Wake me up when you need something, I don’t care how bad you’ll feel but just wake me up. You scoff at the thought, rolling your eyes at the lazing figure on the bed that you decide by the time you actually get to wake him up, you’d be dead of dehydration because now you’re parched and you want some water. Recently—and by recently, it was yesterday, you broke your leg. Nope, nope, don’t even ask—don’t even ask. And Minseok promises not to talk about it because you feel bad enough as it is so he keeps it to zip his pretty boy lips. But now, for the past two minutes you’ve been trying to get him up and it’s come to no good news that he doesn’t even flinch an inch. Sighing, you try your best to turn just so place your feet onto the floor, one by one, it wasn’t hard for the uninjured leg but for the other, it was rather tricky. As you remained your sitting posture for about a minute, you looked over your shoulder to see if he’ll even wake up or not but looks like he’s not budging anytime soon.
It’s time to get it yourself, then, screw waking him up. You stretch the best way you can, your fingers curling out and if it was possible, it’s like your fingers were about to pop but then you get ahold of the pair of crutches that are by the side of the bed. You get one and decide that you can get the other when you’re up and about but it’s easier said than done. You’re closing your eyes and breathing calmly, you can do this. The weight shifts more to your healthy leg and you’re almost up, stabling yourself with the crutch but it’s boggling your mind, twirling it around because you think you’re stable enough but really, you’re not. It takes you less than five seconds to realize that you’re flat on the ground, the crutch falls to the side with a loud thud and you’re cursing because now you’re fucking sure Minseok is awake.
You remain on the floor because one, you feel guilty and two, this isn’t the best feeling in the world.
You try to push yourself up but it’s not easy, it’s a challenge and you’re playing with it as you manage to straighten your arms but the pain stings your other leg and your lower torso feels the impact from the fall, too. Minseok groans as he stretches his arm out and he frowns with his eyes closed upon feeling the emptiness that greets him silently. His eyes shoot open and he jolts from the bed, he casts a look around and move from his spot just to see you on the floor, sprawled out and in much agony because you can’t get up on your own.
“Fuck,” He curses, and you’re taking this chance to bite down the cries that are bottled from within, “Yeah, fuck,”
He hops off the bed and crouches before you, placing both arms under your arms to heave you up and at first it was hard but when he has you standing properly, he forces you down onto the bed that you’re sitting once more, in the position you once were and he picks up the crutch to place it with the other that you can’t freaking reach. He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, not liking how he woke up with a mini heart attack but he kneels before you, using both hands to hold onto yours. His eyes stares up to yours and despite how tired he is, you can see it in his eyes, he’s not going to lash out or get mad just like that when he knows you’re the type to listen and not cause a ruckus.
“Didn’t I tell you to wake me up?” His voice is strained and you see how worried he is but then you’re not having any of this, “I tried waking you up but you were too deep in your sleep that… I just…”
“What do you want?” He cuts short, asking nicely and you bite your lower lip out of guilt—it always goes down this way and he knows you only bite your lip when you feel—“Don’t feel guilty, don’t do that,” He uses a hand to release your bite on your lip and he’s back to keeping your hands warm, “Tell me what you want,”
“Water,” He repeats, standing up immediately and he’s out of the door. You sigh as you fall back but flinch when he’s by the doorframe, “Cold or warm?”
Before you can answer—“Forget it, I’ll get warm—it’s not good to drink cold in the morning,” He’s back to his cautious ways that it makes you smile when he disappears, fetching you a glass of water that you can hear it through the clinks from the kitchen. You’re glancing down to your legs despite being in an angle where you can’t see them properly but you’re bickering with yourself, using your leg to nudge the other casted one, “Because of you, stupid leg—stupid leg. Stupid,” You roll your eyes and the irritation is seeping into your skin because you don’t like depending on Minseok too much, you feel really bad for needing to rely on him for the whole duration of your recovery but there’s nothing else you can do. And even though Minseok assures you that he’ll do everything he can to aid you, it’s hard because you’re not used to it. It’s like telling a person who has their vision three hundred and sixty five days (three hundred and sixty six every leap year) to wear a blindfold for months and experience how it’s like to not see—it’s the same thing.
Then the door is opening once more and Minseok catches you through the gap to see that you’re scolding yourself. You’re using your fingers, your knuckles to poke your temple in an angry manner that it makes him hold back a chuckle. He hears about how bad you feel, how you’re giving yourself a lecture for not being careful enough and indeed, he understands but he wants you to know you don’t need to feel that way. He knocks on the door and you wince, turning your head to the door and he grins, “Am I interrupting anything?”
He sees how your eyes widen and you sit up once more, shaking your head, “N-No, I… I was just—“
“Beating yourself up?” He finishes your sentence, sitting beside you as he hands you the glass of water you’ve been dreading for, “W-Well… no…”
“I heard you,” He snorts, making your eyes glued to the surface of the water that you forget to—“Drink up,”
Then you mumble thank you so softly that he feels like you’re not saying it at all but he knows you’re just probably too taken back for any of this. He watches you gulp the whole thing down and then he’s taking the glass from your hands. He easily places it by the bedside table (in which, thank God the crutch did not bang on it or he would’ve screamed from his sleep) before he takes your hands into his once more. He exhales deeply first, then he speaks, “Listen, breaking your leg isn’t the best thing ever—I know it’s not but you can’t keep doing this to yourself,”
He gives you a look with his eyes and you shut up, “You’ve got to let me take care of you—no matter what time it is, no matter what the situation is and not just when you break your leg. Shoot, I thought we’ve been through this during that time you had your high fever,”
“Habits die hard?” He hears the tone in your voice and you’re being playful because your voice cracks a little in the end. He chuckles and shakes his head, you and cute are two words that rarely go together but it always melt him inside, “I’ll admit, it’s cute when you’re stubborn sometimes—but it all dies off when you’re in pain,” His words indeed sink into your heart and you’re unable to say anything. It heaves your shoulders down and he sees how badly you reflect it on yourself that he leans closer and kisses your lips so quick, it scrapes all your troubles away. Then he cups your chin and makes sure you look into his eyes when he says, “I want you to smack the life out of me the next time I don’t wake up—as long as you don’t hurt yourself, get me to wake up to help you, got it?”
With a suppressed smile and a blush that’s probably reddening your cheeks, you nod, “Yes sir,”
“Good girl,” He pats your head and then he swoops you into his arms instantly that it makes you yelp, wrapping your arms around him when he stands up with your legs properly intact. He catches how rapid your heart is beating, how many times your eyes blink per second but it adds to how wide he’s smirking, “Time to get you cleaned up,”
You see how he wiggles his eyebrows when he kicks the bathroom door open and you’re scoffing, “Are you sure you’re going to get me cleaned?”
“Depends, either way, even if I dirty you up, I’ll clean you up again,” He sets you on the counter first before he locks the door and he takes the initiative to lean into your ear to whisper, and again, and again, and again.
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