kpop group sickfics 💫

grace / 18 / sickfic sideblog feel free to request (currently working on feveruary though!)

[sickkfics]

about me!💗

Hii! You can call me Grace (she/her), I'm 18 and from the US. I love music of all sorts but in the past year have gotten super into kpop. This is my first stab at sickfics in the kpop community, but I have written fics in the past (for The Outsiders lol). However, I am a college student so my writing really just depends on how busy I am haha.

My ult group is Stray Kids!! I have a soft spot for Hyunjin and Jeongin but am OT8. 💫 I'll probably write for them more often than not because I feel like I know their dynamics the best. I'm also into ATEEZ, P1Harmony, BOYNEXTDOOR, 1VERSE, and ENHYPEN. 🧡

I love reading fics and interact w/ posts under my main blog @tulip-enjoyer!! Feel free to send in asks/requests. I'm so excited to start writing yay.🌷

Of course these are all for fun and don’t necessarily reflect these (very real) people’s lives. 💞

[darl-ingfics]

Feveruary Day 24: Contagious

Fandom: ATEEZ

Sickie: Yesoang, Hongjoong [everyone?] (flu)

Caregiver(s): Hongjoong, Seonghwa

Word Count: 1,130

Note: Did I want to write more? Yes. But I did not, for the sake of getting this out into the world. Maybe I'll write more to it some day, but no promises!

The day had not been good, to say the least. 

A power outage overnight meant interrupted alarms for several members, leading to a chaotic morning and delayed arrival at the company building for all. With frustration levels already high, (some embarrassed for the oversleeping, others bitterly resenting those few extra minutes,) reviewing old choreography was a nightmare. Small corrections, forgetting moves or formations, even misplaced eye contact felt like personal attacks. Sharp tongues were quick to lash out, and feelings were hurt on all sides. 

Not even lunch had cooled things, as the restaurant had messed up their order, delivering far less food than was necessary. 

Now tired, angry, and hungry, afternoon and evening practice had nearly been a wash given how tightly wound all eight members were. Some members were on the brink of war: Wooyoung and Mingi were ready to throttle each other over the last snack pack at the dorm, Jongho had rolled his eyes one too many times for Hongjoong’s liking, San wanted Seonghwa to say something to Hongjoong about all the chaos and ended up giving the eldest the silent treatment when Seonghwa refused. Those who weren’t harboring deep vendettas against anyone (only Yeosang at this point, really, as Yunho was, silently, deeply hurt about the members not keeping up with their choreo practice), were suffocating under the tension. 

Everything exploded when they finally returned home. 

Despite having the correct food for dinner, despite it being from their absolute favorite takeout place, despite the fact that any one of them could have gone and showered first instead of eating… all eight members ended up sitting together at the table. And it didn’t take long for the yelling to start. 

At some point, Hongjoong sank deep into his seat, cradling his head in his hands. How had they gotten here? Of course fights happened. Every single group, no matter how close, fought sometimes. But how had they let resentment like this grow into such a blaze? And how was he supposed to stop it when….

“Hey!” All yelling stopped instantly and six pairs of eyes snapped to a slack jawed, wide eyed Yunho who was pointing back towards the hall. “Um… Yeosang’s throwing up.”

Well, that was one way to stop it. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa exchanged a glance before rocketing out of their seats. Hongjoong followed Yunho’s instructions down the hall while Seonghwa grabbed Wooyoung by the shoulders as soon as the younger man launched forward. 

“Wait,” the eldest counseled against Wooyoung’s protests, the sounds of them arguing fading behind Hongjoong as the captain hurried into the bathroom. A pale, shaky Yeosang was sat on the floor, leaning heavily against the wall, evidence of Yunho’s claim unluckily splattered across and around the toilet in front of him. 

“Oh, Sangie.”

The performer’s eyes flew open at Hongjoong’s voice. His lips immediately started to tremble. “Hongjoong, I’m so sorry! I didn’t… I couldn’t… I…”

“Sweet boy, it’s okay.” Slipping deftly into captain mode, Hongjoong knelt next to his dongsaeng, brushing back his sweaty hair. “Did this just start?” Yeosang nodded, sniffling violently as fat tears began to roll down his cheeks. Hongjoong clicked his tongue, thumbing those tears away. “No need for that. It’s okay, love.”

“No! I… I, I’m causing problems,” Yeosang whimpered. 

“You could never,” Hongjoong reassured gently, keeping his palms around Yeosang’s terrifyingly warm cheeks. “Are you absolutely sure this just started, though? I need answers, Sang. Without answers, I can’t help.”

Yeosang swallowed thickly, nodding his head. “I mean, I felt a little tired today, but with the late alarm I just… I didn’t feel nauseous or anything until dinner. Honest.”

“I believe you, bud. Do you think you’re done?”

“Ummm…” Hongjoong watched Yeosang’s face physically turn green as his eyes slid to the mess around the toilet. “Probably not…”

“Okay. Any chance we can move you out of here before that point so we can clean this up?”

“Uh-huh.” Yeosang swallowed again, way too deliberately for comfort. “That might… help, honestly.”

“Excellent.” Hongjoong pulled Yeosang to his feet, wrapping a careful arm around his waist to guide him to bed. Just as they got to their feet, Seonghwa appeared in the doorway. His eyes swept the damage (Yeosang leaning heavy against Hongjoong, the bathroom beyond.) 

“I’m taking him to bed. He doesn’t think he’s done, but that’s not helping,” Hongjoong informed him efficiently. 

Seonghwa nodded. “Bucket’s under the sink. Get one of the kids to grab it for you. Fever reducers are…”

“In the cabinet, I know.”

“I know you do. You want me to clean or bring them to you first?”

“Clean, please,” Yeosang cut in. Both MATZ members smiled fondly at him, exchanging a final glance. 

“Go rest, Sangie,” Seonghwa said, squeezing the younger man’s shoulder before moving aside to let them through. 

After he’d gotten Yeosang changed into clean clothes and tucked into bed with the aforementioned bucket within arm’s reach, Hongjoong closed the door to the performer’s room with the softest click possible. Then he took the few steps into the den, where he met five pairs of concerned eyes. The captain put his hands on his hips. “This is not going to become a thing.”

~

It did, of course, become a thing. 

Later that night, at around two in the morning, Hongjoong woke up to an odd feeling in his throat. Sleep clung to him desperately as the emotional stress of the day and taking charge over Yeosang in his sudden illness depleted his energy, and Hongjoong just wanted to fall back into his dreams as soon as possible. He wasn’t thinking. That required too much work. He simply shrugged off his blankets and shuffled to the kitchen, slugging back three full glasses of water. The weird feeling hadn’t fully faded, but it was dulled enough for him to ignore it and fall back asleep… and for his alarm to wake him up to the worst sore throat and most painful cough he’d had in working memory. 

Seonghwa, drawn to the horrible, goose-like sound coming from the captain’s room, found Hongjoong futilely attempting to stand up. It took one look at his best friend - cheeks scarlet, hair askew, body hunched in severe pain - for the eldest to declare a state of emergency and called management. 

It was not at all surprising that both members had the flu. The timeline was too fast - whatever bug had infected Yeosang had clearly gotten Hongjoong at the same time, as there was (as San and Mingi were very intent on pointing out) no scientific explanation for Hongjoong catching this from Yeosang in a matter of hours… and the group hadn’t had solo schedules for a while…

And it took exactly five days for every member of ATEEZ to admit defeat. 

[sickkfics]

Inspo is striking

[sickskz]

Feveruary 2026| Day: 22| Ear infection

Sickie: Yeosang

Caretaker/s: Yunho + Woosan

Yeosang didn’t really understand what it was at first. After recovering (or so he thought) from an upper respiratory infection a few days prior, the only lingering symptom was a strange sense of fullness in his ear.

At the time, it barely registered as a concern. Maybe he hadn’t managed to clear all the water out after a shower. Maybe it was just leftover congestion from the cold. Either way, he assumed it would pass on its own.

But when he suddenly failed to catch what Wooyoung was saying from his spot right beside him on the couch, a flicker of unease finally crept in.

Yeosang blinked twice and slowly twisted around to face Wooyoung, a blank look settling over his features. “S-sorry, did you say something?”

Any other day, Wooyoung might’ve taken offense to his best friend’s lack of attention. But the genuine remorse flickering in Yeosang’s eyes shut down any dramatic complaints before they could surface.

Whatever question Wooyoung had been holding onto flew out the window in an instant. His eyebrows creased together in a frown, eyes filling with fiery concern.

“Dude… are you okay?”

Yeosang wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that question. When he turned his head, the room seemed to tilt slightly, and he tightened his grip on the edge of the couch— just to anchor himself to something solid.

“Uh…” he began hesitantly, lifting a hesitant hand to his ear. His right side was fine, Wooyoung’s voice came through clear as ever, but on the left, everything sounded muffled and distant. Almost like he was underwater.

Ultimately, Yeosang gave a small shrug and paired it with an uncertain nod. “Yeah? I think so, my ear is just a little clogged up, probably from the cold I had. Sorry again, I couldn’t hear you.” He cleared his throat, “What were you saying?”

Wooyoung went quiet for a moment, scanning Yeosang’s face so intently it made the older man shrink back from the blatant scrutiny.

There was a glint in Wooyoung’s eyes that told Yeosang he wasn’t buying it—but even if he wasn’t, he didn’t say it out loud. Instead, a good-natured smile returned to his face, the kind that was always hard to refuse.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go swimming with San and me? Yunho already said yes.”

Yeosang considered the offer for a moment, weighing his options, then gave a nod. “Sure, I’ll join.”

A swim sounded quite nice, actually. His body still felt a little sore, likely the remaining dregs of his cold, and a dip in the pool seemed perfect to ease the lingering tension.

When Wooyoung pumped his fist in the air like he’d won gold, already jumping to his feet in excitement, Yeosang smiled and rose to join him. “So, like... now?”

“Now.” Wooyoung grinned.

-

A couple of hours later, Yeosang was starting to regret his past self’s decision. Because while he had naively thought submerging himself in a pool would be the solution to all his problems, it only seemed to add to the discomfort.

His ear felt no less clogged than it had been beforehand— if anything, his hearing was getting worse by the minute. He hadn’t caught San speaking to him just a couple of meters away, nor Wooyoung’s shouted warning before the latter cannonballed into the water beside him.

The water temperature hadn’t helped wither; one minute too warm, the next too cold, never quite comfortable.

While the others were having a blast, Yeosang admitted quietly to himself that maybe going swimming had been a bad idea…

By the time the four of them settled into the sauna, drinking in the steam and melting into the wooden benches like slabs of dough, the pain in his ear had sharpened considerably.

Trying to clear what he assumed was water trapped inside, Yeosang sat with his head tilted his head to the left, like he’d caught the world’s worst crick in his neck. Hopefully, that would do the trick.

San, sitting to his right, glanced at him briefly before turning back to Wooyoung, only to snap his head back in a double take when he properly registered Yeosang’s odd pose.

He couldn’t hold back a short, incredulous laugh, “Yah, Yeosangie… what are you doing?”

“Oh—“ Yeosang straightened instinctively, only to flinch when the sudden movement sent a sharp wave of dizziness through his head. He let out an awkward chuckle, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m just trying to clear the water out of my ear.”

“Aigoo, still bunged up?” Wooyoung chimed in with a concerned frown, eyebrows tilting with exasperation as Yeosang nodded faintly.

From his left, Yunho’s voice joined in on the conversation, but Yeosang couldn’t make out his words over the saunas ambience and the impermeable wall that barricaded his ear.

“Huh?” Yeosang asked, turning toward him with a dazed look.

The smile was wiped flat off Yunho’s face, replaced by a deep frown as his eyes flickered between Yeosang’s ear and his eyes.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Yeosang tried again, unsettled by how suddenly troubled Yunho looked.

“Your ear, it’s.. leaking. ” Yunho repeated, a little louder this time. He pointed to emphasise his words before quickly grabbing a rolled-up towel and lifting it toward Yeosang’s left ear.

The terry cotton pressed against his skin made Yeosang tense, blinking at Yunho like he’d been slapped with the most shocking news he’d ever heard. “Leaking?” He echoed quietly, then finally admitted, “It… it kind of hurts.”

Yunho carefully peeled back the towel and sure enough, the light fabric was stained with a murky, reddish brown fluid. Yeosang scrunched his nose in distaste, stomach lurching without warning, and shut his eyes tightly as another wave of dizziness swarmed him.

God, he felt… wrong.

He clenched his eyes tighter in a vain attempt to center himself, but it seemed like the world was determined to keep shifting beneath his feet.

The heat of the sauna definitely wasn’t helping— if anything, it only made everything worse, his body working overtime to pump the blood to his brain. His legs started tingling, head flushing hot.

“Oh…uh..”

The others watched in horror as Yeosang blanched, his eyes glazing over as the colour leached from his face. In the span of a heartbeat, it felt as though his mind had dissolved into static. A high ringing swallowed every other sound until all he could hear was the beat of his own heart pounding in his ears.

When he opened his eyes again, after what he had only assumed was a longer-than-usual blink, Wooyoung was right in front of him.

Or rather.. Above him, actually.

Yunho sat at his side, and what unmistakably felt like San’s hands were gripping at his shoulders from behind.

Yeosang blinked once, slow and heavy, still feeling strangely unmoored as the world blurred back into focus.

“Sangie.. hey, hey, you here?” Wooyoung’s voice was urgent. Yeosang gave a small nod.

“Yeah? What’s..?” His words were cut short once he realised he was no longer in the sauna, but rather half-lying down on the locker room floor.

The very public locker room next to the pool they’d been at just half an hour ago….

“You passed out for a moment, Yeosangie..” San informed from behind him, sounding just a little too shaky for Yeosang’s liking.

“How are you feeling now?” Yunho added gently, and only then did Yeosang realise the older dancer was holding the towel back to his ear, hardly dulling the sharp throb pulsing through it.

Yeosang pulled his shoulders into a halfhearted shrug, still too loopy to fully convey the genuine surprise on his face. Had he seriously passed out?

“Uh… I’m okay, I feel fine,” he eventually said, because it was true. In his half reclined position on the floor (aside from the awful throb in his ear), he didn’t feel all that bad, just a little disoriented.

If anything, he was more embarrassed to be sprawled on the floor in a public locker room with nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around his waist…

“Here, drink some water,” Wooyoung instructed, holding a small water bottle out and shaking it impatiently in front of Yeonsang’s face.

The motion made his eyes cross, but he grabbed the cool beverage anyway, obediently taking a couple tentative sips.

Yeosang hadn’t been lying when he said he felt better, but once he pushed himself to sit up straight, the words flung back at him like the world’s biggest lie.

Dizzy didn’t even begin to describe the feeling that struck him.

Suddenly, Wooyoung’s face was dispersed in swirling pieces, dotting around his vision as if his sclera had been shattered like a glass pane.

The nausea came hand in hand with the vertigo, and before anyone could even begin to react, Yeosang pitched forward with a gurgle. Strong hands pressed against his bare chest, steadying him as a thin stream of vomit streaked across the cold tiles.

“Call Seonghwa-hyung,” San said quickly, panic slipping through despite his best efforts to contain it.

Yeosang couldn’t seem to hear him, even if he tried, and only let out a small, distressed noise before another wave of sick surged, rushing past his lips and painting the white floor with a bilious sludge.

Wooyoung seemed almost eerily calm despite everything, holding Yeosang’s hair back even as his own face paled and his fingers began to tremble. “It’s okay, you’re okay, Sangie,” he muttered, voice shaky, as Yunho fumbled for his phone.

When the vomiting subsided, Yeosang slumped back against San’s chest with a soft gasp, breathing raggedly. His body was covered in a slick sheen of sweat, and even with his eyes shut, everything still kept spinning.

The muffled chatter of the others barely reached his left ear, making the resonance in his right screech far too loudly in turn.

“Yah, he definitely has a fever—“

“Yeah, that’s not just the sauna, right? He’s burning to the touch..”

“Is he— oh..”

“Sangie, baby…”

Yeosang didn’t realise he was crying until Wooyoung was wiping the salty drops from his cheeks, and the realisation only made him feel worse. Not only had he passed out in a sauna and puked all over the locker room floor… now he was crying too?

God, he just wanted to go home.

“Tsk, Yeosang-ah, why didn’t you say you were feeling sick, huh?” Wooyoung said sadly, dabbing a cool towel across the tender skin below his bestfriend’s bloodshot eyes.

Whether Yeosang felt too sick to answer or simply didn’t hear him was anyone’s guess. Either way, Wooyoung didn’t press. Instead, he glanced at San, an entirely silent conversation passing between them while Yunho wrapped up his call with Seonghwa.

“Okay,” Yunho said, lowering his phone and deliberately keeping his eyes away from the mess on the floor. “They’re coming to pick us up.”

-

Getting dressed was a hassle unlike anything Yeosang had experienced before. Pulling his shirt over his head was excruciating; even the lightest touch to his ear sent sharp, shooting pains like lightning striking right through his skull.

The persistent dizziness made every movement precarious, and each step was a careful negotiation with the world itself. To his dismay, he had no choice but to rely almost entirely on his friends just to get his clothes on.

Wooyoung and San moved with practiced gentleness, maneuvering fabric around him with painstaking care, while Yunho kept a watchful eye for any sign he would pass out again. Yeosang felt like a child, and by god, he hated it. It was mortifying.

“‘M fine, guys..” he mumbled for the umpteenth time, even as Wooyoung slipped his sock onto his foot and all Yeosang could do was blink hazily at him.

“You’re not.” Wooyoung said firmly, squeezing his calf before rising to steady him by the shoulders. “You’re literally swaying like you’re on a boat.”

“M not..” Yeosang tried aimlessly.

But he definitely was…

Yeosang allowed San to carry him to the car only because attempting to move on his own made him both look and feel like a fawn taking its first uncertain steps.

The world still tilted and twisted beneath him, his legs refusing to cooperate no matter how hard he tried to focus. It felt as though every bone and muscle in his body had suddenly dissolved into jelly.

Besides, Yeosang was fairly certain gravity itself had it out for him today… so he relented.

Folding his arms around San’s broad shoulders, Yeosang allowed himself be lifted, swallowing the sting to his pride as they made their way toward the car. Despite his reluctance, he melted into San’s warmth, tucking his face into the curve of his shoulder where the world felt a little dimmer, a little steadier.

“M sorry…” he murmured, cheeks burning with equal parts fever and mortification. “I didn’t mean to make things so complicated..”

“Sangie..” San sighed affectionately, biting back the overwhelming desire to press a kiss to Yeosang’s warm forehead. “You didn’t make it complicated, it’s okay..”

“Yeah,” Yunho agreed, hovering close as they walked, Yeosang’s bag slung over his shoulder. “You can’t control being sick… it happens.”

“Though, you should’ve said something earlier.” Wooyoung cut in, voice sharper, but no less concerned, as his fingers closed gently around Yeosang’s arm.

Yeosang’s brows pinched in a pained grimace, and Wooyoung immediately softened, thumb brushing slow circles over his wrist.

“Still dizzy?”

Yeosang nodded against San’s shoulder, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he admitted, voice small. “Like I’m being tumble dried..”

San’s brow furrowed slightly at the description, but he kept his arms steady around Yeosang’s overheated body. “That sounds… rough,” he admitted, the gentle rumble of his voice tethering Yeosang to his physical body. “but it’s okay, we’re almost there. A doctors gonna take a look at you and make it all better..”

Yeosang really hoped he was right.

Outside, the cool air hit his overheated skin like a shock. Yeosang shivered despite the fever simmering under his skin, fingers tightening weakly in San’s shirt in a way that made their hearts clench.

Reaching the car, San carefully eased him into the back seat, buckling his belt for him when the poor man’s fingers trembled too bad to do so himself. Yeisang slumped bonelessly against him when they’d gotten settled, eyelids heavy and his ear throbbing in relentless pulses that matched his heartbeat.

Wooyoung and San flanked him in the back seat, providing some much needed support to his wobbly body, while Yunho climbed into the front, already filing Seonghwa in on the details.

Yeosang barely heard them, and decidedly focused on nothing but trying not to throw up again. He tried to breathe slow and steady, but bile still stung in his nos, only exacerbating the nausea that never seemed to let up.

A hand squeezed his thigh.

“Just hold on, Sangie…” Wooyoung hummed, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to the side of Yeosang’s head that he didn’t even have the energy to react to. “We’re gonna get you help.”

The car pulled away.

. Yeosang closed his eyes once more, fingers lightly entwined with Wooyoung’s, and silently begged the world to steady before he slipped under again.

____________________________________________

I love Yeosang so much it’s ridiculous 🫡 anywaaaaays those I love must always suffer in fiction

[sickkfics]

MWAH THESE ALWAYYYYS HIT

[darl-ingfics]

Feveruary Day 25: "It's just a cold"

Fandom: ATEEZ

Sickie: Yeosang (pneumonia)

Caregiver(s): Yunho, all

Word Count: 2,960

Notes: Every year, one of these prompts gets away from me. This is it.

It happened after they’d just passed the two week mark. 

Two weeks of Yeosang fighting this stupid cold. Two weeks of restless nights, of incessant coughing and sniffling and sneezing. Two weeks of him having to remind his members that it was, after all, ‘just a cold,’ and he was more than capable of attending regularly scheduled rehearsals if he just took it easy.

It had also been two weeks of Yunho playing the role of caretaker, something he was slowly losing patience for. Given that both he and Yeosang were relatively germaphobic, Yunho had taken over doing all the chores in their apartment to prevent contamination, (except loading the dishwasher; that had been Yeosang’s one task because the dishes were about to get cleaned anyway). It had been two weeks of Yunho trying not to visibly squirm every time he encountered his roommate (or feel guilty when Yeosang purposefully avoided him.) Two weeks of fetching small things for Yeosang when the other man inevitably forgot about them, (not his fault, and Yunho didn’t really mind, but still…) Two weeks of Yunho tossing and turning at night, unable to stay asleep due to the near constant coughing from the next room. 

Was it Yeosang’s fault? No. But that made it even harder for Yunho to be fully angry with his roommate, leaving the dancer in a thoroughly frustrating position. 

At the two week mark, on a Thursday night, after a grueling day of rehearsal that Yeosang had been sent home early from, Yunho sat despondently on their dorm couch, staring blankly at his lock screen. He hadn’t seen his roommate since returning home an hour ago. To be fair, he hadn’t gone looking. Rehearsal had been hell, especially for Yunho as the guest choreographer had been particularly harsh on him as the main dancer, so a petty part of Yunho was jealous Yeosang had gotten out of it. Sure, Yeosang had looked worse for wear, paler than the past week, cough somehow more constant too. It made sense for him to sit out, but… still. The mental and physical exhaustion weighed heavy, and Yunho felt that an hour of staring into space, completely alone, was warranted. 

But when Yunho finally stood to head for a shower, Yeosang stumbled into the room. Yunho pressed his lips together, biting back a wave of unbidden irritation. But then Yeosang paused, one hand grasping the kitchen counter for support as he bent in half with a desperately painful cough. That was… wrong. 

“Sangie?” Yunho felt his stomach twist, concern peaking. 

“Yunho, I… I’m not… I’m not feeling very well,” Yeosang stammered, voice ragged and breath wheezing as he tried to inhale. He gasped once more before stumbling forward, knees giving out. Yunho lunged forward, hooking his arms beneath Yeosang’s and gently guiding him to the floor. 

“Yeosang?!” Yunno exclaimed as the shorter man continued to wheeze in his arms. The dancer pushed Yeosang’s hair back from his eyes. “Sangie, what’s…?” Pausing in a lighting bolt moment of realization, Yunho pressed his hand back against Yeosang’s forehead. “You’re burning up!” The panic in Yunho’s stomach wound tighter. “Holy shit, Yeosang, you’re burning up…” 

Shaking his head, in a split second decision, Yunho hoisted Yeosang up to his feet and dragged him towards the bathroom. And it truly was a drag, as Yeosang hung like a sack of wet noddles in Yunho’s hold. Heart thundering wildly, Yunho deposited Yeosang onto the closed toilet lid before turning on bathroom lights. Now, the labored sound of Yeosang’s breathing echoed around them, and Yunho bit his lip, desperate to keep the panic at bay. He turned to the shower knobs, the whole reason he’d come in here; done right, a little water could fix anything. Hot water helped ease congestion, yes, but cold water brought a fever down. With a decisive nod, Yunho twisted the cold water knob, and then turned back to his roommate. 

“Alright, Sang, work with me,” Yunho mumbled as he reached forward, lithe fingers pulling off Yeosang’s hoodie. He wore a thin, white t-shirt underneath, and was already wearing sports shorts. Yunho nodded, deeming that enough. So he hauled Yeosang to his feet and dragged him into the shower. Yeosang immediately started whimpering like a wounded animal as he fought weakly against Yunho’s grasp, the icy water crashing down upon them both. “I know, love, it’s so cold, but we have to get that fever down…”

Yeosang gasped, a terrible choking sound, and suddenly clutched at his throat, coughing desperately. He went completely limp in Yunho’s arms, the dancer nearly slipping in his effort to keep them both upright. 

“Fuck,” Yunho whispered, his left arm wrapped across Yeosang’s chest while his right scrambled to turn the water off. Stumbling back into the bathroom, Yunho fell back against the wall with Yeosang landing in a heap on top of him. That terrible, rasping wheeze, punctuated now by harsh coughs was the only sound in the room, echoing louder and louder in Yunho’s brain. The dancer squeezed his eyes closed, terribly aware that he was seconds away from a full on panic attack despite the fact Yeosang needed him to be rational. With a steadying breath, Yunho put that thought on repeat: Yeosang needs me, Yeosang needs me, Yeosang needs me. 

Snagging the towel from the hook above them, Yunho wrapped it around Yeosang’s shoulders before settling him against the wall. Yeosang whined pitifully as Yunho stood up. He slipped on his water-logged socks, left knee colliding painfully with the floor. Hissing in pain, Yunho pushed himself back to his feet, now limping slightly to the dining room table where he’d abandoned his phone. Fingers trembling, Yunho opened his most recent calls and clicked a number without looking, knowing that no matter what, a hyung would be with whomever he called. 

*

A phone on the coffee table began to buzz. Mingi looked up from his Switch. “It’s Yunho, hyung,” he called over his shoulder to Seonghwa, the owner of said phone. 

“You can answer it!” the eldest called back, nearly done preparing dinner for the trio. 

Mingi snatched up the phone and hit ‘accept.’ “Hello?”

“HYUNG! You need to… it’s Sangie, he…”

Mingi’s spine straightened at the rushed tidal wave of words screeching from the other end. “Whoa, whoa, Yunho, slow down…” Out of the corner of his eyes, Mingi saw both Seonghwa and San freeze, eyeing him nervously. “What are you…?”

“Help! He needs HELP!” Yunho sounded no less panicked. 

“Okay, we’re on the way. Hang tight.” Mingi hung up, jumping to his feet as he met the worried eyes watching him. “Something’s wrong downstairs.” With a nod, Seonghwa turned off the stove, abandoning dinner, and following after Mingi as the rapper dashed to the door. San grabbed his keys before following the other two into the hall and down the stairs, allowing them to enter the apartment shared by Yunho and Yeosang. 

As soon as they pushed the door open, Seonghwa called, “Yunho?” “In here!” The trio followed his voice to the bathroom where they found the dancer, sopping wet and trembling, desperately holding up an unconscious Yeosang. Despite the water dripping from his hair, it was obvious that Yunho was crying. “He’s so sick, hyung,” the dancer exclaimed, meeting Seonghwa’s gaze. Seonghwa nodded, eldest brother mode taking over. 

“Mingi, take Yunho out of here. Sannie, I’m gonna need you to hold Sangie while I call a manager,” he ordered, calm and firm in just the way the others needed. San instantly slid to his knees, pulling Yeosang into his lap. 

“Come on, love,” Mingi murmured gently, holding his hands out to Yunho to pull him to his feet. As the rapper dragged his best friend from the bathroom, Seonghwa heard Yunho begin babbling again, his voice getting higher and higher and tearier as it disappeared down the hall. He shook his head; he had to trust Mingi to solve that one for now. 

Seonghwa pulled out his phone, dialed their manager and waited only two rings before he heard that familiar voice. “Hyung, we need an ambulance. Yeosang’s currently unconscious.” Seonghwa’s lips pressed together as he listened, San watching him intently as the eldest started rummaging through the drawers of the vanity. “No, we haven’t checked yet, I just got here and Yunho’s practically hysterical.” A low growl sounded in his throat as Seonghwa shut the last drawer with frustration, clearly not finding what he needed. “Can’t find the thermometer. He’s definitely burning up, though.” San pressed a hand against Yeosang’s forehead, shooting Seonghwa a thumbs up of confirmation. As Seonghwa nodded along with the other side of the conversation, San readjusted his arms around Yeosang, who’d started slipping from his grasp. The harsh grating of Yeosang’s breathing was one of the most terrifying things San could ever remember hearing. 

“Okay, thank you, hyung. We’ll be here. See you soon.” 

San watched, silent and scared, as Seonghwa hung up the phone, then clicked another number and held the device to his ear again. 

“Joong, Yeosang needs to go to the hospital. I already called management, and they’re calling EMS.” Seonghwa nodded to whatever the captain was saying. “Okay. Figured as much. See you momentarily.” 

*

As Hongjoong opened the door, Wooyoung sprinted past him towards the bathroom, which the captain expected. But Hongjoong and Jongho were stopped in the den, caught off guard by the sounds coming from the room. Mingi and Yunho were the couch, Yunho nearly shouting incoherent nonsense, nearly hyperventilating. Mingi looked up, helpless, at the newcomers. 

“What’s going on?” Hongjoong asked, rounding the couch and kneeling in front of the duo, his hand finding Yunho’s knee and squeezing. He started a bit to find the cloth of the dancer’s pants were soaked, but figured that was a story for another time. 

“It’s my fault!” Yunho gasped out. “I-i-i didn’t, I didn’t check on him, and…”

“Hey, hey.” Hongjoong grabbed Yunho’s tearstained cheeks, forcing eye contact. He could feel Yunho’s teeth chattering. “Breathe with me. In.” Hongjoong sucked in an over exaggerated breath. 

“Hyung! He… Sang collapsed!” Yunho exclaimed, hiccuping panickedly. He shook his head. “I almost drowned him!” 

The captain pulled one of the dancer’s trembling palms against his own chest. “Breathe, Yu. In.” Hongjoong inhaled again. Yunho mimicked him, admittedly very shallow. “Out.” Hongjoong kept it up until he felt Yunho’s hand stop shaking in his. “Good man.” 

Yunho’s free hand clasped at Hongjoong’s fingers, the ones still resting against his cheek. “I’m sorry…” he sniffled quietly, the last few tears leaking from his eyes. 

“Baby, no.” Mingi reached forward, squeezing his best friend’s shoulder. “You did so good tonight, Yunho.” The dancer shook his head, lips still wobbling. “Yes, you did. You tried to help Sangie however you could; that’s what matters.”

“Not to mention, hyung,” Jongho spoke up, leaning over the back of the couch, “there’s no way you could have predicted or prevented Sangie taking a turn for the worse. It was definitely him pushing himself at practice so much. Nothing to do with you at all.” The maknae ran a soothing hand through Yunho’s still damp hair, frowning a bit at that but, like Hongjoong, determining that could be clarified later. 

“Yeah, you’ve been taking such good care of our Sang the past two weeks,” Mingi said, smiling softly, encouragingly, adoringly. Yunho bit at his lip, sniffling again. 

“And I’m sure that hasn’t been easy on either of you,” Hongjoong added. 

Yunho nodded, scrubbing at his eyes. Then his hands fell into his lap. “I’m just so tired.” 

“Joong?” The voice was Seonghwa’s. Obviously, the eldest was oblivious to what was happening out here, but it tore the captain’s heart in two nonetheless, to be needed elsewhere when one of his crew was so visibly upset. 

“Go, hyung,” Jongho insisted. “Mingi and I got this.” 

Yunho nodded, grabbing Hongjoong’s hand and squeezing. “Sang’s more important.”

“Not true,” Mingi muttered as he pulled Yunho against his chest while Hongjoong stood and rushed towards the bathroom. Jongho looped around the couch, nodding to the leader before taking his place on the floor next to his tallest hyungs. Hongjoong felt his chest swell with pride. Damn, why were they all so good at this?

Hongjoong’s reminder that the eight of them were, after all, just humans came in the form of yelling as he got closer to the bathroom. Well, yelling wasn’t the correct term; harsh talking was more like it. 

“…are not going,” Seonghwa was saying, tone a sharp, dangerous warning. 

“Like hell I’m staying here!” Wooyoung shot back. As the captain settled into the doorwary, he saw San glancing helplessly back and forth between them. Wooyoung’s glare was pure fire as he clutched a pale, unconscious Yeosang against his chest. It shattered Hongjoong’s heart on sight. Which gave him the courage to step into the room, to take charge as ATEEZ’s Captain. 

“Wooyoung, Seonghwa’s right. I’m the only one going to the hospital with Yeosang.” As Wooyoung began to protest, Hongjoong held up a hand, silencing him. “I know how you feel right now, I do. But what’re you going to accomplish at the hospital, Woo? I’m just going to sit in that waiting room for god knows how long. We have to let the doctors do their thing. That’s what Yeosang needs right now. And the second he wakes up, I will call you and get you into that room. You too, San, if you want.” San perked up instantly at the promise, nodding enthusiastically. Wooyoung’s lips were a tight line of discontent, anger warring in his dark eyes as he glared at Hongjoong. “You can be mad at me all you want. That’s not going to change anything.”

“Hyung.” All four of them looked up as Jongho appeared in the doorway. The maknae flinched a bit, not expecting such a rapt reception, and thus focused his attention on Seonghwa. “Mingi and I are going to take Yunho up to your place,” Jongho said quickly. “I fear seeing the paramedics would send him into another meltdown.”

Seonghwa clasped the maknae’s hands. “You are a saint.” Jongho nodded, shooting one worried glance at Yeosang before hurrying back down the hall. “And on that note, we need to prep our boy for lift off. Sannie, come help me pack him up a bag?” 

The air was thick in the cramped bathroom as the two men disappeared into the hall. Hongjoong watched, expression guarded, as Wooyoung repositioned Yeosang so the performer’s body was more upright; he’d started wheezing again, that terrible rasping sound he’d been making when Wooyoung had arrived. It got a little less aggressive the more vertical Yeosang’s torso, which was difficult to maintain given the man’s current state.

“I’m sorry, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung muttered, eyes cast down towards his best friend. His fingers tightened against the towel still snugly secured around Yeosang. “I… I’m scared. For him.”

“I know, Woo. I’m sorry you can’t stay with him. I just… I don’t want the hospital to freak you out more.” 

Wooyoung nodded, reluctant but resigned. 

EMS arrived shortly after their manager, and whisked Yeosang away in a cloud of professionalism. When the door closed behind them, Wooyoung stood motionless in the hall, unsure of what to do with himself until a warm hand clasped his shoulder.  

“Come stay with us.” Seonghwa nodded his head back towards the hallway, to San, who’d left on a mission to grab a few of Yunho’s things. “You and Sannie can have a sleepover.”

A few minutes later, the trio quietly entered the dorm. Jongho sat on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. The sound was so low, it was obvious he’d just turned it on to avoid dead silence. 

“Everything go okay?” the maknae asked as San collapsed next to him, immediately resting his head against Jongho’s shoulder. 

“Smooth as we could hope for,” Seonghwa sighed, watching as Wooyoung followed San’s movements, curling up on the performer’s other side as Jongho began to play with San’s hair. “Where’re the twins?”

“Asleep in Mingi’s room. At least, Yunho’s asleep. We slipped him some extra strength Benadryl to knock him out. Not that he needed it, but still.” Jongho shook his head. “I haven’t seen Yunho that worked up in a while. Maybe ever.”

“He’s scared,” San spoke up. “And he’s tired. That’s a bad combination when you throw in stress like your roommate passing out in your arms.” 

“Thank you, Jongho, for being so calm through all that,” Seonghwa added, smiling with pride. 

Jongho shrugged. “Hey, we can only have half of the team freaking out at once. Wasn’t my turn today.” San snorted out a laugh, and Seonghwa could see Wooyoung also fighting a smile. He had little choice when San threw an arm around his shoulders and tickled Wooyoung’s neck, eliciting a squeal from the younger man. 

As the couch descended into light chaos, Seonghwa padded down the hall. He peeked his head through the doorway of Mingi’s room. The rapper’s eyes, illuminated by the soft glow of his phone screen, turned towards him instantly, followed by a small wave of the phone hand. His other arm was trapped under a snoring heap of Jeong Yunho.

“Everything good?” the eldest whispered. 

Mingi nodded. “We might have to do some damage control in the morning, but…” He paused, beaming down at his best friend, “I think he just needed to sleep.” Then his face turned serious again. “How’s Sangie?” Seonghwa shrugged. “We’ll know when we know. All we can do is get some rest and be ready to help tomorrow.” 

Mingi saluted. “Aye, aye, sir.”

Seonghwa mirrored the salute, finally feeling at peace again. “As you were.”

[sickkfics]

I'll be here .ೃ࿔ ⌂*:･

Feveruary day 23: "Jeesh, if that's your bedside manner, I'd rather take my chances on my own."

Sick Han + Caretaker Seungmin

ironically, i've been sick these past few days

:( sorry about any delays in getting these out. five more fics this challenge, i'll finish strong!

Han was three days into a stubborn fever that didn’t want to quit, hovering dangerously on the line between skipping rehearsal and going to the ER. While everyone else was at a recording session, Seungmin volunteered to stay back with him, watching as Han shivers violently despite the three layers of blankets enveloping him.

"39.6," he reports, pulling the small digital thermometer from the sick boy's mouth. "Time for ibuprofen, Jisung."

With a trembling hand, Han takes the two chalky tablets and slips them into his mouth. He sputters on them and sips from his water bottle to force them down.

"More," Seungmin frowns. "Dehydration would only make things worse."

Without the strength to respond, let alone argue, Han continues drinking from the bottle. Every few minutes, Seungmin coaxes more down until the entire container is gone.

Sinking back into the cushions, Han lets out a feeble groan. "Seungminnie… it hurts." His whole body shakes with shivers and every movement sets his aches off even more.

"I know. With a fever like that, you're going to be hurting for a while," Seungmin pulls off one of the blankets.

"Min-ah!" Han whines, reaching for it back.

"Han Jisung. You're cooking. You can manage with two instead of three blankets." With a firm tug, Seungmin manages the blanket back and folds it into a square, setting it on the floor by the couch. "Get some rest. Your body needs sleep."

Han huffs, curling into an even tighter ball in a half-hearted attempt at feeling warm. "You're mean. I want Channie-hyung."

This hurts Seungmin more than he'd care to admit. "He's in the studio right now, and I know you don't want to bother him. Besides, he'd say the same thing I did. You don't need three blankets," he counters. "What you do need is rest. Close your eyes."

"Hmmph." Reluctantly, Han does so. Honestly, he's so incredibly fatigued, the idea of rest sounds heavenly. He's finally drifting towards sleep, feeling warm and pleasant now instead of aggressively boiling, deep in the comfort of rest.

All of a sudden, it feels like someone dunked his entire body in ice water.

"Aish!" he yelps, his eyes shooting open. So much for sleep.

"Quiet, Jisung," Seungmin mutters. He is still perched at Han's side, now pressing a lukewarm damp washcloth to his neck. "It's just water. To bring your temperature down."

"Stop, it's freezing!" Han hisses but still allows the cloth to be held there. He knows he needs it.

"It's room temperature," Seungmin frowns, his hand working in small circles as he presses water into the feverish skin. "If your fever doesn't drop, I'm calling management and you'll wind up in the hospital. Is that what you want?"

Defeated, Han stops complaining. He looks at Seungmin's face, which reads more scolding than comforting. "Jeez, if that's your bedside manner, I'd rather take my chances on my own."

Seungmin feigns standing up and Han reaches out in a desperate, childish movement. "Wait, no! Don't go!"

"Thought so. Close your eyes, Jisungie," Seungmin repeats. "I'll be here." His voice lacks any harsh edge, laying purely in the realm of quiet concern.

For what seems like hours, he sits there, watching the steady rise and fall of Han's chest. With every shiver, a surge of anxiety shoots through him. Seungmin knows 39.6 is no ordinary fever. Whatever is going on is far worse than any common cold. He's a vocalist, not a doctor. How was he meant to handle this? Why would he decide to stay back?

Please break soon. Please break soon.

The words repeat in his mind like a mantra. His strict caretaking was a total guise, the only way he knew how to control whatever illness was destroying his hyung. Maybe if he stopped his rigid ministrations, Han would fall apart completely. He couldn't risk it.

Finally, Seungmin allows his composure to crack. He reaches out, resting his palm on Han's forehead to feel the dry, intense heat.

Leaning forward, he wraps his hyung in a careful hug. If he needs help, he'll call Chan. But for now, all he can do is his best.

[sickkfics]

Quiet, please ੈ✩‧₊˚

Feveruary day 22: Ear Infection

Sick Minho + Caretaker Jeongin

set in the old lino + maknaes dorm!

The dorm is a flurry of light and sound. On the couch, Felix's thumbs fly across his controller as League of Legends plays out on the TV. Seungmin sits to his side, offering up snarky commentary and playful banter, only adding to the volume in the room. In the kitchen, Jeongin hums to himself as he watches his instant rice spin in circles in the microwave. All things considered, a typical noisy night after a long day of rehearsals.

And in the middle of the storm sat Minho. He was watching a movie, or at least that's what he told his members. Instead, he sits with his headphones on and his laptop screen paused on his lap, staring at the wall ahead of him. Every few minutes, he absently brings his hand to his head and massages from his temple down to his shoulder.

“Yah! That was so dumb!” Seungmin reaches across Minho to knock Felix on the shoulder. Retaliating, Felix yelps and hits him back.

Caught in the middle of the crossfire, Minho stands up quickly with a scowl on his face. “Enough! Why are you guys always bickering!”

The younger two behind him share a nervous laugh.

“Watch out, Felix, Minho is in one of his moods!” Seungmin teases.

From the kitchen, Jeongin can see this is more than his hyung getting fed up with them. He keeps massaging the side of his head, swaying on his feet, and looks entirely too pale. IN a huff, Minho storms off down the hallway and into his bedroom.

“What’s up with him?” Felix turns back to his game.

“Like I said, moody,” Seungmin laughs.

Frowning, Jeongin ignores the microwave’s insistent beeping and heads down the hallway to Minho’s room. He knocks once, twice, three times on the door.

“Lino-hyung? Are you okay?”

A moment of silence. Then, “I’m fine, Jeongin-ah. Go eat your dinner.”

“Can I come in?”

Minho makes no audible response, but instead opens the door. He stands in the middle of the room, shivering, sweaty, and pale.

“Oh, hyung… are you okay?” Jeongin asks quietly. Unsure of exactly what to do, he moves a gentle hand up toward Minho’s forehead. “Not okay. You’re burning up.”

“I’ll be fine,” Minho reassures halfheartedly as Jeongin steers him over to bed. The two sit down on the edge as Jeongin continues to interrogate.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just have a migraine, Innie, it’s fine.”

“And a fever.”

“I'm not sick,” Minho tries again.

“Hyung, please stop lying to me. Can you just tell me what’s wrong?” Jeongin all but whispers. He reaches up to rub comforting circles into Minho’s back like he’s seen Chan do countless times before.

Minho considers confessing for a second. Secretly, he wishes he could tell Jeongin how much he's hurting. He knows the younger would willingly bring him medicine, ensure he was comfortable, and quiet the others so he could finally rest. But who would he be if he did that to his maknae?

He decides to brush off any remaining concern with a shake of his head. However, the moment he does, the world spins into a sickening cyclone of colors. Minho grasps desperately at Jeongin as his universe slips sideways, desperate to stay upright.

"Minho…" Jeongin nudges the sick man so that he's fully supported against the headboard. "Tell me what's wrong." No longer a question.

"My ear." Minho whines.

"What about your ear?"

"Hurts. The left one."

Jeongin frowns. At least he's admitting to something. "Hurts how? Is it bad?"

"Feels like a hot coal shoved inside my skull. I couldn't handle being out there with everyone. All the noise feels like I'm literally being punched in the head," Minho cracks, any façade of strength completely crumbling. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Jeongin shifts closer, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin just below Minho’s earlobe. Hissing, Minho startles away. "Oops, oops. God, hyungie, I think you have an ear infection. Is it just the one ear?"

Minho nods cautiously.

"That's good," Jeongin affirms, relieved that the problem seems subdued for now. "Do you need anything?"

"Just quiet, Jeonginnie." Minho mumbles.

"How about I bring you some painkillers and a warm washcloth?" Jeongin suggests, helping to spread another throw blanket out over him. "Then I'll have a chat with Seungmin and Felix, and we'll all leave you to sleep."

The plan is so perfect, Minho could cry. That would probably hurt, he decides. Instead, he manages a soft smile. "That would be nice."

With a final look back at his hyung, Jeongin leaves the room to fetch the supplies and scold his members. He steps into the hallway and realizes the living room storm has ceased into a tense quiet. When he comes into the other's view, they meet his glance with guilty expressions.

"Is he still upset?" Felix asks, rubbing his thumb along the edge of his contoller.

"He's not just moody, Lix, he's sick," Jeongin says, hushed. "He's got a fever, a bad headache, probably an ear infection. You guys being loud didn't help."

The color drains from the other boys' faces. Any traces of snarky remarks or too-loud gaming disappear completely.

"But he didn't say anything?" Seungmin offers.

"Because he's Minho-hyung. He would never admit it when he's not at his best, especially in front of us," Jeongin sighs. "I'm going to go get him some things for his pain. Can one of you text Channie-hyung and let him know what's going on? Minho'll probably need a doctor."

Seungmin nods, his phone already open to Bang Chan's contact. Felix turns off the television and closes up Minho's laptop, hoping to make the dorm a more comfortable volume. Jeongin is already in the bathroom and running a washcloth under a hot tap. He stands there for a moment longer than necessary tearing himself apart. Why did Minho had to almost completely break for them to notice something was wrong?

Brushing the thought aside for now, he leaves the bathroom and starts back down the hallway. Care is the priority for now.

[sickkfics]

A taste of home ♨ ₊˚⊹♡

Feveruary day 22: "Don’t lie to me. You're pale, you're sweating, and you can barely stand."

Sick Felix + Caretaker Minho

cooking like a chef, i'm a five star michelin ♡ enjoyy

Felix watches as he carefully pours chopped carrots into the soup pot, joining the chicken broth and egg noodles. His mother's classic chicken noodle soup recipe, one he was all too familiar with and direly in need of at the moment.

The time is nearing eleven at night and Felix had finally managed to drag away from the toilet where he had been throwing up for nearly an hour. Honestly, he had no idea what was going on. One minute he was fine, getting ready for bed so that he would be well rested for the shoot the next day. The next, he was sprinting to the bathroom with a stomach that felt like it was being crushed. Now, however, he was in the kitchen, trying to recreate the comfort that only his mother over eight thousand kilometers away could provide.

With shaking hands, he begins cutting the celery into (roughly) even chunks. He doesn't even notice as Minho started padding down the hall into the fluorescent lighting. Although he missed the sounds of the vomiting and crying, Felix banging around in the kitchen alerted him to the fact that something must be wrong.

"Yongbok?"

Felix turns to the sound, knife in hand. "Minho?"

"Felix, what are you doing?" Minho approaches the trembling boy with a quiet sort of concern that he only displayed when one of his dongsaengs was sick.

"I'm okay," Felix is quick to defend.

"Don’t lie to me. You're pale, you're sweating, and you can barely stand," Minho takes the knife from him and leads him over to a barstool. "Sit." He commands as he leaves the room. Resting his elbows on the counter and placing his face in his hands, Felix sighs. He really doesn't feel well. His stomach, although no longer angry with nausea, still aches dully, and he's running entirely too warm.

Within two minutes, Minho is back and before Felix can protest a thermometer is inserted into his ear.

Eyeing the vegetable operation, Minho speaks up gently. "What's all this?" He takes the thermometer out and frowns at the feverish reading.

"Making soup." Felix mutters.

"I gathered."

Realizing Minho is expecting more from this exchange, Felix continues. "My mom's recipe. I was throwing up, couldn't sleep… just needed a taste of home."

"Why didn't you wake someone?" Minho accuses.

"I-"

"You could have woken me."

Silence follows. Not one tinged with anger or bitterness, but a heavy space where Felix could feel Minho's worry. In reality, he knew that any one of his members would jump at the chance to care for him whenever he needed it. But having that care standing right in front of him, willing and gentle, made it almost impossible to accept.

"I can do it, Minho," Felix all but whispers.

Minho rubs the younger boys back gently. "You don't have to. May I?"

Hesitantly, Felix nods. It's not that he doesn't trust his hyung, but with something like this that brought back such strong memories of his mum, he was a little wary.

"Yah, Yongbok, you don't trust me?" Minho teases, patting Felix's back and effortlessly stepping into the role of chopping the celery. "You can tell me exactly what to do. Just stay seated, or I'll bring you right back to bed."

"Okay, okay." Felix smiles, altogether grateful for the help. "Finish chopping that, and add it to the pot with the ginger."

Minho hums in acknowledgement and finishes chopping the vegetables with a quiet efficiency. Felix watches him with careful but dazed focus.

The kitchen slowly fills with the familiar scent of aromatics as the soup simmers on the stovetop.

Maybe it wasn't his mother's house or hands, but it certainly felt like home.

[sickkfics]

bello guys day 22 of feveruary coming out soon :( i had a pretty bad migraine today and was not ahead of the schedule so it's a bit short but hope it's still lovely i definitely enjoyed writing it

[sickskz]

Hiiii hru?? I’ve been thinking about this idea lately and I’ve never seen a fic like this so hear me out

felix has a stomach bug, but he doesn’t really have it anymore, instead he’s recovering. So he has the lingering symptoms, is tired af and has to attend schedule cs technically he’s not sick anymore. He’s really cuddly and the members feel bad for him so while they’re backstage there’s just always one or more people cuddling him and trying to make him feel better

-🥑 anon if it’s free

Merging Feveruary w requests once again. 😎

Feveruary 2026| Day: 10| “You can't catch it... Probably... Maybe."

Sickie: Felix

Caretaker/s: Stray kids

The past week had, for lack of better word, dragged Felix through hell and back. The stomach flu he’d been warring with had entirely sapped him of all his vitality, dulling Stray Kids’ own sunshine into a dim glow.

The virus had only lasted for about three days, the last bout of vomiting striking sometime around noon on day two, and the fever breaking overnight.

Per Idol definition, he was no longer sick by the third day, and was expected to return to his usual pursuits. Naturally, that’s exactly what he did.

Felix returned to his schedule, pushing past the way he had to lean against the wall for support or close his eyes when the world started spinning.

On paper, he wasn’t sick anymore, but in reality, his body didn’t seem to have gotten the memo just yet.

While Felix was upright and no longer in need of a bathroom attached by the hip, his body still felt far from okay. His limbs were heavy, his head foggy, and even the act of sitting up too fast made him feel awfully faint.

He could eat now (though only plain foods in small portions), but even that left him exhausted in a way that sleep didn't seem to fix. ‘Food is fuel’ suddenly didn’t ring true anymore, and his appetite had yet to make an appearance.

Felix felt dull, hollowed out, like the virus had scooped him clean and left only a fragile shell behind. He felt drained of the brightness that usually came so naturally to him, and beneath it all lingered a quiet sadness, because he didn’t feel like himself.

Which was how he ended up backstage, wrapped in an oversized hoodie with the hood pulled low, legs tucked up on the couch like he was trying not to take up space. Not moping, per se, just… feeling a little dejected.

They had a fan meeting today, and there was no way he could skip it. No matter how many times the others had assured him it would be okay to sit this one out, he couldn’t bring himself to. No matter how unproductively queasy he felt after the bowl of rice porridge Chan had made for him an hour earlier, he had to do it.

The bowl still sat on the low table in front of him, barely stirred through once, the spoon resting exactly where’d he’d let it fall. He’s already conceded defeat. 1–0 to the porridge.

Felix tried to close his eyes, to sneak in a little nap before he had to return to the world. They had an hour before they had to make an appearance, 30 minutes went before they had to get their final touch ups…

Even the overhead lights backstage made him feel dizzy, exacerbating his nausea not to the point of puking, but enough to unsettle him. So Felix pulled the hood lower with a frustrated sigh, letting the darkness wash over him.

A good solider sleeps when he can.

Of course, so long he gets the opportunity to.

“You okay, Lixie?” Jeongin’s voice called out gently, and he felt the slightest dip in the cushions as the maknae lowered himself down beside him.

Felix nodded automatically, because that was the answer he was supposed to give, programmed into him after years of being an idol. He lifted the hood slightly, peeking out with a weary smile. “Yeah..” he said, voice quiet. “Just really tired…”

Jeongin hummed, clearly unconvinced, and gave him a sympathetic look. He didn’t push though, just draped an arm around Felix's shoulders and tugged him in without ceremony. Thank god.

Felix melted instantly, head tipping sideways until it rested against Jeongin’s strong shoulder; one of his absolute favourite pillows. He let out a small, involuntary sigh, like his body had been waiting for permission to fully relax.

“Nap?” Jeongin asked— like he’d read his mind, and Felix nodded softly, a barely there ‘yes, please’ slipping from under the hood.

He shuffled a little to get comfortable, slinging his legs over the maknaes lap and tucking in like the spot had been reserved just for him. And Jeongin held him close, rubbing his back through the hoodie and tracing idle patterns into the fabric with his index finger.

Honestly? Felix could’ve cried from that point of contact alone, and from how generously Jeongin always offered it to him. Amid discomfort and debility, the intimacy felt like a soft balm on his weary soul.

He was halfway out of it when another weight gently dropped onto the couch beside them, followed by Jeongin’s voice shushing someone. Felix’s lips twitched in amusement, his heart fluttering from the gesture.

“Is he okay?” Changbin voice asked, low and careful, but whispering wasn’t exactly his forte.

Jeongin was about to answer, but Felix beat him to it, groggy and soft-spoken. “I’m okay.. just tired.”

“Right.. long week,” Changbin mumbled, lips pressing into a thin line. He moved closer to Felix's other side and pressed against his back, rubbing his shoulder. "Let me know if there’s anything I can do, yeah?”

Felix just hummed in agreement. He nuzzled his nose against Jeongin’s collarbone, a gentle sweater-pawed grip holding onto his shoulder.

“You’re an awfully cuddly cat today..” the maknae commented with a chuckle, trailing his finger down Felix’s spine.

“Yeah, you’re being so clingy, Yongbokkie~” Changbin chimed in with his baby talk voice, making Felix huff softly in return. Well, they weren’t wrong..

Felix was generally one of the more affectionate members, one of the ones who sought out physical contact the most, but this was different. He didn’t just enjoy touch; he craved it, needed it like he needed air to breathe.

Being held somehow kept the lingering aches at bay, and grounded him when the exhaustion made his head swim and the tears threaten to spill.

The members seemed to realise that instinctively, and in turn formed a quiet rotation around him without ever saying it out loud. Felix was eternally grateful.

When Jeongin had to leave for his touch ups, Minho readily claimed his spot on the couch, settling in with a soft scoff. “You’re not contagious anymore, right?”

“No,” Felix answered quickly, though he was no professional. He hadn’t actually been sick in over twenty-four hours, solely suffering from the aftermath of his illness. But if he by any chance was still contagious, they’d have to blame JYP for clearing him prematurely. “You can't catch it.. I think...? Probably.. Maybe..”

“Good.” Minho pulled Felix closer like he was planning to do so regardless of his answer, tucking his chin over Felix’s head. “You’re allowed to just be pathetic then.”

Felix laughed weakly at that, the sound muffled against Minho’s shirt. “Thanks..” His eyes slipped shut again, lashes fluttering as his body gave in. They still had 40 minutes to go, so no one commented on it.

Jisung just grabbed a blanket from the side of the couch and draped it over him, careful not to jostle him too much.

“Hyunjin’s going to sulk,” he whispered, sitting down beside them and tucking a few strands of blonde hair behind Felix’s ear. “He hates missing cuddle time with Lixie.”

Right on cue, Hyunjin appeared in the doorway like he’d been summoned, eyes narrowing at the sight of Felix curled up in the middle of a Minsung sandwich (with a generous side of Changbin).

“Why is everyone touching Felix without me?”

Minho snorted. “Yah, there’s plenty of Felix to go around,” he replied dryly, lips twitching to a smirk.

Hyunjin didn’t reply. Instead, he promptly plopped down on the floor by the couch, grabbing Felix’s hand and lacing their fingers together.

Felix almost seemed to purr at the additional comfort, fingers curling around Hyunjin’s and a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I’m feeling kinda… clingy today.”

Hyunjin’s expression softened immediately, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “That’s okay. You’re allowed. You’ve had a rough week.”

“And that’s an understatement.” Another voice joined in, just as gentle and soothing as the rest. Seungmin. “You haven’t exactly had much of nutritional value the last days either.. Your body is still adjusting.”

Felix hummed a flat note in agreement, allowing himself to wallow in the comfortable warmth surrounding him. The mixed colognes, all familiar but with their own characteristic, were strangely appeasing.

He didn’t feel like opening his eyes, not when he was so comfortable, but he didn’t have to. After all the years spent together, Felix could just about recognise the members by their footsteps alone.

“I have some energy bars in my bag, if you’d like one?” Chan offered, sounding a little further off than the rest.

Felix considered his request, but ultimately decided against it. He didn’t want to risk making himself feel sick again before the fan meet started. “Thanks, Channie-hyung, but I think I’d rather stick with water for now.”

“Just promise me you’ll eat a little later?” Came Seungmin’s retaliation, ever vigilant about his meals not being skipped.

Felix smiled softly, nodding against Minho’s shoulder. “Promise”

_

The ten final minutes before showtime went by in a flash. Then, they were suddenly on stage, performing an opening number while lights danced around them and cheers erupted from the crowd.

Felix forced himself to believe his attempt of napping had recharged his batteries, even though it truly hadn’t. If he could gaslight anyone without soul-crushing guilt, it was himself, after all.

The Stays didn’t seem notice how poorly he was feeling, at least not more than they were to expect. JYP had released a subtle statement regarding his health situation a few days prior, when he failed to attend a promotional event, but he was back now. Present.

Which once again meant, on paper, he was healthy… and he was a performer, an idol; putting on a show was second nature to him.

Felix stood where he was supposed to, smiled when he was meant to, laughed on cue and struck cute poses for the camera. He answered questions, voice still deep and warm, accent rolling smoothly off his tongue.

To anyone watching, he looked fine for the most part, maybe a little paler than usual, a little less energetic, but nothing alarming.

But the members knew him better.

They noticed how Felix shifted his weight constantly, like even standing still was too much on his weary bones. They caught the way his smile lagged half a second behind the joke, and the way his eyes dulled under the bright studio lights, blinking so much he looked as though he was impersonating Lee Know.

They saw every little tell Felix was struggling, and they’d be damned if they didn’t help out at any point they could.

After performing another one of their songs, Felix swayed on his feet, dizziness crashing over him like a tidal wave.

It was barely discernible on the outside, just a slight roll onto his heels, but Minho’s hand was there instantly, fingers curling around Felix’s wrist under the guise of adjusting their formation. Felix didn’t even look surprised, he just leaned in subtly, grounding himself.

“You good?” Minho murmured, making sure to hold his hand up so no one could read off their lips.

Felix nodded robotically, the glitching in his vision finally stilling. “Yeah..” He breathed, but Minho’s grip only tightened, eyes sharp as razors. He saw right through him

The older dancer met Chan’s gaze from across the floor and gave a curt nod, like he’d settled some non-spoken deal between them. Felix didn’t know what it meant, but whatever it was, he was grateful to have his own protection squad on deck.

Between segments, while staff adjusted equipment and changed their outfits, Felix sagged against the wall like someone had flipped a switch. Chan immediately handed him a bottle of water, thumb brushing reassuring circles into his back as Felix took small, careful sips.

"You're doing great," Chan said quietly.

Felix's eyes fluttered shut for just a second. His lower lip quivered, so he caught it between his teeth and bit back a whimper.

"I'm trying."

"I know," Chan replied, voice warm with certainty as he pressed a kiss to Felix’s exposed shoulder. “Just hold on, we’re halfway through..”

-

From that point on, all the member closed ranks without even discussing it. Whenever Felix had to stand for a prolonged period of time, someone was there beside him; steadying him, guiding him, handing him water and reminding him to sip slowly.

Someone always had an arm around looped around his waist, a shoulder available to lean on, a hand warm against his back; every little gesture a silent reminder that they were there for him.

By the last part of the fan meeting though, Felix’s practiced smile had noticeably grown thinner, his skin duller, the exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin.

When they lined up to take some final photos, Changbin subtly shifted so Felix could lean against his shoulder. Hyunjin slung an arm around his midriff, steady and unyielding, anchoring him in place while Jeongin inched a little closer on his other side. Jisung’s hand slipped into his, Minho’s breath tickled his neck.

Everyone was right there, circled around him like everyone had signed a treaty to protect him at all costs.

The flash went off, and Felix smiled; softer this time, not as forced, but actually real.

Because even if he was still worn down, the past days of sickness still clinging to his back like a looming shadow, at least he wasn’t carrying it alone.

And he knew he never would be.

[sickkfics]

PERFECT

[sickkfics]

Raincheck ｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ

Feveruary day 20: Cancelled Plans

Sick Hyunjin + Caretaker Changbin

enjoy ♡

"Hyunjin, if we don't leave right this second, our spot is going to get taken!" Changbin ties his second shoe, hopping on one foot to get it on. It was a Friday night and the two had a reservation for Korean barbecue at a favorite spot near their dorm.

Hyunjin always took a long time to get ready. Of the two, he cared more about maintaining appearances even if they were just heading out for a quick dinner. Even still, he'd always respond to Changbin's calls to leave.

"Yah! Hwang Hyunjin!" he yells. Maybe the younger had his headphones on.

Still nothing. Sighing, Changbin slips his shoes off and starts down the hallway towards Hyunjin's room. He knocks at the door, once, twice, three times, to no response. Gently, he pushes the door open to find Hyunjin fast asleep on top of the covers. He's almost mad, almost allows himself to yell in frustration. But this doesn't seem like a case of Hyunjin forgetting their long-set plans.

Hyunjin is fully dressed, with even his jewelry, makeup, and winter coat on. The bedroom light is glowing and his snoozing seems more like an accident than an intentional nap. This is good, Changbin considers, as soon as he wakes up they would be ready to go.

"Jinnie!" Changbin shakes the youngers shoulder.

"Guh," Hyunjin rolls over onto his side, his eyes squinting shut against the harsh overhead light.

"You ready to go?" Changbin prompts while shifting his weight from foot to foot. He glances at his phone. They need to hurry to make that reservation.

"Oh," Hyunjin props himself up on his shoulders. Dazed, he rubs his eyes and tries to remember just what they're running late for this time. "KBBQ?"

Turning on his heels, Changbin stops his advance towards the doorway. "Yep. We gotta go now, reservation is in fifteen."

"I don't think I'm up for it," Hyunjin murmurs. His voice is thick with lingering traces of grogginess.

Changbin heads back towards the bed, sinking down onto the mattress. "What? You're already dressed. Are you worried about being late? I don't mind waiting."

Instead of responding, Hyunjin inches towards Changbin's lap and leans against his side. His neck is slick with sweat, heat radiating off of him even through his jacket.

"Hey…" Changbin frowns, his hand instinctively reaching towards Hyunjin's forehead. He tips the younger's head back so that he can see his face more clearly.

"My body is full of lava," Hyunjin whines.

"Mm, I don't know about that, but you're clearly feverish," Changbin pulls his phone from his pocket.

There was no way they were going out tonight, not even if Hyunjin wanted to. Within seconds, Changbin cancels their reservation and texts Chan a quick heads-up that Hyunjin is under the weather.

Running his fingers through Hyunjin's hair, Changbin continues speaking in a gentle tone. "We can go next week instead. How bad do you feel?"

Hyunjin doesn't even protest at the cancelled plans. "Really warm and achy. It's not like I feel terrible, but I can't imagine going out right now."

"I'm sorry, Jinnie," Changbin pulls him into a tight hug.

They sit like that for a few minutes. Eventually, Changbin helps him take off his coat and jewelry. Hyunjin changes into a more comfortable pajama set and Changbin coaxes some ibuprofen and fluids down. After that, they settle on the couch in the living room. Hyunjin naps for a bit while Changbin turns on an old, familiar horror movie.

"Hyung?" Hyunjin breaks the comfortable quiet of the room with a shaking voice.

"Hm?" Changbin doesn’t look away from the screen, but his hand shifts automatically to rest on Hyunjin's thigh.

"I'm hungry," he whines. "Do we have anything?"

Musing over the contents of the pantry, Changbin eventually responds. "Uh, we've got a couple of ramyeon packets. Instant rice. The fruit is sort of turning, and I finished the chicken yesterday."

"So nothing."

"Not nothing," Changbin counters, nudging him. "I could make you some eggs and rice. Keep it simple?"

Hyunjin stares at him, unimpressed.

"Okay, not that," Changbin sighs. "We can order in? Is your stomach fine?"

"Absolutely."

"What about soup?"

Burying his face into Changbin's shoulder, Hyunjin shakes his head. "Pizza?"

Changbin laughs softly. "Is pizza good for fevers?"

"Basically medicine."

There's no arguing with Hyunjin when he's like this, so Changbin orders two personal pizzas. Plain for the sickie, corn and pork belly for himself. By the time it arrives, Hyunjin is half-asleep again, and Changbin has to wake him so they can start on their dinner.

In the comfort of their living room, the pair enjoy a quiet meal, a rarity in their bustling household. Schedules loom over their heads, an upcoming choreography session and photoshoot. When Hyunjin brings them up, Changbin gently waves them off.

"Don't worry about those now, aegi," he chides. "Focus on rest. You can concern yourself with work after your fever goes."

"Channie-hyung wanted my help with going over the new choreo," Hyunjin protests.

Changbin wraps his arm around his shoulder. "Chan knows you're sick. I texted him earlier. Don't you trust him to take care of everything?"

Hyunjin nods reluctantly.

"Good. Just rest, now."

[sickkfics]

bruh i realized out of my fics this month chan and changbin only are sickies twice each while everyone else is 4 💔💔 would love to write more for each of them when feveruary is over!! any ideas feel free to ask

[sickkfics]

(It might be) venom ₊⋆ ☣︎ ⁺₊

Feveruary day 19: Refusing Medicine

Sick Minho + Caretaker Changbin

Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep. The thermometer sounded insistently in the silence of the bedroom. Changbin pulls it from under Minho's tongue, his face freezing at the flashing number.

"103.7," he says in a carefully composed tone.

It's about two o'clock in the morning and Seo Changbin is perched on the edge of his sick hyung's bed, entirely confused on how things had gotten so much worse so quickly. Minho had been running a low-grade fever since three in the afternoon and had been on strict bedrest since then because Stray Kids had an album shoot the following day. Nobody could figure out why he was feverish, as he had no other symptoms, and management had chalked it up to stress. But stress doesn't make a fever shoot up so high, or last so long.

Minho hums in response. He sort of figured his temperature went up. Over the past few hours, he hadn't been able to sleep. Heat and chills prickled at his bones and pulled his muscles taut, too intense to try for quality rest.

"That's way too high, hyung." Changbin puts the thermometer down and peels off Minho's top duvet ("sorry! I know it's cold!") and leaves the room ("I'll be right back, hyung, stay put!").

Minho is grateful for Changbin's presence—he had invited him in, after all.

1:57AM 'Binnie I know it's late but I also know you're up~' 'I'm kind of feeling worse, can you come keep me company for a bit?'

It was an odd feeling for him to rely on the younger man, but all shame was easily set aside when Changbin had come in nearly immediately to check on him. He didn't baby him, didn't make him feel worthless for being sick. Just offered gentle care and the occasional hug. While he is mulling over his appreciation, Changbin comes back into the bedroom.

Any appreciation he had had dissipates as soon as Changbin reveals a bottle of liquid ibuprofen and turns it over in his hands, analyzing the label. Minho hates liquid medication. It tastes absolutely vile, like disgusting, spoiled wine. There is no way in heaven or hell that he will take it.

"I know you hate this, Lino, but it's all we have fever-reducer wise," Changbin reads his mind, sitting down on the edge of the bed and skimming the dosage instructions. "I don't even know why we have this. Maybe from when Hyunjin-ah had strep throat. Remember that, hyung? He couldn't talk for two days. That was the quietest I've ever seen him."

The idle attempt at conversation did nothing to distract Minho from the grape-flavored poison that Changbin is currently pouring into a medicine cup. He watches in shock as the liquid flows past the 10, 15, 20, and up to the 25mL line. What is he, a horse?

"Okay, can you take this for me?" Changbin hands him the cup. Any observer might think it was filled with ants the way Minho shoves it back at him.

"Aish, Changbin, are you trying to kill me? That stuff is toxic," Minho scoffs.

Pushing it again into the dancer's hand, Changbin sighs. "It's going to make you feel so much better."

"I'll probably throw it up," Minho offers despite not having felt nauseous all night.

"It's worth a shot," Changbin counters.

"I'm a grown adult, Seo Changbin. If I don’t want to take some ibuprofen and want to tough it out alone, I can make that choice."

"A grown adult who can't handle less than an ounce of children's motrin."

"There's no way I'm swallowing that." Minho stubbornly continues.

"You don't really have much of a choice," Changbin's patience is beginning to wear thin. "Your brain is frying, Min, and we have a shoot I know you don't want to miss. This is your best bet at feeling better before then."

Minho considers this for a moment. It's true that he's excited for the upcoming comeback, and it's also true that rescheduling any project such as this is a very unlikely endeavor. But that taste! There's absolutely no way that cup is making it any closer to his mouth.

"Lee Minho. You take this ibuprofen, all of it, right now, or I text Channie-hyung and tell him you're feeling worse and refusing medicine," Changbin threatens. "I'm totally sure that he's awake. Do you really want to get him involved?"

The medicine disappears down Minho's throat so quickly that Changbin is surprised it doesn't choke him. Stifling a smile, he passes over a water bottle. Some tricks never fail.

[sickkfics]

Never a bother ｡˚○❀.࿔

Feveruary day 18: "You're not being needy. You're being human."

Sick Jisung + Caretaker Hyunjin

hyunsung my favorites :( they are very dear to me i hope i did them justice xx

"Lower respiratory tract infection." What a fancy way for the urgent care doctor to say he felt like crap. Jisung had a high-grade fever, a chest wracking cough, and a completely shredded throat. Lying on the couch in the dorm, he shivers despite the three layers of shirts and two additional blankets. His fever sits stubbornly at 39.2°C, causing intense body aches that pull at his muscles like a rubber band about to snap.

"Aya…" he groans, rolling onto his left side.

"Need anything, Jisung-ah?" Hyunjin pipes up from his spot at the coffee table. He is hunched over and working on a drawing of the flowers growing in the window box.

"No, hyung, I'm sorry." Another rough cough rips through his body and Han adjusts himself against the arm of the couch. Over the past hour, Jisung had requested more Tylenol, cough drops, Chapstick, an ice pack, and, much to Hyunjin's delight, company. Since then, Hyunjin had set up camp with his sketchbook, happy to stay near his friend.

"Why are you sorry?" Hyunjin turns away from his work.

"I'm not trying to bother you," Jisung admits, tightening the blankets around him.

"You're not a bother, Sungie, you're sick. Let me help you out if you need it," Hyunjin reaffirms. It seems like this is the tenth time he's said it this week. Jisung was anxious on a good day and being sick made him feel like a constant burden, even if no other member saw him as such.

"Could you get me some cold water? My body is on fire," he reluctantly requests.

Standing up from his spot on the floor and crossing to the couch, Hyunjin lays his hand on Jisung's forehead. "Your fever is definitely back up. I could get you a fresh ice pack?"

"No, hyungie, ice water," Jisung whines.

"Jisung-ah, you don't get any ice water. Not with that cough," Hyunjin scolds. "Can you imagine what Channie-hyung would say?"

Jisung frowns with a truly pitiful look. "My insides are lava."

"Lava, hm? That must hurt," Hyunjin muses, running his hand through the younger's hair. "I can get you warm water with lemon?"

"Please," Jisung gives in. It's better than nothing. While Hyunjin rushes off to the kitchen, he sits up and stifles another round of coughing. All the pressure is starting to destroy his vocal cords.

A few moments later, Hyunjin comes back in with a steaming mug of lemon water and hands it over. "It's got honey in it too," he mentions. "Your throat sounds sore."

With trembling hands, Jisung grabs the mug and brings it to his lips. He relishes in the soothing liquid as it goes down. The momentary relief relaxes all the tension in his upper body.

"Ahh… it's nice. Thank you, hyung." Jisung sighs.

"No problem," Hyunjin settles back down in front of his drawing and picks up his sketch pencils. He glances around the room, lets his vision settle on the buildings outside, and begins adding them to the corner of his paper.

"Hyunjin?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry."

This gets Hyunjin's attention. Dropping his pencil and turning towards the couch, he chokes out, "Huh?"

"I've been so obnoxious. I keep complaining, and you keep getting up and fetching me stuff. I'm just a needy baby," Jisung blurts out.

Hyunjin settles back against the table and rests a kind hand on Jisung's thigh. "You have every right to complain, Jisungie, you're so sick. I know you feel terrible."

"But-"

"And you're not being needy. You're being human," Hyunjin continues. "Any one of us would be whiny with symptoms like that."

"I just feel so dramatic," Jisung rasps.

"Dramatic? I am the undisputed champion of dramatics, and you don't stack up in the slightest," Hyunjin quips. "I get upset over a single dance misstep or when my hair doesn't lay right. You're allowed to be dramatic sometimes, Jisungie, especially when you're sick."

Jisung considers this. It’s true that Hyunjin has a flair for drama. But it suits him, he supposes. Jisung can't afford to bother his hyungs, what if they decide he's not worth it anymore?

"If you don't ask for some attention now, when will you? You can lean on me, you know? I'm no Minho, but I do love and care about you." Hyunjin speaks in a gentle tone, afraid that if he comes across too strong, Jisung will break.

"…I love you too. Thank you for taking care of me," Jisung whispers, the words barely escaping before he launches into another coughing fit. He seems so small, so fragile.

Hyunjin's hand maintains its grounding weight on the younger boy's thigh. "No worries. I've got you, yeah? Finish the tea before it goes cold." He turns back to his art.

Jisung manages a weak smile and takes another sip, the warmth seeping across his body and providing comfort. His eyelids are starting to feel heavy.

"Hyung?"

"Yeah, Hannie?" Hyunjin doesn't look up, his pencil scratching softly against the paper.

"Will you stay here?"

Hyunjin smiles as he continues to work. "I told you, I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me."

Jisung drifts off, the rhythmic sketching a lullaby that draws him into sleep.

[sickkfics]

Counting down, holding on ✧˖° ⌛︎ ⋆｡˚

Feveruary day 17: Bad Timing

Sick Jeongin + Caretaker Chan

enjoy!! eleven days left of feveruary ♡

Stray Kids had been working hard on their Mnet Asian Music Awards performance for weeks. It was going to be a thrilling mashup of Venom and MANIAC, and the boys were all incredibly excited to share their performance with STAY.

Jeongin had just finished up in the make-up artists chair, getting up with an anxious sigh. The scent of hairspray and deodorant in the dressing room was thick enough to taste, hanging like a suffocating cloud that finally pushed him out into the hallway to catch his breath. His stomach had been a knotted, churning mess all day, but Chan had reassured him it was only nerves, and at the show he would be just fine.

He was not fine.

The slight nausea had escalated into full-blown cramps and Jeongin was sure the aches and heat he felt indicated a fever. With the performance only minutes away, Jeongin knew he couldn't hide it anymore. He turned back toward the noise of the room, his mind echoing the idea that Channie-hyung will know what to do.

Weaving his way through the various staff members, Jeongin frantically scans the room for the sight of Stray Kids' leader. Eventually, he spots him standing in the corner. He all but jogs to meet him. A bad idea, honestly, as it angers his stomach even more.

"Chan?" Jeongin's voice comes out much more timid than he intends.

Chan turns immediately, his concern piqued at the younger's fragile question.

"Innie? What's the matter?" He reaches out a careful hand to steady him and frowns. "Are you still not feeling well?"

"My stomach really hurts. I don't think it's nerves," Jeongin explains as he leans into the touch. "I… it's not anymore… hyung, I can't." His hand reaches around his abdomen.

"Deep breaths," Chan's voice drops into a calm, grounding cadence. He presses his palm to Jeongin's forehead and frowns at the warmth.

"Ten minutes to stage, ten minutes to stage, Stray Kids," the managers call out. The rest of the members start heading to the wings at Chan's nod.

"I can perform," Jeongin offers meekly.

Chan wants to argue. He wants to insist that Jeongin be sent back to his dorm, bundled up in thick blankets, and made to rest. But MAMA is a big deal and there was no way management would allow anyone to take a step back from such a performance.

"You're sure you won't pass out?" Chan frets, feeling Jeongin tremble under his hands.

"I can do it," Jeongin mutters back with the strength he has remaining.

Chan wraps his arm around Jeongin's shivering form. "Don't go all out, Innie. Mark it. Save whatever strength you have left for vocals. Do you want me to ask for a chair?"

"No, no," Jeongin quickly denies. "I don't want STAY to see me weak."

Chan scoffs and lets Jeongin lean into his chest, holding him close. "You're not weak. You are so strong, Jeonginnie. Just be smart out there."

Jeongin laughs weakly.

"I'm serious. I'll make sure staff knows what's going on. If you need anything, to get off stage, if you feel super sick, I want you to get off. I'll handle any blowback from management."

"But-"

Chan cuts him off. "No buts. I need you to take care of yourself."

They remain in the hug for a few more precious seconds. Jeongin is, for once, completely melted into his hyung's touch. The world seems to fade away.

"Bang Chan? Jeongin?" A voice cuts through. "To stage. Now." Their manager.

Chan tilts Jeongin's face towards his. "Ready to go?"

Jeongin nods and Chan assumes his role as crutch as they slowly make their way out. The second they leave the dressing room, everything is immediately too much. The sound from KARA's comeback performance fills the hallway. As much as the team looked up to Seungyeon's vocal talents, her voice only served to add to Jeongin's splitting headache.

"Hyung, I really don't feel well," Jeongin complains as they continue towards the stage.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Chan sympathizes, rubbing the younger boy's back. He seethes with a silent anger at the situation, that he could do nothing to help out his ailing member. "Afterward we'll get you quickly home, I promise. You can change, take a shower, and go straight to bed… doesn't that sound nice?"

Jeongin nods in agreement. Step, step, step. Pause. Step, step, pause. All of a sudden, he doubles over from an unexpected cramp shooting its way through his stomach. "Aya!" he chokes out, the pain twisting his guts like a wet rag being wrung out.

Chan immediately squats down to his side. "Breathe, breathe, it's okay," he soothes. "I'm sorry. So sorry. Hyung is here. It will pass." He holds Jeongin in a tight, comforting hug as they wait just twenty yards from the wings.

True to his word, after a long, excruciating minute, the cramp recedes, leaving a dull ache in its absence.

Upon straightening up, Jeongin is faced with a wave of lightheadedness that he is forced to ride out while Chan all but carries him the rest of the way.

"Now, now, go!" the stage manager snaps. "You should have been here five minutes ago!"

Jeongin can tell Chan is about to say something and so picks up his pace slightly to avoid a situation. "Hyung, now!"

The pair finally arrive at the wings, joining the six others in the pre-performance darkness. Chan quickly and quietly explains Jeongin's state to the others, advising them to look out should he appear faint or dizzy. After a fair amount of coddling and worry, Stray Kids enters the stage, standing ready in the darkness among the crowd of backup dancers. The audience buzzes and grows louder with an expectant roar.

Jeongin shakily takes his spot between Chan and Changbin, inhaling deeply. A few small solos. Nothing too crazy physically. I can do this, he thinks.

Suddenly, he feels a quick squeeze on his left shoulder. He doesn't have to glance back to know it was Chan. You've got this, Chan thinks, only hoping Jeongin can hear him somehow.

The music begins.

He's got this.

[sickkfics]

KKAMI AND BBAMA ☹️☹️💞💞

[sickkfics]

A noble mission ݁₊ ⊹ ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

Feveruary day 16: Sneaking out of Bed

Sick Minho + Caretaker Seungmin

this can be read alone or as a continuation to day 7 ! enjoyy

The dorm was completely silent. At five in the evening, this state was unusual. If they were all home, as they now were, Felix was normally gaming and vocalracha tended to be watching a show. But since choreography had been cancelled due to Lino's stomach flu, everyone was silent so he could rest.

Minho was so restless, though. He had been lying around all afternoon, too nauseous to sleep. Despite the fever burning behind his eyes, and the cramps twisting his stomach, and how much he wanted to find one of his dongsaengs, he stayed in bed. As the hours passed, he tossed and turned under the thick duvet, pulling it on and off his body as the sweats and chills cycled on and off. Regardless of how much he wanted to get up, he remained horizontal.

He is very good at resting, he thinks.

Until the panic hits. Soongie, Doongie, and Dori haven't eaten dinner yet. What kind of cat dad would he be if he let his poor kitties starve?

And so it makes total sense that he has to get out of bed. Once he stands up, the whole room shifts at an angle and his stomach falls into his knees. But he has to feed his babies. Absently, he wonders why they haven't come in to mewl at him yet. Maybe they're mad at him. Wait, why were they mad at him?

He has to go find out. Even if the room is spinning.

Slowly, he proceeds into the hallway, leaning heavily on the wall even as a dark gray encroaches on his vision.

"Minho-hyung! What do you think you're doing?"

He turns to face this strange obstacle to his quest. Who could possibly want to deprive the cats?

Seungmin steps out of the shadows (where did he come from?) and down the hallway towards his hyung.

"You're supposed to stay in bed until your fever is gone, remember?" he chides.

"Seungmin! I'm okay now. I've been in bed. It's time for the kitties to eat dinner, but I can't find them, Minnie. Where are they?" Minho rambles, leaning his whole weight into the wall.

Seungmin blinks at the flushed, clearly delirious boy. "Your cats?"

He is met with Minho's enthusiastic nod. "Dinnertime."

"No, not dinnertime," Seungmin's tone shifts from curious to grounding as he attempts to redirect the other's feverish idea. He moves a gentle hand to his shoulder as he guides the sick boy back to bed. "They're home in Gimpo with your parents, hyung, remember? Eomonim sent you pictures yesterday."

"Oh, okay." Minho accepts easily.

"Good. Let's get you back to bed." Seungmin steers the older boy back around towards his room.

"Wait. Seungmin?" Minho stops walking.

"Yes?"

"They'll be hungry."

"Huh?"

"Won't the cats be hungry? Dori gets grumpy when he's hungry. He needs his dinner." Minho insists.

"Hyung, they've been eating at your parents' just fine for the past two years." Seungmin says, softening his voice. He shifts his hand down around Minho's waist to support his weight, noticing the increased trembling in his knees.

"…still…" Minho whispers. His brow is furrowed in a hazy, genuine distress.

"Eomonim will feed them, hyung. Once we get you settled we can give her a call and she can show you, okay?" Seungmin walks the boy back down the hall, through his door, and onto the edge of his bed.

"Good. That's good." The second mention of his mother seems to act like an anchor and the idea of calling her (and seeing his kitties) placates him for now.

Mission accomplished, he thinks, as he curls back under the duvet while Seungmin takes out his phone to place a very important call.

[sickkfics]

Just be ᯓᡣ★⋆

Feveruary day 15: "I don't think I've ever seen you ill."

Sick Felix + Caretaker Jisung

bit of a short one today! enjoy ♡

Pre-doctor's appointment, Felix had lost his voice over the past three days. His fever had only risen as that time went by, up until he was too dizzy to leave his bed, let alone handle a dance rehearsal. With enough nagging from Chan and the managers, he reluctantly goes to urgent care.

Post-doctor's appointment, Felix is laying across the entire expanse of the couch with his head on Jisung's lap, feeling just as awful as before he had gone. While he didn't expect the clinic to be a miracle cure for his sore throat and fever, he had at least hoped that they would be able to diagnose him with something easy to treat. He almost wished it was strep because that was just a round of antibiotics and a day of sleep. He, however, had a normal virus that needed to run its course, helped along by plenty of rest and fluids. The doctor had told him it might be three days before his fever quits and a week before he feels normal again.

And so, as comfort, Jisung was running his fingers through Felix's hair as they watched an episode of Demon Slayer together. Neither of them were really paying any attention to the screen.

"You want anything, Lix?" Jisung mumbles, focusing his attention down towards the sick boy. He truly wants to help, willing to fetch anything from more medicine to hot tea to another blanket.

Felix shakes his head.

"Don’t feel much like talking?" Jisung guesses.

Another shake.

"Hurts too much? Or just don't feel like it?" he prods. Felix's stubbornness is acting like a barrier to Jisung's being useful.

Felix considers the question for a minute. While his throat does hurt, it doesn't hurt so much that it physically prevents him from talking. He knows, however, that conversation will bring discomfort that he doesn't feel like dealing with right now, and he wouldn't mind not having to think.

Two fingers go up in response.

"Don't feel like it," Jisung confirms, then sighs. He keeps chatting away as they rest. "I guess that's better than it hurting too bad. Although I know it still hurts. I'm sorry it hurts."

At this, Felix nods. Ow. Bringing his water bottle to his lips, he drinks until the cool sensation washes away some of the fire lingering in his throat.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you ill before," Jisung continues. "I mean, maybe with the stomach flu. And that time we all got Covid. And I guess I've seen you out from your back. So I guess just ignore that, I've definitely seen you out of sorts before."

Felix just lies there and continues staring blankly at the television screen. His fever feels settled deep in his bones, causing him to frown from the intense ache.

"Oh, I'm talking too much, aren't I?" Jisung's fingers stop their gentle ministrations through Felix's hair as he takes in just how much he had been talking. "I'm probably giving you a headache on top of the sore throat, and that's the last thing you need. Sorry, Lix, I'll shut up."

His face falls entirely. He had only wanted to be helpful, but here he was making everything worse. Jisung begins moving his hand away but stops when he feels a small, insistent tug at his sleeve. He looks down to see Felix's small fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his hoodie.

"You aren't bothered?" he questions, baffled. Jisung was annoying even to himself and he wondered how Felix could be indifferent to the flurry of one-sided conversation, especially in his sick state.

Felix grasps the older man's hand in a gentle hold. He doesn't mind the talking, of course, but it isn't necessary. Jisung is trying to fill a blank space that doesn't need filling. They can just be.

It must be through their sunshine-twin telepathy that Jisung catches on.

"Okay. Quiet. Got it."

The pair shifts into a comfortable silence, with Jisung turning to rub Felix's shoulders in a gentle yet relaxing massage until he drifts off in his hyung's arms. It isn't very long until Jisung falls asleep, too.