bf dreamies 𓍼 when you’re sick
♡ mark finds you in the middle of the night asleep on the bathroom floor, and he can feel the fever on your hot, clammy skin. he disappears for a moment and drags the comforter out of the guest room to set up a makeshift bed on the tile. he fills a bowl with ice water, soaks a washcloth, and gets as comfortable as possible beside you before patting your skin. you mewl, shifting uncomfortably, eyebrows furrowed. “i know, sweet girl.” he carefully moves your agitated figure so your head is in his lap and manages to get the plush bedding beneath your body. “achy. hot and achy. my shirt. mark, please take it off.” your cheeks are red, fingers attacking the buttons of your flannel. mark strokes your hand and gently replaces your touch with his own. you feel better once the thick material is off, revealing your chest. mark lays the washcloth over your bare skin before collecting a second one from the cabinet drawer and submerging the small square into the icy bowl.
♡ renjun makes sure you’re cozy in bed: fairy lights twinkling, your favorite plushies surrounding you, humidifier on, with tea, water, and crackers on your nightstand. he lets you know there’s ginger ale in the fridge, too. he sets up a studio ghibli movie and rolls fuzzy socks onto your feet. he starts a load of laundry and cleans your kitchen. he wipes down the countertops in your bathroom and comes running in with The Bucket when you call his name in a tone that could only mean one thing: you’re about to throw up again. he joins you half an hour into howl’s moving castle once all the household chores are finished and rubs your back. he helps you out of your sweatshirt when you’re feeling uncomfortably hot again and spends the rest of the afternoon holding you. by some miracle, he doesn’t get sick, too.
♡ jeno’s on the phone with the pharmacist, level-toned and kind as always despite the scene playing out in front of him: you, sick as a dog in his living room. you, flushed with body chills and aches, unable to keep anything down, and waiting for the prescription that was supposed to be ready two hours ago. “so 20 minutes? and if it doesn’t help? it will? how long until it takes effect?” you look over, catching the concern consuming his beautiful face, wishing he’d just come sit with you. you wave him over when you finally catch his eye. “please sit with me, jen and hold my hand. i can handle 20 minutes.” he thanks the pharmacist and hangs up, padding across the hardwood floor to you. your pointer fingers touch before tracing a smile in the air, and jeno finally relaxes, offering you the smallest beam before sinking into the couch to welcome your immediate cling. you take his hand and follow the lines in his palm, falling asleep before you reach the one closest to his wrist.
♡ haechan doesn’t believe you at first because you never get sick, then you send him a selfie from the hospital waiting room with a few colorful words, and he freaks. he’s waiting for the elevator down the hall from his apartment when he realizes he’s still wearing his slippers and curses at himself before turning on his heels. he makes a grocery list in his car of all the things to pick up once you’re out of your appointment, wishing he could’ve joined you, wondering why you didn’t tell him as soon as you started feeling symptomatic. he meets you at the entrance door with a mask and beanie on, guides you through the parking lot and asks what the doctor said and how you’re feeling. he reads the visit notes five times before leaving the lot because you started groaning in the passenger seat, begging him to take you home. “i’m sorry, baby. i’m so sorry. i need to get you some things, though. do you want to wait in the car? or i can take you home and come back out.” you agree to stay with him, adjusting the seat so you’re laying back, arm raised and resting over your eyes. he squeezes your forearm and pushes the ignition button. the scene scares him because he’s never seen you like this, and you get really quiet halfway to the store. he ends up taking you home instead and placing a delivery order. “bath or bed, sweetheart? actually, i think you should take a bath… try to break this fever.” “how do you even know that?” your voice is barely audible, breaking every other syllable as you hold onto him for balance and slip off your sneakers. “just big brother things…” haechan feels uneasy as he helps you undress once the tub is full, lavender bubble bath coating the room in a comforting scent. he sits on the fluffy rug and watches the domes and pockets of bubbles on the water’s surface before his eyes flit back to your face. your lips are chapped. your eyes are puffy and red. he can see every moment of pain - can tell you’re trying to downplay it in his presence. you lay your cheek against his hand that’s resting on the porcelain’s edge, and his heart lurches. you’ll be ok; it’s just the flu; you’ll be ok. the doorbell rings; the grocery order arrived. “two seconds, baby,” and he’s standing up, but you haven’t lifted your head, fast asleep. he grimaces and wakes you, hating the idea of leaving you unconscious in the bathtub. your boyfriend apologizes profusely before jogging to the front door.
♡ jaemin’s been restless all day, distracted by the knowledge of you, sick at home, and him not being there to take care of you. your texts stopped hours ago, and he's hoping all that means is you've been sleeping deeply, dreaming sweetly. for once, he’s the fastest to leave after rehearsals, watching the seoul night life pass by through his car window in neon blurs. his foot taps against the elevator floor, gaze focused on the rising numbers, stopping at 11, and he finally exhales. you’re asleep on the couch, surrounded by medicine and empty mugs, with tea bag strings hanging over their rims. a glass of water with enough left for one more sip sits beside a box of tissues. the trash can from your office is slanted, halfway on the living room rug. there’s a washcloth laid across your forehead. your blanket isn’t long enough to hide your feet; he smiles at the sight of your fuzzy socks covered in tiny teddy bears. the rings you always wear catch his eye where you’re fisting the gray knit. he drops his things and searches through a drawer for the thermometer. he walks across the length of your apartment and crouches in front of you to retrieve the washcloth and run the instrument across your forehead. he coos when the temperature flashes, dropping to a seated position. his touch meets your cheek; his palm smooths back your hair. he stands to his knees to fix the blanket and cover more of your frame. after a soft kiss brushes your forehead, the back pockets of his jeans meet the rug again. jaemin stays like that, right in front of you, close enough to smell the strawberries in your shampoo - close enough to hear the congestion in your exhales, with his cheek against the couch's end until you wake up, prepared for whatever you may need.
♡ chenle’s the slightest bit irritated with you he’s really just concerned because he told you to get your flu shot and you “forgot,” even though he wrote reminders for you and taped them to your fridge, bathroom mirror and front door, but when he finally makes it over and sees you… oh, the man melts. you overhear him on the phone, speaking to his mom while you’re dozing in and out of sleep on the couch. you keep moving from the couch, to your bedroom and back to the living room again because the living room feels cooler, and the view of seoul is more distracting from there. he’s making notes of all her tried and true remedies, constantly bending at the waist to see you clearly through the furniture. you give him little thumbs ups whenever you catch his check ins, but he knows you’re pretending. chenle can see the cloudiness in your eyes.
♡ jisung is beside himself. you called him in the middle of the night, and he had to pull his phone away from his ear to glance at the caller ID because the voice he was hearing sounded nothing like you. when you start to cry, he’s wide awake, switching his lamp on, trying to keep you calm, and reminding you to take deep breaths. “baby, slow down. tell me slowly what’s going on.” it’s kind of crazy how sweetly and assured he shows up for you. it’s like two friends who are both too anxious to wave down the waiter because one of them received the wrong meal, but he speaks up after realizing you’re more scared than he is. that captures his behavior when you’re sick. naver is his best friend for those three days. he texts jaemin and sneaks off to the bathroom to call his mom a few times. he even talks to the doctor on call at the office you go to to verify you shouldn’t come in and writes down all the symptoms to look out for. he apologizes profusely for not making you a better meal—he burned his first attempt, but you don’t care. you’re just full of gratitude that comes out in mouthed words because your voice was gone hours ago. you love the movies he chooses, too. it’s like all of your childhood favorites are also his (they are)
ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ ty for reading! i’m trying to bring this blog back to life after such a long, unexpected hiatus :( love & gratitude if you’re still interested in reading my pieces <3
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