⋅ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ : established relationship : fluff
⋅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : minsu x sick!reader
⋅ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 937
"Please don't."
Those were the first two words you offered Minsu today, and it was the start of everything that would soon follow. The plea is as clear as the sky on a warm summer day: shaded light blue, but despite the lightness, unmistakably blue. Yet, there's a grey cloud that slowly drags floats until it forms a layer over the sky, blurring the view. Just like how your boyfriend's actions blur your short plea. Minsu has no interest in complying your request.
Usually, Minsu would respect your preferences and listen well to you. It's something you don't mean in a sense where a puppy listens well to its owner, but in a different way. You mean that he has a good sense for knowing when someone needs a listening ear and an understanding nod. Though today, it appears like someone is being very stubborn. It's considerable whether that unnamed stubborn person is truly you or Minsu.
You can sense he's trying to approach you, but you're not having any of it. You roll over in bed, distancing yourself from him as far as you can without dropping down from the mattress. When his hands are no longer long enough to reach you without the help of his feet, you lie still.
The breathing that fills the room is heavy. Just like running burns calories, rolling over in bed drains all of your energy. Your tired body fills itself to the brim, overflowing with exhaustion.
"I have to, y/n," Minsu tells you. What he's saying next is something not completely false, but whether it was true is up to the doctor to decide. Though you won't allow a doctor to stop by and use the different equipment on you: not a stethoscope, neither a thermometer. "You're sick."
Your eyes meet for a short moment, the moment that you should be having to see whether he planned on approaching you again. But once you notice the brown eyes are worriedly glancing at you, you melt under them. You're glued to the mattress: too tired to make big motor-skill movements, too influenced by his eyes to decline.
"I'm not sick."
"Then what?" Minsu asks you. He sounds genuinely interested in your answer, despite not dropping his opinion on the situation. The symptoms tell him enough, or at least, more than your words do.
It all started on the last day of the weekend with sleepiness, you slept until three hours after noon, long after Minsu had left the bed. Over the span of four days, the symptoms had worsened. Sleepiness, dizziness, vomiting after a meal and fever. All of those were now at the base of your possible sickness.
"I just didn't sleep well," you excuse the serious symptoms. It's even stupid that you momentarily believe that he will fall for the lame excuse, but after the words leave your lips, you realise that it's far from believable. "You didn't sleep well?" Minsu inquires.
"Then what have you been doing these past hours? Days?" His question-filled words cause the room to not fall silent for a few seconds. On his head are even more questions even though he doesn't need to ask them: he knows you're sick, you are the only one who doesn't seem to realise it.
Caught in a lie, by telling something truthful. That's how you're left once Minsu starts questioning your actions over the past few days. You've been in bed for approximately twenty hours a day, only getting up when you had a meal waiting for you or when you needed to go to the bathroom. Though the minimal amount of sleep was achieved in those days: twenty hours in a bed of which you'd spend only around three sleeping. "I can't sleep well," you say but don't finish there. "... Because I don't feel well."
Wordlessly, Minsu moves to sit on the edge of the bed. "Are you tired?" he inquires curiously. One of his hands is stroking over your bare underarm, while the other is roaming around the bed to find his lost phone. The little device is found after a few seconds of slow-paced hunting, gripped between his thumb and other fingers.
He doesn't miss the way your head lightly moves up and down before you drop it on the pillow. "Let's rest a bit then," he says in a softer tone. His eyes momentarily leave you unwatched, instead, his eyes are on his phone as his fingertip does some fast exploring.
Right as he puts his phone down on the mattress, a soft voice comes from the device. Donggeon's vocals introducing the song that you love so much, the song that allows you to feel the wide range of emotions: it laces your heart and soul.
Minsu's sitting position transitions, within seconds he's lying next to you on the bed. His fingertips that were tracing over your arm, now trail towards your wrist, ending in your hand which he gently holds. Your hand embraced by his, which promotes the nurturing and calm feeling that now spreads through your veins.
A little less than one hundred eighty seconds pass by: each second Minsu's voice seems to fade out a little more. The lyrics he's been serenely singing aligned with the song, slowly become incomprehensible as the sound waves merely arrive in your eardrums. Exhaustion closes your eyelids in a gentle lock, whilst Minsu is the angel that lulls you to sleep.
"Everything's gonna be alright," is the last audible lyric to your ears but Minsu's presence lingers. Bright as the sun on a warm summer day, in an unmistakably blue sky.