hi! can i ask for changbin who gets a migraine during dance practice?? i don’t think he’d hide it as i can see it get worse over the day… maybe while he directs recording he starts feeling nauseous too? i can see that happening
lee know as main caretaker because minbin is so soft 😭
~☆ anon
Well, well, well… two birds, one stone, aye? 😎 this is an old request too, but oh well— better late than never 😅 minbin let’s gooo (not proof read so let’s pray it reads well enough)
Feveruary 2026 | Day: 3 | Migraine
Sickie: Changbin
Caretaker/s: Lee Know
The bass thumped through the studio floor, each beat reverberating in Changbin’s skull like a hammer strike.
A dull ache had been festering in there since morning, something that had been easy enough to ignore at first, or assume was the result of dehydration. A couple of painkillers, a strong caffeine-fix, and Changbin thought he’d be fine.
He was wrong.
By the time dance practice rolled around in the afternoon, the ache had sharpened into something far meaner. Changbin had taken not only one, but two painkillers since practice started, quietly swallowing them down during water breaks.
Every flash of the mirror lights felt like a blade slicing through his eyes, glaring at him like blinding headlights. He rubbed at his temple in a futile attempt to soothe the pain, hoping no one would notice.
But Minho noticed. Because of course he did. The second-oldest always had a keen eye during dance practice, picking apart the routines and quietly rectifying any missteps. Clearly, Changbin’s attempted concealment of his grimaces wasn’t as convincing as he’d hoped.
“Yah, Seo Changbin,” Minho called out as the music cut again, his voice slicing through the chorus of heavy breaths and exhaustion. “You good? You’ve been blinking like you’re about to pass out.”
Changbin tried to laugh, but the motion only made the pain spike, so he bit his tongue, hoping to dismiss it with a tight smile. “Just a little headache,” he muttered.
Minho didn’t look convinced in the slightest, but with a packed schedule looming ahead of them all, he didn’t press the matter. Deciding to take him at face value, he simply gave a nod and swiveled back to his spot to take it from the top. Though he couldn’t help the way his eyes drifted to Changbin more often than usual, as if his subconscious kept him on edge and vigilant just in case it all came crashing down…
-
They moved into recording after wrapping up dance practice, Changbin insisting he’d be fine to direct Minho through a session. But the studio wasn’t much kinder than the practice room had been; the glare of the monitors, the low hum of electronics, the way the bass buzzed under his skin. He leaned forward on the console, squinting at the track on his screen when it suddenly wavered.
A ripple of light at the edge of his vision, shimmering like heat off asphalt. Changbin blinked a few times and tried to focus again, but any strain on his ocular muscles made the pain in his head spike so bad his vision blipped. He swallowed hard.
The lights seemed to burn brighter all of a sudden, but Minho didn’t appear affected by them at all, which only confirmed Changbin’s suspicion that the problem was his alone. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes, letting the darkness offer him a brief respite before forcing himself back to work.
“O-okay, uh,” Changbin cleared his throat into the microphone, prepared to give feedback on Minho’s take, only for the words to fail him.. “Y-your.. thes.. uh.”
Everything felt like it was going too slow and too fast simultaneously, and Changbin felt heat spread up his neck, like hot water diffusing under his skin. He could hear the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, each beat amplifying the unbearable ache behind his eye. There was no doubt; his body was screaming now, demanding to be heard after countless ignored warnings.
Changbin sucked in a shaky breath, trying to pull himself together, but the nausea crashing over him was the final straw.
His fingers gripped onto the edge of the desk to keep from toppling over, a thick swallow forcing down a wave of sickness as the monitors blurred into one shifting haze of colour.
Oh no.
Minho, still patiently waiting for instructions, seemed to sense something was amiss when Changbin’s words faltered. He cleared his throat before speaking into the microphone, voice gentle as a zephyr. “Changbin-ah? You good?”
Changbin felt his skin crawl, a sweat breaking out across the back of his neck. “Ssorry- I-I’m gonna.. go sit inthe.. bathroom for a bit-“ he hurried out, voice a little unclear, before he was out of the studio in a flash.
Minho stood frozen in the recording booth, blinking at the swiveling chair Changbin had vacated in the blink of an eye. Removing the headset from his head, his eyebrows furrowed. “What? Sit in the bathroom…?”
He slipped out of the booth, brushing off his shirt before quickly opening the door and setting course for the restrooms down the hall.
Because no one just sits in the bathroom..
-
As it turned out, his gut feeling was entirely correct. Minho found Changbin in the far corner of the bathroom, hunched over on a closed toilet lid, elbows on his knees and palms pressed hard against his temples. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a harsh glow against the sterile tiles.
“Changbin-ah?” Minho’s voice softened as soon as he saw the state of him, and Changbin instinctively flinched at the sound, a small wince twisting his expression.
“Please,” the younger of the two groaned, sounding strained. “N-no talking….” He heaved fruitlessly, groaning in pure agony as the effort made his ears ring. “Hurts.”
That was all the confirmation Minho needed to hear. He promptly turned on his heel and flicked the light switch off, plunging the bathroom into darkness— only the faint glow of the hallway slipping through the crack in the door.
The sudden dark earned a shaky exhale of relief from Changbin. It helped take the edge off, if only just a little.
“Jesus, Bin-ah,” Minho murmured quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as he sunk down to the floor beside him. “Didn’t realise it was that bad… mind telling me what’s going on?”
Changbin didn’t respond with more than another shaky exhale at first. He just leaned back against the wall, breathing shallow and uneven as one hand drifted up to his right eye, covering it completely.
Minho couldn’t help but notice that his skin looked even paler in the murky blueish hue of the room, a light sheen of sweat catching in the dim light. Changbin looked… unwell, to say the least. But a hand pressed to the back of his neck told Minho there was no apparent fever to account for his dismay.
“Head’s… splitting,” Changbin’s whispered finally, the words slurring together at the edges. “Feels like… pressure.. behind my eye— the whole right side just... Can’t-can’t—see right..” he sucked in another breath, leg bouncing restlessly against the tiles, “hurts so bad, hyung..”
So Changbin had a migraine, Minho gathered, a scowl instantly pulling on his lips. His hand trekked down to Changbin’s shoulder, squeezing gently in a small, feeble attempt to offer some comfort.
“Alright...” Minho said quietly, steady, the way he always was when someone needed grounding. “Nauseous?”
Changbin gave a faint nod, the answer punctuated by a thick swallow.
Minho gnawed at the inside of his cheek, casting a brief glance down to his phone. “Think you’re gonna get sick?”
A little more reluctant this time around, Changbin gave a helpless shrug of his shoulders. Well, at least it wasn’t a definite yes. Minho wasn’t opposed to those odds.
“You think you can get out of here..?” The older suggested, smoothing a hand down Changbin’s trembling, muscular back. “I’ll grab your bag and we’ll go to the dorm. I’ll drive. No lights, no noise.”
He offered an arm, careful not to force any sudden movement until Changbin nodded weakly and grabbed on in compliance.
The walk outside felt painfully slow; Changbin shuffling with his head down while Minho wordlessly steered him around bright spots and chatter. Every sound seemed to make him flinch like a skittish animal, and Minho couldn’t help the strange protectiveness that surged inside him seeing the younger man act that way.
It was so at odds with his usual demeanour; small, frail and dependant in stark contrast to the strong, reliable, pillar that Changbin usually was. It was in these kinds of moments, Minho realised, that Changbin truly did feel like his dongsaeng…
Once in the car, Minho reclined the passenger seat back and pulled the hood of Changbin’s hoodie up over his face to block the streetlights. “Deep breaths,” he instructed quietly. “You’re gonna be okay.”
Once Changbin was laid back as comfortably as he could be— hood covering his eyes, Minho’s ear buds plugged in without any music playing, paper bag in his lap just in case— the older of the two started the car.
The silence stretched for a while, only broken by the hum of the engine and Changbin’s uneven breathing and pained moans whenever the car bumped a little too harshly on the road.
In his quiet mind, Minho couldn’t help but wonder if this was the longest silence they had ever sat through together the past few years. It wasn’t uncomfortable, per se, just unusual, because there was usually at least some sort of noise buzzing in the background.
“Lino-hyung?” came a faint mumble from under the hood, when they were merely a block away from home.
Minho turned his head briefly, casting a quick glance at the man laid down in the passenger seat. “Yeah?”
“Sorry.”
Minho shook his head, eyes focusing back on the road before them. “Tsk.. don’t be stupid. Not your fault your body decided to throw a rave in your skull or something...”
A faint, strangled laugh escaped from Changbin, then a sigh. “I’ll make it up to you..”
“Don’t.”
A hand settled on his thigh, giving it a little pat before Minho’s voice spoke again, still unusually gentle. “Just don’t pass out before we get inside, ‘kay? That’s all I need.”
“M’kay.”
“And no puking on the floor this time.”
Changbin flushed at the crude callback to a migraine he’d suffered a few months back, an episode he’d rather just forget. With a sigh, he let his shoulders slump in resignation, the paper bag in his lap crinkling under his fingertips.
changbin loved it, but he didn't enjoy it so much when all he could do was watch it go by through the company window. stray kids had spent the last two months practicing nonstop, preparing for another comeback while touring all over the world.
they’d visited south america, discovered the culture and had the time of their lives with the thousands of passionate stays that had attended their concerts. the energy there had truly been a shock and now that they were back to korea, immersed yet again in the repetitive routine, he couldn’t help but feel down.
he had nothing against his job, nothing too bad at least, but the change of scenery had thrown his body into autopilot. still, he wasn’t having a hard time, he just wasn’t enjoying it as much. but after such an exciting tour, that was to expect.
funny enough, only two weeks had passed since their last concert. the first one they’d all been exhausted, but now that everyone had their energy back, he couldn’t help but feel like he should be enjoying himself more.
one morning, when he woke up later than usual and almost missed his hour at the gym, he should have realised that no, he didn’t have postconcert depression, but rather seemed to be getting sick.
the moment he opened his eyes, they felt heavy, and he felt way too tired. not in the ‘i barely slept’ way that he was so accustomed to, instead, his head felt like it was filled with cotton and his body really didn’t want to move.
reluctantly, changbin turned off his alarm—that must’ve been sounding for a long time, seeing how late it was—and sat up. his muscles (♥︎) immediately protested at the motion, and he almost chose to skip going to the gym before deciding that sore muscles from dance practice weren’t a good enough excuse for him.
with as much motivation as he could gather, he dragged himself out of his bed and into the bathroom, where he contemplated taking a shower. sure, he was running a bit late, but maybe that way he could wake up properly and not spend the whole day feeling like a zombie.
the rapper turned the water on and while he waited for it to get warm, he went back to his room to pick out his clothes. since he’d have to cut his workout short, he chose simple grey sweatpants and a matching short sleeved t-shirt that he planned on wearing to dance practice too. lately the weather was warmer, but for some reason he felt the need to pick a hoodie too, so he got one that belonged to chan. he wore it so often that it might as well be considered his.
once he had his outfit, he brought it to the bathroom and hung the clothes on the heater. after taking off his pjs, he stepped into the shower and sighed blissfully at the warm water running over his sore body. a cold shower, admittedly, would have been much more useful in waking him up, but he felt no regrets.
time flew by and when he finally got out of the shower and changed into his clothes, 20 minutes had passed. cursing under his breath, he hurried to grab his keys, throw his water bottle and some hand wrappers into a random backpack, and left the dorm.
changbin was quite lucky, he realised as he arrived to the gym, because it was mostly empty. that meant that he wouldn’t have to wait to use any of the machines and thus would be able to make it on time to practise.
he was still sleepy, and didn’t even know what he planned to work out. one could never go wrong with shoulders and chest, he thought, so he headed straight to the seated cable fly. he adjusted the weight properly but, unlike usual, he got tired quite quickly, and decided to move to the bench press.
tiredly, he positioned himself and lifted the barbell. since when did he struggle so much with the first rep? taking a deep breath in, he forced his protesting arms to lift the weight again. he was getting out of breath, but he knew he could do more. he always did.
with each rep, his muscles grew weaker, and it came to a point where he couldn’t bring himself to lift the bar again. if he let it go, it would literally crush him. the gym was empty and he didn’t have another option. he either did it, or died right then and there on the bench press.
his arms were trembling and he was getting dizzy. he looked towards the floor in front of the mirror where the different weights were, and there he saw it. the plates he usually lifted lay there on the floor, untouched.
mentally swearing, he realised that he’d been so tired and in his own head that he hadn’t bothered to check how much was loaded onto the bench press. it was way heavier than what he was used to and he didn’t even have the same energy he normally did. now, he had almost no way out.
as he took that in, his breathing picked up and he squeezed his eyes tightly, hoping to gather whatever strength was left in his body. his wrists were about to give out and his shoulders ached, but he pushed himself to do it.
shaking, he managed to lift the barbell over his head, but when he was about to place it on the bracket, he didn’t do it well. only one side of the it fell into place and suddenly the bar tipped sideways, the heavy weight almost dropping onto changbin. out of instinct, he managed to grab it with his left hand, but he truly had no strength left. the strong impact pushed his arm down and his wrist bent backwards. he gasped, feeling the pain travel up to his shoulder.
somehow, he was able to grab it with his other had and properly set it on the bracket, but the damaged was done. he sat up, panting both from the pain and the black spots that now fogged his vision. fuck, he didn’t want to pass out at the gym.
with his uninjured hand, he helped himself stand up and dragged himself into the bathroom. a look in the mirror told him everything he needed to know: something wasn’t okay. his face was ghostly pale and his cheeks flushed, his bangs sticking to his damp forehead. whether that was because of the strain or the scare, he didn’t know.
the glossy look in his eyes suggested coming to the gym had been a bad idea, and his now swollen wrist only confirmed it. hesitantly touching the area, he felt the warmth radiating from the injury. it wasn’t good, and the purplish tone of the skin around it almost made him dizzy.
he turned on the faucet and ran his wrist under cold water. it was freezing and sent a shiver down his spine that made him realise just how much his hands were trembling. what was he going to do now? he had dance practice in a moment and was already late, this was gong to be such a drag for all of the boys.
when the shivering extended to the rest of his body, he turned the water off and dried his wrist on his hoodie. a look at it gave away that the injury wasn’t more serious than a sprain, but that didn’t make it any more convenient.
in the span of an hour, he had managed to go from a merely tired human being to an injured and sickly-looking mess. the worst is, he could have prevented it if he had just looked at the weight before getting on the bench press, and he knew it.
the thought made tears spring to his eyes and if he hadn’t felt pathetic enough already, he would have let them spill. still, he pulled himself together and called a taxi. walking to the company sounded so incredibly unnecessary that he couldn’t even resent himself for resorting to the lazy way.
the next 20 minutes of his life were unappealing at best, the pain in his wrist still throbbing and the disappointment still gnawing at his mind. if the concerned looks he received when he finally got to dance practise were anything to go by, he looked as bad as he felt.
the members couldn’t be blamed. changbin knew his hair looked sweaty and his face looked whitewashed, except for the rosy tone to his cheeks. wouldn’t photographers love to take pictures of him now that he was naturally ghostly pale?
he had barely registered the music stopping while he went to drop his bag when a hand on his shoulder startled him. chan was looking at him worriedly, and, after looking around, he saw why. the september line was wearing short sleeved t-shirts and the other boys were looking hot — because of the high spring temperatures — in tank tops. meanwhile changbin had yet to take off his hoodie.
“you’re gonna overheat in there,” the leader said worriedly, seeing as the rapper was already sweating. changbin, however, still felt the chills that, though subtly, still wracked his body. that hadn’t changed since he was in the gym, so he just shook his head.
“i went to the gym and got cold on the way here, so i put it on,” he said, leaving out that he’d been wearing it since before leaving home and that he, most definitely, hadn’t walked here. but chan didn’t need to know that because there was nothing he could do about it anyway.
“am i very late?” the rapper asked, relieved that his late arrival seemed not to have been a great inconvenience. the boys —himself, especially— valued punctuality, and not being on time was very annoying for him. this time he didn’t care as much, though. it was hard to pay attention to it when he felt worse each passing minute.
“we were just starting,” minho replied, and the lack of playful scolding on his voice betrayed his concern. the dancer saw the dazed look in changbin’s eyes and the way the rapper showed no sign of feeling too warm in his hoodie, which was awfully strange. usually, he’d take any chance to show of his perfect arms, plus he didn’t have the greatest heat tolerance.
changbin nodded and walked to his spot when he heard the intro to 5-star. yeah, his wrist wasn’t going to find this pleasant. he was surprised by the lack of questions from his members, though they did shoot a few worried looks his way when by the third song he was still in his hoodie. unknowingly to him, that was the only thing that gave away his unlucky state of health.
his hair had already dried up and he was too cold to sweat anyway, and moving so much must’ve brought some colour to his face, which he welcomed, though looking better made no difference in how he felt. plus, he realised, the long sleeves covered his sprained wrist, so that would go completely unnoticed.
throughout practise, he was aware that his dancing wasn’t as energetic or precise as usual, but no one commented on it. the boys also refrained from teasing him too much, other than jokingly suggesting that he hadn’t taken off his hoodie to deprive them of his muscles.
during the last half an hour, there was a new song they tried learning choreography for, but he really struggled to get the moves down. he kept forgetting what came after what and at some point the steps just blurred together in his fever-clouded mind. he hadn’t checked, but there was no way that he didn’t have a fever by now.
those last few minutes seemed to drag on forever and when minho finally called it a day and seungmin decided that it was the perfect moment to jump onto changbin’s back, the rapper nearly crumbled to the floor.
“hyung,” seungmin whined, too busy being silly to notice the wince that crossed changbin’s face when he reflexively caught the younger’s leg with his injured hand, “you almost let me fall.”
“you almost made me fall,” the rapper retorted, dropping seungmin’s legs since he was too tired to keep holding him up. if seungmin noticed the unlikely reaction, he didn’t say or do anything.
or so changbin thought.
danceracha was going to stay in the dance room for a bit more and chan and jisung went to the convenience store with jeongin, but seungmin decided to stay with changbin for lunch. “where do we eat?” he asked, waiting for an answer. when he got none, he waved his hand in front changbin’s face.
the rapper had been simply following seungmin while zoning out, though his thoughts kept being redirected to his injury. the pounding in his head had grown stronger and he didn’t feel stable on his feet at all. when a hand suddenly appeared in front of him, he jumped back a little. “yah seungmin,” he scolded, not actually mad. seungmin had a waiting expression, so he must’ve asked something, “what was that for?”
“i asked where do we eat,” the vocalist repeated, impatient since he was getting hungry. changbin thought for a moment but he didn’t care at all, he just wanted to sit down, so he pointed at the first vending machine. “in the studio. i have to work there later anyways”
although seungmin had not expected that answer, he agreed and tried to grab changbin’s hand to pull him along. but the rapper pulled away with a gasp. worried that he’d somehow hurt his friend, seungmin hurriedly apologised, “did i use so much force?”
he let out a relieved sigh when changbin shook his head. “your hand is just cold”
fair enough, his hands were normally cold, but he didn’t understand why it suddenly bothered changbin. still, he shrugged it off and just went to the vending machine to get his food. both of them got cup ramen and seungmin got a coke, but changbin went for a cold bottle of water.
“why would you do that when you can drink from the sink,” seungmin asked, clearly judging his hyung’s choices. shrugging, changbin just muttered something about tap water not being cold enough. the truth was, he hoped something colder would ease the uncomfortable pressure in his temples and, perhaps, help him get rid of the hot waves hat had started bothering him.
seungmin noticed that once again, the rapper was walking blindly, completely in his own world. so much so that he would have slammed into the door of the studio if seungmin hadn’t opened it for him.
changbin was quick to take a seat on the couch, trying to conceal his pained expression. the tiredness that had been weighting him down the whole day was now almost debilitating, and he really just wanted to sleep and be alone.
eating proved to be a hard task, every swallow sending pulses of pain through his skull. seungmin’s worries glances got lost in the quiet space, unnoticed. or maybe ignored, because what changbin didn’t want was for the younger to feel the need to stay with him. he’d be okay if he just sleep for a while.
at some point, the vocalist’s phone rang, and out of habit changbin reached for it, but with his left hand. a quiet gasp left his lips as he let the phone fall, but seungmin didn’t notice because he just laughed and picked up the phone. “do you hate iphones that much?” he teased, answering the call.
the younger’s expression turned troubled at the words spoken on the other side of the phone. it was jeongin, they’d planned to practise their vocals together, but he really didn’t want to leave the rapper alone.
“innie… can we start a bit later?”
“you sure? i have a shoot at 18 so i’ll leave at 17, we don’t have much time…”
“oh- okay then, i’ll be there in a bit”
“you ok? you sound… not convinced”
“yeah, i’m good. see you now maknae~”
with a defeated sigh, seungmin rose to his feet. “hyung,” he said to changbin. the older had barely uttered a word while they ate and he hadn’t even finished his food. this wasn’t like him at all. “i have vocal practise with i.n”
at the mention of the maknae, changbin did smile. little did seungmin know it was because he’d finally have some time alone to sleep before he’d work on the songs. “that’s good!” he said more enthusiastically than he felt, adding aegyo to his next request, “send me a video of you~”
if the side eye seungmin gave him before hesitantly walking away meant anything, he had him fooled.
the moment the door closed, he sank back on the couch, allowing himself to close his eyes. he brought his hands up to his temples before wincing at the movement. yeah, he needed an ice pack for his wrist, but he wasn’t going to stand up right now.
he was sure his legs had no strength left to hold him up, and if he fell to the floor, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get up on his own. he reached into his backpack, trying to find the wrist wrappers he’d brought. or did he forget them too, just like he forgot to check the weights? gosh, he felt so stupid.
when he found them, he immediately wrapped them around his injury. most of the members had had similar things happen and though gym equipment wasn’t as convenient as medical, it got the work done.
he wished he had painkillers because his head was about to split open. thoughts didn’t last in his mind longer than a few seconds and it felt like he’d been stuffed with cotton. between the constant chills and the simultaneous hot waves, he felt like he was going crazy.
despite his body going haywire on him —or maybe exactly because of that— he managed to push himself up and stumble over to the desk. a wave of dizziness washed over him and when his legs gave out he fell back onto the chair. at least, he thought, at the very least, it wasn’t the floor.
he put his head down on the table, waiting for the world to stop spinning. was this how clothes felt inside the washing machine? poor clothes, being used all day and then having to go through this torture. he wondered if they ever got tired of the same cycle. used, worn out, drowned and then thrown into the hellish temperatures of the dryer.
the thought made his eyes grow glossy and before he knew it, he was sobbing. sobbing like a kid over clothes. when had he fallen so low? this was ridiculous. but he could relate to them, because he too felt like his body had been thrown into a dryer and freezing water at the same time.
the crying only intensified his headache, and he was sure his brain was going to break. what was he going to do if that happened? he needed his brain to think and needed to think to make songs and needed to make songs to live.
blindly, he reached into the drawers to search for pills. you know you need pills when you break down over washing the clothes you wear.
he found something that looked close enough to painkillers and fever reducers. it’s not like one could find anything else in there other than that or smints. the tears in his eyes made it impossible to read the label so he decided to just test his luck.
one couldn’t overdose anyway when hammers were striking his brain and when his wrist was almost impossible to move. he usually had a high pain tolerance, he really did, but no one would believe that statement right now.
popping a pill of each in his mouth, he realised he had no water and was absolutely not going to try to stand up again. he had to swallow them dry. disgusting, and dangerous in his opinion, though the logical part of his brain that was now much overpowered by the fever he surely had knew that the pills would dissolve.
the bitter taste of the painkillers —or whatever it was— as they went down his throat was enough to make him tear up again, because now he had nothing to wash it away.
he needed a distraction. at this point, absolutely anything would do.
shakily wiping away the tears that kept falling anyway, he reached for his phone in his pocket. except his phone wasn’t in his pocket. it lay on the couch, glaring mockingly at him. the rapper, deep into his misery, tried not to cry harder at the betrayal while he set up the laptop.
he’d been working on a song the last few days and it was comforting, he wanted to listen to it. as if the world had punished him enough for one day, the laptop turned on instantly and was charged almost completely, at 89%. but he didn’t know that because his vision was blurry and wouldn’t let him see the only good thing he’d been given since he woke up.
he searched one-handedly for the app that held all his songs and grimaced at the wet cuff of his sleeve. it was absolutely drowned in his tears, the poor hoodie.
the song was just as melodic as he remembered and, for a moment, he managed to get his breathing and tears under control. he closed his eyes, willing to lose himself in the music he’d created.
but then the bridge arrived and with it his eyes watered again. it sounded bad, he didn’t like it at all. it was messy and had no structure and he couldn’t believe he had done something as horrible as that, that he’d gone as far as considering it good at some point.
he wanted to grab the keyboard and throw it against the floor until the keys felt so ashamed that they’d fix the song themselves, but his hands trembled and he was sure he looked like too much of a depressed mess to harm anything.
instead, he tried to decipher the letters and files that seemed to melt together under his gaze. out of muscle memory, he managed to change a few things here and there. more volume, less bass, no drums…
he was getting tired.
not sleepy, no. downright exhausted.
when he looked away from the screen, he couldn’t even make out the shapes around him. everything was swirling around his head and for a moment he wondered if he was in a carousel. he tried to focus, to find something, anything that kept still, but there was not a thing that didn’t blur before his very eyes.
frustrated, he rubbed over his face, not even registering the pain that pulsed in his wrist anymore. his body was going numb.
what was he even doing? he was shivering and his teeth chattered hard enough to send shockwaves of pain through his skull, but his body felt like a furnace.
this wasn’t supposed to be happening. this wasn’t supposed to happen because he’d taken pills and sat down and he’d managed to be alone and even welcomed it. now he didn’t wish for more than having his members there.
he had to find them, but where was he in the first place? his surroundings were indistinguishable through the fog that clouded his mind and the more he looked around, the more they blurred.
the spinning picked up until all he could see was white. terrifyingly bright and confining.
he had to get out, to escape the unforgiving glare of whatever surrounded him. panicked, incoherent and sure that he was being detached from his own body, he tried to walk towards somewhere.
but his body was heavy like a thousand lead chains held him down to the chair. a distant noise ripped a sob from his chest. he couldn’t see, he couldn’t move, and someone unknown was coming for him. was it some kind of angel that came to take him away?
suddenly muffled voices resonated through the air like the dystopian yells of those who ran towards the only reality they couldn’t bear to lose. but the words where indecipherable.
the feverish haze consumed him as the brightness closed in around him, sucking every ounce of fight out of his body. limp and numb, the last thing he heard was the far away echo of a slam, and the growing fog dimming his vision only let him make out a vague shadow that undeniably came towards him.
just as he tried to escape, reality shut down around him.
○○○
ever since seungmin had left changbin for vocal practise, none of the boys had heard anything from him. there’d been no messages on the group chat, no memes and no calls. for lack of a better word, that was worrying.
the same changbin that normally couldn’t last more than half an hour without any form of social interaction had barely spoken to them the whole day, and now there was no indicator of his presence.
no one knew if he’d even gone home, and it’s not like they could anyway because every time someone called, they went straight to voicemail. had they done something wrong? if they had, the rapper would have told them.
changbin was emotionally intelligent enough to know how to convey his feelings and that was something everyone had thanked him for at some point. that talent of his never faltered, not when the others needed it, not when he himself did.
not unless something was seriously wrong.
when the unanswered calls filled han’s phone so munch that they could spill out of the screen, he made up his mind. changbin needed to be found. and maybe he was exaggerating, maybe his worry was truly meaningless like he’d uselessly tried to convince himself of, but his members were the one thing he’d never dare to take chances with.
as a last minute attempt to believe that his concern wasn’t needed, jisung called chan. there was a chance that the other two were working together, it wasn’t like 3racha never disconnected from the world when they were together, right?
right. very so, but not this once.
the call was picked up immediately, almost like chan had been waiting for it. weird, since he hadn’t looked preoccupied earlier at the store. “what’s up, ji?” the worry in his tone was oddly thick, as if he already knew what this was about. and to be fair, he probably did.
“hyung,” han said, his voice surprisingly unstable. was he really so affected by this? it’d only been a few hours without hearing from changbin and the world already felt wrong. “i don’t- i think something happened to changbin”
on the other side of the phone, a sympathetic hum was heard. “you too, hannie?”. han nodded before realising chan couldn’t see him, “yeah… i don’t know but- yeah”
“i’ve felt worried all day too,” the leader admitted, “i was gonna head to the studio just know, should we go together?”.
“mhm, please. i’m already at the company, just tell me when you’re here”
“will do,” chan promised, and then hung up. he’d lied: he wasn’t going to go to the studio, he was almost there. when he texted han only three minutes later that he was in the company’s first floor, the younger didn't bother to question him.
“maybe he’s just distracted,” chan said, smiling reassuringly at han when the younger found him. he looked genuinely scared of what could have happened, so chan put an arm around his shoulders while they walked.
“you don really think that though,” han replied, and both of them knew it was true. they only got more nervous as the elevator approached the third floor, and they could feel the anxiety spreading through their bodies.
this was a gut feeling, and they honestly wished they’d never let changbin out of their sight that day. the doors opened and both of them quickened their pace towards the studio. the hallway was eerily silent, so much so that their footsteps echoed and the cracking of wood seemed loud.
where changbin’s music would’ve normally blast between the walls, there was no sign of life at all. their eyes locked in a silent agreement: none of this was right. when han opened his mouth to speak, the sound of ragged breathing cut him off.
startled, he stumbled and caught himself against the wall. the thump echoed through the hall and han was sure that he heard someone sob. it sounded scared, desperate.
and it came from their studio.
“it’s him,” chan breathed out, frozen in place for a moment before suddenly walking faster. “changbin-ah!” he shouted, knocking on the door and waiting for an answer he wouldn’t get. the frantic breaths grew fainter and with them so did chan’s steady demeanour. he yelled his name again.
and when he slammed the door open, he was just in time to watch changbin’s eyes roll back and his body fall forward.
in a swift movement, chan barged into the room and caught changbin just before he’d crumble to the floor. “hannie he’s burning up,” the leader said urgently, trying to get han to move. the younger rapper had frozen in his tracks at the sight of his hyung unconscious and pale, but chan’s words snapped him out of it.
glad that the oldest had managed to keep changbin sitting, han thanked whoever had bought the gaming chair with wheels for their studio. carefully, he pushed the chair towards the couch and they managed to maneuver changbin to lay down on it.
chan propped the rapper’s legs up on a pillow and brushed his hair back to feel his forehead, but his hand instinctively recoiled at the heat he felt. “do we have a thermometer here?”
“we should”. han started looking through the drawers, everything but calm. how was he supposed to act when his most reliable hyung was passed out on the couch and burning up? he wanted to think that they shouldn’t have let it get so bad, but everyone knew there was no way to have prevented this.
changbin never got sick, and maybe that’s why this situation felt so unsettling.
han’s search for a thermometer came to a halt when he spotted the open packets of painkillers. both of them were the same brand, he knew it because chan had bought them just a week ago.
and they’d been unopened until today.
“hyung,” jisung called out, his voice deeper than usual as he held the pill boxes up, “he took this”. chan raised an eyebrow at that, confused as to why changbin would’ve opened two boxes of the same painkillers, “is there anything for fevers there?”
when han shook his head, it dawned upon him. the rapper had surely been so deep into his feverish haze that he hadn’t been able to read the labels, and probably just hoped to take the right pills. unless he’d had a headache, the painkillers must’ve been useless.
or so they thought.
while han went to get actual fever reducers and a thermometer, chan tried to take changbin’s pulse. if his heartbeat was as stable as his breathing, they might need an ambulance. he started pulling up the rapper’s sleeve, but at the sight of his wrist, he froze.
a wrapper was carefully applying pressure to the joint, and when he unwrapped it, purple and blue shades covered the area. it wasn’t badly swollen, but there was no mistaking: that was a sprain, and a very recent one.
a quiet gasp was heard from the door and chan looked up to see han —pills and thermometer in hand— staring at changbin’s wrist with a pained expression. “is it sprained?” he asked worriedly, rushing over upon receiving a nod.
gently, jisung brushed his fingers over the injury and frowned, “its warm”. the leader nodded, now busy taking changbin’s temperature. how high was it going to be? a trip to the hospital was the last thing they wanted, but if it was needed…
38.6°C
so it was bad, but not that bad. nonetheless, it was the worse they’d seen from changbin in a long time. holding onto the hope that it was only this bad because he was unmedicated, chan walked to the mini fridge they had in the studio and took out an ice pack for his forehead.
before turning around, the rapper’s bruised wrist flashed behind his eyes and he grabbed more ice. that would help, he hoped. but he couldn’t hope so much when the rapper had been unconscious for almost 5 minutes and looked deadly pale and maybe he should be calling an ambulance instead of relying solely on—
“hannie…?” changbin’s quiet and raspy voice snapped chan out of his thoughts and he turned around so fast he almost got dizzy. changbin was awake, finally, but he looked even worse than before.
his eyes were glossy and unfocused, clearly disoriented. the pained noise he made after jisung held him back from sitting up broke the leader’s heart, and he slowly approached.
“binnie, hey…” he said softly, kneeling next to the couch and pushing the rapper’s damp hair back. the poor boy looked scared, like he didn’t know where he was. “you were gone for quite a bit, hm?”
“g-gone w-where?” changbin asked, his voice trembling. the lights were too bright on his pounding head and why were chan and han looking at him like he’d just died? he hadn’t, had he?
the last memory he had was of the studio spinning and disappearing into a blinding brightness just as someone mysterious approached, and then everything had faded into nothingness. had the stranger taken him?
he didn't notice the tears streaming down his face until chan’s hand brushed them away. “shh, it’s okay. you didn’t go anywhere,” the leader promised, helping him sit up, “just passed out, its okay”
changbin nodded, his gaze falling to his wrist. “i— it h-hurts a— and my h-head s’ bad,” he said, failing to hold back his sobs. for the third time that day, his feelings were uncontrollable, and he couldn’t do anything to fix it.
“we know,” han said, handing him the water and fever reducers. “you have a fever and-” he pointed at his hand with a questioning look “-you’ll tell us later i guess? just take this now”
the rapper nodded, taking the pills and washing them down with water. at least he had water now. though his tears were still falling, he gave up trying to stop them. chan was brushing them away gently anyway so why would he make an effort? he’d done enough today. “i w-was i— at t-the gym and the weight j-just— it just f-fell,” he sobbed, upset at the unpleasant memory. he hadn’t explained what happened at all. in all honesty, he didn't remember.
but it shouldn’t have happened and that message was clear in the way his body shook. “so you hurt your wrist?” chan asked sympathetically, receiving a pitiful nod that made him want nothing more than to take changbin home.
while the leader tried to talk the rapper into calming down, han put the wrist wrapper back on his injury and gently held the icepack over it with one hand, using the other to rub the older’s back.
it wasn’t often that he saw changbin like this, but he’d much rather be with him whenever it happened.
listening to chan talking so sweetly to the boy was comforting in a way, cute even. changbin wasn’t making much sense, but he still trusted his leader enough to listen to him. slowly but surely, his breathing steadied and his tears, though not completely over, didn’t fall so frequently anymore.
“cute,” chan smiled when the exhausted rapper rested his forehead on his shoulder. even if barely 20 minutes had passed, his fever had gone down significantly. “lets go home, yeah? you’re tired”.
it truly took no more convincing than that. changbin held onto his friends as they helped him onto his feet, and when a wave of dizziness washed over him and made him sway dangerously, jisung was quick to pull him into a hug.
he too could feel that the older’s body wasn’t as warm as before, and he was grateful for it. none of the members were particularly fond of hospitals, and having to go there had been one of his main worries since they’d gotten to the studio.
when changbin’s vision cleared again, he stayed in the hug for a few seconds, enjoying the warmth. but he would surely fall asleep right there if he didn't move, so he pulled away and held onto han’s hand while chan wrapped a supportive arm around his waist.
together, they made their way outside, where one of their managers that chan had called at some point —changbin didn’t know when— was waiting. as if his mind had been read, the car had the heating on, and, unsurprisingly, he fell asleep all the way home, head against the cool window.
someone’s shoulder would’ve made a better pillow, but his head was still hurting and the cold glass felt nice against his skin.
he woke up to someone gently patting his hair. he liked it, and would’ve gone right back to sleep if it hadn’t been for the caring voice that urged him to wake up. “we’re home, binnie,” chan said softly, already standing outside the car. oh- so it was han playing with his hair. cute.
giving a tired smile to the younger, who admittedly still looked quite concerned, he got out of the car. “wait- i can carry you?” the leader offered, but the words felt stupid on his tongue and all three of them laughed, much to chan’s offence. “yah! i could carry three yous if i had too!”
changbin, for what felt like the first time that day, smiled genuinely. yeah, his hyung could pick him up if he tried, no doubt, but he'd much rather walk. and even if his legs felt unsteady and his mind clouded, jisung and chan made up for it.
after all, it was 3racha, and 3racha could make up for anything.
this one was really cute! maybe a bit too long but whatever.
it was my intention to make the fainting dramatic but as you can see, that didn’t work too well
as always, please please tell me any mistakes you see! ♥︎
Changbin didn’t get sick often, but when he did it never seemed to happen at a convenient time and this time was no different. With 3RACHA approaching the deadline for their upcoming mixtape, he didn’t have time to be sick.
Chan, Changbin, and Jisung had all been feeling more than a little stressed for the last few weeks. They had decided to scrap a couple of songs and replace them with something new against their better judgement and had been playing catch up in order to finish on time.
He had worked through worse. They all had. This time would be no different.
*~*~*~*~*~
“I have a fucking headache” Chan muttered, leaning back in his chair. He had been looking at the screen for hours at this point without a break.
Jisung had dozed off in his chair about an hour ago and Chan and Changbin decided just to let him be considering it was well after midnight.
“Maybe we should call it a night? You need some sleep” Changbin responded. “And so does he…” he added, gesturing to Jisung.
“I could say the same to you” Chan said, turning his chair to face Changbin. He clearly had more to say and now seemed like a good time to address it. “You’ve seemed sluggish all day and…”
Changbin immediately cut him off. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better tomorrow.”
Chan quickly shook his head, holding up a hand to silence Changbin. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m just concerned. Are you okay?”
Changbin internally cringed. Clearly he hadn’t done a good enough job hiding his discomfort. His mind drifted back to the time that Hyunjin pushed through an exhausting dance practice without anybody knowing that he was feeling sick, only to throw up all over the floor as soon as their choreographer stepped out of the room. And the time that Seungmin sang his heart out at a concert before calmly approaching Chan as they left the stage advising that his throat was bothering him. Chan took him to the clinic the next morning out of an abundance of caution only for him to be diagnosed with a severe case of strep throat. If his members could keep it together while being that sick then he needed to be able to do the same, especially considering he wasn’t all that unwell anyhow. A little fever was nothing he couldn’t handle.
“No, I’m fine! Maybe just a little tired?” Changbin’s response seemed to satisfy Chan who nodded before turning back to his computer and turning off the monitor.
“Yeah, I can relate” Chan said with a chuckle as he turned to Jisung, gently shaking him awake. “Time to go home, Jisungie. Let’s get you home and to bed”
Changbin grabbed his jacket, zipping it up all the way in an attempt to ward off the chill that had been nagging him all day.
*~*~*~*~*~
By the time they got home Hyunjin, as expected, fast asleep. Chan helped Jisung get ready for bed first since Jisung seemed dead on his feet at that point before cleaning himself up. Changbin waited patiently on the couch until it was his turn.
The moment he heard Chan close his bedroom door, Changbin dragged himself to the washroom. He immediately pulled the thermometer from the drawer where he had put it that morning and stuck it under his tongue.
Changbin almost missed the beep as his mind wandered, only realizing half a minute later that he could take it out of his mouth. He knew that his temperature hadn’t gone down but he also hadn’t expected to be up over a full degree. His “slight fever” was now at 38.9°. He popped a few ibuprofen tablets before getting himself ready for bed, hoping that he’d be feeling better in the morning.
*~*~*~*~*~
Of course Changbin didn’t feel better the following morning. He was woken by the sound of Hyunjin bustling around the apartment, getting ready to go to the dance studio. Even after he heard the front door open and close and the apartment returned to silence Changbin couldn’t seem to get any more sleep, instead opting to get up before Chan and Jisung to attempt to pull himself together before they woke up.
With his temperature up to 39.4° he took some more tablets and a cool shower, hoping to get it down enough to where he could have a coherent thought.
*~*~*~*~*~
The day passed much the same as the day prior, except Chan had noticed how sleepy his dongsaengs seemed as it approached 9:00 PM and called it a day early. Changbin was relieved to make it another day without attracting too much suspicion regarding his condition.
Chan received a text from Minho shortly after they arrived home that the dancers were on the way back and that Hyunjin had overdone it a bit so his back was bothering him. Chan tried to hurry Jisung and Changbin in and out of the washroom so that Hyunjin could get ready for bed as soon as he got home. Changbin volunteered to go last, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to move as quickly as the other two.
“I’m sorry to have to rush you, but Minho’s bringing Hyunjin up…” Chan called into Changbin from outside the door.
“I’ll be right out, sorry” Changbin mumbled, running the tap in order to obscure the sound of the beeping thermometer.
39.5°.
Really? How is it not going down?
He quickly tossed the thermometer back in the drawer and ran his towel through his hair again, wanting to make sure it was dry. He stepped out just in time to greet Minho and Hyunjin at the door. Hyunjin was holding his back and wincing as Minho helped him inside.
“Can you grab a heating pad for him, Bin?” Minho asked, but Changbin didn’t hear him, his mind set on getting to sleep as soon as possible.
“I got it, hyung” Jisung said as he sprung from the couch. He had noticed how tired Changbin had seemed all day but he was still surprised to see how out of it Changbin seemed now.
*~*~*~*~*~
Chan, Hyunjin, and Jisung were surprised to find Changbin asleep when Chan cracked his door to invite him to dinner.
“He’s seemed tired for the last few days” Chan said with a shrug. “But it’s understandable. We’ve been working long hours. I don’t know why we scrapped those songs…”
Chan’s thoughts were interrupted by a whine coming from Changbin’s room, followed by another.
Chan instantly stood up from the table, lightly knocking on Changbin’s door. “Hey, Binnie, you okay?”
He didn’t get a response. Just another pained whine from within, so he knocked a little louder. Still no response.
“I’m coming in” Chan announced, wasting no time opening Changbin’s door, finding his dongsaeng in a fitful sleep, all of his blankets kicked to the end of the bed and the floor.
“No…please…” Changbin muttered under his breath, clutching to his pillow.
Chan sat down cautiously at the edge of Changbin’s bed and placed a hand on his hip, trying to wake him gently without frightening him any more than he already clearly was.
“Wake up, Binnie. It’s just a nightmare” he whispered, trying to rouse Changbin.
Changbin quickly woke up but was still beyond disoriented. Sweat continued to drip from his brow as Chan attempted to ground him.
“You’re okay. Just take a few deep breaths” Chan cooed, realizing how off Changbin was looking. Luckily Jisung had followed him from the table and was lurking in the doorway. Chan turned to him and quietly asked for him to grab a glass of water.
Once Changbin’s breathing had evened out Jisung handed him the glass. He took a few sips before handing the glass back and leaning his head against Chan’s shoulder. Chan immediately felt the unnatural heat coming from Changbin and let out a sigh.
“Not feeling well?” Chan asked, running a hand along Changbin’s back.
“I’m fine” Changbin responded. “Just tired. Had a nightmare.”
Despite knowing that Chan had busted him, he still tried to downplay it.
“You’re burning, Binnie. How long have you been sick?” Chan persisted, and Changbin was frankly too exhausted and weak to argue.
“A few days. It’s not a big deal though. I’m fine…” Changbin muttered. “Just need to sleep it off.”
Chan shook his head, helping Changbin lie back down. “You’ll have plenty of time to sleep it off. You’re not to step foot back in the studio, let alone outside of this apartment, until you’re feeling better.”
“But the mixtape…” Changbin started before being cut off.
“Will be there when you’re well” Chan interjected. “Do you need anything?”
Changbin paused before nodding. “Will you stay with me?”
Chan smiled sadly at that, letting out a small chuckle. “Of course. But anything else before I lay down? Because I’m exhausted and am definitely going to fall asleep.”
Changbin just shook his head, relieved to have his hyung with him as he dozed off again.
A relentless stomach bug sweeps through the Stray Kids dorm, turning every room into a war zone of sickness and survival. One by one, the members fall, leaving only a few to hold the fort.
____________________________________________
Sickie/s: Han, Felix, I.N/Jeongin, Changbin, and Bang Chan
Caretaker/s: Seungmin, Lee Know and Hyunjin ____________________________________________
By late afternoon, the Stray Kids dorm smelled faintly of bleach, peppermint, and despair.
Minho had boiled up a light chicken soup for the fallen members, and everyone had tried their hand at a bowl.
All except for Felix.
“Lixie, please.” Hyunjin begged, prodding at the younger mans shoulder yet again. “You really need to try… you’re dehydrated, you literally have nothing in you.“
Felix just groaned, not making even the slightest attempt at moving. He was sprawled out on Chan’s bed, blonde hair sticking out in every direction and face hidden somewhere in a heap of pillows.
Hyunjin knew the younger could be stubborn sometimes, but this was on a whole new level.
Even more concerning than his obduracy was the fact that even though Felix’s temperature kept rising, his skin felt dry, like all the moisture had been sapped out of him. And well, in a way, it had..
“Yongbok-ah..” It was Minho’s turn to speak now. Sitting beside Hyunjin on the edge of the mattress, he carried a stoic calm the former lacked. “You know how this ends... and we all know you don’t actually want to go to the hospital, so come on now.”
That finally evoked a response.
Felix turned over, peeking out his burrow with a resigned look. “I’m just s-so tired,” he whispered brokenly, eyes blood shot and weary. “I don’t wanna.. huhh.. don’t wanna go back to the bathroom again…”
Hyunjin and Minho shared a helpless, sympathetic glance, the kind that said everything words couldn’t. Oh, how their hearts ached to see him like this.
“We know…” Hyunjin began, running a hand up Felix’ warm back. “We know. I’m so sorry, baby, but a trip to the hospital is longer…”
Minho pressed his lips together in what was supposed to be a half-smile. His voice was soft and unusually sweet when he spoke. “And we’ll help you if you need it, okay? It’s… it’s gonna be okay.”
Felix let out a shaky sigh, burying his face back into the pillows for a moment before muttering, “O-okay… okay.” His voice was small, hesitant, but there was a thread of trust woven through it.
Hyunjin’s shoulders slumped in quiet relief, and Minho let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.
“Good, that’s good, Felix.” Hyunjin murmured encouragingly, brushing a loose strand of hair from Felix’s forehead.
Minho nodded. “Yeah. No rush. Just… slow and steady.“ he lifted up a spoonful of soup, eyes soft. “Now say aahh..”
—
When the evening rolled around, the dorm was quiet. Too quiet.
Seungmin and Hyunjin had done another round of disinfecting, masked up and feeling exhaustion begin to pull at their bones.
Minho had taken over Felix duty while Chan shuffled around doing the laundry, cleaning up sick buckets, and checking vitals like he was a nurse on the world's worst (and longest) shift.
None of them said it aloud, but it hung in the air between them like a charged storm cloud; someone else is going to fall soon.
…. they just didn't expect it to be Chan.
—
An hour passed, then two.
Bang Chan stayed on his feet, running between rooms like clockwork (even when the other healthy members gathered for a much needed dinner break). He helped Jisung clean up again, swapped out Changbin’s puke bowl, and sat with Jeongin when he cried deliriously for his mum in the middle of a fever spike.
He ignored the first few waves of nausea, brushing them off as stress. He hadn't really eaten properly, so of course his stomach felt off. His head was pounding, but he'd barely had a wink or sleep. His legs trembled, but he'd barely sat down.
Every symptom could easily be explained by the taxing day he’d had…
But the signs were coming in hot, each one more pressing than the last.
It wasn't until Chan dropped the thermometer and had to brace against the wall to keep from falling that Minho caught on. He saw his stumble from the hallway, freezing in place as his eyes narrowed— like a cat with its eyes fixed on a prey.
Chan couldn’t have lied his way out of it even if he tried
"Hyung.” Minho's voice was unusually sharp, demanding his immediate attention. “Stop."
"I'm fine." Chan protested, straightening up again, but Minho was unbending. He wasn’t that easy to fool.
The dancer dropped the supplies he was sorting, eyebrows drawn as he stepped closer. "You're shaking."
It felt like one of those eerie first symptoms in a zombie movie.. right before everything went wrong.
"I'm-" Chan swayed again, his vision momentarily swirling out of focus. For a second, he feared he would keel over, ears ringing, but he didn’t get the opportunity to.
Minho caught him by the elbow, tightening his grip when Chan's knees buckled slightly beneath him. This time, his voice left no room to argue,
"Hyung. Sit down. Now."
Chan allowed himself to be lowered to the ground, but the second his butt hit the floor, everything hit him full-force. The fatigue, the nausea he’d suppressed, the sweat clinging to his back.
A tsunami of pain erupted in his gut, and his head swam in dizzying waves, his vision turning spotty. His hands instinctively flew to his stomach, and he curled in on himself with a shaky gasp.
“Oh no.” Seungmin said warily, crouching beside him with a frown. Where’d he’d come from, Chan didn’t know. "That’s not a good sign…”
Chan gave a weak laugh, voice strained. "Tell me about it.." His skin had gone ghostly pale in the blink of an eye, a cold sweat broken out along his brow.
And before anyone could react, Chan was actively gagging into the same bucket he'd just cleaned out for Jisung.
Seungmin huffed resignedly, sweeping his bangs out of his face and keeping them clear from the line of fire. Minho stayed steady on the other side, his hand pressed flat to Chan’s back as he retched.
The sound of their leader forcefully emptying his stomach echoed down the hall, and amidst the chaos, another groan arose from the sick room.
Minho and Seungmin exchanged a glance— a weary kind that said “here we go again.”
But before either of them could decide who would stay with Chan, and who would respond to the new distress call, Hyunjin appeared in the hallway, looking visibly frazzled.
He spun on his heel, caught between directions, trying to decide where to go first. Who needed him? What could he do? Someone was being sick, but where—?
When he saw Chan on the floor with Minho and Seungmin by his side, gagging into a bucket, Hyunjin froze dead in his tracks.
The colour drained from his face like water from a sink, his heart plummeting straight to his feet.
“Fuck— oh no… no, no, don’t tell me he’s..” Hyunjin tried to mask it, but his voice trembled, fraying at the edges. Hell, he just wanted to sit down and cry.
Seungmin nodded slowly, rising to his feet with a grim expression as he reached for a roll of napkins.
“I’m afraid it’s official…” he said with a sigh. “The boss is down.”
—
By nightfall, the line of causalities was five and counting. And the medics? The medics had been reduced to a crestfallen trio.
Minho had taken over Chan's "command center" with its base in the living room. Second oldest equaled second in command, naturally enough.
Seungmin had started tracking fluid intake and symptoms on a tiny whiteboard, scribbling down temperatures with all the seriousness of a field doctor.
Hyunjin, meanwhile, made fresh cold packs, disinfected surfaces, and stayed juuust out of reach of any coughing, gagging, or suspicious stomach grumbles.
For the most part, anyway. His heart inevitably melted to a puddle whenever one of the sick members looked up at him with those pitiful puppy-dog eyes…
Cool, calm and indifferent? Not a chance. He couldn’t be. Not when they looked at him like that.
Jeongin, in particular, was his Achilles’ heel. If Hyunjin ended up sick himself, he knew it would almost certainly be from his inability to resist coddling the poor maknae.
At 9PM sharp, Hyunjin stood in the kitchen, stirring around the same pot of rice porridge Minho had begrudgingly entrusted him not to burn (he’d only been given the task because Seungmin already had set their noodles ablaze earlier in the day…)
“I hate this.” Hyunjin groaned, earning a soft hum in response from Seungmin, who was sitting with his legs dangling off the counter, snacking on a bag of hot Cheetos.
“This is like those zombie outbreak movies,” The older boy continued, staring into the porridge like it held all the answers he needed. “just with a lot more vomiting and diarrhea..”
Seungmin stopped chewing, narrowing his eyes in a tired glare. “Wow, thanks.” He muttered dryly, dropping a Cheeto back into the bag before shoving it aside. “Guess I didn’t need my appetite…”
Hyunjin shrugged sheepishly, a hint of guilt crossing his features. “Seriously though,” he said, suddenly solemn. “We’re outnumbered here. Our leader has fallen…. Minnie, we won’t survive the week.”
"We will..” Seungmin countered, though his voice was smaller than he intended, not nearly as confident as he wanted it to sound.
Their eyes tracked down the hallway as the way too familiar sound of vomiting echoed through the walls. Fluorescent lights gleamed through the slit of the bathroom door, and a soft voice rumbled from the other side, calm and steadfast.
“You think he needs help..?” Hyunjin asked quietly, stirring around the pot harder, hand shaking from the strain.
Seungmin hesitated, then shook his head. “No. Lino-hyungs got it.. let’s just.. let’s just focus on the porridge.”
-
The bathroom light cast an unbearably harsh glow over the tiles. Chan was slumped against the wall beside the toilet, his forehead pressed to his arm, the other hand clutching the edge of the toilet like a lifeline.
Minho had lost count of how many times he’d been in this same position over the past 24 hours; kneeling next to someone shaking and pale, watching the life drain out of them one heave at a time.
Surely, by now, he could be considered an expert in the field.
He’d already helped Chan through what he hoped was the worst of it, but his hyung hadn’t exactly bounced back… His breathing came shallow and uneven, every exhale trembling and thin with lingering nausea.
“Hey,” Minho’s voice was low, gentle but firm as he crouched beside him. “You done for now?”
Chan made a noise that could’ve been a groan or a laugh; it was hard to tell which. “Define ‘done’..” he said humourlessly, voice raspy and raw from the excessive upchucking.
Minho sighed softly, silently grabbing a towel and running it under cool water before wringing it out. He pressed it to the back of Chan’s neck, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. “You’re burning up...”
“No, no,” Chan insisted, shaking his head weakly. “‘M okay… just… tired.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Minho asked flatly, eyebrows raising. God, how foolishly stubborn this man could be.
Or if not for his stubbornness.. maybe, just maybe, Chan was already so feverish he’d officially lost his grip on reality.
“You’ve been ‘just tired’ since 7 o’clock this morning..” the dancer countered, “Now you’re pale, sweating and throwing up. That’s not ‘just tired’, that’s sick.”
Chan didn’t answer right away— partially because he felt too queasy to speak, partially because he knew Minho was right. He just leaned forward again, elbows braced on his knees and eyes squeezed shut as another wave of nausea rolled through him.
A gurgle reverberated up his chest.
Minho didn’t so much as flinch when Chan retched again, because he had expected as much.
Instead, he reached out, steadying a hand on his shoulder and rubbing slow, grounding circles over the tense muscles. By now, it was instinct driven more than anything.
“Breathe through it,” he murmured. “You’ll be okay, Chan-ah. Just let it pass.”
Chan obeyed, if only because he didn’t have the strength to argue or push him away. The bile burned its way up his throat as he got sick again, stinging vile and bitter through his nasal cavity.
Even when the first torrent dwindled to a trickle, his stomach kept clenching, twisting and turning until every last drop in his stomach had been ejected. How his body still had anything left to give was beyond him.
When the heaves finally eased, Chan sagged back against the wall, his head lolling weakly in Minho’s direction. His hair was doused in sweat, his skin clammy to the touch.
“Sorry…”
Minho frowned, supporting his head carefully against his shoulder as he reached over to flip the toilet lid down. “For what?”
Chan hesitated, then shook his head with a faint, almost childish petulance. “Forget it…’s dumb..”
Minho exhaled sharply through his nose, unamused. “Nope. That’s not gonna work on me and you know it. Speak.”
Chan swallowed thickly, his voice shaky as he spoke. “I just… ‘feel bad for getting sick cuz.. I’m the oldest..” he hesitated again, eyelashes fluttering. “I-I should be taking care of the others…”
“Well, you’re right about it being dumb.” Minho deadpanned, but then his expression softened. “You’ve been doing just that this entire time… taking care of everyone like some superhuman nurse. You can’t help that you got sick too. It was only a matter of time, really..”
He paused, allowing a moment for the words to sink in, then added with a shrug, “Viruses don’t care if you’re royalty. They’ll getcha either way.”
Chan let out a weak huff, leaning into Minho’s shoulder in quiet surrender. Even if he felt like a sack of shit, caught in the throes of the virus, at least Minho could lift a little of the guilt off his chest.
Minho rested his cheek lightly against Chan’s temple, letting the steadiness in his presence do most of the talking. “You’ve done your part,” he mumbled. “Now, let me help you.”
He grabbed another towel, this one dry, and dabbed it carefully along Chan’s hairline, wiping away the sweat.
Chan closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him, and for the first time in hours, he allowed himself to fully exhale.
The sickness hadn’t gone away— quite frankly, it had only just begun, but for a moment, the weight of responsibility lifted off his shoulders. Just a little.
“Let’s get you to bed,” Minho said as Chan sagged against him, looking closer to unconsciousness with each passing second. “You can’t sleep on the bathroom floor. We only have one…”
Chan made a soft, noncommittal sound, halfway between defiance and surrender, but stretched out his arms anyway.
Like a damn toddler, Minho thought with a fond smirk.
It took effort to get him up, Chan was heavy and pliant in his arms, but eventually Minho managed to get him standing, one arm looped around his waist for support.
“Come on,” Minho murmured, a little breathless. “Sick bay for you too, General Bahng.”
When Minho pushed open the door to the sick room, a wave of warm, feverish air greeted them, tinged with the faint smell of disinfectant. Changbin and Jisung were curled up on their respective beds, both deep in restless sleep.
Minho led chan to the third bed, the largest, where Jeongin remained nestled under a mountain of covers. The maknae stirred in his corner, half awake and gazing at the newcomers with hazy eyes. “Oh, no.. Channie-hyung…?”
“Hey, Innie..” Chan greeted quietly, earning a concerned look from the maknae. Jeongin was still pale, but he looked a little better, Minho thought. Though maybe it just seemed that way in contrast to Chan’s rapid decline…
“Move over a bit, Innie,” Minho whispered as Chan settled down on the edge of the mattress, swaying like a boat caught in a swell. “Channie-hyung’s joining you.”
Jeongin blinked a couple of times, dazed but obedient, shifting to the side and making room without a word.
Minho helped Chan ease down beside him, the leader looking halfway asleep before his head even hit the pillow. The maknae’s warmth, even in sickness, was oddly comforting. Chan’s arms wrapped loosely around himself as he curled up on his side, finally allowing his body a moment to relax.
“Alright..” Minho hummed, placing a bucket securely by the side of the bed. “I got the superior bucket for you right here, okay? Now rest up, soldier..”
He adjusted the blanket over both of them, lingering for just a moment— just long enough to make sure Chan was breathing evenly, Jeongin’s hand loosely curled against his arm, before quietly backing out of the room.
11:20PM
The apartment was eerily quiet except for the occasional groan or retch. The sick room, now housing Jeongin, Jisung, Changbin, and Chan, had finally settled into the stillness of night.
At last, Felix too had finally fallen asleep, curled tightly in a blanket burrito back in Chan's bedroom. Now, the three who remained standing finally had a moment to breathe.
Like night shift nurses, they sat huddled around the dinner table, drinking ginger tea and whispering war plans. Seungmin was wiping at the whiteboard, scribbling notes with droopy eyes.
They hadn’t even started talking about how to deal with the night that was so rapidly approaching, dreading the topic as a whole.
All they wanted was rest, but resting while running a poor man’s infirmary was a scarce treat they probably couldn’t afford.
Hyunjin collapsed down in a chair after his last disinfecting duty, resting his forehead on folded arms. “We need reinforcements...”
Minho glanced over from where he was absentmindedly stirring a spoonful of honey around his tea. “There are no reinforcements,” he said quietly. “This is it. We're it."
Hyunjin closed his eyes and mumbled something under his breath that might have been a prayer or a curse. Possibly both.
They sat in silence for a moment longer, listening to the distant sound of groans down the hall. As they grew more persistent, the three men tensed up, ears piqued and senses on high alert.
A door clicked open, feet shuffled, another door closed. Someone retched harshly, the sound echoing harrowingly through the thin walls. It sounded like Chan— again.
With a heavy sigh, Seungmin stood from his chair, but Minho lifted his hand, quietly signaling him to stay seated as he bravely volunteered himself to the task instead.
Seungmin gave him a look, one that practically spelled are you sure? in bold letters, but Minho nodded. He was sure, and Seungmin looked every bit as exhausted as the rest of them.
If he could spare the poor kid, he would.
"Day three of the apocalypse. We’re outnumbered,” Hyunjin muttered somberly, holding his head like he was on the brink of insanity. "Five infected. Three survivors. Hope dwindling…”
Seungmin rolled his eyes, taking a long sip of his beverage. “We’ll live one more day, Mr.Hwang.. Innies already on the mend.” His voice took on a more genuine note, hopefulness and determination woven into his words.
“We can do this.”
The silence was heavy, they were all exhausted beyond compare, but a tiny spark of hope was ignited. And they wouldn’t let it fade away.
Not without another fight.
Before Minho got ready to leave the room and assist their fallen leader once more, Hyunjin suddenly reached out a hand, hovering it above the table.
“Nurse-racha?”
Seungmin and Minho exchanged a look before they both reached out, stacking their hands on top of Hyunjin’s in turn. In unison, they sealed a silent agreement, weary smiles tugging at their lips.
“Nurse-racha.”
____________________________________________
— extra scene—
The following day, Jeongin was looking more like himself again, the spark having returned to his eyes. He was still weak, but his fever had lowered significantly, and his appetite was resurfacing.
As his condition improved and his puke risk neared zero, he was roomed with Felix in Chan’s bedroom.
Changbin had finally managed a cracker and some water without immediate regret, and even Felix had replenished some much needed electrolytes thanks to Seungmin’s expertly made Gatorade popsicles.
Jisung had declared himself dead at least twice more, but he was resting, swaddled into an immobilised cocoon on the bed.
Beside him on the next bed lay Chan, resting uneasily as he drifted in and out of fever ridden dreams.
Minho, Hyunjin and Seungmin lingered in the doorway, surveying the room like three generals assessing the damage on a battlefield. For the first time since the outbreak began, they allowed themselves a small, shared sigh of relief.
The worst of it was, hopefully, behind them.
Hyunjin brushed a stray strand of hair from his face and muttered, half to himself, half to the others, “We… we actually did it?”
Seungmin let a small smile tug at the corner of his lips, jabbing his elbow gently into Hyunjin’s side. “Don’t jinx it,” he said. “But yeah… we did it.”
Minho leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a tired but genuine grin on his face. “Good job, guys.”
For a moment, the room was quiet, filled only with the gentle, even breaths of those still resting.
The past two days had been a bonding experience they wouldn’t forget anytime soon, and in the quiet aftermath, they all felt it deep down.
Blood, sweat and tears— they had made it through.
Together.
And if this didn’t bond them together for life, they didn’t know what would.
A relentless stomach bug sweeps through the Stray Kids dorm, turning every room into a war zone of sickness and survival. One by one, the members fall, leaving only a few to hold the fort.
____________________________________________
Sickie/s: Han, Felix, I.N/Jeongin, Changbin, and Bang Chan
Caretaker/s: Seungmin, Lee Know and Hyunjin ____________________________________________
Keeping a highly contagious stomach bug from doing the rounds was hard enough on a good day. But when one of those dreaded viruses broke out among eight young men sharing a single bathroom?
Now that was a whole other level of difficulty. Once it started, keeping it under locks felt like a near impossible task.
Jeongin was the first one to go down. No one knew exactly when or where he’d picked it up, but somewhere along his way, the norovirus had sunk its nasty claws into him.
At first, he was just a little pale, and said he felt a little ‘off’ one unsuspecting Tuesday morning. An hour or so after breakfast, just before they were meant to be heading out for practice, he was projectile vomiting in the bathroom.
Felix followed soon after. He’d deliberately ignored any warnings to keep his distance in favour of giving the poor maknae some tender loving care.
The result? Painfully predictable, and equally as miserable.
He started looking peaky by mid-afternoon and was locked in a losing battle with the toilet by nightfall. All within the same day.
Under normal protocol, the sick members were to be quarantined in the same room— a feeble attempt to contain the spread, really.
But with Felix… well, with Felix it was different.
They’d learned that the hard way. Putting a sick Felix in a room with other sick people? Now that was just a disaster waiting to happen.
Putting Felix in a room of other sick people didn’t lessen the chaos— if anything, it multiplied it.
The last time it happened (one time Felix and Jisung had foolishly eaten some shady street food during tour) they’d dubbed it, in Seungmin’s words, “a ping-pong match of gags and tears.”
It was messy, it was pitiful, and it was traumatic for anyone and everyone involved.
To put it simply, no one wanted a sequel.
So Felix got a room to himself, usually with a personal caretaker to go with it. Changbin was always quick to volunteer himself.
Changbin sat with him while he got sick, patiently enduring the tears and dizzy spells that inevitably came with. He was steady like that. Rock-solid. The kind of person who could anchor just about anyone through the heaviest of storms.
But when it came to cleanup, Changbin wasn’t exactly a pro. He did his best; mask on, gloves tight, dousing every surface with the bleach solutions Chan had already prepped— but norovirus has a way of laughing in the face of good intentions…
The next morning, their group chat pinged to life just a little too early for comfort:
Changbin: guys…… It got me
Changbin: I’m sick :(
Changbin: Moved in with Jeongin
Changbin: I’m ok though! Sorry </3
Right. Everyone knew he wasn’t okay, but he certainly was a trooper for trying to keep a positive mindset.
With Changbin out of commission, that left five of them: Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, Seungmin and Minho.
Chan paced the living room like a general preparing for war. Arms locked behind his back and his gait stiff, he waited for Seungmin to join them for an emergency meeting regarding the recent developments.
The others were already gathered on the couch, each and every one of them wearing matching expressions of exhaustion and dread.
The clock on the wall reflected the cruel reality back at them. 6AM.
It was early. Too early. They were barely even awake, having been ushered out of bed in their pyjamas, but there they were— huddled together on the couch like a drowsy litter of kittens.
The hum of coffee brewing in the kitchen filled the silence, punctuated only by the tick of the wall clock. Each second felt louder than it should have.
“Does it usually spread this fast?” Hyunjin asked in a yawn, pulling his pyjama clad legs up on the couch as Minho settled down snugly beside him.
The older dancer gave a shrug. “They could’ve just been exposed around the same time. Some people take longer to show symptoms.”
“Right..” Hyunjin nodded dubiously, his fingers tapping gently against the warm ceramic of his mug. “Still feels really fast…”
“Like wildfire.” Jisung chimed in from the other side of the couch, head resting on Minho’s shoulder and hoodie pulled up over hair that looked like it hadn’t met a brush in days.
“Bingo.” Seungmin agreed once he finally emerged from the kitchen, coffee in hand. He dropped onto the couch with the kind of sigh that said this day was already too long.
If only he knew…
“Alright. Good, everyone’s here.” Chan said, cutting right to the chase. They had no time to waste. “Here’s what we got. Jeongin and Changbin are sharing a room, that’ll be our sick bay for now. Felix is in mine, so I’m taking the couch out here..”
The leader paused for a moment, gazing down the hallway as if he’d heard something. More likely, he was just imagining things— he hadn’t exactly slept well.
“Seungmin-ah, you were the last one to check on them. Status?”
Seungmin peered at their leader over the rim of his coffee cup. He took a sip, then exhaled slowly through his nose.
“I’m not gonna sugar coat it,” he said flatly, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s a mess. Felix fainted twice last night, Innie cried, and Changbin looked white as a sheet this morning.”
Seungmin stretched out an arm behind Hyunjin’s back as he continued relaying what information he had. “Innie’s still seems the worst off so far, fever’s high.” He paused to take a breath.
“Lix and Bin have mild fevers, but Felix has been back and forth to the toilet a lot, and you all know how it goes when he’s dehydrated..” Seungmin mimed a person walking and falling flat to the floor with his hand.
The living room fell silent for a beat, but then they all nodded along in a chorus of agreeing sighs. Yeah, they knew. Unfortunately…
“Okay, thanks Seungmin.” Chan clasped his hands together, scanning the four members cramped together on the couch. “Everyone here still feeling fine?”
Hyunjin offered a thumbs up and a short “yep” in return.
“Never been better.” Came Seungmin’s sarcastic response as he took an excessively long sip of his coffee.
Minho joined in with an ominously nonchalant, “For now”, his head tilted over the back of the couch.
And Jisung— well, Jisung didn’t say anything.
Chan was about to continue speaking on his plan moving forward, but Jisung’s silence threw him off…
Why didn’t he answer?
The leader felt his blood run cold, a frown tugging at his lips. “Han-ah? Are you..” he trailed off, the words dying in his throat.
Jisung was staring dead ahead, his eyes a little sunken and his expression fixed in a vacant stare. There was a slight crease in his brow, barely noticeable, but most certainly there.
Now that he had raised his head from Minho’s shoulder, Chan could get a proper look of his face and…
Oh no.
Something was most certainly wrong.
There was a dullness in his eyes that didn’t bode well, and no matter how much he didn’t want to, Chan had to admit Jisung looked a little… pale…
“Han, hey-“ Chan waved a hand in front of Jisung’s face, finally pulling his attention away from the still air. Up close, he looked even worse for wear.
Chan inwardly cringed, his heart skipping a beat as he pressed the back of his hand against Jisung’s cheek. He didn’t feel feverish, not yet, but…
“You’re looking a little green around the gills there, bud..” Chan paused, already dreading the response as he proposed his question. “You feeling alright?”
Jisung looked up and blinked slowly, as if it took him an immense amount of effort just to process the question. “I don’t know… I-I think..” His face scrunched for a moment, a tug of discomfort pinching his brow. “My stomach feels… funny.”
Chan narrowed his eyes. “Define ‘funny’…”
Jisung straightened up a little, but his moves were sluggish and heavy. “‘Dunno.. like.. crampy?” He paused with a suspicious swallow. “B-but it’s not like ‘I’m dying’ kinda crampy. Just like… ‘I had too much milk’ kind of crampy..”
Seungmin looked at him with a blank expression. “Well, did you have any milk?”
“…no.” Jisung whispered quietly. The room held its breath, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
“Great.” Seungmin drained the last of his coffee and placed the cup on the table with an exaggerated loud clank. “You’re next, then.”
Hyunjin immediately shifted a few inches away, like Jisung himself was a ticking time bomb of germs and contaminants. “Uh-oh.”
Minho, however, didn’t budge. “No kidding,” he looked at Jisung, eyebrows drawn together as his eyes scanned over his sickly features. "Look at him. He's already sweating."
"I'm not sweating.” Jisung protested weakly. Then he wiped his forehead. "Okay… Maybe I'm sweating a little. But it's just hot in here, right?” He looked around the room, eyes getting increasingly desperate as reality settled in. “Right?”
“Nope.” Hyunjin stood up, shaking his head with a bleak expression. He grabbed a disinfectant spray off the table like a weapon, holding it to his chest as he backed away. “Sorry, dude.”
“Hey..” Chan spoke up cautiously, watching in real time as Jisung turned paler by the second. “Hannie, do you think you’re gonna puke?”
When Jisung immediately gave a stiff nod in return, Minho finally moved. Not out of the way, but just far enough to grab the trash bin near the bookshelf. He wordlessly handed it to Jisung with the grim calm of someone passing over a parachute mid freefall.
Jisung quickly took the bin with both hands, shutting his eyes tightly as he leaned over it, lips trembling. “T-thanks…”
Hyunjin, who had steadily edged away from the couch, now stood with his back against the wall as he watched the chaos unfold before him. “That’s four down already.” He glanced at Chan. “We need to isolate him too. Immediately.”
Chan held up a hand to silence him, giving him a stern look. “I know. But let’s take it one step at a time, yeah?”
Jisung already looked miserable enough, Chan didn’t want him to feel like he was being treated like some sort of pest on top of it. That would only upset him further.
The youngest rapper sucked in a sharp breath, a whiny whimper leaving his lips as a string of saliva dribbled into the trash bin. “‘don’t.. hrgg.. d-don’t wanna get sick…”
Chan’s eyes softened with sympathy, but his shoulders tensed again as the muffled sound of someone gagging reverberated down the hallway.
Changbin.
And like a chain reaction set in motion, the sound of Jisung vomiting into the trash bin filled the room. Everyone collectively winced.
Minho sighed gently, holding Jisung’s hair back with one hand while the other rubbed soothing circles along his trembling spine.
Chan opened his mouth to speak again, to try and delegate tasks, but his mind was running too fast for him to catch up.
“I’ve got him.” Minho said instead, cutting through the fog with calm certainty. A saving grace, truly.
Chan nodded sharply, already turning on his heel. “Okay-“ the leader cast a glance at Seungmin, who was calmly assisting Minho from the sidelines— then Hyunjin, who still stood plastered to the wall. “I’m gonna check on Bin.”
And with that, Chan bolted through the hallway like a firefighter responding to a blaze.
The sight that greeted him upon arrival shattered his heart to a million pieces. Changbin was drenched in sweat, slumped to a pale and shaky heap on the bathroom floor.
He hadn’t quite made it to the toilet in time by the looks of it, and now sat slouched against the bathtub, eyes fluttering with every new wave of nausea that hit him.
Chan crouched down beside him, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves with the resigned skill of a man who had been doing far too much bodily fluid cleanup for someone whose job was not supposed to be in healthcare.
“Hey, buddy.” Chan’s voice was soft and steady as he placed a hand on Changbin’s shoulder. “You’re okay. I’m here..” he gently brushed a few wayward strands out of the youngers face. “How’re you feeling?”
Changbin’s eyes fluttered open, and he gave a soft, broken whimper in response. “Ugh.. crappy…”
“Yeah, I can tell..” Chan hummed softly, taking in the alarming pallor of the younger rappers face— so washed out he almost looked green.
Changbin curled in on himself with a wince. “Stomach hurts a lot…“ his voice was hoarse, and the shivers running through him made it hard to get his words across. “B-but it’s a little.. little less intense now that I finally got to throw up..“
“Yeah?” The oldest frowned softly, heart clenching in his chest. “Think you’re done for now, or..?”
Changbin hesitated, then shrugged his shoulders with a small grimace. “Maybe… for now, I think, yeah.. sorry ‘bout the mess, hyung…”
Chan offered a gentle smile, shaking his head lightly. “Don’t mind that. I’ve got it.” He squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so sick, Bin.. just hang in there for a minute, okay? I’ll get you back to bed soon. Promise.”
“Mhm..”
Chan started cleaning up the spillage, too preoccupied and concerned to be disgusted by any of it. His main priority was Changbin, and getting him back to bed as quickly as humanly possible.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, followed by a barely audible voice filtering through it.
“Hyung..?”
It was Felix. Oh fuck.
Chan threw some paper into the toilet, finishing off the last swipe of disinfectant against the tiles before answering in English. “Yeah, Felix, what’s up?”
The door clicked open and the younger Aussie appeared on the other side, his forehead pressed against the doorframe like that alone was keeping him from toppling over.
“I gotta..” Felix gestured weakly to the toilet, and the reluctance to voice his needs told Chan all he needed to know.
“Right.” The leader said, gazing back to Changbin who was now halfway dozing off against the bathtub. “Just give us a sec, Lix.”
“Binnie~” Chan crooned softly, shaking the rappers shoulder. “Ready to go back to bed, big guy? I’ll help you.”
With some effort, he got Changbin to his feet and led him toward the door, where Felix was still swaying, looking alarmingly pale.
“You gonna be okay on your own, mate?” Chan asked uncertainly as they passed by the younger, though the answer already seemed abundantly clear.
N to the O to the P to the E.
The weak hum he gave in return was not at all mollifying, and Chan scowled deeply as Felix’s eyes remained shut, the doorframe no doubt leaving indents in his forehead.
“Ooookay…” He paused for a moment, eyes darting down the hallway and lighting up with relief once Seungmin appeared.
Without even needing to say a word, the second youngest member scurried over (no doubt seeing the desperation in Chan’s eyes), giving the situation a brief look over before nodding.
“I’ll take Binnie back to bed.” Seungmin said firmly, slinging one of Changbin’s arms over his shoulder as he braced himself to support him.
Chan barely had time to thank him before the pair was off, and he was able to concentrate fully on the half-conscious kid before him.
“Oh, Felix...” He wrapped an arm around the younger man’s chest, like a railing keeping him from tipping off the edge of a bridge. “Lixie, hey, you with me?”
“Ugh.. yeah— s-sorry..” Felix lifted his head off the doorframe with a pitiful groan, eyelashes fluttering. “I-I need the… toilet..”
“Okay.. I got you.”
Chan secured an arm around Felix’s waist as he guided him to the toilet, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from visibly wincing when he swayed precariously on his feet.
The younger man was clearly teetering on the edge of consciousness, but Chan wouldn’t let him go down that easy.
Even if Felix moved like a tipsy pirate, staggering like a Jack Sparrow incarnate, he would be there to catch him. Always.
“Alright, easy does it now…” Chan murmured, gently lowering him onto the toilet seat.
Felix let out a tiny, embarrassed whine, eyes squeezing shut as a hiccup caught in his chest. “Chris—ugh—h-hyung… y-you don’t have to stay…”
“I know,” Chan replied simply, crouching beside him and brushing back the damp fringe clinging to his forehead. “But I’m going to.. sorry, mate, but I’d rather not have you crack your head on the tile, yeah?”
Felix didn’t argue after that. He barely managed a nod before curling around his midsection, trembling from the effort of holding himself upright.
The whole ordeal was far from pleasant, but Chan remained unfazed, brushing the hair from Felix’s face and muttering reassurances to help him through. “You're okay,” he whispered as the younger let out a half-choked sob. "You're doing really well, Lix."
Tears streaked Felix’s freckled cheeks, adding a shine to his otherwise dulled complexion. "H-hurts.. hurts so bad, hyung... my stomach feels like it's eating itself."
"I know, baby,” Chan soothed, pressing a cool hand to his forehead. His temperature was creeping higher by the second... “But you're doing great. Just breathe for me, okay? In and out… it’ll be over soon."
Time seemed to dissolve after that. Every time Chan tried to get up to fetch something— water, a cold compress, anything, Felix whimpered and reached for him, nearly faceplanting more than once.
So Chan stayed, sitting cross-legged on the bathroom floor with his back against the tub, watching as Felix tried and failed to keep upright on the toilet.
Now, Felix had a bucket tucked in his lap, his head practically dipped into its hollow as he hiccuped and breathed shakily into the plastic.
It had been a while since the last bout, and by now Chan was more worried the kid would fall asleep there, cutting off circulation to his legs. Felix was all emptied out, but the poor guy was clearly too scared— and weak— to move.
"You need to rest," Chan murmured, voice tired yet laced with warmth. "You've got nothing left to give, Lix.”
Felix sniffled, tilting sideways until his head braced against the sink. "It feels like my insides are liquefied," he whispered hoarsely, words barely audible. "This is the worst day of my life."
Chan let out a soft, almost inaudible scoff, moving closer to rub circles along his back again. “That’s what you said when you dropped your rank in League.”
“I meant it then, too…”
“Right..”
Chan’s eyes flicked to the doorway, knowing the rest of the apartment wasn’t any more tranquil than they were.
Somewhere down the hall, others were still struggling through their own waves. The apartment was still alive with misery, solid proof that the war was far from over.
And he knew, without a doubt, that there was just a matter of time until someone else needed their precious bathroom…
—
A few doors down, Seungmin had managed to get Changbin tucked back under the covers. He’d fetched a fresh set of towels, a cool compress, and a water bottle that was likely to remain untouched until the worst of the nausea waned.
Hyunjin met him in the doorway, handing over a stack of clean pillowcases. “For Innie. He soaked through his again… I’ll be right back.”
Seungmin nodded listlessly and headed back inside the room with yet another task added to his agenda. Changbin had settled for now, but Jeongin…
Jeongin was but a miserable sight.
He was curled up beneath three blankets, his face blotchy with the unmistakable flush of fever and the pallor of someone thoroughly wrung out. The younger boy barely even stirred when Seungmin shook his shoulder.
Only when he shook again, a little firmer, Jeongin finally groaned. “Hyung…?” He drawled, turning over with sluggish effort.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Seungmin crouched down beside the bed, effortlessly slipping a thermometer between Jeongin’s lips and watching the numbers rise. Once it beeped, he grimaced.
38.8°C
Still way too high.
Like Hyunjin had stated, Jeongin’s pillow was thoroughly dampened with sweat, the sheets marred with dark patches. His body was fighting against the virus with everything it had, and the evidence of battle shimmered like crystals against his skin.
Seungmin reached out and brushed Jeongin’s hair back from his forehead, scowling gently. “Hey, you need to drink something, mister... Even if it’s just a few sips.”
Jeongin made a pitiful sound, clearly not eager to drink anything, but just as clearly not in any shape to argue. Even so, his obstinacy shone through.
Seungmin sighed. "Please?" he asked softly, nudging a straw against Jeongin’s lips, but he stubbornly turned his head away.
From across the room, Changbin suddenly mumbled, “Tell him it’s a juice box. He’ll do better if he thinks it’s a juice box…”
Seungmin snorted under his breath, rolling his eyes. “Seriously? We’re not bribing him like a five-year-old.”
“Speak for yourself.” Hyunjin said from the doorway, walking in again with a bowl of cold packs and a resigned expression. “At this point, I’d give him a lollipop and a sticker if it meant he drank something.”
Seungmin couldn’t bring himself to disagree with that logic. Their maknae was dehydrated, feverish and disoriented— if there was any way to hoax him into drinking water, of course he would do it.
And to his surprise, Changbin’s trick worked like a charm.
For some reason he couldn’t name, a delirious Jeongin was far more inclined to drink juice rather than water. A fact Seungmin never knew of, but was grateful that Changbin (strangely enough) did.
Jeongin took a couple of sips of the so called ‘juice’ before reclining back down with a displeased look. “That juice sucks… tastes like nothing..”
“Really?” Seungmin prompted, eyebrows raised. “That’s strange.” He couldn’t keep the amused smile from ghosting his lips as he swiped his thumb over Jeongin’s flushed cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll file a complaint on your behalf.”
The maknae seemed pleased by that, a soft sigh slipping past his lips. “Mm, thanks, Seungmin-hyung…”
“Anytime, Innie… anytime.”
—
Back in the living room, Minho was holding a damp towel to Jisung's face, one Hyunjin had handed over in passing just a few minutes prior.
The younger man was curled into a fetal position on the couch, a new, clean bucket close to his chest and his hoodie now discarded in a sweaty pile on the floor.
He had been sick twice more since the first round, but for now, it seemed like the waters had stilled.
Minho carefully adjusted the towel to rest over his forehead, eyes scanning over the younger’s pinched features. “Feeling any better?” he asked, voice low.
A pitiful groan was the answer he got as Jisung’s fingers tightened weakly around the bucket. “No. Worse. Everything hurts now…” he mumbled. “My stomach, my back… even my eyeballs, hyung.”
“Eyeballs?” Minho echoed, pressing his fingers to Jisung’s reddening cheeks. “Yeah, that checks out. Probably the fever… fevers.. fevers cause eyeball pain sometimes.”
Jisung paused for a moment, like the statement was grinding around in his brain, before peering up at Minho with glassy eyes. “Wait.. really?”
Minho paused, staring back at him. “Uh… dunno,” he admitted with a shrug. “Maybe— probably. I just thought that’s what you wanted to hear.”
After a beat of stunned silence, Jisung groaned again, slinging an arm up to cover his eyes with melodramatic flair. “I’m dying.” he whined, curling tighter into himself like it would shield him from the onslaught of discomfort.
Unfortunately, it wouldn’t, and it didn’t, but whining did help a little.
Minho didn’t react much to his dramatics. He just kept smoothing the cool towel across his skin, calm and composed. “You’re not dying, Jisung-ah.”
“We all are..”
Minho paused again, blinking once, twice, three times. “Fair point.” He decided. “But you’re gonna survive this. I can’t let a stomach virus be the end of you, that’s just.. embarrassing.”
Jisung snorted weakly. “Fair point..” he echoed back, voice small.
As Minho moved the cool cloth to his neck, he shivered, teeth chattering. “Yah—I'm cooold..." Jisung whined, trying to swat him away to no avail.
Minho remained steadfast, holding the rag in place as he argued matter-of-factly, “No. Actually, you're being cooked from the inside out.”
The silence that followed was punctuated by a few soft, uneven breaths, and then another groan that came from somewhere deeper in Jisung’s chest this time.
Minho caught the beginning of another queasy shift in his expression and immediately lifted the bucket closer, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades as Jisung lurched forward again.
"Shhh, l've got you.” Minho murmured, his tone gentle despite the grim situation. “Just let it out. You’re okay…”
Ten minutes later, the three other members on caretaker duty filtered into the living room, one after the other.
In last came Chan, stripping off a couple of gloves and a mask before disposing of them in a bag. He sauntered over to the couch with a solemn look on his face.
“How is he?” The leader gestured vaguely to the Han Jisung shaped lump nestled under the blankets.
“Feverish, in pain and dramatically complaining about it, but… I think he’s half asleep now.” Minho reported back plainly.
Seungmin took a seat on the armrest, scowling at the pitiful mound of man. “He already looks just as awful as the rest of them. It sure progresses fast…”
“Let’s just hope it passes just as quickly.” Chan murmured under his breath.
“Hate to be that guy, again, but we really shouldn’t have him out here.” Hyunjin butted in, nodding to the space around them.
The living room was supposed to kept sacred for as long as possible, a no-contamination zone, but unfortunately, it seemed they were already way past that..
Jisung had been holding on valiantly despite his whining. But after throwing up three times, and now visibly shivering through the blankets, even Minho had to concede it was time to move him from the common area.
Han Jisung had become yet another health hazard in the Stary Kids dorm.
“Yeah… we need to get him in with the others.” Minho said softly, brushing a few damp strands of hair off Jisung’s forehead.
Hyunjin nodded, arms folded over his chest. “Well.. the third bed’s set up for him in the sick room. All ready for him when you are.”
Minho sighed, glancing down at Jisung’s flushed, half-conscious face. Then, he looked at Chan expectantly, awaiting his final call.
Chan didn’t look thrilled about more manhandling, but he didn’t argue either. The lines under his eyes had deepened over the past day alone, and there was a persistent tension in his jaw that hadn’t eased ever since Jeongin had gone down. He just nodded once.
“Okay. Yeah.. Let’s just get it over with.”
Between the two of them, Minho and Chan helped Jisung to his feet. He wobbled immediately, letting out a tired groan and pressing the bucket to his chest like a comfort item. “D’you think I’m gonna die, hyung?” he mumbled, half-asleep.
Minho rolled his eyes, exasperated. “I already told you you’re not... But if you throw up on my shirt, I will kill you.”
That earned a small snort from Jisung.“Mmm’kay.. gotcha.”
The sick room, formerly Jeongin’s, now resembled a disaster relief zone more than a bedroom. Changbin was tucked into bed at one side of the room, still ghostly pale. Jeongin was buried under a mountain of covers on the other end, slick hair clinging stubbornly to his forehead.
Felix had been moved back to Chan’s room after his last bathroom trip, to keep preventing the number of active gagging noises in one room from exceeding a safe limit.
As they passed the threshold and Jisung stumbled inside the room, Jeongin cracked an eye open. “Hannie-hyung..?” He mumbled, then groaned. “Oh god, not you too..”
“Heeey guys… I brought snacks.” Jisung croaked, gesturing weakly to the bucket.
Changbin wheezed out a faint laugh before wincing again, curling in on himself. “Ew, Jisungie, ew.”
Minho guided Jisung over to the third bed, which so far had been used to hold the supplies. He watched the younger member flop down and helped him get comfortable, tucking the bucket beside him before standing back up. “Alright, try and get some rest.”
“Death is eternal rest..” Jisung mumbled suggestively.
“Yah— quiet with the death talk already.” Minho groaned, half-heartedly jabbing a finger into Jisung’s shoulder.
“He hangs out with you too much.” Chan noted, and Minho couldn’t find it in him to argue. After all, he had a point…
As Jisung started drifting off, Minho ruffled his hair once more and glanced at Chan, who was still lingering in the doorway. “You good?”
Chan blinked at him, like the question hadn’t registered at first. “Huh? Oh, yeah… just… thinking.” He took one last, long look at the three members curled up in various stages of misery, and rubbed a hand over his face.
And as he turned and quietly shut the door behind him, Chan wondered, just for a moment, when he’d wake up from this hellish nightmare.
____________________________________________
After seeing Felix look borderline traumatised when asked what it was like for 8 people to be sharing 2 bathrooms in the old dorm, I thought…. Why don’t we make it 1 bathroom? Just for fun 😎(I also mixed it with a request I got for all five of them sick, hehe.. jackpot.)
So here I present to you Stray kids + a singular bathroom dorm + a norovirus outbreak ❤️🥳 part two will be coming soon 🙂↕️
Feverish, pouty and sneezy, Changbin turns impossibly clingy when he’s sick. He latches onto his roommate like a limpet, and despite his complaints, Hyunjin can’t help but be hopelessly smitten.
____________________________________________
Sickie: Changbin
Caretaker/s: Hyunjin
____________________________________________
“Hh’tsch!”
“HaA’tschoo!”
“Bless you..” Hyunjin muttered nonchalantly in English, for what was already the fifth time that morning.
There was a sniffle, then a half-suppressed groan as Changbin’s familiar weight dipped down on the couch next to him. A barely there mutter followed, low and groggy, “thanks..”
Hyunjin didn’t look up at first, too busy enthralling himself in colours as his brush swept over the small, dampened page in his sketchbook.
Changbin’s presence loomed beside him, but it wasn’t anything unusual— Changbin had always liked sharing space, and Hyunjin didn’t mind it.
What was unusual, however, was the soft snores that filtered into Hyunjin’s ears not long after. His brush stilled on the page before he finally put it down and glanced over.
There, Changbin was reclining on the couch, arms crossed over his chest, not just sleeping— but snoring.
Unusual.
Hyunjin blinked a couple of times, taken aback, but his lips curled into a small smile nevertheless, fondness warming in his chest.
Upon closer inspection, however, the fondness quickly twisted into concern. Hyunjin had noticed that Changbin had been a little more sniffly than usual, sure, but he assumed it was just his allergies acting up…
But now, as he got a view of his pale complexion and saw the red flush high on his cheekbones, Hyunjin realised there was something more to it.
His painting long forgotten, Hyunjin’s brows creased in a frown as he scooted a little closer, pressing his palm gently to Changbin’s cheek.
Scorching.
Changbin stirred against the light touch, muttering incoherently as his eyes fluttered open. “Mnhhhyune?”
“You’re sick.” Hyunjin said, almost accusatory, his lips pulling down in a scowl.
His roommate blinked groggily, still half asleep by the looks of it. “What gave it away..?”
“You’re hot.”
Hyunjin blurted the words before his brain had even had the time to process them. Changbin’s lips twitched into a shaky, small smirk, one eyebrow raising.
“Tsk.. you’re not too bad looking yourself, babe.”
Hyunjin resisted the sudden urge to strangle him with a pillow— because Changbin was sick, and admittedly, Hyunjin brought that one upon himself.
“Not like that,” the younger groaned, lightly slapping Changbin’s thigh. “You’re feverish, you sound like you’ve been gargling sandpaper… and you were just snoring.”
Changbin stilled at that, the smirk wiped flat off his face. “I was..?”
“Mhm, like a faulty chainsaw.” Hyunjin was already moving, rearranging the pillows as he mentally mapped his way through their medicine cabinet. “C’mon now, lay down properly. You look exhausted..”
Changbin didn’t object, not that he had any energy to anyways. He felt absolutely drained. Every movement felt like wading through molasses, every blink heavy and slow, like his eyelids had rusted over.
As he laid down on the couch, Hyunjin spread a blanket out over him, and Changbin watched him quietly, seeing the concern marring his features.
“…Hyunjin-ah, I’m fine” Changbin tried to reassure him, but the shaky smile he put on was far from convincing, the scratch in his voice making him sound anything but.
The younger of the two let out an exasperated groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Why didn’t you just say something, huh? I could’ve been making you soup, or-or… I don’t know, something.”
"’didn't wanna, sniff, bother you," Changbin rasped, shifting slightly, his voice betraying just how congested he truly was. “You look so peaceful when you’re painting…"
A small smile touched Hyunjin's lips again, any irritation melting away under the weight of Changbin’s glassy eyed look. Even sick as a dog, he was unfailingly considerate, always chasing the romanticism in their everyday life.
"Dumbass..” Hyunjin muttered affectionately. He settled on the edge of the couch, his hand gently running through Changbin's hair in an attempt to soothe, fingers gently massaging his scalp in a comforting rhythm.
Whatever he could do to ease a fraction of his suffering, he’d do without a second thought. Even if he was a dumbass.
Changbin’s chest rose and fell in shallow, weary breaths. “Mm, you really don’t have to fuss so much.” He mumbled, voice thick and barely above a whisper, his eyes already drooping again.
But even as he said it, he leaned ever so slightly into Hyunjin's touch, like gravity itself pulled him toward any comfort he provided.
“Oh, but I do,” Hyunjin countered, moving to tuck the blanket under Changbin’s chin. “You look absolutely miserable, Bin. Look at you… hot, sniffling, and snoring on me. Not cute.”
A pause.
Changbin tried to muster a teasing grin, but it faltered halfway, collapsing into something closer to a grimace. “Yah.. not even a… a little cute?”
“No.” Hyunjin replied flatly, brushing back some damp curls from his forehead. “Cute when you’re healthy. Right now, you’re just… uh, unwell..”
Of course, Hyunjin was lying through his teeth. Changbin was ridiculously adorable like this; flushed cheeks, sparkly feverish eyes, a red, irritated nose tip that made him look like a Christmas movie staple…
He was the epitome of cute, in some weird, poorly way, but Hyunjin couldn’t let him know that.
Changbin reciprocated with another duplet of sneezes, pouting up at him like a sulky child. "You wound me, Hwang Hyunjin..."
Hyunjin chuckled under his breath, fingers sliding down from his hair to trace his cheekbones and jaw. "You'll live.”
He pulled the blanket further up Changbin's shoulders, tucking him in like a kid. But his own chest pinched as he watched him; every shiver, every wince, every ragged breath a reminder that Changbin was struggling more than he let on.
While he was cute and all, he did look awfully sick.
With sluggish effort, Changbin turned onto his side to face the back of the couch, curling into himself. Even that small shift made his muscles scream in protest, and he groaned plaintively into the cushions.
God, this was worse than after the first time he’d signed up for a CrossFit session.
Hyunjin’s hand settled on his shoulder, rubbing and squeezing at the muscles there in a half-hearted massage. Changbin tucked one hand under his cheek like a child, eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion pulled him under.
Hyunjin simply stayed by his side, watching over him quietly, the soft rise and fall of Changbin's back beneath his hand grounding him in a way he didn't quite understand. His thumb moved in slow circles against his shoulder, careful not to jostle him, watching the tension ebb little by little.
When his breathing finally evened out, Hyunjin rose reluctantly, intent on grabbing some much needed supplies for his sick roommate.
Unfortunately, he didn’t get far.
Changbin stirred the second he stood from his seat, lifting his head slightly to glance back over his shoulder— eyes just as glassy, lips slightly parted, pleading without words.
The look on his face alone was enough to shatter Hyunjin’s resolve, and his shoulders slumped with a sigh. “Aigoo, don’t look at me like that…”
Just like that, he was back at Changbin’s side, his hand naturally finding its way back into his damp hair.
Changbin was clingy in his own quiet way on the best of days, but when he was sick, it became far more pronounced. And to Hyunjin, who read him better than most, the plea in his eyes was more convincing than any words could ever be.
“Binnie..” Hyunjin brushed his thumb under Changbin’s eye, smudging away a bead of fevered sweat. “I’m just going to go get you some medicine, okay? I’ll be back in a flash, I swear.”
He watched as Changbin's expression shifted, a wave of sleepy realisation passing across his features. He still clearly didn't quite like the idea of Hyunjin leaving, logic fighting against the instinctual need for comfort.
Changbin parted his lips to speak, but before he could muster any weak protest, he was rudely interrupted once again,
“B—huuh’TSSKh, hh’KKSTGSH-!”
His whole body jolted with the force of each sneeze, his muscles flaring with pain and head spinning.
Hyunjin rubbed a steadying hand along his back, wincing at the hacking coughs that caught on the tail end of his sneezes.
By the time the fit subsided, the older rapper was left trembling, breath shuddering unevenly as he buried his face miserably into the crook of his elbow.
A broken groan slipped from his lips. “Hhhhnnhhh.. god, this sucks.”
“Binnie…” Hyunjin’s voice was soft but firm, threaded with worry. “That’s exactly why you need medicine, yeah? Don’t fight me on this now.”
Changbin sniffled weakly, eyes glazed and half-lidded, struggling to catch his breath. “…You’re bossy when you’re worried,” he croaked.
Hyunjin huffed out a laugh, the sound gentler than his words. “And you’re impossibly needy when you’re sick. Now stay put.”
“Mm’kay…” Changbin finally gave in, voice puny as another low cough rattled through his chest. He pressed his forehead against the cushions, begged the room to stop spinning, and counted the seconds…
Every part of his body was throbbing. His eyes and head ached in steady tandem, his throat was sore and his chest burned like someone had lit up a fire in his lungs.
It was miserable, he felt sticky and weird, but at least he had Hyunjin.
He felt like shit, but Changbin couldn’t lie— having Hyunjin fuss over him felt good. He always loved his attention, and now, maybe, just maybe, he needed it a little more than usual.
-
True to his word, Hyunjin wasn’t gone for long. He returned only a few minutes later with a cup of tea, a water bottle, fever reducers, and a box of tissues tucked in the crook of his armpit.
“Hey,” he greeted gently, eliciting a hoarse hum from the half-asleep, half-dying man still curled up on the couch cushions. “Think you can take some medicine now? It’ll make you feel better..”
Changbin groaned softly, forcing his eyes open to look up at Hyunjin with a highly unimpressed look. He knew the medicine would help, but taking it would mean having to sit up, and right now the thought alone made his head swim.
Part of him wanted to protest again, but the words died on his tongue as another shiver racked his body, spreading uncomfortably from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes.
Yeah, he needed that medicine.
With a displeased grumble, Changbin reluctantly forced himself up, propping himself up on his elbows. His limbs shook, muscles screaming in protest, but after far too much effort, he did it.
Hyunjin suppressed a grimace as he watched him struggle, every movement seeming like a herculean feat. It really did hurt to see Changbin like this, so weak and fragile— a stark contrast to someone who was usually so full of life and vigor.
Once he was sat upright, Hyunjin gave a quiet, encouraging nod, a small smile on his face. “Good job..” he murmured, passing over the pill and lifting the bottle of water to his lips.
Changbin obeyed silently, swallowing the medicine before slumping back down with a rough sigh. “Thanks…”
Hyunjin set the water bottle back down, his gaze remaining fixed on pale man before him. He could see the exhaustion etched into every line on his face, the laboured and hitched lift of his chest.
"No need.." he replied softly, his voice as warm and gentle as a caress. His lips pulled into a lopsided smile. “Just doing what I can for my ailing wife..~”
Maybe Changbin would’ve rolled his eyes if it didn’t make his head throb with pain. Maybe the line between roommates and a married couple truly was blurred. Maybe they both liked it that way.
Another harsh round of coughs tore through Changbin before he could let the thought linger, his whole chest rattling like he’d inhaled shards of glass.
The sound alone made Hyunjin wince, and before he knew it, he instinctively pressed his palm against Changbin’s sternum, as if he could magically soothe the pain away with just his touch.
When the fit passed, Changbin slumped back down, lashes fluttering weakly. He sniffled, nose twitching, then gave Hyunjin another pitiful little look. “Hyune… I might.. ‘might sneeze on you.”
Hyunjin felt his lips twitch. “That’s alright,” he hummed, “We’ve been through worse.”
That earned him a weak huff of laughter, quickly cut off by another congested sniffle. Changbin burrowed against him, all heavy limbs and quiet need. His nose pressed lightly against Hyunjin’s thigh, shaky fists balled into the blanket.
Hyunjin’s hand drifted back into his hair again, stroking in slow, soothing passes. He sighed softly as his thumb traced the furrow between Changbin’s eyebrows, trying to ease the tension that had settled there.
Realistically, he’d probably catch the same bug sooner or later, so what was the point in holding back? If Changbin needed a little extra tender loving care, then Hyunjin was there to provide.
“Okay, scooch.” He commanded, shifting sideways. “If you’re gonna leech, let’s at least lie down properly. You’re drooling on my jeans.”
“Wha- ‘m not drooling…” Changbin protested weakly, voice muffled into his thigh, definitely drooling a little as he said it.
Hyunjin pointed at the small wet spot on his jeans, furrowing his brows in mock exasperation. “See? This is why I said not cute,” he teased, though his tone betrayed him— it was too soft around the edges, way too fond.
And Changbin was still way too cute for a sick man. Snot and all. Hyunjin’s jeans couldn’t matter less.
“You’re lying,” the sick man slurred, already drifting. “You think I’m… sniff… adorable…”
Hyunjin bit the inside of his cheek to suppress a grin, warmth spreading through his chest. Damn him for being right.
“Maybe a little..” he admitted quietly, tugging at the blanket until it untangled enough to drape over them both.
With a careful shift, Hyunjin eased himself down onto the couch, stretching out and settling parallel to Changbin until they could fit snugly together.
The older rapper made a soft, tired sound and shuffled closer, pressing his reddened nose against the curve of Hyunjin’s exposed collarbone.
His breath hitched once, like another sneeze or cough was coming, but it faded into a sigh instead, his body going slack and heavy in Hyunjin’s arms.
“You really are clingy when you’re sick,” Hyunjin murmured, though his words were nowhere near condescending. Just a little intrigued, a little mesmerised.
Changbin just hummed sleepily in response, nuzzling closer as if to prove a point.
Against his better judgment, Hyunjin felt a strange thrill at being needed like this, at being the one Changbin leaned on so completely. It was strangely fulfilling, in a way.
He exhaled softly, his hand settling against the back of Changbin’s head, fingers absently carding through the soft hair at his nape.
“Yeah, I know… I’ve got you, Bin..” Hyunjin whispered, propping his chin on top of Changbin’s head, arms folding him in tighter.
“Always…”
____________________________________________
Ngl I spent way too much energy finding a play on words for this… Clingbin was up there…. However, I’m happy I ended up with Binfluenza…. Anyways, hope yall are well. I’m…. Managing (barely) 🫡🙂↕️
I have not read through this with a fresh mind, but it will have to suffice for now. Not sure when my mind will be ‘fresh’ ever again if I’m being honest🤣
I LOVE the skz emeto hcs! may i ask your headcanon of skz getting fevers? Or maybe sick but not sick enough to miss out on schedules?? Is this anything or even understandable? English is not my first language💔 love you already tho!!!
Thank you so much! 🥰
I’ve tried to make a skz fever headcanon list here! I hope this is something along the lines of what you wished for ❤️ and don’t worry, English isn’t my first language either, so I get it 🙈
SKZ fever hcs:
Bang Chan:
- A lot of incoherent mutterings and unconvincing “I’m fine”’s.
- Always tries to work while he’s sick, only to look back on that work when he’s healthy again and realising just how sick he’d truly been.
- Falls asleep sitting up, often hunched over his computer or propped against a wall. Has come home with keyboard prints on his face way too many times..
- When he’s very feverish and feels truly awful, he actually seeks out touch and comfort from the others first.
- Has tried to gaslight himself into not being sick. He stood in front of the mirror, shakily pointing a finger at his own pallid reflection “Hey, Chris.. You… are not… sick.”
Spoiler warning, it didn’t work :/
Lee Know:
- Says the weirdest, most unhinged things when he’s feverish, as he tends to linger on the cusp between delirium and lucidity . “Does he even know he exists?”- Seungmin or I.N, probably.
- Talks (mutters) a lot more in his sleep than usual, but most of it is just disjointed and garbled. “The cereals are unionising on Tuesday.. turn the heat up.”
- Secretly likes to be pampered and coddled, but you’ll never catch him saying it out loud
- Whenever he’s awake, he’s all spaced out 99% of the time. He looks so stupefied, gazing around the room like he’s experiencing the world for the first time.
- Talking becomes too much of an effort a lot of the time. Cue a lot of ‘huh?’ ‘Hm?’ ‘Wha?’ And whenever someone asks him something; ‘mhm’ ‘mmnn’ ‘meh’- without really having processed what he’s answering to.
- ^ except for when his feverish mind sends him on a quest to ramble about the most deranged things, of course.
- Has went to dance practice with a high temp before. Long story short, he passed out and nearly cracked his head open. Chan was noooot happy.
Changbin:
- Terrifyingly quiet and subdued.
- Tends to turn to the others with quiet, subtle requests of physical contact. Fingers brushing against someone’s arm, sitting down and leaning just a little more against them.
- Really likes when someone plays with his hair, giving him small head scratches.
- Tries to sleep through it for the most part. He just wants to be as little conscious as possible until the illness passes.
- He actually can’t physically fall asleep without someone being there with him when he’s feverish though… he’s not sure why.
- Tends to camp out on a couch or have others with him in his room rather than being alone when he’s sick. They don’t need to do or say anything though, just be there.
- Pouty, the others find it nothing short of endearing.
Hyunjin:
- Fevers get him feeling all emotional and sensitive. “I’m a mess, sorry..”
- Likes to watch movies or some light entertainment to pass the miserable hours, even if he falls asleep halfway in.
- He’d also rather watch that movie cuddled against someone’s chest or spooning with him. Not on his own. Finding Nemo had him sobbing for gods sake.
- Bro gets all poetic and gloomy. Stares vacantly out the window through hooded eyes, watching the rain fall with a suffering sigh. It’s like he’s in a drama.
- I feel like he definitely is someone who scrolls through Pinterest a lot whenever he feels up to it on his sick days??
- Gets veeeery noise sensitive. Clattering dishes = tearing his head into shreds.
- Mentioned in the emeto list too, but he sweats soo much when he’s battling through a fever. Usually gotta change the bedsheets more than once.
- His poor body gets so achy and stiff too </3
- Appreciates the other members (especially Felix’) willingness to give his poor muscles a massage
Han:
- He can hide feeling unwell for a little while, but once a fever hits, he’s in shambles. A blubbering, emotional wreck.
- Or once someone has figured him out, he turns into a pouty mess on the spot, immediately seeking out that comfort he desperately needs.
- Sulky and whiny about it whenever he’s feeling particularly bad or just needs some more comfort/closeness.
- Tends to get bad nightmares when he’s feverish. Has woken up crying more than once </3
- Also has experienced fever induced hallucinations, which terrified him beyond belief. They must’ve been something really scary, but he refuses to talk about it- or, he says he doesn’t remember it, but that is only partially true.
- Asks if someone can sleep with him with barely no shame at this point. The others step up to the task immediately.
- Separation anxiety gets baaad.
- “You’ll stay with me..?” “You’re going to stay, right?” “Can you stay? Please?” “Please, don’t leave me..”
- A lot of small groans and weak grumbles as he goes through it.
- His hands get really trembly and his muscles feel weak so it’s hard for him to hold things steady on his own.
Felix:
- Whimpers </3 a lot of small, pitiful noises- both when he’s awake and asleep.
- Generally gets very ‘emotionally fragile’ and sentimental when he’s unwell .. top it up with a fever and he’s crying because he saw a picture of a duck with a tiny knitted hat:
“Look, he has a h-hat.. someone… someone took the time to knit it… oh” Felix sucked in a sharp breath, tears already rolling down his flushed cheeks as the first sob broke through him. “T-that’s so nice.” <- cue him full on wailing about it afterwards and the others all huddling up to hug him.
- Talks in his sleep, though it’s a mix of languages and doesn’t ever make sense.
- Shivers a lot, all the time. Looks like he’s going through a snowstorm when in reality, he’s burning up.
- No appetite, everything suddenly tastes so bad..
- Better keep him well hydrated though because that blood pressure is ✨unstable✨
- He needs all the physical contact and comfort he can get. Skin on skin contact is preferred when he’s sick, actually.
- The sentence “I just wanna crawl under your skin…” once left his lips, followed by one of the others going “*sigh*Felix…. No”
- Give him all the blankets, he’s not satisfied until he’s bundled up into a burrito beyond recognition.
- Appreciates a cup of tea or something warm to hold in his shaky hands. A hot water bottle isn’t a bad idea either.
Seungmin:
-Unfortunately tends to get pretty dang high fevers whenever he’s sick. The others have put together a protocol about it, knowing it can escalate quickly.
- Part of that protocol includes every member ‘donating’ a hoodie of theirs to Seungmin until he’s feeling better. Not because he’s ever requested it, but because they’ve noticed that he seems to find comfort in it.
- Tries to hide feeling sick, but never gets away with it for long.
- He just has those telling type of eyes, the ones where it’s just obvious that he’s feverish from the glimmering sheen covering them alone </3
- Gets uncharacteristically cuddly and seeks out physical affection.
- Fevers leave him feeling very vulnerable and disoriented. So he feels better if he can hide away in someone’s chest, letting their heartbeat lull him to sleep.
- Yes, the emotional support pillow is there as well. Always.
- Tends to act a little drunk, almost- all dazed and his thoughts muddled. Might ask the same question over and over, not realising he already got an answer.
- Not uncommon for him to hallucinate/have vivid fever dreams either. Which has lead to both concerning and amusing situations.
- Light sensitive, prone to headaches.
Jeongin (I.N):
- With lower grade fevers he usually doesn’t realise he may be feverish until one of his Hyungs call him out on it. “You’re running a fever..” “Oh…Am I really?”
- Also turns into an avid sleep talker when he’s spiking a fever. Has lead to some funny conversations he doesn’t even remember taking part in.
- Writhes a lot in his sleep, never able to get comfortable whenever his body is trying to fight something off.
- Tends to make a lot of pitiful noises like choked gasps, groans, low whines + it’s pretty heartbreaking.
- Usually the opposite of Felix when it comes to temperature. He feels way too hot, all the time. Tosses any blanket off him immediately.
- Prefers cold drinks over anything hot for obvious reasons.
- Out of all things he tends to crave watermelon when he’s feverish? But like, it has to be right out the fridge.
Damn, look at me coming back with two posts in one day after a week of struggling with my own health flaring up 😂🕺🏽😎
Like with the emeto one, a lot of these are very random and just something that popped into my head whenever I thought about it…. But, I hope you enjoyed it! 😂
(Btw, I’ve been so excited to use photos from that skz code bedtime bingo episode, they were all so soft and cute 😭)
Changbin has always struggled with throwing up, anyone close to him knows that.
So when Hyunjin finds him in the middle of the night, caught in an endless loop of nausea and failed attempts, he's determined to help.
As it turns out, all Changbin needed was a helping hand.
____________________________________________
Sickie: Changbin
Caretaker/s: Hyunjin
____________________________________________
Two hours.
Changbin had been in the bathroom for two hours, practically fighting for his life. He had woken up somewhere around 2 o’clock in the morning, his stomach twisted in knots and overcome with nausea that had only grown in intensity since then.
Without making too much noise, the rapper had shuffled into the bathroom, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and trailing behind him like a cape.
Now, glancing at his phone, the time read 4:13. The numbers glared back at him almost mockingly, a cruel reminder of his endless struggle.
Changbin groaned, lifting his head from where it had rested against the wall.
Had he fallen asleep? He wasn’t sure, but he hoped he had.
His body was trembling, a cold sheen of sweat coating his skin and making him clammy from head to toe. Nausea still gnawed at him, persistent and unforgiving.
The toilet loomed in front of him, almost expectant, as if waiting for him to finally break.
In a delirious haze, Changbin couldn’t help but wonder if the inanimate object would feel offended or relieved by his lack of contribution thus far.
His hand slid under his sweat drenched shirt, rubbing over his sickly gut as it squeaked and churned beneath his fingers. He let out a heavy sigh, squeezing his eyes shut against the harsh flickering lights above.
All he wanted was to just throw up, to get it over with so he could crawl back into bed and hope sleep would be enough to chase the sickness away.
Bracing himself on his knees, Changbin leaned over the toilet and forced another futile heave, desperately trying to push his stomach into submission.
Still, nothing happened. Only a sharp, burning pain in his chest and a ragged hiccup that left him coughing up nothing but bitter, acidic spit. It was no use.
“Ughhhh…” Changbin groaned in defeat, slumping against wall as he pulled the woolly blanket tighter around his shoulders.
He was freezing. Well, at least he felt like he was.
Though he was probably burning up with fever, that didn’t change the fact that he felt frozen to the core. The tiles beneath his feet felt unbearably cold, like he was sitting on slabs of ice, sending a shiver through him with each shift.
In the midst of his misery, Changbin suddenly heard the sound of shuffling outside the bathroom door. He perked up in an instant, the realisation hitting him that his roommate had likely woken up.
A pang of guilt shot through him- he really hoped it wasn't because of him…
“Changbin..?” Hyunjin’s voice, thick with sleep, filtered into the otherwise silent bathroom. As he pulled open the door, the dancer squinted against the bright lights, a scowl immediately pulling on his lips as Changbin’s pitiful frame came into view.
His breath caught in his throat, but as his eyes adjusted to the lights and the situation became clearer, Hyunjin let out a faint sigh. “Oh, Binnie..”
Hyunjin wordlessly padded across the tiles, kneeling down beside Changbin and placing a gentle hand against his sweaty back. “Are you okay?”
Dumb question, he realised the second the words left his lips, but he didn’t care. He simply waited, patient and still, for an answer.
Changbin bit his lip, inhaling shakily through his nose as he tried to steel himself, to put on a brave face. It was no use. He felt awful, and he probably looked the part, too. With a groan, he screwed his eyes shut, his shoulders trembling under the blanket.
“N-no..” Changbin admitted reluctantly, voice unusually small. “‘Feel really n-nauseous… I ugh-“ he was interrupted by a sick sounding burp, stifling it into his fist as his chest burned again. “‘M sorry, did I wake you?” Changbin’s voice was strained, tinged with an undercurrent of guilt as he lifted his gaze to peer over at Hyunjin.
Hyunjin quickly shook his head, rubbing a hand soothingly across the expanse of Changbin’s back. “No, no, you didn’t wake me..” he said reassuringly, feeling the feverish heat emanating through the thin blanket. “I had to use to the bathroom anyways…”
Truth to be told, Hyunjin’s initial plan of getting up to take a piss was long forgotten, lost under the weight of his concern for his roommates well being.
Changbin looked beyond miserable; drenched in sweat, trembling, and his face so pale it was almost green. The heat rolling off him coupled the rosy flush of his cheeks weren’t lost on him either, and Hyunjin’s frown deepened. He hadn’t seen Changbin look so sick in a looooong time…
The dancer shifted closer and pressed the back of his hand to Changbin’s forehead, cursing under his breath at the stark contrast of temperature.
“You’ve got a nasty fever...” Hyunjin commented, eyebrows drawn together as he got an even closer look of the rappers face, noting the sweat that glistened across his skin and the shadows of a sleepless night under his eyes.
“How long have you been in here, Binnie?” He asked softly, brushing some stray strands of hair away from Changbin’s clammy forehead.
It was no secret that Changbin struggled with throwing up. Not in the psychological sense, but physically. It was as though there was some advanced lock-set system that struck him whenever he was sick, preventing him from expelling whatever his body desperately wanted to rid itself of.
As a result, he was often left to suffer far longer than what should have been necessary, trapped in an endless cycle of nausea and frustration.
And now, if Hyunjin were to judge by the looks of it, history was repeating itself yet again.
Changbin swallowed thickly, stifling another small, nauseous burp into his fist. “Ugh... little over two hours..." he admitted with a sniffle, lifting up a shaky hand to wipe a bead of sweat off his brow. "I can't...I can't get it up, Jinnie. 'Feel awful...."
Hyunjin felt a pang of sympathy strike him like a blow to the face, his mouth going dry at the admission. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, mouth falling agape.
“Two hours?” He echoed, disbelief written plainly across his face. “You’ve been in here like this for two hours?”
Changbin gave a curt nod of his head, his lips pressed tight. “Yeah…”
Unbelievable. Unbe-fucking-lievable, Hyunjin thought grimly.
With a soft sigh, the dancer continued to rubbing soothing circles on Changbin’s back, hoping to provide some semblance of comfort while his own mind wrapped around the situation.
The thought that Changbin had been sitting there, not only feeling utterly miserable, but enduring it all alone, made Hyunjin’s chest twist with a mix of sympathy and guilt.
“Changbin-ah.. you can’t just suffer in silence like that.” Hyunjin muttered, a hint of frustration slipping into his words despite his efforts to conceal it. “You’ve should’ve woken me up…”
Changbin leaned into the touch on his back, a low whine slipping past his lips. His head bumped to rest against Hyunjin’s shoulder as he whispered a breathy apology. “‘M sorry..”
Hyunjin immediately regretted the sharpness in his tone, his grip on Changbin’s shoulder tightening in a guilty attempt to reassure him.
The rapper looked so uncharacteristically small, so weak and beaten down compared to the strong, proud figure Hyunjin was used to. It was almost impossible to reconcile this version of him with the Changbin he had come to know so well.
“I’ve tried everything, Hyunjin-ah… nothing is helping.” Changbin complained tiredly, his voice heavy with exhaustion. The weary resignation in his tone tore Hyunjin’s hearts to shreds. Seeing him like this, so sullen and sick, was more than he could bear.
He had to do something, anything.
Hyunjin hesitated, his fingers threading gently through Changbin’s damp hair as he mulled over the situation. He couldn’t just sit there and let Changbin’s misery drag on any longer than it already had. Not when there had to be something he could do to help.
“Can I.. can I try to help you?” He asked softly, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he wracked his brain for a solution.
Changbin twisted his neck to look at him, eyebrows furrowing in curiosity and silently urging Hyunjin to explain further.
The idea that formed in his mind made Hyunjin cringe, but he quickly masked it, keeping his expression as neutral as he could.
“I was, uh… thinking maybe I could try gagging you? Someone else’s fingers might do the trick..” His voice faltered slightly at the awkwardness of the suggestion, but there was no mistaking the earnestness in his tone.
It was an odd proposition, he knew that, but Hyunjin was willing to do just about anything if it meant bringing Changbin even a shred of relief.
For a moment, an awkward silence settled over them.
Changbin couldn’t help the blush that spread across his neck as his mind processed the implications of Hyunjin’s words. It wasn't every day that his friend and bandmate offered to stick his fingers in his mouth, but desperation quickly outweighed any embarrassment.
He had already exhausted every other option.
With a stiff nod, Changbin abandoned any lingering hesitation. “Okay, yeah.” he whispered, his voice hoarse ans shaky as his stomach tightened with another cramp. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “Please…”
“Okay..” Hyunjin mumbled under his breath, swallowing down the odd nervousness that welled in his gut as he shifted his legs underneath himself. “Lean over the toilet for me.” He instructed, his tone taking on a gentle, yet commanding edge as he positioned himself beside the rapper.
Without a word, Changbin complied, shuffling a little closer and hovering above the toilet expectantly. It felt strange, a little humiliating, but the unbearably pressure in his stomach left no room for pride.
He knew his body wouldn’t relent on its own. He needed the help.
Hyunjin took a steadying breath, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached up to cup Changbin’s chin. His thumb brushed tenderly over the small scar there, a fleeting gesture of comfort, and a silent apology for what he was about to do.
“This isn’t going to be pleasant…but I need you to try and relax for me, okay?” He murmured, sympathy flickering in his eyes as he pressed two fingers against Changbin’s pale, clammy lips.
The rapper gave a small nod, already bracing for the discomfort. His brows knit together instinctively, but he parted his lips just enough to allow Hyunjin’s fingers to slip inside.
Changbin’s body immediately jerked at the intrusion, and Hyunjin winced in sympathy, feeling the other man’s throat constrict around his fingers. “Relax, Changbinnie.. it’s okay.” He cooed, shifting closer and placing his free hand gently at the nape of his neck.
This wasn’t going to be easy… for either of them.
Changbin screwed his eyes shut, forcing himself to remain still as Hyunjin's fingers diligently delved deeper into his mouth. His fingertips grazed over Changbin’s tongue before pressing against the delicate tissues at the back of his throat, hoping to trigger his dormant gag reflex.
His face twisted in discomfort, but Hyunjin persisted, pushing the growing guilt aside as he focused on the objective. He prodded the back of Changbin’s throat again, watching as the rapper flinched, tears clinging to his eyelashes.
Hyunjin swallowed thickly, his heart tightening at the distressed look on Changbin’s face. But just as he was about to call off the attempt, fearing he was doing more harm than good, his efforts finally sparked a response.
It was subtle at first, a barely noticeable shift in the back of Changbin’s throat, but it was enough for Hyunjin to catch the change. A flicker of hope sparked in his eyes, and he held his fingers steady, applying a firm yet gentle pressure.
Changbin’s throat twitched with the beginnings of a spasm, and even though the movement itself was weak, the buildup of saliva in his mouth was telling.
Hyunjin pressed just a little firmer, his resolve unwavering.
Then, with a strangled gasp, Changbin finally gagged.
Bingo.
Hyunjin quickly withdrew his fingers just in time for a small stream of vomit to splash into the once still toilet water. His eyes widened a little in surprise, but the shock quickly turned to sympathy as he watched the rapper hunch over the toilet with another heave.
Changbin barely managed to draw in a sharp gasp of air before another rush of sick surged up his throat, spilling violently into the bowl. His hands fumbled to grab onto the toilet seat, so slick with sweat that made it hard to get a good grip.
Hyunjin wrinkled his nose, cringing at the sound and smell that quickly filled the room, his hand at Changbin’s neck slowly trekking down to smooth across his shoulders. "There you go.."
His previous ministrations certainly proved effective, and whatever had been holding Changbin’s body back had finally given way, purging him of everything that had been making him feel so miserable.
Once the dam broke, there seemed to be no way of stopping it until he was all emptied out. Wave after wave of partially digested food and bile forced their way up, pouring into the toilet in relentless succession.
Hyunjin suppressed the urge to gag, his own stomach twisting as the acrid stench filled his nose. He clenched his jaw, doing his best to keep his own rather hyperactive gag reflex at bay while he breathed shakily through gritted teeth.
“That’s it, Binnie.” he murmured, his voice calm and reassuring despite the effort it took to keep his composure. “Let it all out, you’re doing so good..” His heart ached seeing Changbin so weak, but there was a bittersweet relief in knowing that, at least for now, the worst had passed.
Changbin hung his head over the toilet for a moment longer, breathing heavily as his stomach slowly began to settle. His eyes were squeezed shut, and strings of saliva dripped from his mouth and nose, trailing down his chin in a pathetic display.
Hyunjin’s eyes softened at the sight before him, a wave of compassion swelling in his chest as he instinctively reached to rip off a few squares of toilet paper. “Here, Bin-ah…” he whispered, leaning in to wipe away the lingering mess with a tender touch.
With the one hand against Changbin’s back, Hyunjin carefully guided him to sit back on his knees. “You did it.” he breathed out, his voice softening with relief. Tossing the crumpled paper into the toilet, Hyunjin quickly flipped down the lid and flushed away the foul contents.
“It's okay, it’s over now…” he continued, his hand gently working into the stiff muscles in Changbin’s shoulders. “How are you feeling? Any better?”
Changbin blinked open his eyes blearily, waiting for them to focus as he gave Hyunjin a dazed look. Then, his shoulder sagged with a deep sigh and he nodded before crashing his head against Hyunjin’s chest.
“Thank you….” His voice was faint, raw and hoarse from all the straining, but the relief and gratitude in his tone was unmistakable
Hyunjin scoffed softly, an affectionate smile tugging at his lips as he ran his hand down Changbin’s back, feeling his muscles ripple beneath his touch. “Pssh, for gagging you? Any time, babe.” He quipped softly, a playful lilt lacing his tone.
Despite his weariness, Changbin let out a soft hum that almost resembled a chuckle.
Hyunjin nudged him gently, noticing the way the older kept sinking further in his grasp. “Hey.. Try to rest back against the bathtub for a moment, okay? I’ll get you some water.”
Once Changbin was settled against the bathtub, caught in that strange limbo between wakefulness and sleep, Hyunjin stood and walked over to the sink. He washed his hands, the running water giving him a much needed respite to gather himself.
When he finished, Hyunjin grabbed a cup and filled it with water, his movements calm but purposeful. The dancer returned to Changbin’s side, kneeling beside him and gently lifting the glass to his lips. “Here.” he murmured softly. “Take a small sip.”
Changbin’s eyes fluttered open, and he gave a weak nod, his dry lips pressing against the rim of the cup. He took a slow sip, the cool water soothing his throat as he swallowed, and let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Hyunjin stayed close beside him, keeping his hand on Changbin’s shoulder and offering a steady presence as the rapper slowly drank a couple more sips. When Changbin’s nose wrinkled in protest, Hyunjin gave him a soft smile and tilted the cup back.
“Good job…” Hyunjin commended his efforts, quietly assessing the other man’s condition while he mentally prepared how to get him back to the bedroom.
Changbin still looked lousy, pale and shaky, but at the very least he wasn’t actively being tortured by his own body’s own unrelenting resistance. That was progress.
Hyunjin sighed, his heart still heavy with concern as he wiped a fallen tear from Changbin’s cheek. “You really should have woken me up earlier, Changbin-ah..” he murmured, unable to mask the disappointment in his voice.
The thought that Changbin might have suffered alone in the bathroom even longer if Hyunjin hadn’t stumbled upon him made his skin crawl.
Changbin looked down, a pout forming on his lips. “‘Didn’t wanna bother you…” he replied sheepishly, the excuse falling flat even in his own ears.
Raising an eyebrow, Hyunjin crossed his arms over his chest and pressed his lips together. “Seriously?” He shook his head disapprovingly, letting out an exasperated sigh.
What am I going to do with you? Hyunjin thought, deciding against voicing it out loud. For now, at least.
“I can’t.. you can’t just suffer through this stuff alone. I want to help you, Changbin.. I need you to tell me about these things, so I can be there for you...” His voice softened as he reached out, cupping Changbin’s cheek and gently steering his face just enough to meet his eyes.
“Promise me?”
Changbin’s eyes were clouded with fever, but he tilted his head a little, pressing against the hand on his cheek as he gave a faint nod. “Promise..”
“Good.” Hyunjin exhaled, a small smile gracing his lips. “Because I won’t let having my fingers down your throat be for nothing..”
—
A little while later, Hyunjin had successfully hauled the ailing rapper back to bed. He’d managed to change into a new set of clothes, and the younger of the two had set out on a mission to gather the necessary supplies that were nestled around their shared dorm.
As the time shone 05:34 on his phone, Hyunjin slipped back into the bedroom with a cold bottle of Gatorade in his hands. He quietly observed Changbin for a moment, the way he seemed to have stilled beneath the duvet and the soft, steady breaths that rose from the heap he formed on the mattress.
Careful not to disturb him, Hyunjin tip-toed around the bed, as quiet as a mouse. He placed the bottle on the nightstand, next to the fever reducers he had dug out from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. A sick bowl was securely placed on the floor beside the bed, easily accessible if it was needed.
Hyunjin nodded to himself, satisfied with his preparations.
A soft grunt caught his attention, and Hyunjin quickly snapped his head towards the sound, eyes wide. There, nestled beneath the comforter, Changbin was looking straight at him, only a pair of glossy eyes peeking up past the ridge.
Hyunjin’s expression softened in an instant, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “Aish, I thought you were asleep, Binnie..” he said softly, taking a heedful seat next to him on the bed. “You okay? You need anything?”
There was a brief pause, and Hyunjin scanned the room, prepared to fetch whatever his friend might ask for.
“Lay with me?” Changbin asked timidly, voice barely above a whisper as he met Hyunjin’s gaze with the most irresistible doe eyes he could muster.
Oh. Right. Of course.
Hyunjin shook his head with mixed amusement and disbelief, but there was no way he’d be able to deny the appeal. Not when Changbin looked at him with those eyes, all hopeful and imploring.
“Sure..”
Hyunjin slid down beside him on the mattress, opening his arms wide. The rapper wasted no time, shuffling closer and melting into his embrace as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You really should try to take some medicine soon, though..” Hyunjin murmured into the other’s hair, feeling the feverish heat that still clung to his body just as fiercely.
“Prescription cuddles first..” Changbin insisted, and Hyunjin couldn’t bring himself to deny him. With a resigned smile, he pulled the rapper a little closer, propping his chin gently atop his head.
Changbin’s arms had initially settled around his waist, but as the minutes dragged on, Hyunjin couldn’t ignore the way his hands started venturing. Moving up his back, tracing along his neck, until finally coming to rest in his buzz cut hair.
As he felt Changbin caress his head, roaming his hands over the expanse of the short clipped strands, Hyunjin raised an eyebrow curiously. “Uh.. you like that?” He chuckled softly, his tone light and inquisitive.
There was another beat of silence.
Then..
“Emotional support kiwi..” Changbin muttered hoarsely, and Hyunjin couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from his chest even if he tried. It was light, genuine, the kind of laugh Changbin always seemed to draw from him without effort.
"Ah, right.” Hyunjin chuckled fondly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “That's me… emotional support kiwi.”
—
As Changbin drifted off to sleep, Hyunjin’s thoughts kept circling back to the bathroom, the memory of it all still settling in.
In the stillness of the moment, he realised just how far he’d pushed himself beyond his comfort zone to bring his friend some relief, and how much trust Changbjn had placed in him.
The whole ordeal had been gross and uncomfortable, yet weirdly intimate in a raw, vulnerable way. Hyunjin didn’t regret it for a second.
Was it pleasant? Not in the slightest.
But was it effective? Apparently so.
And while Hyunjin hoped he wouldn’t find himself in that position again, he knew he would be there in a heartbeat if Changbin ever needed him.
Would he do it for anyone else? Probably not.
But for him? A thousand times over.
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Yippie! A story based on my headcanon that Changbin struggles with throwing up! Incorporated a touch of Hyunjin’s sensitive gag reflex as well, just a little 🙂↕️
Hope you enjoyed this fluffy little fic from the Hyunibini dorms. I think we all need an emotional support kiwi sometimes❤️
