung…” Hyunjin gasped, breathing heavy.

He was trembling, and swallowing loudly as to get the awful taste of bile from his mouth.

“I know, I know. It’s gonna be okay.” Bangchan whispered into his ear. “Let’s stand up and get you some water, hun.”

Hyunjin shakily nodded, allowing Chan to basically pick him up and set him in the closed and flushed toilet.

taking a mouth rinsing cup and filling it with water, he handed it to hyunjin, who greedily took it and began chugging it.

“No, no baby, that might hurt your tummy. Let’s just rinse for now.” BangChan corrected, gently pulling his wrist away from his mouth.

As he handed the cup back to his Hyung, Hyunjin’s eyes began to well up with tears again. He looked down, putting his hands over his eyes as if hiding from the older.

“Hey, sweet boy. I know you don’t feel good. Why don’t we go crawl up in bed with mama?”

Bangchan was trying to ease hyunjin out of his self conscious state by using the name that the boys called Lee know when they weren’t feeling good.

With shaking hands, Hyunjin wiped at his eyes, nodding.

Gently helping Hyunjin out of the bathroom by holding hands, Chan led him to his mama’s room, gently knocking.

Less than 3 seconds later, the door was opened, revealing a wide-awake Lee know. Now, he looked worried.

“Baby’s got a case of the ickies.” Chan clarified.

Lee knows expressions changed into a soft understanding look.

“aww my poor little love bug, do you wanna come cuddle with mama?” He asked, lightly taking him from Chan.

Hyunjin’s tears were fully falling now as Lee know walked him to the bed and got him cozy, before climbing in and cradling his baby.

As they did this, Chan got to work, quickly straining the bathroom, grabbing a towel and small bucket from the hall closet.

He walked the supplies back to the room and laid it out beside the bed, just incase.

He began to creep out of the room, as to not wake, what he thought was a sleeping Hyunjin, but he turned when he heard the cutest little voice.

“stay? Please?”

How could he ever say no to that? Especially when it’s asked with a pout and the cutest little voice he’s ever heard.

Bangchan went and laid behind Hyunjin, spooning him from behind, He brought his big, warm hand around to His tummy and began rubbing soft soothing circles on his lower abdomen.

Hyunjin let out a soft whimper at the touch, leaning into it and snuggling deeper into his Hyungs.

His eyes fluttered closed as Lee know pressed a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

Bro-I freaking love sickfics man

[fairyniceyeah]

🧭🐶 You got me losing patience

Title from Case 143 (Stray Kids)

Summary: Seungmin slips on stage and to make matters worse, it’s because he is already sick with the stomach flu. Getting treatment at the hospital doesn’t go well.

CW: emeto, injuries, blood, needles, hospitals

Sickie/Whumpee: Seungmin Caretaker: Bang Chan + Minho/Lee Know

🧭🐺

“Channie?”, Minho asked as he approached the leader. Chan turned around, the smile slipping from his face as he saw the worried face of his oldest dongsaeng.

“Minho-yah, what’s wrong?”, he asked, abandoning the jewelry he had started taking off. They had just finished their Case 143 Mnet Comeback-Stage and now that the nerves weren’t high anymore, he had looked forward to a relaxed evening. Apparently it wasn’t to be so, judging by the way Minho was chewing on his lower lip.

“Have you seen Seungminnie? Did he go with the medics already?”, Minho asked and for a moment Chan swore his heart had stopped beating in his chest. Why would Seungmin go with the medics? Had something happened he had not noticed? How couldn’t he have?

“Wha … why?”, he stammered, heart pounding faster now, seemingly trying to cancel out the skipped beats.

“Oh, right. You couldn’t have seen. He slipped while doing the spin we do during Changbinnie’s rap. I saw he twisted his ankle but he seemed to be able to continue. Now, however, I can’t find him”, Minho explained. 

“I … no, I haven’t seen him”, Chan said nervously, “I thought he was behind me when we left the stage. Hyung?” He called over a manager. “Did you see Seungmin-ah?”

The older manager frowned and shook his head. “No, I haven’t … you don’t know where he is either?”

Chan and Minho shook their heads. At least the rest of the group hadn’t noticed the rising tension yet. Hyunjin and Felix were sprawled on top of each other on a couch in their waiting room with Hyunjin and Jeongin talking quietly. Han and Changbin were dancing around full of energy, celebrating. All of them were swarmed by staff members carrying make-up kits, fans and towels. 

“No, we uh …”, Chan stuttered. He felt awful. It was bad enough that he apparently was missing a member in a space that - while just for idols - was more public than he liked. The building was huge, it was easy to get lost and there were other groups all around them, all stressed and under pressure. 

Seungmin had never fared that well with emotional stress and confrontations. If he was hurt to add onto that … Chan did not want to think about how the young vocalist must be feeling. 

“Maybe he went to the bathroom”, Chan lied - well, it wasn’t really a lie. Maybe a white lie. There was a chance that Seungmin was in a bathroom after all. “We’ll go look for him.”

The manager, having been with them since the beginning, knew that Chan would never stay back when a member was concerned. So he just sighed and nodded.

“Be safe, stay together and call if you don’t find him in the next fifteen minutes.”

Without any thought to the other five members, Chan and Minho slipped out the door.

🧭🐺

Sometimes Chan hated being right - the building was huge and built like a labyrinth. While he knew that Seungmin had a good sense of direction, he didn’t know what state the younger was in. If he truly was injured he would likely choose to hide, not liking showing vulnerability, especially not surrounded by sunbaes and hobaes.

They had checked the bathrooms first, hoping that maybe Seungmin had decided to hide there. It had been a futile hope - they were crowded and it was clear that Seungmin would never go there then. So they had resigned themselves to walk through every hallway and pray they found their vocalist soon. Chan could tell Minho was nervous and he himself was barely faring any better.

At least they quickly understood the layout of the building. All horizontal hallways going off from the main hall would have waiting rooms at the front, with storage rooms in the back and would end with a dead end. 

The leader had already lost count of how many hallways they had been in hoping that Seungmin was somewhere between the stage and their own waiting room. Had it been five? Six?

“Do you hear that?”, Minho suddenly asked, grasping Chan’s jacket and shushing him. For a moment all Chan could hear was the bustling of a crowded building but then he heard a whimpering sound at the end of the hallway they were in. 

“Do you think that is him?”, Minho whispered, eyes wide.

Chan had never heard Seungmin make such a sound before but they also were running out of options. He was scared of the state he might find the younger in if that would reduce him to … this.

“I … I don’t know. Let’s check.”

They walked towards the end of the hallway, trying to hear where the sound was coming from. It definitely came from the end of the hallway, three or four doors down. The last door was open and the sound seemed to come from there. Grasping each other's hands tightly, they peered inside.

Yet … nothing was inside the room, nothing where Seungmin could hide. 

Yet … the whimpering was louder than ever, now joined by a sniffling sound. 

Stepping outside the room, Chan closed the door with a sigh. He should have known.

There, on the hallway floor, squeezed between the wall and the previously open door, sat their missing vocalist curled into himself with his head buried in his knees. Seungmin looked so young like this, hugging himself tightly.

Minho gasped beside him but Chan paid him no mind, too focused on their youngest.

“Hey, Min-ah”, Chan whispered and knelt down by his dongsaeng’s side. Seungmin ignored him or maybe hadn’t even heard him. Reaching out, Chan gently cupped Seungmin’s cheek with his palm, his pinky under Seungmin’s chin. There was undeniable heat radiating from the younger. 

A fever? Chan wondered briefly how high it was and how that had happened. Had Seungmin been feverish before the stage already? Or was his injury that bad?

They could figure that out later. As Minho sent a text to the manager, Chan lifted Seungmin’s head so they could look at each other. Nevertheless, the vocalist refused to meet his eyes. Up close Seungmin looked even worse - face ashen pale and streaked with snot and tears. Trailing his eyes downward, following Seungmin’s gaze, Chan wondered how he had not noticed the smell earlier. Behind him he heard Minho mutter a worried: “Oh, Min-ah.”

There was a watery puddle of vomit on Seungmin’s pale pink sweater vest, staining it darker. It seemed to be mostly liquid, a bit of what looked like rice visible, but that made it clear how unwell Seungmin truly was. It seemed like he had been feeling sick earlier too - that at least would explain the lack of food in his throw up.

Chan felt his heart break for his ill dongsaeng and at the same time he was beating himself up. How could he have not noticed that Seungmin was not feeling good? But regrets were for later, now they had a sick and injured dongsaeng on their hands.

“Hyungies?”, Seungmin rasped, his voice raw and wet from crying. He sounded awfully young, younger than the sixteen year old Chan had met years ago. There was desperation to his voice and deep, deep exhaustion.

“We’re here, baby”, Minho quickly reassured, kneeling down beside Chan and using his own sleeve to wipe at Seungmin’s wet face. It was cute really, how he was able to quickly change from his loud, boisterous camera personality to the caring and sweet soul only they were able to experience. “We got you.”

Chan nodded at that, stroking back sweat-soaked hair. “We’re not going anywhere. Can you tell hyungs what happened?”

Seungmin looked up at them, eyes watering with tears that spilled over and trailed down his cheeks before Minho was able to wipe them away.

“I … I wasn’t feeling well all day and, uh, I threw up this morning and earlier before sound check. I thought I could push through but then I twisted my ankle during the dance and I was feeling so sick and it hurt and I was so overwhelmed and…” The words spilled from Seungmin’s lips like a waterfall, coming faster with each second and causing him to choke on air. He coughed hoarsely, nearly gagging again.

“Oh, baby. Why didn’t you say earlier?”, Chan whispered, hurting with Seungmin but also so worried why the younger hadn’t trusted him with his sickness. At this point he wouldn’t even have cared if Seungmin had entrusted himself to any of the other members but himself or staff even, just to anybody to stop this from happening. “I could have figured something out.”

“I wanted to … but you were so stressed earlier with Sungie’s anxiety and … and I wanted to perform anyway. It was too late to change things and I … didn’t want to be left out”, Seungmin mumbled.

Chan sighed. He knew it was difficult for his dongsaeng to just stop and prioritize his well-being. He also knew that Seungmin had a hard time with his status as main vocalist even after all the years and felt the need to work harder than anyone else to not let anyone down. It was still hard to see his baby so unwell, alone and hurt in a random hallway after having thrown up on himself.

“I will always have time for you, Min-ah. If not, I will make time. You don’t owe anybody your health either…”, Chan replied, wanting to add more and wipe the insecurity from the younger’s mind. Minho’s hand on his knee stopped him.

“Seungminnie, do you think you can make it back to the waiting room so the medics can look you over?”, the dancer asked, shooting Chan an apologetic glance. I’m sorry for interrupting you but he needs medical intervention before we talk about his mental state. Chan nodded. You’re right.

“Hyung, my ankle really hurts”, Seungmin admitted, “I … I don’t think I can walk.” His lip wobbled dangerously and Chan was quick to intervene before he started crying again.

“How about I piggyback you?”, the leader suggested, “I know it’s not ideal but I really think you should get looked over as soon as possible.”

“Everyone will see…”, Seungmin whispered, looking down at his lap and cheeks turning red in embarrassment.

“Everyone will see an exhausted idol who did his best and needs some help from time to time, like everybody else”, Chan reassured. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time any of the staff or other idols had seen a sick or hurt member from a different group backstage. It was a sad reality in their line of work. “If it will make you feel better, you can take off your sweater? You could wear my jacket instead?”

Seungmin nodded gratefully, cheeks red in embarrassment. Quickly Chan took off his own black performance jacket while Minho helped Seungmin pull the soiled sweater vest over his head. It was not as difficult as they had feared, the sick already having seeped into the fabric and so not at risk of dripping everywhere. Still, it was disgusting - and Chan had to give Minho a lot of credit for schooling his face into a neutral expression. He was so happy his dongsaeng could take the soiled item off. 

Quickly he wrapped the shivering Seungmin into his own warm performance jacket. The stylists would just have to deal with the loss.

“Are you still feeling nauseous?”, Minho asked worriedly, holding onto Seungmin’s hand. The dirty shirt laid abandoned on the floor.

“Kinda, yeah”, Seungmin whispered, swallowing.

“I’ll try to be steady, okay? Let us know if you need a break”, Chan said with a tiny smile. It was not ideal to carry a sick, queasy and easily embarrassed member through crowded halls but they had to make due. 

Seungmin nodded. 

Without further ado, Chan turned around, trusting Minho to help Seungmin on his back. Within a minute he had a warm weight on his back, arms hooked under Seungmin’s thighs and the younger’s face pressed into his neck. He was uncomfortably warm and already Chan was sweating again after the show - Seungmin’s temperature really must be through the roof. Briefly Minho helped Chan to his feet then he vanished to the side, one of his hands on Seungmin’s back in a gesture of comfort.

🧭🐺

The walk back - now that they knew where they were going - was much quicker. To their luck they didn’t meet many people in the hallway, just an idol group they didn’t recognize giving them worried glances. 

Minho opened the door to the waiting room to let them in, only to be nearly bowled over by a worried Han. “Hyung, where were you? The managers wouldn’t say and I was wo … what happened to Seungminnie?” The rapper’s eyes went wide when he saw the younger carried in on Chan’s back. 

The rest of the members stared in shock for a second before rushing over to try to check on Seungmin. Chan felt Seungmin’s grip on him tighten and there was a quiet whimper coming from him. He understood, he too wouldn’t want to be crowded in a situation like this. Seungmin was already overwhelmed and overstimulated - a bunch of rambunctious young men, even if caring and his best friends, wouldn’t do him any good.

“Changbinnie?”, Chan called over the chaos, “please take the others to the car and go home. Minho and I will stay here while Seungmin-ah is getting checked over by the medics, okay?”

Changbin looked rather reluctant to leave the vocalist’s side but he nodded, quickly herding Hyunjin, Han, Felix and Jeongin with the help of a few managers to the door. Soon only Chan, Minho, Seungmin and one manager were left. 

Chan walked over to a couch, carefully setting Seungmin down. The younger immediately curled into himself and as Minho sat down on the floor next to him, he grasped his hyung’s hand tightly. He had his eyes squeezed shut and with the tears on his pale face and red flushes on his cheeks he looked the definition of pitiful. Chan sighed and made Seungmin stretch out his injured leg so he could elevate his foot on a pillow and the armrest of the couch. The younger just whimpered a bit, staying silent otherwise. 

“What happened?”, the manager asked, frowning, and already on the phone with the building’s medics. 

“Stomach flu, I guess”, Chan started to explain, “he said he threw up a few times today and then during the dance he twisted his ankle.”

The manager hummed and gave the information down the line to the medical operator, nudging a trash can closer to Seungmin with his foot.

🧭🐺

They had only waited for a few minutes - Chan at Seungmin’s head and playing with his hair, Minho holding his hand and whispering reassurances, and the manager in the corner to not overwhelm the vocalist - when suddenly Seungmin’s eyes shot open.

“Hyung”, he gasped, flailing around. He hiccoughed and then Minho shoved the bin under his face, seconds before his stomach contents spilled from his lips. The sound of the liquid hitting the bottom of the trash bin was enough to make Chan nauseous just from watching. Seungmin gagged and another wave of brownish vomit came up, splattering into the previous mess.

Tears trailed down the young man’s face as he tried to get a breath in before he threw up again. It was awful to watch.

“Chan, hold this”, Minho said in a small moment of respite, “he needs to sit up more.” 

Chan nodded and held the trash bin under Seungmin’s chin while Minho struggled with helping Seungmin sit upright, without touching his injured foot. It was obvious that the vocalist was really dizzy, clutching at his head in desperation. 

Minho barely had time to sit down next to him on the couch and wrap an arm around him, so Seungmin could lean on him, before the singer gagged harshly. It was a painful sound and Chan didn’t want to imagine how badly it must be hurting his throat. 

More sick came up without much more warning, spraying out of Seungmin’s mouth and nose as the young man sobbed. He was clutching at the bin with white knuckles.

Seungmin had never been good with vomit - despite the frequent migraines he suffered from. When he wasn’t half-blind with pain, vomiting was something that shook the younger to the core. He wasn’t necessarily emetophobic but he also was careful to take care of himself so he wouldn’t be sick. If he was sick despite trying hard to avoid it he always wanted somebody by his side. Still, his insecurities and fears of being a burden to his hyungs, had him ignore his mental well-being before, as he had today.

Chan was just glad he had somebody to hold him now.

“Hyung”, Seungmin whimpered, tearing Chan out of his thoughts. Chan let go of the bin with one hand to soothe the tight grip Seungmin had on the rim. 

“It’s going to be okay, baby, we’re here”, Minho assured, rubbing Seungmin’s back.

As Seungmin panted over the bin, seemingly unsure if he was about to throw up again, the door opened - admitting a medic. 

“Are you done?”, Chan asked gently, trusting the manager to speak with the paramedic before they tried to get closer. In this vulnerable position, Seungmin surely would not appreciate more eyes on him and prying questions.

“I don’t know, hyung, I don’t …”, Seungmin started but was cut off as his throat contracted again and he dry-heaved. It was pretty clear that he was basically empty.

“You’re going to be okay, baby”, Minho whispered, “let go of the bucket, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine.”

He gestured at Chan to take the bin away, which the leader gladly did. He didn’t think he could watch Seungmin so miserable much longer without bursting into tears himself. As he turned back around, Minho had Seungmin straddling his lap and the vocalist’s fist clutching at the stage outfit he was still wearing. Seungmin was crying silently into his shoulder with Minho running circles over his back.

🧭🐺

“Chan-ssi, the paramedic needs to take a look at Seungmin-ah now”, the manager said after a moment. 

Chan nodded and stood up from his position on the floor. “Min-ah”, he said quietly, placing a hand on Seungmin’s shoulder, “I’m sorry but can the medic check on you now? I promise you’ll feel better afterwards.”

Seungmin whimpered and clutched at Minho even more tightly. The dancer looked up at Chan with a worry written all over his face. It was such an un-Seungmin-like behavior but then again, the younger really was not feeling well. It could also be attributed to the fact that he was, after all, burning up.

“Seungmin-ssi”, the young, female medic addressed the vocalist in a comforting voice, “you don’t even need to let go of your hyung, okay? I just need you to turn a bit so I can check your foot over, hm?”

After a few tense seconds, Seungmin nodded and let Chan move him so he was still half on top of Minho but his legs were stretched out so the medic had easy access. Chan settled down on the floor next to them, pushing the disgusting bin away. The manager nodded at him and took it from him, leaving to empty it out. Chan placed one hand on Seungmin’s back and the other on Minho’s arm. The dancer gave him a shaky smile in thanks.

“I’ll take your shoe off now, okay?”, the woman said and Seungmin jerkily nodded. He didn’t make a sound despite the pain, obvious in his tense shoulders and the way he clutched Minho even tighter. 

🧭🐶

Seungmin buried his face in Minho’s chest, wishing he could just melt into his hyung. He was feeling terrible, his stomach churning, his ankle throbbing and even his arm was still hurting. He just wanted to go home. The paramedic was kind and careful but still it hurt when she touched and moved his ankle. Mino rubbed his back and Chan offered his hand to hold.

“Press as tightly as you need, Min-ah”, Chan whispered, “we got you.”

Between all the movement and the fever Seungmin was sure he had, at some point, passed out or at least spaced out all the way. Awareness returned to him when the medic let go of his foot and stood up.

“I can’t tell for sure if it’s broken or not. You need to go to the hospital for a CT or MRI scan to be certain. Until then, you can decide if you want an IV with pain meds first or not. I’d give up oral painkillers if you hadn't been throwing up, especially because they will put a new line in the hospital anyway. But considering your state I’d suggest the IV.”

Four pairs of expectant eyes turned to Seungmin and he shrunk under their glances. He didn’t want an IV. He’s never been a fan of needles and the thought of metal underneath his skin nauseated him. Besides, getting one now and then needing another one at the hospital - no, he didn’t think he could deal with that. He also didn’t want to go to the hospital but he knew none of his elders would allow it and deep down he knew he couldn’t avoid it anyways.

“I’m okay until the hospital.”

“Are you sure, Min-ah?”, Chan asked, kneeling down in front of Seungmin and taking his hands in his, “it will hurt a lot and we don’t know how soon they will take care of you. Being an idol only means privacy at the hospital, not necessarily better or faster service.”

“I’m sure”, Seungmin said, nodding resolutely. His future self would have to deal.

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

🧭🐶

Chan carried him to the company car, gently helping Seungmin get situated while Minho took the opportunity to slip into the other backseat next to the injured vocalist.

“Hey, I wanted to sit next to Seungmin-ah”, Chan complained, pouting a bit. Seungmin shakily laughed at his expression of betrayal. 

“Tough luck, Bang Chan-ssi”, Minho teased and clasped Seungmin’s hand in his. “I want Seungminnie-time too.” 

It was ridiculous seeing the two oldest members play-fighting over him like that but it warmed Seungmin’s heart. It felt good to be loved this deeply. When Chan first approached him about joining his team, Seungmin hadn’t even dared dream of becoming this close to the members. 

The lighthearted atmosphere was soon shattered though. Seungmin didn’t have a tendency to get carsick but with his stomach already upset as it was he felt every movement of the car and every bump in the street. As a rather deep pothole caused a burp to rise up his throat, Seungmin pressed the back of his free hand to his lips, partly nauseous and partly embarrassed. He always felt embarrassed by these bodily functions no matter how long he had been living only with young men roughly his age.

Along with the burp, nausea suddenly bubbled in his stomach again. Seungmin didn’t want to be sick again, he really really didn’t. But the heat that encompassed his whole body and the cold sweat starting to form at his temples hinted at a different outcome. His throat was tight, swallowing suddenly a difficult task. 

Seungmin tapped the inside of Minho’s wrist and bent over, the other arm moving from his mouth to hold his stomach. He hoped it was enough for his hyung to understand what he needed. He didn’t think that only words would come out if he tried to speak at that moment.

Luckily Minho understood what he wanted and handed over the trash bin they had borrowed from M-Net’s waiting room. They had stored it in Minho’s footrest to allow Seungmin a bit more freedom and so he could accidentally hit his foot against it. Now Seungmin placed it onto his lap, curling over it. He was so exhausted, he let his head rest against the rim - unable to hold it up further. 

A warm hand appeared on his back again and another ran through his hair, trying to soothe him. Another hand came to rest on his knee - Chan likely. Normally Seungmin would have felt overwhelmed with all the touches but now it was just comforting.

Another speed bump brought him out of his thoughts and before he even realized what happened, a mouthful of bile hit the bottom of the bin. The stench was burning his nose and Seungmin had to press his eyes shut as he saw the remnants of rice mushed up - he hadn’t eaten since breakfast but apparently even the rice he had shoved down back then hadn’t all come back up yet. 

“It’s okay, baby”, Chan’s comforting voice said. “We’re nearly there.”

Nearly there turned out to be another ten minutes but in retrospect Seungmin had to thank his leader for his lie. Knowing they would soon be there helped him keep calm the rest of the ride.

🧭🐶

The wait in the hospital was excruciatingly long. A nurse had ushered Minho and Chan, who was again carrying Seungmin, and the manager into a private examination room - but already apologetically saying that just because they were in an examination room the wait might still be a long time. 

It was. Seungmin was just glad he was allowed to lie down on the gurney, not sure if he would be able to stay upright in a chair. It was terribly cold in the room - even the members without high fevers (the nurse who had taken his vitals had announced it was pushing nearly 39.4°C) said it was. The manager had acquired one of those thin blankets and a pillow, while Chan hadn’t given one fuck and just laid down on the gurney with Seungmin. Seeing the young vocalist shiver, the leader hadn’t been able to endure.

Now snug under the blanket and in his leader’s arms, Seungmin was finally sleepy. His ankle pulsed and the nausea was still not gone fully but he was ready to drop off.

🧭🐶

“Wake up, baby”, Minho whispered, his breath tickling Seungmin’s ear. “A doctor is here to look you over.”

Seungmin groaned but forced himself to wake up. The sooner he got examined the sooner he could go home. Chan gently helped him sit up and face the young doctor standing in the room. 

“I’m going to do an IV”, the doctor announced without further ado, not even a greeting or introduction. Maybe Seungmin had just not heard it when asleep. Before Seungmin even had a chance to hold out his arm, the doctor, now sitting on a chair, yanked his arm forward and forced the sleeve of Chan’s jacket Seungmin was still wearing up. It was rude and it hurt, but Seungmin swallowed the tears down. He was an adult after all. He didn’t want to seem like a baby in front of his hyungs, the manager and a stranger.

Without any warning, the doctor tied the tourniquet around Seungmin’s upper arm, pulling it tight. Already Seungmin could feel the skin there getting bruised. But the doctor knew best, right? “Hold still”, the doctor said, tone kind of aggressive.

Seungmin had to swallow harshly. He hadn’t even moved, had he? Why was the doctor so rude?

He prepared himself for the uncomfortable touch and pull of finding a vein. It had always been difficult for doctors to find his veins and Seungmin knew with just how dehydrated he was it would probably be really difficult that day. 

The doctor sprayed the disinfectant on his elbow and then, he just … stabbed. He didn’t feel around, he didn’t didn’t test different places, he didn’t even check if there was a vein there. Surprised Seungmin let out a small yell, an expression of pain and fear. It hurt more than it should and well, the disinfectant burned. 

“Don’t be a wuss”, the doctor said, poking around with the needle that never filled with blood. Seungmin looked up when out of the corner of his eyes he saw Chan get up, an aura of anger surrounding him. But Seungmin shook his head. He didn’t want his leader to make a scene, he could endure. He would be fine.

Then the doctor pulled the needle out, pressing a cotton ball harshly against the blood running out. He rolled his eyes.

“Well, I guess I need to try again”, he said, sounding almost gleeful.

He did try again. Again and again. 

Seungmin just stared up at the ceiling, hoping the doctor would just find a vein. Normally he preferred to watch the doctors do their thing but he felt numb now. Bracing for the pain didn’t help. It hurt nevertheless.

The young vocalist nearly wished he had let Chan intervene. It was all becoming too much. But he didn’t dare seek eye contact with his hyungs now. He had after all just taken Chan’s help for granted, pushed him aside when he just wanted to help. Now he had to endure his pride. 

It was after a few tries, Seungmin supposed it was over five tries in different places at that point, that he made the mistake of looking. The needle was big - bigger than he had anticipated. Seungmin felt sick seeing it. Still, even after so many failed attempts the doctor didn’t care about trying to find a good spot, he just stabbed. It was the right word, really. The force he used was way too much for the delicate process, especially since he now aimed at Seungmin’s wrist.

It was not a conscious decision, anything else but conscious, when Suengmin flinched away harshly. Maybe it was the fever or the exhaustion or the pain but his reaction was slowed. So when he moved his arm away in fear, the needle was already embedded in his arm - tearing the skin open and blood gushing out instantly.

It was at that moment that Seungmin realized he was out of his depth. Blame it on the sickness but he suddenly felt too overwhelmed, sensitive. Tears shot into his eyes as he curled over the injury, weakly gagging. 

“Enough”, Chan yelled but Seungmin was too lost in pain and fear to really understand what was happening. 

🧭🐺

It was hard for Chan seeing one of his kids injured or sick or sad. Nearly having to let go of Minho and Felix before their debut. Losing Woojin. Hyunjin begging Stay to stay with him during the false bullying accusation. Seeing Changbin insecure over his looks and sad as the least biased member. Minho hiding away and pretending to be fine when people said he seemed like a cold and unlikable person. Han’s anxiety diagnosis and his panic attacks. Felix’s back injury. Jeongin beating himself up over mistakes. Seungmin never smiling anymore after haters commented on his braces. It all hurt Chan so much he sometimes wondered how he hadn’t broken down crying yet. 

Now, Seungmin was sick and injured and so clearly overwhelmed with everything that had happened. To some extent it was even worse seeing normally steadfast and dandy Seungmin be reduced to tears and covered in sick than seeing one of his more fragile members that way. 

Chan really wasn’t a fan of the young doctor. He seemed rude, arrogant and inexperienced. But he hoped the first impression was wrong. 

Sadly, it wasn’t. 

Chan and Minho watched from the sidelines as the doctor first prepared Seungmin’s arm for the IV insertion. The manager had left for a phone call. The pained yelp Seungmin let out when the doctor first pushed the needle in was heartbreaking. Chan never wanted any of the members to make a sound like that ever again. 

Chan very nearly didn’t believe his ears when the doctor told Seungmin to not be a wuss. What kind of doctor treated a patient like that, especially a young man who was in serious pain and ill at the same time? Chan started to feel anger bubbling up in him. How dare the man treat Seungmin like this? Like an unruly child rather than a sick and injured adult? 

He was about to speak up when he caught Seungmin’s eyes. The younger man shook his head slightly, obviously telling Chan to back off. Chan wouldn’t let Seungmin get hurt like this, no matter what the younger man wanted. He clearly wasn’t thinking straight.

But a hand on his arm washed away the red over his gaze. Don’t, Channie. Seungmin wouldn’t want a fuss. Minho looked like he had bitten into a lemon holding back from doing interfering but they both knew Seungmin wouldn't want that. The main dancer and main vocalist were both so alike that Chan trusted Minho to know what Seungmin would prefer.

So Chan clenched his jaw but held back on commenting on the doctor’s attitude. They did want to get Seungmin safe and home without a fuss. An argument over his head was not in the cards if it could be avoided. 

They watched frozen as the man pushed needle after needle into Seungmin, never finding a vein. It seemed almost sadistic. It was clear as day that the doctor couldn’t care less about his patient’s comfort. But they stayed quiet. After everything was over both of them would blame themselves for it.

Then it all went wrong. The doctor tried to find a vein in Seungmin’s wrist, a place that Chan knew was not the safest. But then Seungmin, who had appeared spaced out all during the previous attempts, jerked away. Immediately a spray of blood gushed out and along with it came the tears. Immediately Chan jumped to his feet, Minho following suit. The leader knew his voice took on the authoritative, angry tone that he only used when people - never his members - really fucked up. It was more than deserved in this case. 

“Enough!”

While all his senses screamed at Chan to rush to his crying Stray Kid, he knew it was his leader’s duty to do damage control. Besides, Minho had already rushed to Seungmin, gathering the young vocalist in his arms and chan trusted him to take care of him.

“What?”, the doctor asked, whirling around to come face to face with Chan.

The leader was much smaller than the other man but right now he didn’t care as he said flatly, threateningly: “Leave now. You have hurt Seungmin enough.” 

It was less than what he wanted to say but he also couldn’t just go around yelling at people even if it was his heart’s desire in this case. The real downside to being an idol. 

“Leave”, Chan repeated as the man made no move. He felt oddly calm now, eyes locked with the doctor. He hoped the anger and disgust at the medic’s unprofessionalism came across through his facial expression.  

As the doctor opened his mouth to retort, he was interrupted by the manager coming back inside. “What is going on in here?”

Chan was sure they were a sight. He himself yelling at a doctor much taller than him with Minho comforting a sobbing Seungmin in the background. He could have kissed the manager for his timing and felt his shoulder slump in relief. He didn't like yelling, even if deserved, and only ever did if there was no other choice. Starting now, the manager could deal with the doctor. 

“Please have him removed from the room”, Chan said, his tone leaving no room for arguments, “this man has been very rude to Seungmin, not treating him like needed in this situation, and he obviously not caring to actually do his job in finding a vein. He injured Seungmin without really trying to actually put the IV.”

“That is a lie”, the doctor barked, “you cannot prove anything.”

The manager’s eyes hardened and he gestured at the doctor to leave. “Go before I call security. The fact that you used the word ‘proof’ is proof enough for me.”

The doctor looked like he wanted to defend himself but as Chan shot him another look he decided against it, rushing from the room.

🧭🐶

The worst in Seungmin’s opinion was that they were causing a scene. He was causing a scene.

He heard how Chan was talking to the doctor, his protective leader instincts taking over. Seungmin didn’t like it one bit. While he knew it was for his own good and that Chan’s anger was not directed at him, he was still scared. Raised voices weren’t really his thing. Especially when he already felt so unwell and overwhelmed. 

“Hey, Seungminnie”, Minho whispered and removed the tourniquet from his arm. Then he ran his hand through Seungmin’s bangs to keep them away from his forehead, leaving his cool palm there. It felt heavenly - Seungmin’s whole body seemed to be freezing except for his burning forehead. “It’s gonna be alright, just you see. You know Channie-hyung would move mountains and make the world spin the other direction if you needed him to.” 

Seungmin blushed, ducking his head. It was true, all of what Minho had said. Bang Chan - best leader was an award deserved. It was comforting to be loved so deeply and at times even scary how far Chan would go to make them happy. Seungmin wished they could do the same for their leader one day.

Still he couldn't stop the tears soaking Minho’s shirt. He was trembling all over, only his wrist - that Minho had hastily pushed more of the cotton against to stop the flow of blood and which was now immobilized by the grip his hyung had on it - was held still.

Vaguely he was aware of the doctor leaving and then Chan was kneeling by his side, taking Seungmin’s hands laying limply in his lap into his.

“Hyung is sorry”, Chan whispered, now crying himself, “I should have stopped him before it got this far.”

He gently moved Minho’s hand away to look at the wound but again, immediately blood rushed out. Chan sobbed, resting his head on Seungmin’s lap. “I’m so sorry, Min-ah.”

To say Seungmin was shocked was an understatement. He had not expected Chan to react like this, to basically bow at his feet. 

“Hyungie, hyungie, it’s my fault”, Seungmin whispered through tears, “I thought I could do it. Don’t blame yourself.”

It was then that Minho took action. “Neither one of you is at fault”, he said sternly, in his no-nonsense voice that he usually used on the younger members when they were being a bit too hyper, “neither of you knew that the doctor would do this … whatever it was. A power trip maybe, but neither of you were part of that. We need to talk about this for sure but we will do so later when all of us are not so exhausted and sick.”

Seungmin nodded against Minho’s shoulder, running his hand through Chan’s curls. “It’s okay, hyung.”

When Chan lifted his head his eyes looked haunted but he nodded resolutely.

🧭🐶

“Boys, a new doctor is here”, the manager said and all three of them turned around to see an older woman step into the room, her smile hidden beneath her mask but her eyes kind.

Before any of them could say anything, she stepped forward and bowed deeply. “I’m terribly sorry for what happened, Seungmin-ssi, Bang Chan-ssi. I was not aware that this doctor would be capable of mistreating patients. I heard from his direct colleagues that he apparently isn’t a fan of idol culture and has been rude to idols before, though never to this extent. I hope you can accept the hospital’s apologies.”

“Apologies accepted”, Seungmin mumbled, too tired to care much about pleasantries at the moment. 

Chan nodded reluctantly but then added: “Will there any legal action be taken? His treatment of a patient was unacceptable.”

“He won’t be allowed to treat idols anymore but it will be very hard to prove that he maliciously tried to manipulate the attempts to take blood. I believe you but I can’t promise that the upper management or a court would”, she replied, looking guilty.

“I will talk to our legal department”, the manager promised.

“Can you look over Seungminnie now?”, Minho then asked, “He's really tired and I would like to take him home soon.”

Any other day Seungmin would have hated how his hyung spoke over his head but today it was a welcome relief. He just wanted to be done.

“Of course”, she said, “if Seungmin agrees?”

He appreciated her effort to include him and his opinions, so he tried to smile when he nodded. He was sure that it was just a grimace though.

“Let me wrap your wrist real quick. After that I would like to examine your foot to determine what might be wrong before we do any scans. Your hyungs said you also got the stomach flu and you are running a fever. I know it sounds scary and I really hate to do it but I need to put in an IV line first so we can get you medicated. Is that alright with you?”

Swallowing down the fear, Seungmin nodded and let himself rest against Minho’s chest. Getting his injured wrist wrapped wasn’t that bad and the bleeding stopped soon. Then the bad part came.

“Okay, let me see. I promise I will be gentle. If you need me to stop, just tell me and I will”, the doctor said and Seungmin held out his shaking arm. “Oh, you’re really dehydrated, honey.”

Seungmin watched as she felt his arm up and down, wincing as she accidentally pressed on a few of the spots the other doctor had tried.

“Can I see the other arm?”

But with the other arm she seemed even less happy. The doctor returned to the original arm, wincing when she saw a bruise of the failed attempt earlier form, and made Seungmin open and close his fist. The tourniquet she placed on his upper arm burned but not as much as it did earlier. The disinfectant spray was icy cold.

“I don’t feel comfortable doing a line in your elbow since it’s so bruised. I want to try the back of your hand, okay?”

Seungmin nodded numbly, pressing his back closer to Minho. Still, he couldn’t look away. Seeing was better than not seeing. 

The doctor gently slapped his hand, trying to cause more blood flow, feeling around again. “I’m not really happy here but I want try anyway. You’re making finding a vein really hard in your state.”

If Seungmin wasn’t raised as a nice person he would have rudely told her it wasn’t his fault that he was dehydrated and that the IV couldn’t be placed in the most convenient, easiest place. But even in his tired state he knew she only meant to make conversation. So he nodded his consent, feeling Chan take his other hand in support.

“Small pinch”, the doctor said and Seungmin had a millisecond to brace himself before … before he violently jerked his hand away. It was a subconscious move and he was lucky she hadn’t touched his skin yet. The doctor jumped in surprise and Seungmin was quick to apologize: “I’m sorry … I …” 

He stumbled horribly over his words. He didn’t even really know what to say. It was scary, getting a needle under his skin. It hurt. He didn’t want to feel the pain again.

“It’s quite alright”, the doctor replied. “Just tell me when you’re ready to try again.”

“Breathe, Min-ah”, Chan said, gently pressing his hand, “we’re right here with you.”

After a few deep breaths, guided by his hyungs, Seungmin felt ready again. Well, not ready to start but ready to be done with the ordeal.

But it wasn’t to be so. Even as Seungmin didn’t flinch away and the doctor moving the needle around under his skin, she couldn’t put in the line. They couldn’t quite blame her - she was obviously trying and very apologetic. Plus, they all knew drawing blood from Seungmin was hard on a normal day.

“I really don’t like doing this but I think our last chance is putting the line in your wrist”, the doctor finally said, “otherwise we will have to try your foot and that is a really uncomfortable place for an IV, especially since then both your feet would be compromised.”

Seungmin just sighed and turned his body so his head rested against Minho’s shoulder. While he normally wanted to see, right now he was overwhelmed with all the sensory input. He hated the thought of having a needle in his wrist but the foot was even less desirable.

“Just do it”, he whispered.

To their collective surprise, the doctor slid in the needle easily and then she exclaimed: “I got it. It’s in, Seungmin-ssi. You did so well.”

Reluctantly Seungmin peeked out from his hiding place and immediately regretted it. The sight of the needle embedded in his wrist, so close to arteries and bones was nauseating. As he was already sick and nauseous, it was too much.

“I feel sick”, he whispered. The doctor reached over to a shelf but it wasn’t fast enough. 

Seungmin couldn’t even muster the energy to try to stop the wave of nausea crashing over him. He just opened his mouth and let the gags tear through his throat. Bile and spit dangled from his lips, gently wiped away by Chan holding a tissue. Maybe he finally was empty. Nothing would come up.

“You’re scheduled for an MRI soon”, the doctor explained, still holding the emesis basin she had taken out of the shelf, “I’m going to give you an antiemetic, fluids and painkillers through the line. You should feel better soon. Please try to drink a bit if you can.”

With those words she left the room.

🧭🐶

The wait for the MRI was thankfully short and the medicine was starting to work quickly. The worst thing was Chan forcing Seungmin to take a few sips of water.

Soon Seungmin was lifted into a wheelchair and moved into the MRI room. His jewelry was taken off and soon enough Seungmin was flying flat on the movable platform. The technician pressed a bell into his hand and told him to press it in case of emergency. Then he was inside the machine, eyes pressed shut. He was drifting, not really taking anything in.

The MRI was loud, metal clanking everywhere. It didn’t matter - Seungmin was so tired he basically fell asleep the moment his eyes were closed. 

He was awoken by a voice talking to him. Was he done? He hoped so. But then the words registered in his mind. “I will push the contrast agent in now. You might feel a bit warm but let me know if anything becomes unbearable.”

Seungmin nodded and then he felt what the woman had said. It was like he suddenly was burning from the inside, everything too hot. But he did not expect the disgusting taste in his mouth. He didn’t know how or what had happened, if that was supposed to happen, but the nausea that the antiemetic had valiantly fought against, rose again at the taste.

“Take me out, I need out”, Seungmin pleaded. “I can’t - it’s too hot. I …”

He couldn’t finish his sentence. His chest spasmed and vomit spilled from his lips. Seungmin doubted it was much more than the water he had drunk but it was terrifying laying on his back. Without warning he was turned to the side and the vomit spilled down his cheek. It was disgusting but much better than choking on it.

“Okay, okay, you’re okay”, the technician said. But as Seungmin opened his eyes he saw his leader kneeling by his side. 

“Channie-hyung”, he whispered. 

Chan smiled and wiped Seungmin’s face. “I got you, baby.”

🧭🐺

Chan looked down at the sleeping vocalist on his lap. Seungmin had fallen asleep after throwing up during the MRI. Apparently some patients could taste the contrast agent and it had triggered Seungmin’s sensitive stomach. Chwas was just glad that Seungmin was now asleep, the vocalist had been stretched far beyond his limits of the day.

The doctor had determined that it was indeed a broken ankle and now Seungmin’s foot was in a cast, resting on Minho’s lap. They finally were on their way home with prescriptions for nausea medication, fever reducers and painkillers, as well as a pair of crutches. 

But for now Seungmin was asleep and that was what he needed most. 

“Don’t worry, Chan”, Minho whispered to not disturb their dongsaeng, “he will be fine, just you wait. Soon enough he will chase us through the dorm on crutches and be an absolutely terrible delight.”

Masterlist links: Fairy's Masterlist 2024 Fairy's Masterlist 2025 Fairy's Masterlist - Stray Kids

[dudadragneel]

And I'm back!

I hope you'll enjoy it!

This fic is based on a TikTok I saw!

THE ONLY HYUNG

Idols tend to receive tons of gifts from fans to the point where the companies issue a statement that they won't be accepting any more. But that also has to do with their safety, you never know what a sasaeng can do.

One day, Chan and Lee Know decided to go live to open some of the gifts they had recently received.

They had managed to get the staff away so they could be a little more carefree during the live, but still paying attention to what they said.

They enjoyed opening up all the presents and fan letters, some even made them tear up.

It was all going well until things unexpectedly took a turn for the worse. Before going live they had lunch and since eating Lee Know was feeling bloated, as if he ate a serving for three people.

As they went on he kept on taking his hand to his stomach and rubbing it in useless attempts to calm it down. But he kept his composure, as much as he could, the last thing he wanted was to get sick live.

Chan had picked up on Lee Know's obvious discomfort and placed a hand on his thighs, trying to comfort him without saying anything.

Lee Know tried his best to focus on his hyung's touch and the presents, but eventually, it got too much. His stomach was churning and his head started to hurt as well.

Before he even noticed he had lowered his head so it was now resting on his hand and Chan immediately stopped everything he was doing and turned his attention to Lee Know.

- hyung...I feel sick...

Chan got closer to him and started massaging his nape. He knew that if Lee Know admitted to feeling unwell, it meant it was really bad.

The staff that was monitoring the live from another room, had gone to the room where they were but before they could get in, Chan glared at them, and a single nod made them leave. He knew Lee Know wouldn't want attention right now.

- Do you want some water?

- No...I feel nauseous...

He said, bringing his hand to his stomach one more time and letting out a sigh. Chan grabbed Lee Know's hand and started rubbing it with his thumb.

- Do you wanna go to the bathroom?

- hm...I want to throw up...

- Let's go. Hyung will help you.

Chan placed his arms under Lee Know's and helped him up, being in a standing position was not something his stomach had agreed to so he lurched forward suppressing a gag with his hand.

- Hang on just a little more, okay?

He embraced his dongsaeng and guided him to the bathroom and into one of the stalls, locking the door behind them.

Usually, Lee Know would rather deal with this on his own but he acted like a dongsaeng when he was with Chan. The difference in how he acts is huge.

Lee Know bent over, hands on the edges for support, and started gagging unproductively.

He kept on rocking back and forth, spitting out saliva and retching, but whatever it was that made him feel like that was not coming up.

Chan was rubbing his back up and down, with the softest expression on his face.

- hyung...

Lee Know whined.

- I know it hurts... it'll be over soon.

Lee Know squeezed his eyes when his stomach cramped badly making him gag unproductively again.

Chan took his chance to help his dongsaeng by gently rubbing his abdomen in a circular motion.

Lee Know retched a few times before a wet burp triggered his sensitive stomach, bringing up partially digested food. Chan could swear he saw chunks of what was Lee Know's lunch from earlier and grimaced at the gross sight.

His stomach did not give him a break and before he could even breathe, it sent up a thicker stream of putrid vomit immediately followed by another making the poor boy go red from the effort and sway forward.

Chan tightened his hold on Lee Know so that the boy wouldn't fall and used his other hand to rub Lee Know's chest, trying to comfort the sick boy.

- Agh...

Lee Know groaned at the discomfort he was feeling before another bout of vomit gushed out with a wet burp, arching his back.

- You're doing good. Get everything out. It must have been the lunch. You'll feel better when it's all out of your system.

Lee Know spat out thick saliva and then his stomach gave him a break. But now his head was throbbing from the ordeal and he felt a little dizzy, like someone was squeezing his head.

- Minho-ah? Do you think you're done?

- Hyung...I need to sit down...

- Are you feeling dizzy?

- hm...

Lee Know just nodded swallowing hard. Chan carefully guided him so he was now sitting down on the floor. Thank God for the ridiculously clean bathrooms of the company.

The younger boy was kind of in a daze with how things went south in a matter of minutes, so Chan stepped up to keep on helping him, getting some toilet paper to wipe Lee Know's mouth.

- Thanks hyung...

- How are you feeling?

Chan asked sitting beside Lee Know who was resting his head on his hand again and kept on rubbing his back reassuringly.

- Sick...my stomach is churning and now my head hurts...

- Do you want to move to the studio?

- No... I feel like I'll throw up again...

- Okay. We'll stay here then. I'll be right here with you.

Chan reassured, grabbing Lee Know's hand and squeezing it.

- Agh..

Lee Know winced again...

- What is it?

- My head is throbbing....Hyung...can I rest my head on your hand?

- Of course.

Chan couldn't deny that he was taken aback by the sudden request, Lee Know being this vulnerable was a rare sight, one that was mostly only shown to Chan.

Lee Know rested his head on his hyung's hand, allowing the whole weight to be held by Chan. The pressure against his forehead miraculously helped with the throbbing pain.

Even so, Chan kept rubbing Lee Know's back, and for a while, the young boy seemed to have calmed down.

- Minho-ah, were you feeling like this before?

- Only after lunch...my stomach felt too full...

- I think it might've been the lunch.

The young boy was still resting his head on his hyung's hand when he started shivering a bit. Chan could feel Lee Know's forehead was starting to feel hot and that was an indicator that this wasn't a case of food not sitting well, it was most likely food poisoning.

- It's cold in here...

- I think you're starting to run a fever, Minho-ah. I'm pretty sure this is food poisoning.

- Great.

Lee Know said, clearly getting mad at the situation. He hated feeling sick, weak, and vulnerable but he felt safe to feel like this when he was with Chan.

The chills just wouldn't stop and his stomach was determined to get everything out.

It cramped badly again making him gag, startling Chan a bit, who was still holding the boy's head.

- Hyung...I'm gonna be sick...

He said weakly gagging again on his hand and failing to contain a bit of liquid that escaped his mouth but thankfully hit the floor and didn't get on his clothes. He already felt too weak so Chan had to help him to the toilet, holding his forehead and keeping the boy's hair away from his eyes.

Lee Know didn't even have time to think before his stomach contracted making more vomit rush up his throat. The thick wave that came out still had chunks of food, given that he had just eaten, and it triggered another wave that was followed by another one leaving him breathless.

- You're really not okay.

Chan said, somewhat impressed by how quickly his symptoms worsened, which meant that Lee Know's immune system was not in good condition.

The older boy kept on rubbing Lee Know's back and then moved to his chest when he choked, the bout that followed made food come out of his nose as well.

Fuck. He cursed inside, today just wasn't his day, and if it was really food poisoning, then this suffering would last a few days.

He straightened his back and took a deep breath in, trying to control his body, but gagged a few times before he was over the toilet one more time retching up what felt like it was yesterday's dinner.

After this bout he was dry heaving, just barely bringing up thick saliva and bile. Chan decided to flush the toilet before the stench and sight triggered Lee Know's stomach again.

- Grab my hand.

Chan offered but he didn't even need to, as Lee Know did that immediately, trying to take deep breaths to control the nausea that persisted.

- Come on, breathe with me, just like what we did that day.

Lee Know was still squeezing Chan's hand as he was guided through the breathing exercise. A few minutes after, he was more calm.

- Better?

- Yeah...

- Do you feel like you're gonna puke again?

- No...not now at least.

- Do you wanna move to the studio?

- Yeah...hyung, can you help me up? I feel dizzy...

- Sure, come on.

Chan placed his arms under Lee Know's again and lifted him, most of the boy's weight being held by his hyung.

- Let's rinse your mouth first.

While Lee Know did that, Chan wiped the sweat off his damp forehead and only then noticed that Lee Know's face was already pretty flushed because of the fever.

And the dancer couldn't deny, his whole body ached because of the fever, even Chan's hold on him hurt.

The oldest carefully guided Lee Know to his studio and lay him on the couch, covering his shivering body with a blanket and leaving a bin nearby.

- Minho-ah, hyung will go tell the manager what happened and see what we'll do okay?

- Yes...

When Chan got to the practice room, he was met with worried eyes, that were clearly asking what happened without saying a word.

- Chan-hyung, where were you?

- You were doing a live with Lee Know hyung, right?

- Yeah. Kids, gather here. Lee Know got sick, he probably has food poisoning. He threw up a couple of times and he's running a fever.

- Where is he?

- I took him to my studio, that's the place where he'd get more privacy.

At that time, their manager came into the room and upon noticing one member missing went straight to the gathered group.

- What happened? Where Lee Know-ssi?

- He got sick during the live. He threw up a few times and he's running a fever. I'm guessing it's food poisoning. Should we take him to the hospital?

- Going to the hospital can be a hassle, especially because of the possibility of encountering fans and god forbid, saesengs. Let's take him home and see if we can make him stay hydrated and fed, if in two days he doesn't manage to keep anything down, well take him.

- Okay.

- Since you have no official schedules, if you want to you can go home as well kids.

- I think Lee Know-hyung would want to keep his privacy for a while. We'll go have lunch and go back home later.

- Okay then.

The manager said, leaving the room to inform the other staff about the situation.

- Kids, can you gather Lee Know's thing for me? I'll go check on him.

- Yes, hyung.

Chan promptly left the room, worried about the sick dongsaeng in his studio. Opening the door, he found Lee Knows hunched over the couch spilling more of his stomach's content into the bin.

He went to his side, sitting on the edge of the couch, repeating the same process from earlier, holding his forehead and rubbing his back, and noticing that the fever had worsened, he could feel the heat through Lee Know's clothes.

- Hyung...it hurts...

- I know... we'll take you home in a few minutes okay?

- Okay.

- Can I dispose of this? Or are you gonna vomit again?

- I feel empty...but the nausea is still here...

- Okay.

Chan went to the bathroom and quickly returned.

- The boys gathered your things, the managed will take us home.

Lee Know stood out his arms so Chan could help him sit up and then waited a few seconds to see if he would throw up again.

- You good?

- Yeah...

- Want me to carry you?

Lee Know's face which was already red due to the fever had gotten even more red.

- Uhm...

He hummed in agreement, head down a little embarrassed. Chan just smiled fondly, even though Lee Know couldn't see.

The leader positioned himself kneeling in front of Lee Know so he could climb on his back, wrapping his arms around his hyun and burying his face.

Chan walked out of his studio and was greeted by their manager holding Lee Know's bag and a big coat which he used to cover Lee Know who was still shivering.

Thankfully their van was parked in the garage so no chance of paparazzi.

Chan settled Minho inside the car and sat beside him, pulling his head so it was resting on his shoulder.

- Manager-nim, do we have a plastic bag?

- I think we do, hold on.

The manager looked inside the glove box and found a plastic bag from one of the many grocery shopping he did with the kids, and handed it to Chan.

- If you feel sick, just let me know okay?

- hmm...

Lee Know just hummed, his fever making him sleepy and dizzy. Chan offered his hand for the sick boy to hold and he did it without hesitation. And again Chan was surprised by how hot he felt, it was high enough to mess with his breathing, and they didn't have a thermometer in the studio so he had no idea how high it was.

A few minutes into the ride home, Lee Know felt increasingly nauseous, burping wetly from time to time. Then he felt something creeping up his chest, a foul taste in his mouth.

He squeezed Chan's hand as he began to swallow convulsively, not wanting to throw up in front of their manager.

- Are you feeling nauseous again?

Lee Know just nodded, swallowing hard and then suppressing a gag, his stomach clearly mad at him for trying to swallow it down.

- Don't hold it in, Minho-ah. He's seen us sick before.

Chan reassured, not letting go of Lee Know's hand and putting the bag under his chin.

The boy helplessly ducked his head closer to the bag just in time for a wet burp to bring up a wave of putrid liquid hitting the bag. Lee Know kept squeezing Chan's hand, that was the only thing keeping him sane and grounded at the moment. Another queasy burp brought up another mouthful of vomit, and by now both he and Chan were thinking he was vomiting everything he ate during the week.

- We're almost there Lee Know-ssi.

Lee Know Just spat out some thick saliva and then just leaned his whole weight on Chan, who was holding the dirty bag, wanting to get rid of it as soon as possible, before the stench filled the car.

When they arrived at the dorms, the manager quickly got out of the car and went to Chan's side to get the bag and dispose of it.

- Minho-ah. We're home.

Chan said softly, caressing the sick boy's arm in an attempt to wake him up. Lee Know was barely conscious but he managed to move so he was sitting on the edge of the car's seat for Chan to pick him up.

- Here we go. Are you okay? Do you feel nauseous?

- No...

- Okay, I'll start moving then.

The manager carried their stuff while Chan carried a flushed face Lee Know, who also looked a little pale.

Entering the dorm, Chan sat Lee Know on the couch and the manager put their things in their bedrooms.

- Call me if you need anything, okay? I'll leave you two alone. Get better soon, Lee Know-ssi.

- Thanks, hyung.

Lee Know said before ducking his head and looking between his knees, he brought a hand to his stomach and sighed. Chan had gone to the bedroom to get Lee Know a fresh set of clothes and a thermometer.

- Let me take your temperature and then I'll help you take a bath, okay?

- yes...

Just as Chan suspected, the fever was really high 38.8°C.

- Minho-ah, we need to cool you down and we need to try to take some medicine, okay?

Just the thought of having to take a pill and most likely taste it was enough to trigger his stomach.

- hyung...

Lee Know called grabbing Chan's arm for dear life.

- bathroom...

He already felt something coming up his throat so he didn't manage to say a proper sentence.

- Come on.

Chan promptly helped his dongsaeng up, grabbed the change of clothes, and rushed to the bathroom with him.

Lee Know went straight to the toilet, vomit spewing out without much control and getting on the edges and the floor.

- Don't worry about that, hyung will clean it up.

Chan reassured placing the clothes on the sink and then going to Lee Know's side to rub his back and his chest for the nth time that day. Chan was scared at how much content was still coming out after the few rounds from earlier, he was getting afraid they'd have to take him to the hospital. As the oldest hyung, he just wanted his dongsaeng's well-being but avoiding the hospital is something everyone wanted.

As Lee Know continued to puke his guts out, Chan prepared his bath.

When he was done, Chan helped him out of his sweaty clothes and helped him into the shower, thankfully they had a bathtub because Lee Know was in no state to keep standing.

- Minho-ah, do you want hyung to wash your hair?

- please...

All this cuteness and vulnerability just showed how awful he was feeling. Chan carefully washed his hair and hoped the bath would help reduce his fever.

- Thanks, hyung

- Don't mention it. I'll let you take your bath now but I'll stay here just in case.

Lee Know slowly washed himself, the water hitting his skin making him wince from how much it stung. What usually would be a means to relax, today was almost a torture session.

When he was done, he surprisingly asked Chan for help getting dressed, and so his hyung did. He was now clean, wearing comfortable clothes and completely drained of his batteries.

- Come on, let's get you to bed. Do you feel like you're vomit again?

- No...not now...I'm tired...

- I know, let's go.

Chan cooed, wrapping his arms around Lee Know and guiding him to his bedroom. Since Lee Know shared a bedroom with another member, Chan thought it would be better for the young boy to sleep in his bedroom. That way he could keep an eye on him, and Lee Know could be more comfortable since he didn't like to show this side to the others.

Lee Know lay down on his hyung's bed and was promptly covered with a blanket by him.

- I will get you an antiemetic first and see how you'll hold up, okay? You need to put something in your stomach, water, a sports drink, soup. I'll be right back.

The poor boy's fever was so high, it was tearing up his eyes, and his head was still throbbing. He just sunk into the pillow and closed his eyes to ease some of the pain until Chan came back.

- Minho-ah. Here take these and let's wait.

- Hyung...my head is still throbbing...

- I'll sim the lights for you. let's see if the antiemetics work, then you'll try to eat something so I can give you painkillers, okay?

- Yes...

Chan stayed with Lee Know in the bedroom and within a few minutes the medication seemed to have worked.

- Do you think you can stomach some soup? Or bread? It might help better than soup actually.

- Bread...

He answered weakly, eyes half open.

Chan came back with a few slices of bread and gave them to Lee Know, who hesitantly took it.

- Just a few bites okay?

The older boy helped Lee Know to sit up on the bed, he was wearing a black hoodie and was half-covered with a blanket. Lee Know was fairly muscular but to Chan, at that moment, he looked so tiny.

He sat at the edge of the bed and stayed with Lee Know while the poor boy took small bites and slowly ate the slices.

- How do you feel? Nauseous?

- No...feels settled...for now.

- That's good.

Chan set the tray aside and placed his hand on Lee Know's forehead.

- It's still high. Let me check it.

The thermometer showed almost the same temperature from earlier, 38.5°C.

- it's still pretty high. Do you think you can stomach some pills?

- Yes...

- Take them with a sports drink, that way you won't feel the taste.

Chan quickly left and came back with the medication and the drinks. Lee Know took them and gagged but managed to swallow it. They waited a few seconds to see if he'd vomit but it didn't happen.

Lee Know was falling asleep even while sitting, so Chan carefully laid him down on the bed, placed an ice pack on his forehead, and covered him before leaving the room to eat something and get a mattress.

Then he was met with the rest of the kids who had just returned home.

- Hyung! How's Lee Know-hyung?

- He threw up again but after taking some medication, he managed to eat something. He was pretty tired so he's asleep now. He'll stay in my room for the time being, okay?

- Okay hyung.

- Let's just keep quiet. I don't want to wake him up.

They all had dinner, took a shower, and then went to do their own stuff but before telling Chan to tell Lee Know they wished he gets better soon.

Chan entered the bedroom and found Lee Know still asleep, his breathing was a bit off but it was due to the fever. He hoped the sick boy would sleep well through the night, but those prayers were not heard.

Chan checked on Lee Know one more time before going to bed himself but was woken up after 1h or so.

Lee Know was sleeping rather peacefully when his stomach decided to remind him he was going through a food poisoning process.

It started churning again, in complete turmoil making Lee Know toss and turn on the bed but no position was comfortable enough. He lay on his back and squeezed his hands in an attempt to control the urge to vomit.

It didn't work, he turned to his side and that must've been the worst decision he made that day. As soon as he turned his stomach jumped shooting up its contents way too fast, Lee Know rushed out of the room, hand covering his mouth so he wouldn't make a mess on the floor, that would be too humiliating.

He got to the bathroom, hurriedly closing the door behind him and bending over the toilet as a stream of bread mixed with stomach juice gushed out, immediately followed by another bout.

The motion of getting up so quickly and being bent over made him feel really dizzy, so before he could actually fall, he managed to sit down next to the toilet. His stomach was cramping badly, sending queasy burps repeatedly but not actually making him vomit, even though he felt like there were still things to come out.

He was starting to feel even more miserable than before, and he was sure his fever spiked again, even his clothes were hurting his skin.

He sat for a few seconds on the floor not sure of what to do, then he noticed his phone inside his hoodie pocket.

- Hyung. Can you come to the bathroom? Just need to know you're here.

Chan was already half awake when he got the message.

- Be right there.

He got up and made his way to the bathroom, but he didn't go in. He respected Lee Know's request of just being close, if the sick boy needed him inside with him, he'd say.

He sat by the door and gently ordered one of the members who had woken up to use the other bathroom, wanting to secure Lee Know's privacy as much as he could.

Chan kept hearing Lee Know retching over the toilet but never heard anything splashing in the water and he thought that maybe Lee Know had nothing else in his stomach.

But a few minutes later, he got another message.

- Hyung...come in, please...

Chan got up and politely knocked on the door, letting Lee Know know he was coming in.

Chan's heart dropped to his stomach when he saw Lee Know's state. His face was bright red from the fever that was obviously higher than before, he was sitting next to the toilet holding his stomach and with a pained expression on his face.

The leader locked the door behind him and walked up to Lee Know, grabbing his hand and feeling the heat of his skin.

- Minho-ah...

- hyung...it hurts...

Lee Know said, tears swelling up in his eyes. Chan immediately pulled him into an embrace, allowing him to break down if he needed to. It was a rare occurrence to see Lee Know cry, so whenever he needed to, Chan was always there to provide him the safe space he so much needed.

Lee Know broke down into sobs from frustration, pain, and embarrassment. Chan tightened his grip around him, gently rocking him from side to side, rubbing his back.

- It's okay. Hyung's got you.

When Lee Know finally calmed down, he kept looking down, still embarrassed by everything that was happening.

- hyung...I've been trying...but nothing's coming up...and it hurts so bad...

- Do you want hyung to help you?

- hmm.

Lee Know nodded shyly, hating to admit he was desperate for a comforting touch.

He leaned over the toilet, his stomach still cramping but only making him dry-heave and nothing came up.

Chan was by his side and rested his hand on Lee Know's abdomen and it felt heavenly for the sick boy. Because of his scar, Lee Know wasn't too comfortable with people touching his abdomen, but right now he really needed that.

- Can I press on it a bit? I think it'll help bring something up.

- please...

Lee Know pleaded, clearly done with how awful he felt, he was accepting every and any help.

Chan first started rubbing circles to soothe some of the pain and gently pressed the middle, earning a wince from Lee Know.

- I'm sorry...but it'll be over soon.

The motion seemed to be working as Lee Know started burping wetly and for a while, gagging unproductively.

Chan proceeded to press on his stomach until Lee Know retched wetly and a thick stream of putrid pale brown liquid hit the toilet water with a sickening sound, followed by another harsher one, leaving Lee Know breathless.

He coughed a few times because something got stuck in his throat, and Chan changed his approach to run his chest again as well as his back providing some comfort in the middle of the ordeal.

Another wet cough brought up small chunks of food mixing with the mess inside the bowl.

Lee Know scooted away from the toilet for a while, allowing Chan to flush it and get rid of the unsettling sight. He grabbed a few napkins to clean Lee Know's mouth and pulled the poor sick boy into his embrace so he could try to relax for a bit.

- I'm sorry hyung...

- You don't need to apologize.

- But I took over your room and now I can't even let you sleep...

- It's not your fault, Minho-yah. You had no idea you'd get food poisoning.

- What about the others?

- I made sure they'd stay away from the bathroom and my room, at least for now. I know you don't like much attention when you're sick.

- Thanks...I feel dizzy...

- It's because of the fever. Let me check your temperature again.

Chan took the thermometer from the cabinet and put it under Lee Know's arm.

- 39.1°C. It spiked.

It was obvious his fever got higher, he was looking red as a tomato, even his breathing felt hot, and despite wearing sweatpants and a hoodie he couldn't stop shivering.

- Minho-yah. Do you wanna take another shower? Or do you think you can stomach a fever reducer? If we don't get your temperature down, we'll have to go to the hospital.

As if on cue, Lee Know's stomach shot up what felt like it was the last of its contents barely giving him time to reach the toilet bowl, thankfully Chan helped him, otherwise he'd soil his clothes. The older boy gave him a glass of water so he could rinse his mouth and helped him brush his teeth.

- Thanks hyung...

- So, what do you wanna do?

- I don't wanna take another shower...my skin hurts every time something touches me.

- Then we'll try the pill again. Let's go back to the bedroom.

Chan offered a hand but Lee Know was far too exhausted to get up on his own, let alone walk.

- Come here, hyung will help you.

He put his arms under Lee Know's and carefully helped him to his feet but his legs almost instantly gave up on him.

- I'll carry you, okay?

- hmm.

Lee Know was in no state to protest, and honestly, he didn't want to. His hyung's presence and touch helped him more than Chan could imagine.

Chan hugged Lee Know and gently lifted him, one arm around his waist and the other around his legs. The image of a father carrying a son, that's how one would describe it.

He walked slowly to the bedroom, being extremely careful to not upset Lee Know's stomach, which seemed to have calmed down for a while.

He settled Lee Know on the bed and looked for a clean shirt and hoodie.

- Let's get you changed up. You sweat too much, your clothes are soaked.

Chan helped Lee know out of his hoodie and shirt and before putting on the clean ones, he wiped Lee Know's upper body, then helped him put on the new set.

- Can we take the medication now?

- Hmm

- Here, take one antiemetic and wait for a bit. Then take the fever reducer and another antiemetic.

Lee Know hesitantly took the pills from Chan's hand and contemplated for a bit, clearly afraid of vomiting again. He didn't want that, his whole body hurt because of the strain and the fever, and his throat was hurting as well, to the point his voice was raspy.

- Trust hyung, okay? You can keep it down, I know you can.

Chan reassured grabbing Lee Know's hand and started rubbing circular patterns.

Just like before, the first sip of water with the pill made him gag, but he managed to take everything.

Both he and Chan stayed sitting on the bed, waiting until Lee Know felt safe enough to lie down.

- How are you feeling? Still nauseous?

- just a bit...

- Do you wanna lay down?

- Yeah.

He lay down and Chan covered him, then lay down on the mattress next to the bed.

- Hyung...

He heard a soft whiny voice coming from above, it was Lee Know standing out his hand, after moving to the edge of the bed.

- What is it?

- Can you hold my hand?

- Of course.

Chan grabbed Lee Know's hand and just held it until he fell asleep. But he didn't let go, he knew Lee Know needed that, so he found a way of sleeping while holding his hand.

Thankfully, the medication seemed to have worked, at least for the night, because Lee Know slept until morning without any other incidents during the night.

When Chan woke up the first thing he did was check Lee Know's temperature.

- 38°C. It went down a bit, thank god.

He said quietly. Since Lee Know was in deep sleep, Chan quietly left the room to get breakfast and see the other kids.

- Good morning, hyung.

- Good morning kinds.

- How's Lee Know-hyung?

- He's still asleep. He managed to keep a few pills down yesterday, so his fever went down a bit, but it's still high.

- And you, hyung? How are you doing?

- I'm okay. He's got food poisoning, so I think we are all in the clear.

- Aren't you tired? We know you. We know you didn't get enough sleep.

- I'm doing good, kids. Don't worry about me. My concern now is getting Lee Know better.

Chan said walking to the kitchen to prepare something for him and a soup or some toast for Lee Know.

When he got back to the bedroom he found Lee Know sitting on the bed but still covered with the blanket, eyes puffy and face still red.

- Good morning.

- Good morning hyung...

Lee Know answered, voice raspy and weak, signs of a rough night.

- How are you feeling?

- Tired...

- And your stomach?

- A little nauseous but not that much...and a bit hungry.

- I made you some food. Wanna give it a try? There's soup and some toast.

- Can I try both?

- Sure, but don't force it. Take as long as you need. Want me to turn on the TV?

- Yeah.

Just like the previous night, Chan stayed in the bedroom with Lee Know as the boy slowly ate his meal. He then took the medications again and sunk into the bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

Chan left the room one more time and was met with six kids demanding him to rest. They knew Chan always took care of them, no matter what and he wouldn't say anything even if he was too tired.

- Hyung. You need to rest as well. We'll take turns.

- Thanks kids.

Chan said opening his arms to give all of them a big hug.

With that settled, Jisung was the first one to stay with Lee Know, the sick boy accepted cuddles from him and they helped him stay calm and asleep.

And just like they said, everyone took turns to stay with Lee Know and help him whenever he got sick the following days. They were some tiring 5 days for all of them, with Lee Know vomiting a few times during the day and night and his fever refusing to go lower than 37.5°C.

When the ordeal was over, they were all tired but relieved to see their dancer back to full health. Lee Know being one to not show his weak side to many, had to let go of his pride in order to get better, and deep inside he was grateful to all of them, especially his only hyung.

[i-go-by-whatever]

i wrote a minchan sickfic. consider this an offering

title: halfway point

[slayonehundredninetytwo]

request: Hi! I got really excited coming across your blog just now. Glad to have a new writer in the community! I was wondering if you’d be willing to write a sickfic with Minho as the sickie and the Aussie Line as the main caretakers? I was thinking one where he wakes up with a stomachache and is incredibly annoyed for the entire day (maybe he even snaps at a few of the younger when they weren’t really doing anything to warrant it), but despite his nausea and bad mood he doesn’t say anything so the members are left in the dark about how sick he is. Then, everyone agrees to hold a supper together at one of the dorms, and the food and noise combined is the last straw, causing him to throw up in front of everyone. 

Of course, there’s no rush and if you don’t feel up to it you don’t have to worry about it ❤️ Thank you~

hope this is fic turns out to be everything you hoped for! please give me any feedback you have!! <3

No one likes mornings. This particular morning however, Lee Know was woken up before his alarm went off by a strange feeling in his stomach. He didn’t feel nauseous, but his stomach ached and churned. It wasn’t quite awful, but it was certainly annoying. He was already dreading his alarm going off, forcing him to get ready for the day. When his alarm eventually beeped signaling that it was 9:30, he stepped out of bed, the movement making his stomach turn. He threw on a simple outfit of sweatpants and a t-shirt before venturing out in to the kitchen. He hoped that his stomach issues were merely from hunger, and would fade once he had eaten some breakfast. He settled on something simple to fill him up, a piece of toast and had a leftover boiled egg from the fridge.

“Hyunggg,why didn’t you make me anyyyy?”

Seungmin, having just emerged from his room already teasing Minho.

“Make your own breakfast. You don’t do anything for yourself, always making me do it for you.”

“I’m just kidding, I can make it myself.”

He was a little taken aback by Minho’s response. Of course, maybe he was also joking, but based off his tone it really didn’t seem that way. Minho spent the rest of the morning sitting on the couch, only speaking if he absolutely had to as he waited for everyone to be ready. His stomach was still doing flips, so he distracted himself by looking at cat videos until it was time to go.

Eventually, everyone was ready leave to work for the day. Luckily, their schedule wasn’t all that busy today. They had to record some vocals for an upcoming album, followed by dance practice. The boys met up with the other half of the group before climbing into the van to get to work. While driving over, Seungmin leaned over to Chan and whispered, “I think Minho’s a little grumpy today. He barely talked all morning and when he did he scolded me over a silly joke.” 

“He does seem a lot quieter than normal. I’ll keep an eye on him.” Chan replied, glancing at Minho who was staring blankly out the window. 

When they arrived at the studio, they started recording as soon as they could. At first, everything was going very smoothly. Until, it was Lee Know’s turn. His stomach was still bothering him, and the breakfast did not have the affect he had wanted of calming his stomach. Instead, it only made it worse. He had started to develop a headache as well, and singing in that little booth was not helping anything. He started out fine, getting through the first few lines easy-peasy. But then he got to this one line. 

“You need to make that line a little smoother. Can you do it again?”

Chan said through the microphone. 

So he did it again.

“I think it needs to be smoother in the middle. Try it again.”

So he did it again.

“Can you try it again with a little bit of a sharper edge to it?”

So he did it again

“Maybe try it this wa-“

“It’s fine.”

Minho didn’t want to do it again. He just wanted to get out of that stupid little box. 

“But maybe if you tried it with a little mor-“

“I said it’s fine. It’s already got all the smoothness and the edge or whatever. It’s. Fine.”

And it was so hot in there too. If he had to sing that stupid line one more time, he was gonna catch on fire. 

“Just do it one more time Minho. I’m not asking you I’m telling you.”

“Fine.”

So he did it one last time time in that hot, tiny, loud room.

When he finished recording, he just wanted to go home and lay on the floor and cry. His stomach ache was at its peak and he was feeling very nauseous. Instead, he would have to settle for sitting on a kinda sorta comfortable couch in the studio surrounded by his obnoxious, loud, and annoying, ESPECIALLY annoying members. He normally loves his friends and band mates. But right now he just wanted peace and quiet, something he couldn’t easily find around the group. 

Usually, Lee Know would be excited to go to dance practice. It was hard work, but it payed off. It was what he loved to do. Today he dreaded it. While he felt like crap, he danced his hardest and made sure his dancing was still on point, that always comes first. Even with the loud music  combined with the headache and stomach ache, Lee Know gave it his all. 

And then he noticed something. Felix’s footwork was not exactly right. Here he was feeling like he was being punished by Satin himself, and Felix  was over there clearly not working half as hard. He has no excuse. There is no excuse.

“Hang on guys.” 

He said pausing the music.

“Felix, what is going on over there with your footwork?!?”

“Oh yeah sorry, my bad I just tripped over my feet a bit, don’t worry I’ll fix it next time.”

“What if when that happens on stage? There is no next time in a performance. You need to focus Yongbok! Danceracha members don’t trip over their feet.”Lee Know was practically yelling at him at this point.

All Felix said was, “I-I’m sorry..” as a tear rolled down his freckled cheek.

“Now hang on,” Chan cut in “that’s not fair. We all make mistakes- we’re human. Felix did all the rest of the moves perfectly, he just stumbled a bit, you’re the only one who even noticed.”

“Whatever. Just fix it next time”

Felix only nodded in response before they started the music again.

———————————————————————-

“Man I’m hungry.”

Han stated and everyone (except Lee Know) agreed quietly, all exhausted from the day of practice.

“Why don’t we all get together for dinner at our dorm? We can order delivery, I heard there’s a new…-“ Lee Know stopped listening to I.N. talking about food, it only made his queasiness so much worse. This was great. Just great. He was going to have to go back to the dorms, and instead of going back and relaxing he would have to be bombarded by his wild group. Lee Know just wanted to rest and sleep off whatever sickness had come over him.

Once they arrived back at the dorm and the food arrived, they all sat at the table. Everyone was laughing, being loud, and enjoying their meal. Except for one person. At this point, Lee Know’s head was pounding and his nausea was so much worse. Earlier, he swore it was at its peak. It was merely teasing him then. What he had thought was the worst of it turned out to be be a walk in the park compared to how he felt right now. He had ordered fried rice. He almost ordered a bowl of plain white rice, but that would definitely raise suspicion that he wasn’t feeling well. He didn’t want his annoying members to take care of him. he just wanted them to leave him alone. Against his bodies orders, he managed to eat most of his bowl of rice. As the room got louder, so did the pounding in his head. And as everything got louder, he become more and more nauseated. He just wanted everyone to shut up. 

And then, in that moment, much to everyone at the tables surprise, Lee Know pitched forward and threw up a wave of his dinner right back into the bowl in front of him. They were shocked, a chorus of gasps echoing through the room. This finally shut them up. 

Bang Chan shot up from his chair and moved to Lee Know’s side, rubbing his back and trying to comfort him as much as he could. With the next wave, Minho’s violent retching made it pretty hard to aim well, causing a little bit of a mess. But Hyunjin was sitting closest to the trash can, and was quick to grab it and bring it over as a better receptacle for the puke. He continued to sputter up more small waves of sick as his shocked members frantically tried to help him, although the chaos and their voices (now returning to their usual loud volume) was just making it worse. Bang Chan could tell that Minho was struggling with the noise when he winced every time someone spoke with a little bit louder volume. Chan shushed them, in hopes of making is sick member more comfortable. 

“I-I don’t feel good” Minho muttered, keeping his head down. 

“I can see that. Let’s get you to bed.” Chan said, helping his sick friend stand up out of the chair he was sitting in. As they stood, he turned to the rest of the boys. 

“If you don’t mind, could those of you who don’t live here head back to our dorm? I think Minho wants some peace and quiet right now.”

The boys reluctantly gathered the few things they had brought with them and headed back to their own dorm, all worried to leave after seeing Minho’s condition. 

As Chan led his sick member to his bedroom, Felix eventually decided to follow, leaving Suengmin and I.N. to take care of the mess in the kitchen. They didn’t care though, they just wanted Minho to be taken care of.

Felix walked into the bedroom as Chan finished tucking Minho in, now changed into some pajamas 

“Felix, I’m glad you’re here, would you mind staying with him while I get some things to help?” 

“No problem Chan, I’m here to help.”

Chan gave him a quick thumbs up before leaving the room.

Felix sat on the edge of the bed, gently brushing his fingers through his sleepy hyung’s hair. He could tell Lee Know was trying to sleep  but based off his twitching eye lids and pained expression it was clear something was still bothering him. 

“Is your stomach still acting up?”

He nodded and said without opening his eyes,“And my head”

“Don’t worry, Chan is getting some meds for you as we speak.”

Felix didn’t get any response to this, and he hoped that it was because his friend had finally fallen asleep. But he found out he was wrong when the boy quickly sat up, slapping his hand over his mouth. Without skipping a beat, Felix grabbed the trash can Chan had left by the bed and shoved it under Lee Know’s chin. He was just in time, as the poor boy was quickly retching painfully into the bin. He got up a small gush of vomit, before it became evident the boy was completely empty, and was left dry heaving with much force. Felix felt so awful for his sick friend, the harsh heaves and gags were clearly hurting him, especially when he started sobbing and crying. 

“Hyung please stop crying, you’re making yourself worse. Here, drink some water.” the younger boy said, passing him his own bottle of water since Chan hadn’t come back with some for Lee Know yet. Lee Know was hesitant to drink since it was sure to come back up,but he knew that dry heaving was much more painful. Felix wiped away the older’s tears before giving him a sad smile and a hug.Lee Know eventually stopped crying and was released from the hug, just as Chan returned with medicine, water, a thermometer, and some crackers. 

“Hey bud. I’m sure you just want to go back to sleep but can you let me take your temperature real quick?”

Lee Know wordlessly opened his mouth for Chan to insert the thermometer before waiting for the beep. After what felt like ages it finally beeped. 

“39.2 degrees. You must feel awful.”

“I do.”

“I brought you some medicine that should help. I know you don’t want to hear it but you can’t take this on an empty stomach. Can you eat a couple crackers?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Can you try?It will make you feel better” Felix said. He could see how miserable Lee Know was, and hated to see him  like this. 

“It’ll probably just make me throw up again”

“But maybe it won’t?” Felix was desperately trying to convince Lee Know, but truthfully he had no idea how to. Surprisingly, the miserable boy started to cry again. 

“It’s okay Minho. I’m so sorry you’re not feeling well, but I promise the medicine will help you feel better.” Chan tried to calm his sick dongsaeng down, but it didn’t seem to be working.

“But I-I don’t- want to th-throw u-up again” 

Poor Lee Know. He clearly was very emotional from the fever. He went from grumpy to bawling his eyes out within 10 minutes.

“It will help make you less sick so you won’t throw up so much. But if you do still puke, we’ll be right here with you.” Felix added.

“B-but I was so m-mean to b-both of you today. Why are you b-being s-so nice and c-caring?”

Felix almost wanted to laugh at how emotional Lee Know was. To even think that they wouldn’t take care of him, the fever was definitely getting to him. Felix decided to save his teasing for when his friend was feeling better.

“Minho, you’re sick. If I was feeling as crappy as you are right now, I would have snapped too!”

“Yo-you’re not st-still upset at me?”

“No, we’re not. Right Chan?”

“Right. You know how you could make it up to us?”He didn’t wait for an answer “If you take your medicine and get some rest. Can you do that for us?”

Lee Know accepted his fate and took the medicine with a nod. Once he swallowed them down, he was already half asleep just sitting there, and layed back down onto his pillow. 

Chan and Felix exchanged a glance before staring down at how cute Lee Know seemed to be while sick. 

Bang Chan retreated to his own dorm, entrusting that Felix had it covered for the night, while Felix cuddled in with Lee Know, snuggling up against him, rubbing his stomach and playing with his hair, trying in any way possible to provide comfort, before finally falling asleep there himself for the night. And when Lee Know got sick again in the night, Felix was right there beside him.

———————————————————————

I really hope you enjoyed this fic. please please please PLEASE give me some feedback <333 

much love!💕

[zz-skzz]

it’s giving fic vibes…

~skz lalala mv making 3:48

[3rachasninja]

This was so sweet and cute 🥺🥺

sick days | lee minho

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

hi! this is my first ever post on here,, hehe. constructive criticism is welcomed, hate is not.

cw: sick reader, petnames, slight cursing, slightly suggestive (??), angstyish oops, mostly fluff! just minho being the cutest bf :3

another hacking cough forces itself from your throat, leaving behind a painful sting and the inability to swallow. a frustrated groan emits you, followed by disgruntled sniffle. you hate being sick. 

sore throats, gross coughs, painful headaches, and a stuffed nose were all a recipe for disaster — especially today. you and minho had planned out the perfect date; a picnic, stroll in the park, and finally a movie. you had looked forward to it all week, barely getting through. only the promise of seeing your boyfriend kept you going.

you turn over on your side, the gentle movement sending another round of pain signals ringing in your head. tears sprung to the corners of your swollen eyes. you were devastated at having to miss your date. blearily, you swung a hand over to the bedside table, blindly searching for your phone. 

once found, you swiped over to minho’s contact. pressing the call button, you slumped back onto your pillow defeatedly. 

“jagi?” came the sweet voice of your boyfriend. “what’s up?” 

an exhausted whimper answers him. “min.. min i’m sorry” is all you can utter. 

his voice instantly is filled with concern. “what’s my love sorry for, hm? is everything okay?”

“no, m’sorry min.. i feel so bad. my head hurts, and i puked earlier, and it —“ another pained sound exits you. “— it hurts.” 

something shuffles over the phone, and your boyfriend is quick to reply. “oh, my poor jagi. i’m on my way, don’t worry.”

you furrow your brows. “wh-what? no no you don’t have to do that, min!” 

“see you in five.”

your eyes rolled as your boyfriend hung up on you a abruptly (like he always does — and it never fails to surprise you). coughing again, you accept that there’s nothing you can do to stop him from coming over. you scan your messy room and groan. you’re sick! you don’t want him to see you like this! 

you swing your legs over to the side of your bed, only pausing when a sneeze erupts from your pinkened nose. you settle your socked feet on the floor and attempt to rise to your feet. 

you sway, blinking harshly as to try to clear the black spots plaguing your vision. maybe getting up wasn’t the best idea..? oh well. 

slowly, you begin to shuffle around your room, picking up discarded clothes and trying to round up any embarrassing wrappers or trash. you’re halfway through folding another t-shirt when your body flashes hot, then cold. the pounding in your head increases tenfold and you drop the shirt in favor of clutching your temples. spots engulf your sight and you sink to your knees, not even attempting to make it to the bed.

you’re sweating. but the ceiling fan above only makes you shiver, goosebumps lining your arms. everything is too bright, and you squint from a combination of a headache and the glaring overhead light that suddenly feels like a thousand suns beating down on you. 

another whimper crawls out of your dry throat. the only thing your fever-weakened mind can think is minho. where is minho? you need him, it hurts it hurts everything hurts —

“jagi?! oh my god, are you okay?” thunderous footsteps make their way to you and you wince at the sudden exclamation. 

cold, cool hands press themselves to your trembling body and you sigh in relief. they stroke through your hair, carding through gently. you open one eye to see who they belong to, but clamp it shut immediately, the bright light making your eyelids pulse.

 you hear shuffling from the side, and one of the hands leave you. you suppress a whine, but something in your expression must be alarming because the voice coos. “oh, baby, i’m just turning off the light, okay?” 

no, it’s not okay. not when those hands are the only thing grounding you, keeping you from melting. however, as promised, the offending light gets shut off, and you hum in appreciation. 

the nice hands quickly return to their rightful place in your hair, and you bravely attempt to open your swollen eyes again.

your boyfriend looks down at you gently. “my poor girl. let’s get you back into bed, hm?”

you nod pathetically, letting him lift you up and place you softly on your mattress. you murmur a quiet thanks and he kisses your sweaty forehead in response. he sits on the side of the bed next to you, placing his hand on your leg and rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

“have you eaten at all yet?” he inquires.

you shake your head, “no, not yet. i don’t think i could eat a thing without puking it back up, to be honest.”

minho hums at that, scanning your face. he reaches out and places a small hand on your forehead, feeling out your temperature. he frowns.

“i think we need to check for a fever, honey. you’re very warm.”

he moves to go stand and you pout. “don’t leave, please.”

“i’m just going to grab the thermometer and a glass of water, i’ll be right back, okay?”

“be fast!” you plead.

he cards a hand through your hair. “i’ll be so fast, jagiya.”

it feels like an eternity as minho tries to locate the thermometer from outside your bedroom. you shiver again, pulling the closest fuzzy blanket over you and burrowing into it.

and that’s how he finds you when he returns — a sweaty, sick burrito. you watch as he smiles down at you fondly, pulling back the blanket a little to take a look at you.

“think you can sit up for me? need help?” he asks.

“need help, please,” you respond nasally.

minho aids in positioning you up so you’re leaning against your pillow. he holds out the found thermometer and motions for you to open your mouth.

you oblige and he places the thermometer under your tongue. after a few moments, he pulls it out and looks down on it with a displeased expression — like it personally offended him.

“100.” he states, his brow crinkling. “yeah, you’re not leaving this bed.”

you sigh and slump farther into your blanket. “i’d rather hear that in a different situation.”

minho blinks slowly, fondly. “i’ll ignore that, just because you’re sick.”

you stick out your tongue as he rises from the bed to put away the thermometer. he looks down at you, unimpressed, but with a twinkle of amusement in his catlike eyes. “brat.”

“i’m sick!” you whine, “be nice.”

“i am being nice. so nice, in fact, that i’ll ignore this little attitude —“ he reaches down and pokes your forehead, “— because i know that you feel like shit.”

you roll your eyes when he’s turned and putting the thermometer in some drawer, but deep down you’re very grateful he came over to take care of you. for all his teasing, he really does treasure you. you still feel bad for canceling the date.

in some feverish, dramatic mood change, tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes. they’re hot and uncomfortable, and you sniffle. not only did you cancel the date, you’re acting like a brat instead of thanking minho for looking after you.

“m’sorry,” you croak from your cocoon of blankets.

minho turns around sharply and scans your face quickly. he strides over to the bed and sits beside you. “what?”

“m’sorry!” tears begin to trickle down your face, sticky and unwanted. you reach up to swipe them away.

minho’s hand reaches out, grabbing onto your arm and lightly tugging you into his chest. “silly girl. what are you sorry for?”

“f’making you come over and take care of me and being a brat and not saying thank you!” you rush out, slurring some words.

a chuckle shakes minho’s chest. “oh wow, you’re really out of it, huh?”

“i’m sorry!”

“hey, hey,” his joking manner disappears when a fresh wave of tears erupts from your eyes. “you have nothing to be sorry for. you’re sick. you have a fever, baby. you aren’t being a brat, i’m sorry i called you that when you weren’t feeling well.”

you peek up at him. “you mean it?”

minho doesn’t respond, just pulls you tighter into his chest and kisses the top of your hair. his cool hand rubs on your back soothingly under your shirt. he gently lays back onto your bed, cradling you to his chest.

“try to sleep some of this off. take a nap,” he orders you lightly. “i’ll be right here.”

at his words, you snuggle into him. he reaches to the side and pulls a blanket over the two of you. just before sleep takes it’s hold over you, you look up at him, catching his eye.

“thanks for being here, min. i love you,” you murmur, your eyelids getting heavier and heavier as you begin to succumb to sleep.

the last thing you hear before sinking into feverish dreams is, “anytime, baby. i love you more.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

yas! ok! first post done, please lmk what u think!!!1 reblogs and likes are appreciated:3

[sickskz]

ily 😭

i was looking for skz sickfics and then i found you, i’m so happy

can you do sth with han being anxious after a concert and it makes his stomach hurt?? i’m not creative at all, lol, but sth like that, and soft comfort cause he’s a bbg

Thank you so much! 🥹 Here is a fic where Han's anxiety gets the best of him (and his stomach) after a performance. I went all in, so be prepared for a full on panic attack ✋🏽

“Breathe with me”

Sickie: Han

Caretaker/s: Bang Chan, Lee Know

___________________________________________

Han Jisung felt his head swim with heat as they stepped off the stage. The lights of the concert hall were still dancing behind his eyelids, and the final note from the speakers still clung to his mind like a faded echo. 

The concert had just ended, and the loud cheers of fans was still ringing in Jisung's ears as he removed his ear pieces, breathing heavy and body slick with sweat.  

He was quicker than usual to get backstage, weaving through the others in his rush to get away, to get out of the blinding lights and escape from the thousands of eyes staring at him. He loved his fans, more than anything. But right then and there, it was all too much.

The adrenaline from the performance was starting to wear off, and what replaced it was much less pleasant. It started building into a knot that settled deep in his chest and made his stomach churn sourly.  It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, the anxiety..

This time, it was just a lot worse. 

Why?

All because of that stupid mistake. 

It was just a small slip of his foot during their performance of DOMINO, barely throwing him off beat for a fraction of a second. It wasn’t a grave mistake, it didn’t ruin the performance, but it had burned itself into his memory. Even though it seemed to go unnoticed by the audience, it was all Jisung could think about. 

The moment it had happened, he’d felt the pang in his chest, but the intoxicating thrill of the cheers had kept the anxiety in check. 

Now that the loud audience died into a faint buzz in the background, the fear washed over him with a vengeance.

Jisung's breath quickened as he staggered past unsuspecting staff, his eyes wide and unfocused. His chest tightened with trepidation, and his stomach twisted so forcefully that he had to stop himself from crying out. 

He rounded a corner and collapsed down against the nearest wall, both hands clutching at his stomach as he grit his teeth in a pained grimace. He tried to take deep breaths, tried to steady himself as his vision blurred around the edges, but it wasn’t working. 

Stop. Calm down. 

Nausea rose in his throat, and before he knew it, his body lurched forward with a gag. Jisung's vision dipped as a harsh heave rolled through his shoulders, spilling his dinner across the black floor between his legs. The bile burned in his nose, and it certainly didn’t make breathing any easier. 

A voice called out to him, echoing in his ears as his surroundings slowly caught up to him. 

Oh my god-

“Han- Han! hey..” Chan's voice became clearer once he placed a hand on Jisung's shoulder, pulling him back down from the panicked haze. Just for a fleeting second. “Are you alright? Hey, Hannie, look at me.”

Jisung looked up, frantic, and he saw the concern etched into Chan's face. Lee Know was beside him, his own expression matching that of their leader. 

“I-“ Jisung tried to speak, but his voice faltered, words blocked by the lump of nausea still lodged in his throat. Tears welled in his eyes, making the other members nothing more than blurry figures looming over him. “I-I messed- I messed up. I-I couldn’t-“  

His chest was too tight. His lungs didn’t work. He couldn’t breathe right. 

“Hey, hey..” Chan interrupted his stuttering softly, crouching down in front of him.

A few tears trickled down his cheeks as the first sob bubbled up his throat. Jisung squeezed his eyes shut, the shame making his skin burn.  

“I-I didn’t me-mean to- god, I’m so sorry! Domino- I-I just- I couldn’t-“ Jisung gasped, his voice breaking as he tried to speak. 

“I-I ruined it, I’m so- I’m so sorry. I-I-I-I can’t - I can’t” he doubled over, gasping for air. His stomach twisted again, the nausea almost making him choke on his own spit.

Chan's face shifted, sympathy flickering in his eyes. They had seen this before, they knew what was happening. 

“Shh, shh, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. You didn’t ruin anything. Try to breathe.” Chan said calmly, hoping his words could be of comfort. 

Jisung was mortified. He wanted to- no, he needed to disappear. 

Everything felt so distant all of a sudden, blurry almost. He heard Chan speak, but his mind couldn’t latch onto anything he said, the panic swallowing any rational thought he’d ever had. 

“Han, listen to me. You need to breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay” Chan said softly, reaching out to carefully settle his other hand on Jisung's knee, trying to ground him somehow. 

Jisung could hardly hear him over the sound of blood rushing in ears. His breaths were coming out too fast, too shallow, and his shirt felt like a tightrope around his chest. He was starting to feel lightheaded. 

“I’m sorry- I’m s-so sorry” Jisung choked out between sobs, his voice thick with the nausea still swirling in his stomach. “I-I couldn’t keep it to-together. H-hyung, I’m so-sorry—“

“Stop.” 

Lee Know's voice was caring, yet firm. It made Jisung flinch, but just a little.  

“Hey, you have nothing to apologise for” Lee Know continued, his tone softer this time. Almost like he was speaking to a frightened kitten. “Seriously, Han-ah. You were amazing out there.”

But Jisung couldn’t stop. He couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t breathe. 

The apologies were among the only coherent words that spilled from his lips, mixed in with the erratic breaths and distressed sobs. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t-I don’t wanna b-be like this-“

He could hear Chan's voice speaking to him again, something along the lines of ‘it’s okay’, but he couldn’t hear anything else. 

The moment of his missed step played over, and over, and over again inside his head. The moment he miscalculated his move, the slight stagger that no one seemed to notice but him. 

The cameras… the cameras would notice. The cameras always noticed.

Jisung willed his mind to stop, to please stop taunting him, but it was unrelenting. The weight of his own thoughts was crushing him, so heavy it stole any remains of air from his lungs.

Chan reached out to place his hand on his shoulder, but Jisung jerked himself away with a flinch that left their leader frozen in shock.

“Stop- please-p-please stop!” Jisung suddenly wailed, startling all of them. He reached his trembling hands up to cover his ears as his knees pulled to his chest, curling him into a tight ball. 

Disappear, disappear, disappear.

Chan and Lee Know exchanged a worried glance, their own hearts sinking with the realisation that Jisung's mind was too garbled and disjointed to process anything they were saying. 

Lee Know exhaled slowly and sank down to the floor beside Jisung, facing him. 

“Come on, Jisung-ah..” he murmured, voice soft. It wasn’t a command, just a quiet invitation. “Breathe with me.” 

As expected, Jisung didn’t react to his words, his body trembling and face paling thanks to the steadily declining amount of oxygen to his brain.

Luckily, Lee Know had an ace up his sleeve.

He gently, carefully reached for one Jisung's hands, prying it away from his ear. 

Jisung resisted for a moment, eyes wide with fear, but Lee Know's touch remained steady and insistent. He guided Jisung's shaky hand down to rest gently against his chest, making sure to keep his own breathing calm and collected. 

Jisungs breath hitched for a moment as he felt the rhythmic rise and fall of Lee Know's chest under his fingertips. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something. Something safe, something real. Something to anchor him through the storm. 

Lee Know kept his hand lightly above Jisung's, keeping him in place as he exaggerated his own breaths, in and out. “That’s it. Breathe with me” he repeated, trying to discern if his words could reach him this time. Thankfully, they did. “In..”

Jisung inhaled shakily. His breath still came in short, shallow bursts, but he tried. He really tried. He shut his eyes tightly, eyebrows pinched as he tried to focus on nothing but the sensation of Lee Know's chest expanding and deflating with each controlled breath. The nausea still swirled in his stomach and his head was spinning, but the feeling grounded him.

“Out..” Lee Know coaxed, letting his hand follow the movement as the air slowly left his lungs. “Good. You’re doing great. Keep breathing.” 

Jisung's sobs started to subside, his breathing slowly becoming a little less erratic. His fingers still trembled against Lee Know's chest, but the steady rhythm of his breathing was beginning to work its way through the wall of panic. 

Slowly, but surely, the world stopped crashing down on him. Jisung's breathing was still ragged, he still gasped out small sobs, but everything seemed a little less overwhelming.

Lee Know stayed with him, his presence patient and unwavering. He didn’t know how much time had passed by the time he was able to look around him again, but when he did, Lee Know offered him a reassuring look. 

“There you go..”

As the world around him came back in pieces, Jisung was made acutely aware of the strong hand at the back of his neck, gently rubbing his muscles as the tension subsided. Chan. 

“That’s it. You’re okay, Hannie. You’re okay. We’re here.” Chan's voice spoke softly beside him, the hand traveling up to gently run through the sweaty hair at the back of his head.

Jisung could feel his breath coming in easier now, his lungs no longer burning with the inability to breathe. For a while longer, they just sat there. No words, just steady and calming breaths. 

Jisung's head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton, and his stomach still rumbled uneasily under his shirt, the dull ache still present. He slowly withdrew the hand on Lee Know's chest, settling it against his own gut in an attempt to soothe it.

“I’m sorry..” Jisung murmured again, voice weak. His head lolled to the side, gently bumping against Chan's shoulder as the older wrapped his arm around him. 

“I’m so sorry…” his voice wavered, like he was going to break out in tears again.

“Yah, I thought I already told you to stop apologising.” Lee Know chimed in, though there was no real bite in his words. “You have no reason to.” He scooted over to sit against the wall on Jisung's other side, his hand gently coming to rest on his thigh. 

Jisung couldn’t help the choked up, shaky chuckle that slipped past his lips at Lee Know's feigned annoyance. The familiarity of it felt strangely comforting. As he leaned into Chan's touch, he felt that his heart was still jittery in chest, but it was beating at a much less concerning pace.

“I-I can’t help it.” He whispered softly, his voice barely audible. “I hate feeling like this… It’s just too much sometimes. I-I need to be better.”

Lee Know's hand remained on his thigh, squeezing it softly in silent support. “Why do you need to be better? Han-ah, you’re already more than good enough..” he said softly, raising a brow as his mind worked around his words. “We all make mistakes, it doesn’t make us any less.”

Jisung bit his lip, turning his head to press his face into Chan's shoulder, hiding away from Lee Know's piercing gaze. He mumbled something unintelligible against the fabric of Chan's shirt, and Lee Know raised his brow further.

“Come again?”

Jisung twisted his head just enough to be heard. “You don’t..”

“I don-“ Lee Know's question trailed off as he caught up to whatever it was he was going on about. He couldn’t help the lopsided grin his lips pulled into, affection warm in his chest as he shook his head disapprovingly. “That’s not true and you know it. I’ve made plenty mistakes.” He scoffed.  

“Yeah, do you not remember the three.. four times Lee Know has almost accidentally done the splits on stage?” Chan quipped, earning a halfhearted flick to his forehead from the dancer. 

Jisung felt his lips twitch slightly at that, but he could suddenly feel himself waver again, emotions bubbling up in his chest. He let out a pitiful whimper as he pressed himself further into Chan's side, his fingers curling into the fabric of the leaders shirt. Chan reciprocated by giving his shoulders a reassuring squeeze, tilting his head so his cheek gently rested against Jisung's damp hair. “It’s okay, take it easy.”

Jisung sniffled pathetically, shaking his head as he sobbed again, the noise muffled into Chan's shoulder. The oldest sighed softly, pulling away slightly just so Jisung wouldn’t start suffocating himself.

Chan placed a hand under his chin, tiling his head up so he could meet his eyes. “Han-ah…” he said tenderly, giving him a small dimpled smile. 

“Agh, s-stop.. don’t look at me li-like that” Jisung shook his head, drawing back with a petulant whine as new tears trailed down the red streaks already marring his face. 

“Dammit, hyung, wh-what is wrong with me?” He groaned out, exasperated, as he tried to stifle the small sobs.

Why couldn’t he stop crying? This was exhausting.

Chan clicked his tongue, ruffling Jisung's hair affectionately as he hid himself away. “Nothings wrong with you, bud.. you’re overwhelmed, exhausted. It happens to the best of us.” he assured him ever so caringly, rubbing his hand over his back.

“Yeah” Lee Know added. “It’s been a long week.. tonight just tipped you over the edge, and that’s fine. I knows it’s hard to believe, but you are human, you know?” 

Chan ran his fingers mindlessly through Jisung's hair, letting his breathing settle again as the tears came to a halt. He was probably all dried up by now. Dehydrated for sure. His eyes burned.

“You know..” Chan's voice seemed pensive, like he’d been brewing on something to say for a while. “You really need to stop treating yourself like you’re worth any less than the people you love.” 

Jisung swallowed hard, a little caught off guard by the weight of his words.

“You always tell us not to be too hard on ourselves, but then you go tear yourself up over the smallest mistake? If it were me, you’d be the first to tell me it was okay.” Chan continued, a small sigh leaving his lips.

Jisung lifted his head a little, looking at Chan with a deadpan expression. With his puffy, red-rimmed eyes and the salty streaks burning on his cheek, his attempt to be earnest was nothing short of endearing. 

“Tsk, that’s bold coming from you, hyung..” Jisung muttered tiredly, before letting his head fall back down again.

Chan paused, then laughed softly, a sheepish smile creeping onto his face. “Hey, this isn’t about me.” he complained, earning a small smile from Jisung. “I mean it, though. Go easier on yourself, you deserve that.” Chan's voice was serious again, and the younger rapper gnawed at the inside of his cheek. 

He didn’t answer, and he didn’t know whether it was because he was too tired or if deep down, he knew Chan was right.

Lee Know poked his side, making Jisung jump and send him a halfhearted glare. The dancer just smirked, holding out a water bottle for the younger to take. “Here, drink. Gotta fill up the tear storage again before you turn into a raisin.” 

Jisung huffed at the teasing but took the water bottle anyway, twisting the cap off with trembling fingers. He took a few long sips, the cool liquid soothing on his throat. Then he paused, looking slowly around the hall as he heard the sound of footsteps around the corner. 

Jisung's breath caught in his throat, his whole body stiffening as the memories seeped back into his mind. 

He had thrown up on the floor. Not just a little. All his stomachs contents. Right there, on the floor. Now, as he glanced at the same spot, it was… cleaner than before.

Embarrassment crept up to him, warmth spreading across his cheeks as he contemplated which was worse; throwing up on the floor, or not being coherent enough to notice when someone had cleaned it up. 

The memories sent a new wave of anxiety and shame washing over him.

“I-oh my god” JIsung choked out, hiding his face in his hands. “I can’t believe…” he trailed off, cheeks red and eyes pleading as he looked up at Chan. “Hyung, you…. get me out of here, please?”

Lee Know and Chan shared a glance, and Chan ruffled Jisung's hair affectionately. “Well, since you asked so nicely... Of course, the car is already waiting on us.” He promised. As Jisung braced himself to stand on his shaky legs, Lee Know held out his hand and Chan gently supported him with an arm around his waist. 

“You know what, Han-ah?” Lee Know spoke up, and Jisung looked at him, still a little dazed. 

“Try not to think too much. I think I like you better dumb.” The dancer declared with a smirk, and Chan suppressed a chuckle into his fist.

Jisung blinked a couple of times, mouth hung open as he processed the words. Then, he gave a soft, breathless laugh. 

“Y'know what… yeah, me too.”