My stomach flips as I climb the last dozen steps to the monastery entrance, the doorway towering above me. I shift the present in my grasp to my other hand and wipe the sweat from my palm onto my jeans with a deep breath.
I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s been a little over eight months since Piper and I started dating, and we’ve only grown closer as partners, both in our everyday lives and during ninja missions. It’s at the point where I’m constantly aware of her soothing calm presence, seeking her out whenever I need some peace of mind.
I’ve gotten way more protective of her too, I’ve noticed. Just last month, I’d shielded her from a massive explosion when her pyrophobia kicked in. I’d thrown myself between her and the blast without hesitation, and although I came out of it with a few new scars that are still a bit tender, I know I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
We have a special link, almost like reading each other’s minds at times. It’s both frightening and wonderful at once. I’ve never felt so connected to anyone else, and according to Mom, that’s how you know it’s real love.
I jump about a foot in the air when the monastery doors swing open, violently snapping out of my thoughts. Shining eyes, a gremlin smile, and a face speckled with green greet me from the other side.
“Aiden! You’re here!” Aura leaps at me and grapples me in a hug. “Glad you could make it!”
“Like I’d miss my own girlfriend’s birthday party?” I grunt, giving her a quick pat on the back to satisfy her.
“Aw…. So you’re not here to see me?”
I brush past her with a snort and smile, tousling her blonde locks. “Not this time, Freckles.”
She pouts, but it quickly transforms into a grin as she rushes ahead of me into the monastery. “Everybody’s already in the dragon stables,” she chirps, heading towards the elevator. “C’mon!”
Shaking my head at her boundless enthusiasm, I follow her.
I’m not sure if it’s the effects from the elevator dropping or not, but my stomach does a series of cartwheels as we ride down to the stables. The air temperature gradually drops and cools my sweating body, kinda like when Piper’s cold cheek rests on my warm one. I smile.
The elevator finally comes to a stop and opens up to reveal the team clustered together, talking and laughing with each other. Only Faith and Blake’s little sister aren’t gathered with the others, playing tag with Jiro instead. Several of my uncles, aunts, and cousins have huddled in their own circle to chat and watch the younger girls play.
Piper meets my eyes and lights up my entire soul with her beautiful smile. She slips away from the others and starts walking towards me, her cool lips pecking my cheek once she reaches me.
“You’re late,” she teases.
“Sorry.” I press my smile to her cheek in return. “Restaurant was super busy, and I lost track of time.”
“Uh huh.”
“You have a good birthday?” I ask as we slowly walk towards a quieter spot in the stables.
“Mhm.” Her grin grows wider. “Blake gave me a cd with some of his songs burned on it, including the one that my painting inspired.”
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah. Aura gave me something I’m assuming is supposed to be a dog? Made out of leaves and twigs? It’s actually pretty impressive.”
“I see.” I try not to think about how heavy her present feels in my trembling hands. “Any other noteworthy ones?”
“Rye–“ she breaks off in a short laugh “–got me a ‘Dummy’s Guide to Coding and Mechanics’ book.”
I bark out such a sharp laugh that my chest hurts, a fist automatically flying up to my mouth as if to cover a cough. The wide grin on my face uncomfortably pulls at the fresh scar on my cheek, but I can’t stop it.
“Oh? You find that funny, do you?” she challenges, a playful gleam in her eye.
Despite my attempt to hold it in, a snort manages to escape before I suck in a breath and put on my best poker face. I clear my throat of any traces of humor. “I didn’t say that.”
“You were laughing!”
“You laughed first!”
She sighs dramatically, leaning into me just enough to upset my balance and make me stumble on my next step. “Touché.”
After a short shoving match, we stop at the farthest end of the dragon stables, the air colder and the shadows heavier over here. But I don’t mind. I like how her eyes, even in their cloaked form, stand out more in the dim light and almost seem to glow with how strikingly bright they are.
I blink myself out of my trance and flash her a quick smile. “I dunno if you’ll like what I got you…but I promise it’s not a book on mechanics.”
Her soft laugh sets my heart ablaze and chases away the chill in the room. The only cold I’m aware of is hers, a refreshing coolness that sends a light shiver down my spine.
I suddenly remember the gift in my hands and swallow my fluttering stomach. The moment of truth is here.
(Piper’s POV)
“Here.” Aiden shakily holds out a present carefully and expertly covered in wrapping paper decorated with little cupcakes and party hats. “I hope you like it.”
Based on the size and shape of the present, his behavior is unnaturally anxious for a simple gift. Unless he wrapped it in such a way to make it look like it’s something else, but I doubt he’d do that. So, I settle for solving the mystery the old fashioned way…by tearing open the wrapping paper.
I pause as I reveal the front cover of a novel, the embossed title staring back at me in shimmering metallic purple. Adventure of the Stars. The newest title in the Angels Among Us series I’ve been reading lately.
…aka the same book that I bought for myself a little over a week ago.
I quickly glance at Aiden’s face, noting the anxious anticipation in his otherwise natural expression when he meets my eyes. Something in my face must have tipped him off though, because his expression immediately falls into a thinly veiled panic.
“You don’t like it?” His voice is soft, trying to hide his disappointment.
“No, I do!” I turn the book over and casually look over the back as I try to find some way to explain the situation to him. I couldn’t possibly tell him I already have this book, especially not since he clearly put a lot of thought into his gift.
Still thinking, I run my thumb over the pages from back to front. I happen to spot something on the inside cover that captures my attention and flip the book open to investigate. There, in careful penmanship, is a handwritten note.
They say opposites attract, but we’ve gone beyond mere attraction. We’re at the point where I can’t imagine a day without you, where I feel incomplete unless you’re with me. And even though Fire and Ice can’t coexist without canceling each other out, somehow we shine brighter together than we do apart. I guess it’s a miracle…which is fitting since you’re my Angel.
Happy birthday, Piper
(P.S. I don’t care if it’s your birthday, you still don’t get to say you’re older than me)
Between my soft heart, the tears in my eyes, and the small laugh that slips out at the last part, I’m not really sure what emotion I’m feeling. Maybe all of them combined into something much much bigger than a single emotion alone. Something so big, I can’t hold it inside.
I chuckle, even as a couple tears track down my cheeks, and gaze into his warm eyes. There’s no hesitation as I throw myself into his arms. “Thank you, Aiden. That’s so sweet. I love it!”
“I hoped you would,” he murmurs, holding me close. “I’m not exactly a poet, but it sounded good in my head.”
“A little more practice, and you could become the next Shakespeare,” I tease with a grin.
He holds me away from him by the shoulders and settles his face into a firm expression. “For once upon a winter’s eve, I spied my love in a silver gown-”
I can’t help but laugh at the utterly serious voice he’d used. “Alright, Romeo. That’s enough poetry for one day.”
“Thank goodness, ‘cause I hate poetry.”
We share a chuckle at that. The distance between our faces grows shorter, and my heart sparks when his warm lips meet mine in a sweet kiss. It feels so natural, despite this being only the third time we’ve kissed on the lips. I wish it would never end.
“Ewwwww! I didn’t think you guys would go that far.”
Aiden jerks his head over to Aura’s disgusted frown and crossed arms leaning against the wall a ways away. “What are you doing here??”
“You never said I couldn’t follow you,” she answers with a flippant shrug. Her nose scrunches at us, crinkling the scaled skin on her cheeks. “Though now I kinda wish I hadn’t.”
“Can you leave then?” he asks, carefully controlled anger laced in his tone.
“Yeah. I’m gonna see if Uncle Cole’s eaten all the cake.” She pushes herself off the wall and turns to head back towards the rest of the party. “Have fun you two.”
I giggle at the pout he shoots after her and his hot cheeks threatening to burst into flames. Before he can react, I grab him in another tight hug, my heart melting as his warm arms tenderly wrap around me. I gaze at the book still clutched in my hand, and my face explodes into a wide smile.
It’s a good thing I still have the receipt for that book. Because I’m keeping this one forever.
SUMMARY: Just as soon as Mingi and Yunho start feeling better, Seonghwa once again finds his hands full.
SICKIES: Mingi (mentioned emeto) & Hongjoong (emeto/dizzy)
CARETAKERS: Yunho, Seonghwa, & Wooyoung (briefly)
WORD COUNT: 2,680
TW: graphic descriptions of vomiting
Read on AO3!
Mingi threw up a few more times throughout the course of the morning, each time just as painful and miserable as the last. Yunho stayed by his side throughout all of it, his hand over Mingi’s serving as an anchor through the storm. Seonghwa had wanted to take over, but Yunho insisted he had it under control, as long as the eldest could clean out the bin between rounds of sickness since his fever still had him feeling a bit dizzy anytime he tried to stand up.
The vomiting had finally tapered off by the afternoon, and although Mingi still wasn’t feeling up to eating anything yet, he had agreed to let Seonghwa make him some ginger tea to sip on in hopes that it would soothe his stomach and get some much needed fluids back into his system.
Seonghwa was almost finished preparing the drink, as well as another bowl of juk for Yunho, who finally had a bit of an appetite again, when he heard the unmistakable sound of retching. He was about to rush back to Mingi and Yunho’s room when he realized, with a sinking feeling, that the noise was coming from the opposite side of the dorm. Since the rest of the members had yet to return home from the errand he’d sent them on an hour earlier, that meant there was only one person it could be.
Abandoning Mingi’s tea on the kitchen counter, Seonghwa hurried down the hallway towards Hongjoong’s bedroom. When he opened the door, he found the leader hunched over on the edge of his bed with his arms wrapped tightly around the small trash can that he usually kept under his desk, breathing heavily as he fought to get his stomach back under control.
“Just a headache, huh?” Seonghwa sighed. He sat down next to Hongjoong and placed a hand on his back, only to remove it again a few seconds later after receiving a weak glare from the younger man.
“Obviously I didn’t feel nauseous before I went to sleep,” Hongjoong grumbled, setting the bin down between his feet and resting his elbows on his knees. “I wasn’t lying, Hwa.”
“I never said you were,” Seonghwa said calmly. He knew that Hongjoong’s attitude wasn’t anything personal, but rather an indication of how frustrated he was feeling at the unexpected turn of events, and he didn’t want to inadvertently make things worse by getting defensive. “It’s okay, Joong, I’m not upset.”
Seonghwa’s careful approach seemed to be in vain, however, as Hongjoong just scoffed and pushed himself up from the bed.
“What’s wrong?” Seonghwa asked, standing up alongside him. “Where are you going?”
“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just going to clean the trash can.”
Hongjoong moved to take a step forward, but Seonghwa held out a hand to stop him. “Please tell me you are joking right now.”
“What? Why would that be a joke.”
“In what universe do you think I’m about to let you clean that yourself? Sit back down.”
Seonghwa gestured towards the bed, but Hongjoong stood his ground. “Hwa, I can handle it,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Go take care of Mingi, he needs you.”
“Mingi’s fine, Yunho’s with him. Sit down.”
“Yunho’s sick too,” Hongjoong snapped back. “They shouldn’t be alone.”
“Aish, Joong, they’re fine. They're resting, and they know to text or call me if they need anything. Do you really think I would leave them by themselves if they weren’t okay?"
Hongjoong didn’t meet Seonghwa’s eyes.
“I wouldn’t,” Seonghwa continued. “And you know that. So stop being so stubborn and just let me take care of you, okay?”
Hongjoong kept his gaze down, but he gave his head a slight nod. Whether he was actually convinced or had just run out of steam to keep arguing was unclear, but Seonghwa didn’t really care. “Thank you,” he said, letting out a relieved breath. “Now will you please sit down? You look like you’re about to keel over.”
Hongjoong did as told, sitting back down on the bed and wrapping one of his arms around his stomach. Seonghwa sat next to him and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder, half-expecting to receive another death stare for the action. This time, however, instead of flinching away, Hongjoong melted into the touch, the stoic expression he’d schooled his face into finally giving way to one of obvious discomfort.
Seonghwa sighed. As difficult of a patient as Hongjoong could be, it was hard to stay upset with him when he was clearly feeling so unwell. “Joongie,” he said softly, doing his best to smooth out the edge of irritation that his voice had taken on. “I know you’re frustrated, and I know you’re worried about the kids, but I need you to trust me, okay? I’ve got everything under control. You don’t need to stress, you’re just going to make yourself feel worse if you try and push through.”
“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong whispered. “I’m not trying to be annoying, I promise, I’m just… I don’t want you to have to do this by yourself. I was supposed to be helping, and now I’m just another thing that you need to take care of.”
Seonghwa couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “First of all, you’re not a thing, you’re my best friend, and I want to take care of you,” he said, giving Hongjoong’s leg a slight nudge. “And secondly, it’s not your fault. Yes, it sucks, but things happen, and honestly, this was kind of inevitable, considering you literally slept in Mingi’s bed last night.”
“Captain cuddles came back to bite me in the ass…” Hongjoong mumbled.
Seonghwa cocked an eyebrow. “Captain cuddles?”
“Yeah, that’s what Mingi called it.”
“That is… really cute. Wow.”
Hongjoong gave a small huff. “Doesn’t feel so cute right now,” he muttered bitterly.
“I mean, yeah, fair enough, sorry,” Seonghwa apologized. “Let me go clean up and then we can figure out what to do to get you feeling better, okay?”
"Okay," Hongjoong repeated. He gingerly lowered himself down onto his side and pulled his knees up to his chest, no longer having the energy to continue holding himself upright. "Don’t take too long?”
"I won’t.”
Seonghwa left the room and returned a few minutes later with the freshly cleaned (and now lined) trash can in hand, having decided that a couple layers of plastic bags would make any additional clean-up endeavors a bit easier for him to manage. It was likely only a matter of time before Hongjoong would be sick again, and while Seonghwa wasn’t particularly squeamish, it was still never fun to have to deal with a bucket of someone else’s stomach contents, even if that someone was his best friend.
“Can you tell me what you’re feeling besides the nausea?” he asked, squatting down next to where Hongjoong was lying and reaching a hand up to feel his forehead. “You’re a little warm, but not quite at fever level, I don’t think.”
“My stomach hurts, and I’m kinda dizzy.” Hongjoong squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth through a painful cramp. “I really don’t feel good, Hwa…”
Seonghwa frowned sympathetically. “I know, love, I’m sorry,” he murmured, running his fingers through Hongjoong’s hair. “What can I do to help?”
“Um, can you get my pillow? I think I left it on Mingi’s bed.”
“Sure. Do you want me to ask Yunho if you can borrow his heating pad while I'm in there too? I don’t think he’s using it anymore.”
“As long as he doesn’t need it, yeah. Thanks.”
“Alright. Just hang tight, I’ll be right back.”
***
“Hey guys, sorry for the delay, Joong’s not feeling very well either,” Seonghwa apologized, balancing the tray he was carrying on his hip as he opened the door to Mingi and Yunho’s bedroom. He knew that with Hongjoong now needing the majority of his attention, it would likely be a while before he’d have another chance to come and check on the younger members, and he didn’t want the tea and juk he’d made for them to get cold in the meantime.
“Oh no, did he throw up?” Yunho asked, sitting up from where he’d been spooning Mingi. He kept his voice low as he spoke, not wanting to wake his friend from the first restful sleep he’d been able to get all day.
Seonghwa nodded. “Can he borrow your heating pad for a bit? His stomach’s really bothering him.”
“Yeah of course, hyung, take it, it’s on my desk.”
“Thanks, Yunho-yah. And have you seen his pillow? He said he left it in here earlier but I don’t- oh.”
Yunho followed Seonghwa’s gaze to Mingi, who was clutching said pillow tightly against his chest as he slept.
“He said it smelled like hyung,” Yunho explained with a fond chuckle. “Do you need it back?”
“No, it’s okay, let him keep it for now. I’ll give Joongie one of mine,” Seonghwa said. The pillow was obviously bringing Mingi some comfort, and he doubted Hongjoong would even want it back before it had a chance to be washed anyway, given that the younger rapper was currently drooling all over it.
“You should eat while the juk’s hot,” he added, gesturing to where he’d left the tray on Mingi’s desk on his way in. “And don’t forget, you’re due for your next dose of meds in half an hour, and when Mingi wakes up, remind him he needs to drink his tea slowly so he doesn’t get sick again, and-“
“I got it, hyung,” Yunho interrupted, reaching up to give Seonghwa’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “Go to Joong.”
“You’ll remember to text me if you need anything?”
“Yes, hyung. Go.”
***
Seonghwa had been planning on stopping in the kitchen to grab a glass of water before heading back to Hongjoong’s room, but that idea was quickly forgotten when he turned the corner and saw the leader sitting in the middle of the hallway, his head hanging low between his knees and a small puddle of vomit at his feet.
“Joong!?” Seonghwa gasped. He rushed across the living room and knelt down at Hongjoong’s side, being careful to avoid the mess as he did so. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“Tried to go to the bathroom. Got dizzy.”
“Why didn’t you wait for me, I said I’d be right back!”
“Had to pee…”
“Aish, you’re worse than the kids sometimes, I swear,” Seonghwa muttered, setting Yunho’s heating pad down so he’d have both hands free to rub Hongjoong’s back. “How are you feeling now? Do you think we can move to the bathroom or do you need a minute?”
Before Hongjoong had the chance to respond, the front door swung open. Seonghwa turned around, immediately locking eyes with Wooyoung.
“What are you guys- oh no…” Wooyoung trailed off, having noticed the puddle on the floor in front of the two older members. “Hongjoong hyung is sick?”
At the sound of his groupmate’s voice, Hongjoong tried to lift his head, but immediately lowered it back down when another wave of dizziness crashed over him.
“It’s okay, it’s just Youngie,” Seonghwa soothed, pressing a kiss to the top of Hongjoong’s hair before turning to look back up at Wooyoung. “Yeah, since about half an hour ago. Where is everyone else? Did you come back by yourself?”
“No, they’re bringing the couch up, they just asked me to come ahead and unlock the door since they have their hands full.”
Hongjoong groaned. It was bad enough that Wooyoung had already seen him like this- he didn’t need the rest of his dongsaengs getting a front-row seat to his misery too. “Hwa… the floor…” he whined, despite himself. He would later be embarrassed about that too, but for now, his desperation outweighed his pride.
“Hm? What was that, love?” Seonghwa asked softly.
“I think he’s worried about the… you know,” Wooyoung pointed towards the small pool of liquid beside them; even without being able to see his face, he knew that Hongjoong was probably feeling pretty humiliated about not having made it to the bathroom in time. “Don’t worry, hyung, I’ll clean up, no one else will even know it happened,” he promised. “You should probably get moving if you don’t want to see anyone, though, they’re gonna be back any minute.”
“Thanks, Young-ah,” Seonghwa said with a smile, feeling grateful not only for Wooyoung’s willingness to help, but also for his ability to so quickly ascertain what their friend needed. “Okay, easy Joong, up we go. Just a few steps, lean on me, you’re o- oh, okay, it’s okay, just get it up, I’m right here.”
***
While Wooyoung had been successful in cleaning the hallway before the rest of the members had returned, the sounds of Hongjoong’s ongoing illness had given away his condition anyway, and the leader soon found himself with an audience as he continued to heave his guts into the toilet of one of the dorm’s two shared bathrooms.
“Oh, hyung,” San frowned, the pout practically audible in his voice. He was standing in the doorway with his jacket still on, having only taken the time to kick off his shoes before running over to check on whoever was getting sick. “What happened?”
“What the hell do you think happened?” Hongjoong grumbled, spitting harshly into the bowl. He reached up to flush the toilet before lowering his head back down and resting his cheek against the seat. It was gross, he knew, but the cool porcelain felt nice against his clammy skin, and he was feeling too awful to really care.
“Come on, love, don’t put your face there, that’s not hygienic,” Seonghwa whispered, guiding Hongjoong away from the toilet and back into his arms. He turned to look at San apologetically. “Sorry,” he mouthed, offering the younger a tight lipped smile; while none of them were strangers to Hongjoong’s short temper when he wasn’t feeling well, Seonghwa still felt a bit bad for San, who was obviously just worried about his hyung.
San shook his head. “It’s okay, I’m sorry, that was a stupid question. Can I do anything to help?”
“You can leave, and you can take the rest of the kids with you,” Hongjoong said bluntly. Even with his voice a bit muffled from where his face was buried against Seonghwa’s chest, his annoyance was evident. “Clearly this is incredibly contagious, and things are already bad enough without the rest of you getting sick too.”
“No, it’s fine, I can-“
Seonghwa cut San off before he could finish the rest of his sentence. “I’m sorry, Sannie, but Joong is right. I don’t want you guys getting any further exposed if we can help it. You can get the couch set up, but after that I want you all out of the house until it’s time for bed. Go see a movie or grab dinner or something, my treat.”
San looked disappointed, but he knew better than to argue with Seonghwa when he put his foot down. “Okay, yeah, whatever you say, hyung,” he said, dipping his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll let the others know.”
San made his way out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him as he did so. Once they were alone again, Seonghwa turned his attention back to Hongjoong. “You wanna head back to bed, or do you wanna stay here a little longer?”
“Bed, but can you leave for a minute first?” Hongjoong asked, lifting his head from where it had been resting against Seonghwa’s shoulder. “I still have to pee.”
Seonghwa stood up and held his hand out to help Hongjoong do the same. "Only if you promise you won't pass out and give yourself a concussion,” he said, only half-jokingly; after the incident in the hallway, he wasn’t feeling particularly confident in Hongjoong’s ability to stay upright unsupported.
Hongjoong gave a wry laugh. "I'll try my best.”
"That is not very comforting, Joong,” Seonghwa sighed. “But alright. I'll be outside, just shout if you start to feel dizzy again, okay?"
SUMMARY: San spends the night in Wooyoung’s hotel room caring for his best friend after he gets food poisoning from some bad fish, and along the way the pair realize there’s something more to their friendship than they’d previously thought.
SICKIE: Wooyoung
CARETAKERS: San (+ some from Yeosang)
WORD COUNT: 7,025
TW: graphic descriptions of vomiting
Read on AO3!
NOTE: Behold, the Woosan sickfic that almost killed me because I locked in too hard and wrote this all in one sitting despite having a chronic illness that very much does not like it when I do anything in more than half hour intervals.
Also, if this seems at all familiar, it had the premise yoinked from a fic I wrote like 5 years ago for an entirely different fandom. I highly doubt anyone who read that is gonna be reading this, unless there’s some secret RuPaul’s Drag Race x ATEEZ faction that I don’t know about, but wanted to give a heads up just in case.
A strange sound woke San from his sleep. He groaned, rolling over to look at the clock next to his bed. 11:07pm- he had only been asleep for two hours. San wasn't normally one to go to bed early, but they had back to back schedules the next day and he wanted to make sure he was well rested. He listened for a moment to see if he could hear the noise again, but the room was silent, save for the dull hum of the aircon. Shrugging, he rolled back over, pulling the covers up to his chin as he tried to fall back asleep. The sound came again a few minutes later, just as he was drifting off. It took a moment for him to realize what he was hearing was the faint but unmistakable sound of someone vomiting in the room next to his- Wooyoung’s. Still half asleep, San sat up, fumbling to find his phone on the bedside table before shooting his friend a text.
ATEEZ CS ❤️: are you okay?
Stupid question, he thought to himself, chewing at his thumb nail. Wooyoung was throwing up, of course he wasn’t okay. A few minutes went by with no response. He texted again.
ATEEZ CS ❤️: do you want me to come over?
If they were at the dorms, San wouldn’t have thought twice about going to check on a sick member, but they were staying in a hotel and he didn’t know how well the managers would respond to him leaving his room in the middle of the night when they were supposed to be sleeping. Wooyoung didn't text back, but a series of painful sounding coughs and gags coming from the other side of the shared wall was all the response San needed. Fuck it, he thought to himself. If the managers had a problem with it, he’d deal with it in the morning. He couldn’t leave his best friend to suffer by himself when he was so obviously unwell.
San grabbed his hotel keycard from the nightstand, slipping it into the pocket of his sweatpants along with his phone. After a moment of thought, he circled to the other side of the bed, picking up Shiber from where he lay on the other pillow and tucking him under his arm as he made his way out of the room, being careful to close the door quietly behind him. The hallway was brightly lit and it took him a second to adjust to the sudden shift in lighting, rubbing roughly at his tired eyes before reaching up to knock on the door next to his.
“Young-ah? It's San, open up."
A few moments passed and he was just getting ready to knock again when the door creaked open, revealing a very pale and very unsteady looking Wooyoung standing in the doorway.
"Sannie I-" was all he managed to get out before he was cut off by a gag. He clapped a hand over his mouth and spun around, stumbling over his feet a little as he made a beeline back to the bathroom. From his position in the doorway, San could hear more than he could see as Wooyoung crashed rather violently onto the tiled floor, just in time to be sick again. San caught the door before it closed and followed the younger man into his hotel room, nose crinkling slightly at the acrid smell that hung in the air. The room was a mess, sweaty sheets tangled up on the bed and a towel on the floor next to it half covering what was clearly a failed attempt to make it to the bathroom on time. San frowned at the sight- how long had Wooyoung been sick? They’d only checked into their rooms a few hours ago after dinner at the hotel restaurant. He tried to think back to the meal they’d shared- had Wooyoung seemed off then? No, he was his usual bright and bubbly self, cracking jokes with Mingi and playfully shooting straw wrappers at an (only slightly) irritated Seonghwa. What could’ve happened since then?
A loud cough interrupted his thoughts and San quickly pulled himself back to the present, safely depositing Shiber on the desk along with his room key before rounding the corner to the small en-suite bathroom. Despite its intensity, the vomiting spell seemed to have been short-lived, already tapering off by the time San made his way over to where Wooyoung was kneeling, arm draped over the toilet seat and head hanging low as he panted heavily, trying to catch his breath.
"Aigoo," San cooed, crouching down next to his friend, reaching a hand out to brush his sweaty bangs off his forehead. He winced at the heat he was met with- the younger was definitely running a fever. "What happened?"
"I don't know," Wooyoung whimpered, shakily straightening up and wrapping a protective arm around his aching stomach. "I don't feel good."
“I can see that. How long have you been feeling sick?” San reached out to flush the toilet, averting his eyes as the murky water swirled away. He did not need a visual to go along with the sounds he’d been hearing for the last several minutes.
"l've been feeling kinda off since after dinner, but I just chalked it up to the adrenaline from today finally wearing off, you know?" Wooyoung started. San nodded, rubbing a comforting hand on his best friend’s shoulder as he stopped to cough harshly into his elbow. Wooyoung paused for a moment, swallowing thickly, before continuing.
"I tried to go to bed early so I could sleep it off, but I couldn’t fall asleep and my stomach started to hurt- and I mean really hurt, not like ‘I ate too many shrimp crackers and I feel kinda bloated hurt’ but like OW, you know? And it kept getting worse and worse, and then I started to feel really nauseous and hot and I was like ‘oh my god I’m gonna puke’, so I ran to the bathroom and I threw up, and then once it started it just wouldn’t stop,” Wooyoung rambled, pausing every few words to sniffle and wipe at his nose with the back of his hand in a futile attempt to stop it from dripping. San ripped off a piece of toilet paper from the roll, handing it to him and gesturing for the younger to blow his nose. Wooyoung did as told, giving his nose a forceful blow before suddenly freezing, hands still tented over his face. San looked at him worriedly, ready to jump into action if he needed to be sick again, but after a moment Wooyoung just leaned forward, stifling two small sneezes into his cupped hands.
“Bless,” San said with a sympathetic smile, patting his friend’s knee.
“Ugh, sorry. Got in my nose,” Wooyoung cringed, wiping his hands and giving his nose a final blow before balling up the used toilet paper and throwing it into the toilet.
“So like I was saying,” he continued, “I keep getting sick, and then I’ll feel better for a little bit afterwards, but then it just gets bad again. I don't know what's wrong with me, Sannie. My stomach hurts so bad..." Wooyoung trailed off, sounding like he was on the verge of tears.
"My poor Wooyoungie,” San murmured, fully sitting down now. It seemed like they were in for a long night, and he figured he’d better make himself comfortable. “With how fast this came on and how many times you’ve been sick, it sounds like you might have food poisoning. Do you think you could've eaten something bad?"
"Ugh, maybe. I had tilapia at dinner, do you think that was it?"
San made a face. He never trusted seafood at hotels when they were traveling abroad, and it seemed for a good reason. Just as he was about to make this sentiment known, he saw Wooyoung straighten up abruptly, his face paling. Knowing what was about to happen, San carefully helped guide him forward, managing to position him over the toilet in time for more chunky liquid to spill from his lips into the water below. San looked away once more, focusing his attention instead on pulling Wooyoung’s hair back, gathering as much of his two toned locks as he could into a small ponytail and affixing it with a hair tie he’d pulled off his own wrist. Wooyoung’s hair wasn’t really long enough to be a problem, but San figured it was better to be safe than sorry. Cleaning vomit out of his best friend’s hair in the middle of the night was not his idea of a good bonding activity. He’d do it, of course, but ew, he would really prefer not to.
Content that the younger man’s hair was now safely out of the line of fire, San began to trace lazy shapes on Wooyoung’s back in an attempt to soothe him, whispering words of encouragement softly until he was done. After a final, particularly painful sounding cough, Wooyoung spat disgustedly into the bowl before flopping back against the wall with a groan.
“This fucking sucks,” he whined.
"I know baby, I’m so sorry,” San sympathized, leaning forward to tuck a strand of hair that hadn’t made it into the ponytail behind Wooyoung’s ear. “How are you feeling now? Any better now that you’ve got that out of you?"
“A little better, I think. Not as nauseous anymore. Still hurts, though."
"Do you want to try and drink some water?"
Wooyoung nodded his head tentatively. His stomach was still cramping badly and he wasn't completely sure he was done being sick, but with how much he’d thrown up already he knew he would likely get dehydrated if he didn’t try and get some fluids back in his system.
San made his way out of the bathroom, returning moments later with a plastic water bottle from the room’s mini bar.
"Small sips, okay?"
Wooyoung took a few sips of the water, grateful to be able to rid his mouth of the awful taste, but quickly regretted it as not even a minute later he felt the nausea begin to creep up again. With a low moan, he leaned back over the toilet in preparation for the inevitable. San continued his previous ministrations, rubbing circles on his friend’s back silently as he breathed nauseously over the water for a few minutes. Wooyoung let out a few airy burps and spat out the saliva that had begun to pool in his mouth, but nothing else came up, and for a moment he thought it might’ve been a false alarm. He was just about to say as much when a sudden gag tore up his throat, forcing him to jerk his head forward so he didn’t make a mess as he forcefully coughed up the water he had just drank, followed immediately by yet another wave of his stomach contents.
"Aigoo, I’m sorry,” San apologized. He reached a hand around to hold Wooyoung’s forehead as he continued to retch and gag loudly into the bowl, worried the younger man would nosedive into the seat with how violently he was being sick. “That was a bad idea, Youngie, I’m really sorry,” San apologized again, feeling terrible for having prompted Wooyoung to drink before he was ready. “I think your belly’s still too upset to handle having anything in it.”
“It hurts, Sannie," Wooyoung panted between coughs, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the toilet seat, desperate for something to stabilize himself as his body purged itself painfully.
"I know, baby, I know. Just let it out, l've got you." San held him steady as he continued to be sick. He was surprised at how much Wooyoung was still bringing up, despite having already been sick several times in the past couple hours. Whatever the younger had eaten really must not have agreed with him, San thought to himself. He briefly wondered how the others were doing- no one else had ordered the same thing that Wooyoung had, but hadn’t Jongho snuck a few bites off his plate? He made a mental note to send a quick text to the maknae after he’d gotten Wooyoung settled down. Their youngest member had an unusually strong stomach, and he hadn’t eaten very much, so hopefully he’d be alright, but San definitely didn’t like the idea of him being alone if he happened to be even a fraction as sick as Wooyoung was right now.
When the vomiting finally tapered off, Wooyoung gave a shaky exhale and promptly collapsed back onto San, who had positioned himself behind his sick friend to better support him through the miserable ordeal. San could feel the heat radiating off the younger man’s body as he wrapped a protective arm around him, easing him to the side so they could lean more comfortably against the bathtub behind them. It pained San to see his best friend so sick. He desperately wished he could do more to ease Wooyoung’s suffering, but he knew that the sickness just had to run its course. For now, San would just do what he could to make him feel comfortable and safe until it passed.
They sat like that for some time, the small bathroom quiet except for the sound of Wooyoung’s breathing and the light whirring of the ceiling fan San had turned on on his way in to try and clear out some of the smell. San had taken one of Wooyoung’s clammy hands in his own and was rubbing small circles on the back of it with his thumb. The repetitive motion was soothing not only to his sick friend, but also to San’s own nerves, which were feeling rather fried after how suddenly and unexpectedly his night had turned from ‘try and get some sleep before you have to get up for work tomorrow’ to ‘try and make sure your best friend doesn’t die on the floor of a hotel bathroom in a puddle of his own bodily fluids.’
"Do you wanna try to go back to bed or do you think you're gonna be sick more?" San asked after a while, noticing that Wooyoung seemed to be falling asleep on him.
“I can’t go back to the bed, the floor, I-“ the rest of the sentence was muffled into the fabric of San’s shirt, where Wooyoung’s face was now buried, having migrated off his friend’s shoulder and onto his chest.
“What was that, baby?” San asked, reaching his hand up to lightly scratch the back of the younger man’s neck as he waited for him to repeat himself.
“I didn’t make it in time, Sannie, I made a mess,” Wooyoung finally admitted, sheepishly. San cringed a bit internally, thinking back to the towel on the floor, but didn’t let it show on his face. Wooyoung obviously already felt bad enough about it as is and he didn’t want to make him feel worse.
“Don’t worry about it baby, I’ll clean everything up and then we’ll get you settled in bed so you can get some sleep, okay?”
Wooyoung nodded, lifting his head from San’s chest, but not meeting his eyes. Now that he wasn’t actively getting sick anymore he’d been able to get his bearings a bit, and he was clearly feeling more than a little embarrassed about the whole situation. At the confirmation, San stood up from his place next to Wooyoung on the floor, his legs feeling a bit numb from the extended time sitting awkwardly on the hard tile.
“Okay, I’m gonna go see if I can get some stuff from the front desk. Just close your eyes and rest your head here, I’ll be back before you know it,” he reassured, grabbing a clean towel from the rack and placing it on the edge of the tub as a makeshift pillow. “I have my phone so you can call me if you need me, but I’ll try and be quick. Just hang tight, okay?”
Wooyoung sleepily hummed his acknowledgement. He already seemed to be drifting off again, half slumped against the tub with his knees tucked up to his chin. It looked terribly uncomfortable, but San figured he must be too exhausted to care.
***
Thirty minutes later, San had successfully gotten the floor cleaned up and had replaced the sweaty linens on the bed with clean ones. He’d even tucked Shiber into the freshly made sheets, hoping that getting to snuggle with San’s beloved plushie would lift the sick member’s spirits a bit. The front desk staff had been sympathetic and had given San some Gatorade and crackers on the house too, which he’d put on the nightstand for later when Wooyoung might be able to stomach them. The floor had been easy to clean- it had really only been a tiny puddle of vomit, as Wooyoung had thankfully been able to make it the few additional feet to the bathroom before the worst of his sickness began, but San knew he’d feel better not having to see or smell it when his stomach was still so unsettled. He’d tossed the soiled towel into the garbage can and tied the bag up, setting it to the side to be dealt with later.
San knocked softly on the bathroom door before opening it, finding Wooyoung exactly how he’d left him. He knelt down next to his friend and gently shook him awake.
“Young-ah.”
“Mmfph.”
San pouted fondly at the sleepy noise the younger made, clearly not happy at being woken up from what was the first sleep he’d been able to get all night. Cute, he thought. Sad, but cute.
“The bed’s all ready for you. Are you ready to move or do you need a minute?”
Wooyoung blinked sleepily up at him, trying to assess how he was feeling before responding.
"Y-yeah, I think I'm okay,” he said hesitantly after a moment. He was still queasy but he didn’t feel like he was going to be sick again just yet. “For now, at least."
“Alright, good, that’s good. Let’s get you to bed, baby. Scoot forward a bit and I'll help you up."
Wooyoung normally would have protested, insisting he was fine to walk on his own, but in his current state, he was grateful for the offer. He moved forward, away from his resting spot against the tub, allowing room for San to get behind him and pick him up under the arms. His head swam with dizziness as he stood up and he stumbled forward a bit, but San tightened his grip, steadying him before he could fall. Wooyoung leaned heavily back onto his friend, allowing him to carry most of his weight as they slowly made their way to the bed.
Wooyoung fell back asleep almost immediately upon laying down, clearly exhausted from having been violently ill, but not before letting out a tiny, painfully adorable squeal at the sight of Shiber waiting patiently for him on the bed. San, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep. He lay next to Wooyoung, stroking the sick man’s hair gently with one hand and fiddling with the ring on his finger with the other. For the first time that night since he’d abruptly awoken to the sound of his best friend being sick and the whirlwind that had ensued in the hours that followed, he had a moment of peace and quiet. A moment to think. He knew he should be in his own room, resting up for what was undoubtedly going to be a chaotic day of schedules, but he couldn't bring himself to leave Wooyoung like this. San knew firsthand how awful it felt to be alone when you were sick, and he never wanted anyone to have to feel that way. Especially not Wooyoung. He didn’t know exactly when his feelings had changed from platonic love and professional admiration to something more, but in that one silent moment on the bathroom floor, with his best friend half asleep in his arms, looking so perfectly beautiful despite the fever flushing his cheeks and the smell of sickness still lingering in the air, San knew there was no going back. He loved Wooyoung, and he knew there was nothing more important in this moment than being there for him and making sure he was safe.
San was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of a strangled gag coming from beside him. He shot out of bed immediately and ran to the bathroom to grab the trash can, mentally cursing himself for not thinking to bring it earlier. He managed to thrust it under Wooyoung’s chin just in time for him to choke up a mouthful of bile, grabbing the younger by his shoulder with his other hand to stabilize him when he pitched forward again with a guttural retch. This time the gags quickly turned unproductive, his stomach already mostly void after several rounds of sickness, and Wooyoung was soon left dry heaving painfully.
"Shh, it's okay, I think you're empty," San reassured him, using his free hand to ease Wooyoung back onto the headboard. The younger let himself be moved without a word, his eyes screwed shut and his hands gripping the edge of the comforter as he swallowed convulsively, trying to get his stomach back under control. “Try and take some deep breaths, Young-ah. I'll be right back."
San went to clean the trash can and when he came back he found Wooyoung still sitting up, arms wrapped tightly around his midsection and tears streaming down his flushed cheeks as his chest hitched with silent sobs.
"Woo? What’s wrong, baby, why are you crying?" San asked, hurriedly placing the bin back next to the bed and rushing over to his friend, hands flitting around like he didn’t know what to do with them as he tried to figure out what had happened in the few minutes he’d been gone.
"I’m sorry Sannie, this is so humiliating. You should be in your own room sleeping but instead you're stuck here taking care of me.” Wooyoung stopped to sniffle wetly, before continuing, “I'm a fully grown man and I can't even take care of myself. Can’t even make it to the bathroom without making a mess. I am disgusting. I’m disgusting and I’m weak and I’m-"
San cut him off, "Hey hey hey, listen to me. It's not your fault you're sick, okay? It happens to everyone. It doesn't make you weak and it certainly doesn't make you disgusting." He paused for a moment to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to wipe an errant tear from Wooyoung’s cheek with his thumb before continuing, "Woo, you could never be gross to me, okay? I promise.”
Either soothed by his friend’s reassuring words or simply too exhausted to keep crying, Wooyoung sighed heavily, letting his head fall forward onto San’s shoulder. He wanted to tell him how much it meant to him that he stayed. He wanted to tell him that he never wanted him to leave. He wanted to tell him that he loved him, but all he managed to say was, “Thank you.”
***
The night was long. Wooyoung was able to get a little bit of sleep between episodes, but San wasn't so lucky. It seemed as soon as he was able to get everything cleaned up and settle back down, Wooyoung was awake again. It was around 4am when the vomiting finally stopped, and the pair were left completely drained- Wooyoung from being sick and San from being awake all night, ferrying back and forth between the bed and the bathroom to clean up so Wooyoung wouldn’t have to spend the night on the cold bathroom floor. Although Wooyoung’s stomach seemed to have finally calmed down, San knew he shouldn't leave him alone since he was still running a fever. He also knew that their wake up call was at 6:30, and he needed to at least try to get a few hours of sleep so he wouldn't be a complete zombie during the day’s activities. Wooyoung would no doubt be cleared from his schedules for the day, but being sleep deprived was not enough to grant San permission to sit out alongside him. Not wanting to disturb Wooyoung, who seemed to finally be getting some restful sleep, San stepped into the hallway to call Yeosang. The older man had a habit of waking up unreasonably early to have some quiet time alone before their hectic schedules, so San knew that, out of all the members, he was the most likely to be awake.
After a few rings, a vaguely sleepy "Hello?" came from the other end of the line.
"Hey, Sangie. Did I wake you?"
"No, you're good, I've been up for like fifteen minutes. What's up, San? It’s early.”
"Wooyoungie’s sick,” San started, not wanting to waste any time with formalities. “l've been up with him all night, he’s running a fever and he can’t keep anything down- we think it might be food poisoning from the fish he had at dinner. He finally settled down a little while ago, and I was hoping you could come stay with him so I could try and get some sleep. He’s not throwing up anymore so you shouldn't need to clean up or anything, but I just don't feel good leaving him alone after all that, you know?”
Yeosang wrinkled his nose. He wasn’t the biggest fan of dealing with sick people, but Wooyoung and San were two of his best friends and he’d do anything for them.
"Aigoo, poor Youngie,” he frowned, “give me five, I'll be right over."
“Thank you, Sang. I’m sorry you had to be the one I asked, I know you don’t do well with this kind of stuff, but I figured you’d be the only one awake and I didn’t wanna piss off Hongjoong hyung by interrupting his beauty sleep and Seonghwa hyung has been so tired and-“
“It’s fine, Sannie, really,” Yeosang cut him off, “I know you wouldn’t ask if you didn’t need to, and I’m happy to help. I’ll see you guys soon- do you need me to bring anything?”
“No, I think we’re all set here. The front desk gave me some crackers and Gatorade so maybe he can try those later if he’s feeling up for it, but he’s asleep right now so all you really need to do is watch him and make sure he doesn’t, like, choke on his puke in his sleep or anything.”
“Lovely. Thanks for that visual, San,” Yeosang grimaced, hanging up the call.
San went back over to sit on the bed while he waited for Yeosang. He looked at Wooyoung, finally sleeping peacefully next to him, and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d be holding. It had been a grueling night and San was utterly spent. His head was pounding from the lack of sleep, his clothes smelled vaguely of cleaning solution, and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to eat tilapia again, but more than anything else he was feeling in that moment, he was relieved. Relieved that he’d woken up all those hours ago instead of sleeping through the noise. Relieved that whatever god awful thing had been tormenting Wooyoung’s body finally seemed to be almost done with him. Relieved that he’d been able to be there for his friend so he didn’t have to suffer by himself. The thought of Wooyoung being alone all night, as horribly sick and miserable as he had been, made San’s heart clench painfully, and he was just so fucking relieved that he was able to be there instead.
After a few minutes, San heard a knock on the door. Whispering his thanks to Yeosang, San headed back to his own room for some much needed sleep, but not before sending Jongho a series of quick texts.
San Hyung: hey, are you feeling okay?
San Hyung: Wooyoungie’s sick, we think it might be the fish you guys ate 🤢
San Hyung: Yeosang is taking over for me here so if you need anything, call him
San Hyung: please don’t die!
***
Wooyoung woke up to the sound of typing, the rhythmic noise quietly audible in the otherwise silent room. He opened his eyes slowly, but immediately shut them again when a wave of nausea crashed over him. He waited for it to run its course, knowing he had nothing left in his body to throw up. When it finally passed, he rolled over, straining his eyes to try and read the alarm clock on the bedside table. 6:25am it flashed back at him in bold red letters. Wooyoung cursed his internal body clock for waking him up on time when he knew that being cleared from schedules for the day would’ve meant he was allowed to sleep in as long as he wanted.
Upon lifting his head from the pillow, Wooyoung was surprised to see a familiar figure perched on the armchair on the other side of the room, computer balanced on his knee and a light scowl on his face as he focused intently on something on the screen.
"Yeosang?" he called, cringing a bit at how rough his voice sounded from the strain of repeated vomiting. "What are you doing here?"
Yeosang looked up from his laptop with a bit of a start, evidently too engrossed in whatever he’d been working on to have realized the younger had woken up. He quickly made his way over to his friend, positioning himself on the side of the bed at Wooyoung’s feet. "Hey, Young-ah. San asked me to come keep an eye on you so he could get some sleep. How are you feeling?" The question was punctuated with a cold hand on Wooyoung’s forehead as Yeosang reached forward to check his temperature. “It seems like your fever went down.”
Wooyoung immediately felt a stab of guilt at the mention of San’s name. Shit. Wooyoung had kept him up all night, he must be exhausted and he was probably mad at him, and what if he had said something weird? He remembered crying but couldn’t remember what he’d *said*, what if he accidentally-
"Woo? Are you okay? Do you need the bin? Shit, where the hell did San put it, I thought he said you-“
Wooyoung looked up at Yeosang, who looked equal parts concerned and like he wanted to run out of the room, and realized his spacing out had given the ever so slightly squeamish member the impression that he was likely seconds away from throwing up all over the floor.
“I’m fine, Sangie, I’m not gonna be sick,” Wooyoung interrupted him before his panic could escalate. “I’m just… thinking.”
Visibly relaxing once the threat of imminent sickness was off the table, Yeosang stopped his frantic pacing and sat back down on the bed. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle vomit, he just… strongly preferred not to.
“Oh? And what is it you’re thinking about so intently at this hour?” he prompted, handing Wooyoung the bottle of Gatorade that San had left for him on the bedside table. “San said to try and drink a bit of this if you’re feeling up for it. Slowly.” He added the last word after a moment of thought, remembering how San had mentioned Wooyoung had trouble even keeping water down in the hours prior. He so did not want to be cleaning up neon blue vomit at six in the morning.
Wooyoung frowned, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He took a tentative sip of the drink, then another when his stomach didn’t immediately protest at the introduction of the cool liquid. God, he felt hollow. Had he thrown up his actual organs last night? It felt like he had.
“I feel bad. About San, I mean. Well, I feel bad in general, but I really feel bad about San.”
“Why, did something happen?” Yeosang inquired. He scooted himself the rest of the way onto the bed so he was seated across from Wooyoung, who was now fully sitting up with his head resting back against the headboard, absentmindedly picking at the label of the Gatorade bottle in his hands.
“You mean besides him spending the entire night cleaning my puke? I- Sorry-“ he mumbled when he caught a glimpse of the mildly disgusted look on his friend’s face. Yeosang waved him off, and he continued, “I just feel guilty. He said it was fine, but I know he was lying. No one wants to spend their time looking after a sick person, it’s gross. I’m gross.”
Yeosang looked incredulous. “Young-ah, you know this is San we’re talking about, right? The San who would drop everything and run the moment he knew you needed something? The San who would give you the shirt off his back, and probably his pants and shoes too if you asked for them? That San?”
Wooyoung didn’t meet his eyes.
Yeosang scooted forward, trying to get a better look at his friend’s face. “What’s going on with you? It’s not like San hasn’t seen you sick before, why is it such a big deal this time?”
Before Wooyoung could respond, Yeosang’s phone buzzed with an incoming text.
🪨: I’m at the door. didn’t wanna knock in case Youngie’s still sleeping. can you let me in?
“Sannie’s here,” Yeosang relayed, already moving to answer the door. He turned back to point at Wooyoung before opening it. “This conversation isn’t over,” he warned, although his tone was light as he did so. He wasn’t upset, just concerned at his usually unabashed friend’s sudden insecurity.
Wooyoung could hear their hushed conversation from his place on the bed as Yeosang filled San in on the details of the rest of their night. ‘No, he hasn’t thrown up again (thank god). Yes, he’s still running a fever, but I think it’s lower than when you left. No, he hasn’t tried to eat anything yet, but he’s been able to keep down some Gatorade, but surely that much colored dye can’t be good for a sick person, right?’ Yeosang conveniently left out the part about Wooyoung definitely acting weird as fuck. Good, Wooyoung thought.
Why was it such a big deal this time? He repeated Yeosang’s question to himself while the two older members talked quietly in the doorway, trying to figure out what suddenly felt so different. Out of the dozens of times San had seen him sick, or hurt, or crying… why was he suddenly embarrassed this time? He normally had no problems with being vulnerable. He cried openly, complained even more so, and famously loved being doted on when he was sick. So why was it such a big deal this time? Wooyoung repeated the question again, but he already knew the answer, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. Something had shifted that night for him, a feeling he’d been trying to ignore for months out of fear of ruining the dynamic of the group or worse, his friendship with San. There had been a brief moment when he’d opened the door, just a split second before his stomach sent him scrambling back over the toilet, where he’d made eye contact with San. San, eyes still half lidded with sleep, tightly clutching Shiber under his arm, looking so worried. About him. Suddenly Wooyoung couldn’t ignore it, and now the idea of San seeing him vulnerable just didn’t feel easy the way it did with everyone else anymore. Wooyoung sighed, dragging the back of his hand across his face. He wanted to go back to sleep and pretend none of this had ever happened.
Stupid, nasty fish, he thought to himself with a huff. Ruining everything good in my life.
“I’ll go fill Hongjoong hyung in on what happened so he can let the managers know,” Yeosang told San, before peeking his head back around the corner to wave goodbye to Wooyoung. “Feel better Youngie! We’ll tell ATINY you miss them!”
Wooyoung offered his friend a small smile, returning the wave as the older member left the room, before turning his attention to San, who was already making his way over to the bed. A worried frown tugged at his lips upon seeing the state his friend was in. Wooyoung was expecting him to be tired, given how little sleep he must’ve been able to get that night, but San looked utterly beat. He was still in his pajamas and his hair was a mess, sticking up oddly on the side in a way Wooyoung wasn’t unfamiliar with seeing on the likes of Yunho or Jongho, but rarely on their perfectly poised San, and man, had those dark circles been there last night? Wooyoung was too out of it to have noticed. San still looked handsome- when did he not?- and it was nothing the stylist noonas couldn’t fix with a little bit of concealer and some hair gel, but the evidence of the night’s events were written clearly on his face and it made Wooyoung’s stomach turn with a familiar guilt. Had he even stopped to wash his face, or had he woken up and immediately come to check on Wooyoung?
"How are you feeling, baby?" San asked through a yawn as he went to take up Yeosang’s former position on the edge of the bed. He placed a hand on Wooyoung’s thigh over the covers, and Wooyoung felt his heart skip a beat.
"Like flaming garbage, but at least I don't feel like I'm about to puke my guts out every 15 minutes anymore," Wooyoung laughed awkwardly. "I'm sorry for keeping you up, by the way. You didn't need to stay, I was fine."
San scoffed in disbelief. "Woo, you were most definitely not fine. You threw up like a million times and you were running a pretty gnarly fever. Yeosang said you haven’t been sick again since I left though, and he thinks your fever went down, so that’s good.” He placed a hand on Wooyoung’s forehead to confirm his findings, giving a satisfied nod at the relative coolness he found compared to the prior night. “Probably means whatever nasty thing you ate is almost out of your system now.”
Wooyoung hummed in agreement, taking another sip of his Gatorade.
“Besides,” San continued, shifting his hand from Wooyoung’s forehead to tuck a stray bit of hair behind his ear, “I wanted to stay.”
Wooyoung paused with the bottle halfway to his lips, looking up to meet San’s gaze. He looked tired, but he didn’t look mad or disgusted, like Wooyoung had expected him to be. Quite the opposite, in fact. There was something soft in his eyes, something that made Wooyoung’s stomach flip in an entirely different way than it had been doing all night.
“Why though? I mean yeah, I know I was sick, but you could’ve called Seonghwa hyung to come over. He’s usually the one who deals with things like this.” Wooyoung didn’t know if it was the residual fever making him feel bold, or that spark of whatever he’d seen in San’s eye, but he couldn’t help but push.
“I didn’t want Seonghwa to be the one taking care of you. I wanted to do it.”
“But why?”
San paused for a moment, gathering the courage to get the words out. He hadn’t planned on confessing like this, but after the night the two had shared, suddenly the idea of keeping his feelings to himself any longer felt unbearable.
“Because I love you, Wooyoung,” he finally managed to say.
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“You… love me?”
“Yes, I love you. I’m in love with you. However you wanna say it.” San rested his eyes on Wooyoung’s face, who suddenly looked like he’d been asked to try and understand rocket science. San knew he should probably feel exasperated at his friend’s utter cluelessness, but honestly, he couldn’t help but feel a bit endeared. Even with his hair a mess, still half up in the ponytail San had thrown it into the night before, even with his skin pale and clammy from a fever that hadn’t quite broken yet, even after having cleaned his stomach contents off the floor (and his own shirt after one particular instance he’d rather not remember the details of in the midst of that entire awful night)… even with all that, Wooyoung still looked beautiful. “Woo?” He gently called the younger’s name after he didn’t answer.
Wooyoung scrunched his nose in thought, trying to make sense of what he’d just been told, trying to think of a way to respond to his best friend so plainly reflecting back to him what he’d been trying all night to pretend he didn’t feel. His brain felt like mush, his stomach still felt a bit unsettled despite no longer actively feeling like he was going to turn himself inside out, and he felt weirdly sticky all over. This was not what he’d been expecting, at all.
“Oh,” he finally settled on once more, his feverish brain having tried and failed to come up with an adequate response.
“Is that all you have to say? Mr.Chatterbox suddenly at a loss for words?” San teased. He, too, was feeling bolder than he ought to be, considering the man he’d just confessed his feelings to was currently staring at him like he’d grown another head, but something in his gut told him it was okay, and now that he’d gotten the words out, all he felt was a strange sense of calm.
Wooyoung thought for another second, glancing down at his still fidgeting hands, before raising his eyes to meet San’s once more. “Can I kiss you?”
Now, it was San’s turn to be rendered speechless.
***
Author’s Note: Jongho, our beloved maknae with a stomach of steel, was entirely fine with not even the slightest hint of a stomach ache to complain of. He did, however, find great amusement in the idea of his hyung being taken down a piece of fish, although he was nice enough to save the brunt of his teasing until after Wooyoung could bear to be in the same room as seafood without gagging again.
*crawls out of rabbit hole, covered in dirt and with leaves and twigs stuck in my hair*
So, um…I may have fallen down a rabbit hole while working on Casey’s present, and now I have an AU of my AU where Rye has a half-sister
What can I say? Arin and Euphrasia are SUPER cute together
“Don’t let go.”
“I’m not gonna let go,” I promise, giving her an encouraging smile. “C’mon. Just a little more. I wanna see you get off the ground this time.”
“I’m scared.”
“You got this, Dee.”
She scrunches her eyes shut and grips my fingers tight enough to cut off circulation. The tiny breeze circling her sneakers picks up a tad, swirling into visible wisps around her feet, but it’s still not enough to get her off the floor. Her brow furrows as she summons a little more power into the air, and her feet finally lift a couple inches above the ground.
“You’re doing it, Dee!”
Her body tenses, and she wobbles a bit as her control grows shaky. In an effort to correct herself, she increases the airflow, lifting herself a little higher and causing her already weak balance to become even more unsteady. Immediately, she panics.
“Don’t let go, Rye! Don’t let go!”
“I couldn’t let go even if I wanted to,” I laugh, internally wincing at the pressure in my knuckle joints. Dang. Her grip strength ain’t no joke.
The wind suddenly evaporates as her control fizzles out, and she touches back down on the ground. Within seconds, she’s buried herself face-first in my hoodie, trembling terribly with shaky breaths.
“Hey, that was pretty good.” I wrap my arms around her, squashing her just enough to make her quaking stop. “You did good, Dee.”
“That was horrible. I never wanna do it ever again,” she mutters into the thick fabric. Still, she eases up a little and melts into my hug.
I pat her back with a grin. Hug works every time.
“Your brother’s right.” Uncle Lloyd gives her a smile from his seat on the wooden steps when she finally pops her head up from being swallowed by my hoodie. “Control is something that takes time to develop, but I think you did very well today, Destiny.”
“Thanks, Uncle Lloyd,” she mumbles, clearly still freaked out by her brief levitation.
My phone dings somewhere in my hoodie pocket, and I maneuver my hand around her to fish it out, checking the notification. “Aw, shoot. We gotta get going. Mom has to be at work in half an hour.”
“That’s alright,” Uncle Lloyd grunts, pulling himself to his feet with his staff. “I think we’re done for today.
“Keep practicing, Destiny,” he adds with a soft smile. “You’ve done so well in such a short time.”
“Thanks. I will.”
With one last grin at us, Uncle Lloyd turns and shuffles inside the monastery to do…whatever it is that he does all day. Master stuff, I guess.
Shoving that thought to the side for now, I beam down at her still latched onto my middle. “You ready to head home?”
Her head instantly pops up with a big, excited grin. “Can I drive?”
“You? Drive?” I try to frown at her, but her smile burns straight through it. Are all little sisters this irresistible? Or is she just extra adorable somehow? Twirling the keys into my palm, I let them slip into her hand and sigh. “‘Til we reach the city limits.”
“Yes!” She pumps her fist and practically flies over to my off-roader, scrambling into the driver’s seat.
“And not in mech mode,” I warn. “Don’t think you’re quite ready for that yet.”
“I know, I know.”
After I’ve climbed in behind her, and once she’s boosted the seat up enough that she can see out the windshield, I unlock the front seat controls. “‘Kay. Remember to go easy on the throttle until after we’re out of the courtyard.”
“I know, Rye.”
“Just makin’ sure. You remember where the boost button is?”
“How could I forget?”
I can hear the grin on her face, and I snort as the memory of her randomly pressing buttons, trying to figure out how to get the off-roader to stop, enters my mind. Of course, she hadn’t realized that there was a brake pedal instead of a button and had sent us rocketing through the desert for several miles before I’d finally managed to show her how to get it to stop. Heh, good times.
With practiced grace, she boosts us over the monastery wall (really glad she figured that one out. I was getting tired of having to rebuild the wall all the time) and drives down the side of the mountain. The wheels slip a couple times on the way down, but she manages to stay in control of the steering. Once we’ve reached more level ground, she blasts us over a natural rock ramp with a whoop.
“Nothin’ too crazy, Dee,” I remind her, but a proud smile decorates my face anyway.
Destiny and I have been besties pretty much since she was born. I’d been pretty excited to learn I was going to be a big brother, even though she’s only my half-sister. In my eyes, it just meant a bigger family with Dad 2, Aunt Mom, and Dee. And I couldn’t love my crazy family any more than I already do.
“Good job getting up in the air today, Dee. Really proud of you.”
“Yeah….” She grips the steering wheel a little tighter and sighs. “Only got a few inches though.”
“Better than I could’ve done.”
“You don’t have wind powers, silly,” she giggles. Her lighthearted tone falls flat as she continues. “But if you did, you’d be much better at using them than me.”
“That’s not true. You’re awesome with your powers.”
“I can lift stuff, not myself,” she corrects. “I just…it’s scary being up high, and what if I fall? I could get really hurt.”
“Y’know, I think that’s the cool thing about your powers. If you fall, you have the ability to catch yourself.” I smile even though she can’t see. “Not like me. If something goes wrong, it usually explodes. Catastrophically.”
She lets out a short laugh before her face falls again as her own disparaging thoughts return. “But what if…what if I can’t catch myself? What if something happens, and I’m unconscious? Or what if I’m too scared to catch myself?”
I gently squeeze her shoulder and flash her a grin in the rear view mirror. “Then I’ll catch you.”
Her grateful smile fills my heart with all sorts of fuzzy feelings and reminds me for the thousandth time why I love being a big brother. I love being able to chase all her bad thoughts away, to encourage her to break her limits and reach for the sky. I love seeing her be the eager, passionate girl I know she is. ‘Cause what else are big brothers for?
The city limits soon come into view, and I take the opportunity to switch the controls to my dashboard. With the off-roader now in my control, I launch us off another stone ramp and press the button to transform into mech mode. We roll through the Crossroads, avoiding cars and pedestrians with the grace of a breakdancer, every twist and turn ingrained into my memory. At the town square, I shoot out my mech’s tether beam, swinging us over the entire plaza and up onto the rooftops.
“I don’t know how you ever got this good,” Dee comments as we hop effortlessly from rooftop to rooftop, dodging every tv antenna and flock of birds that sits in our way.
I burst into laughter. “Tons and tons of practice. Plus lots of groundings. I missed the entire tenth season of Nitefall because I crashed into the mayor’s flat.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah….” I grimace. Not one of my proudest moments. Not by a long shot.
After flipping over a few more alleys, I land us smack dab in the middle of my workshop behind my parents’ place and transform back into vehicle mode. “Perfect park,” I say as the cockpit cracks open. Sliding down to the ground, I land just in time to catch her when her foot slips on the slick surface.
“See? Told ya I’d catch you,” I quip, shooting her a wink.
She hugs me tight, a little shaken but otherwise safe. “Thanks.”
I set her down, and the two of us head to the back door, slipping through the sliding door and stepping over Kiki’s body lying across the floor. My goofy cat bats at my feet with all three of her paws, trying to sink her claws into my shoe, before jumping up and meowing loudly as though demanding I pet her for the inconvenience. I roll my eyes and drag my hand along her spine to placate her.
“Hi, Keeks. Glad to see you too.”
“Kiki! How’re you, girl?”
A hearty meow and headbutt is her only reply as Dee loses herself to the clingy tabby. I shake my head with a smile and instead focus on locating Mom.
I find her in the kitchen, putting the final touches on dinner so it can cook in the crockpot. She turns and smiles at me from washing her hands in the sink before turning her attention to somewhere in the living room.
“Alex! Look who’s home!”
Minutes later, he toddles into the kitchen, speeding up as fast as his little legs will take him when he spies me. “Daddie!” he cheers, grabbing onto my pants and hopping on stiff legs.
“Hey, bud!” I hoist him into my arms and give him a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek. “How’re you?”
“Daddie, I pew pew.”
“I see,” I laugh, shuffling my little gaming buddy to the side and tousling his wild hair. “We’ll ‘pew pew’ here in a bit, ok?”
He nods and snuggles into me, sticking his thumb into his mouth.
Dee, having finally let my cat return to her own devices, swoops in and snags Mom in a giant hug. “Nani Sue!”
Mom is quick to return the hug, adding in an extra squeeze for good measure. “Hi, Dee! How did training go?”
“Not too good.” Dee scuffs her shoe on the floor. “Still scared.”
“She got off the ground though,” I chip in, flashing her a proud smile.
“Only a few inches.”
“Hey! That’s still really good!” Mom lifts her chin and strokes her cheeks, a glimmer of motherly pride shining in her eyes. “I’m proud of you, Dee.”
With a bashful grin, Dee buries herself back into Mom’s arms. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie.”
After another moment, Mom finally lets her go and glances at the clock above the stove. “Ok, I need to get going. Your dad –” she points at Dee “– said he’d be here at six to pick you up.”
“‘Kay.”
Mom turns her attention to me. “I’m probably going to be late tonight, so you and your dad can eat whenever, and I will eat when I get home.”
“‘Kay.” I plant a kiss on her cheek. “Good luck at work.”
She smiles and kisses me in return. “Thanks.
“Do I get a goodbye kiss?” she asks Alex, who immediately scrambles to give her the biggest, messiest kiss ever. Complete with a loud “mwah” at the end.
“Oh, thank you!” Mom wipes the drool off her cheek with a chuckle. “I’ll see you later, ok?”
Alex enthusiastically waves, almost smacking me in the face, his cheeks nearly split open from his wide smile. “Bye!”
“Bye, buddy.” She sternly points between me and Dee. “You two behave.”
“We’ll do our best,” I promise with a cheeky grin. I don’t even flinch at her dangerous glare, too used to her “Mom face” for it to be very effective anymore. I know it’s just a front anyway.
“Bye, Nani,” Dee chirps, snapping Mom out of her sternness.
“Bye.”
After one final hug, Mom grabs her purse and disappears around the corner. A few seconds later, the front door shuts firmly, signaling that she’s left the house. We now have free rein.
“Daddie, I pew pew.”
Chuckling, I give Alex a light squeeze, heart growing soft from his sweet smile. “Alright, bud. We can pew pew now.”
I flash a grin at Dee. “You gonna join? One of my squad mates isn’t playing tonight, so there’s a spot open.”
Her bright smile holds that competitive spirit she’s so well known for. Even if she’s not the greatest at shooter games, she’ll still give the other players a run for their money. And my buddies are pretty chill with her playing with us on occasion.
Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I unlock it and toss it to her. “Downloaded the latest update, just for you.”
“Thanks.”
The three of us migrate upstairs to my bedroom, Kiki darting ahead with an impatient meow, and settle in our respective spots: Alex and me in my gaming chair, and Dee flopped on my bed with Kiki tucked all cozy on her back. As I boot up the game and fix my headphones over my ears, I can’t stop the smile from stretching my cheeks. There’s no better way I’d rather spend an afternoon than playing with my two favorite gaming buddies.
A small snippet I just wrote because the thought was too powerful lol
Basically, my idea for a piece of season 5
“I thank you, ninja, for bringing me the final Dragon Icon,” Ras purred with a sneer, his tail sweeping behind him in a slow, victorious arc.
Sora huffed, her stance shifting to a more ready position. “What are you talking about? You already stole the Icon Lloyd had. We’d know if we had another one.”
“Besides,” Cole added, “the Source Dragon of Balance is dead. Only a living Source Dragon can give its energy to an Icon.”
Instead of snarling at them, Ras threw back his head and filled the plains around them with his deep laughter. “Before the Merge, you knew nothing of Source Dragons, and now you think you know everything? How simple-minded you all are.
“A Source Dragon can never truly die. The elements tied to that Source Dragon’s energy would cease to exist otherwise, and the very fabric of existence would be jeopardized.” Ras shook his head and turned away from them. “No, when a Source Dragon dies, their essence is reborn as a new being. Over time, their power returns until they eventually ascend to take their place among the Sources again.”
“O…kay? Sure, that’s a great history lesson, but we don’t have any Source Dragons with us,” Arin chimed in.
“He means me.”
All eyes jerked to the dragon in their midst, shocked as his voice sounded in their minds for the first time. Even more shocking than that though, was the weight of authority in his otherwise soft voice. Despite his rather young age, he sounded ancient, wise, powerful.
Riyu lifted his head higher, his flaming eyes locking onto Ras as the tiger turned back towards the group.
“I am the new Source Dragon of Balance-” rising to his full height, Riyu reached back to unsheathe his swords “-and as long as that Balance is mine to maintain, I will FIGHT FOR IT!”
With a challenging roar, the young Source Dragon charged, meeting Ras in a clash of steel. Riyu’s attacks struck with authoritative power, but Ras, wielding the Icons of Strength and Energy, managed to answer each blow. Ras’ feral growls and wild eyes told them the balance would soon tip out of their favor.
Lloyd whirled to Sora and Arin. “You two have to get him out of here!”
“What?” Arin sputtered, grabbing their teacher by the sleeve before he could jump in after everyone else. “Why?”
“Don’t you see? As long as Riyu is here, he’s in danger. And if Ras gets that last Icon from him, then so will the entire Merged Lands!”
“What about you?” Sora’s voice trembled, her eyes shimmering under a layer of water. There was a fear in her expression that said she knew someone wasn’t going to make it.
Lloyd met her frightened eyes with his own determined gaze and quickly pulled the two into a firm embrace. “You take Riyu,” he instructed, each word heavy with emotion, “and you leave.” Before the duo had fully registered the sheer heartbreak in his voice, their teacher turned and, pulling out his dao with a yell, joined the fray.
@chiarucha (for when you get back😉) @the-real-pink-ninja and @caseyboltshadow (since we’ve chatted a bit about this)
You didn’t really think Coldsweat was the only second gen ship I had, did you? 😈 I’ve got Highspeedinternet shipping too
“Man. This place is huge!”
I gawk up at the towering buildings and spires sprawled around us, feeling utterly small. The whole city looks like something straight out of Nitefall. I kinda want to explore and see if I can find any cache boxes.
“Didn’t seem that big on the invitation,” Aura remarks, gazing at the city in awe.
“Trust me. It’s way bigger than you think.” Uncle Lloyd sidesteps a couple citizens (temple keepers? Monks? I don’t really know) and continues walking. “Don’t stray too far. Wouldn’t want anyone to get lost.”
Plenty of stares are thrown our way, probably because of the size of our group. With sixteen people in total, we’re kinda hard to miss. Almost like we’re celebrities. It’s both cool and a little scary at the same time.
“Any sign of the ‘Master of Ceremonies’?” Dad 2 asks, his brown eyes searching the sky for some reason.
Dad 1 shakes his head and flicks out his tongue. “Nope. And no sign of Wyldfyre either.”
Uncle Kai laughs. “I’m surprised she hasn’t pounced on me yet. She’s usually got some sort of sixth sense for when I’m-”
As if on cue, a blur suddenly leaps out of the bushes with a roar and tackles him to the ground. Aiden simply steps to the side to avoid the two, shaking his head with a tiny smile.
“KAI! YOU’RE HERE!”
“GET OFF MY KIDNEYS!”
Everyone laughs as the eldest two red ninja scramble off the ground, Aunt Wyld’s face split into her signature sharp grin. Uncle Kai mutters something under his breath about getting too old for ambushes and accepts Aiden’s help hoisting himself back to his feet with a grunt.
Aunt Wyld moves to stand between my dads and slings her arms over their shoulders. “Good to see you guys! Thought you weren’t gonna make it.”
“Sorry we’re late.” Uncle Lloyd runs his fingers through his hair with a sheepish smile. “Took awhile to get everyone together.”
“Nah, you’re right on time! Roby’s gonna announce the first round any minute.” She looks around with a small frown. “Where’s Sora?”
“Mom stayed home with Alex,” I explain. “Figured it wasn’t a good idea to bring a ten month old to a big event like this.”
“Yeah…probably not.” She starts dragging my dads along with an excited grin. “C’mon! We better head to the games plaza!”
We follow her into an open arena, grandstands already flowing with various elemental masters and other spectators and a huge Jumbotron displaying different symbols representing the seven Source Dragons. The air buzzes with animated conversation, and a shiver travels down my spine. It feels like entering a Ninja Slam Esports Grand Tournament.
“Welp, I’m gonna go mingle,” Aunt Wyld announces, finally releasing my dads’ necks. “See you peeps later.”
She points a finger at Aiden, flashing him a quick grin and wink. “I look forward to our battle, bro.”
“If you make it that far,” Aiden quips back, arms crossed confidently over his chest.
Aunt Wyld shoots him a devilish smirk before disappearing into the stands.
Seconds later, band music blares over the speakers and fireworks blast into the sky. A hoverboard type thing whizzes overhead toward a balcony overlooking the plaza, narrowly avoiding the big screens. A man steps off and faces the crowd with a giant smile as he hoists a trophy high into the air. The crowd roars.
“I see Roby hasn’t changed much,” Uncle Cole chuckles.
“You should see him at family dinners,” Uncle Kai grumbles with a fond smile. “Always has to glamorize everything.”
“Welcome, Elemental Masters, to the grand Tournament of the Sources!” Roby announces. “I’m your host and Master of Ceremonies, Roby Fang! And this” -he lifts the trophy up again- “is the Elemental Cup, your ticket to being crowned the next Champion of the Sources!”
The crowd erupts in cheers, and an excited tingle shimmies down my back. I had no idea this was going to be so awesome.
He casually tosses the Elemental Cup in the general direction of a nearby security bot, who barely catches it, and continues with his speech. “Many elements enter. Only one can be victorious! Are you ready?”
Screams fill the arena.
“Then let the games begin! As per tradition, the first fight is between the current master of whatever element holds the title of Champion and the master of an element not present for the last tournament. So…first up is Riyu, Master of Technology…”
My mind blanks for a brief second until it’s processed exactly what he’d said. I glance back at the others, brow quirked. “How does he know my real name?”
I only get shrugs or blank stares in response.
“…versus Julia, Master of Speed!”
I maybe catch a small glimpse of my opponent on the opposite side of the plaza, but my brain is still focused on one specific thing. “Seriously though? How does he know my real name?? I didn’t even know my real name until I was nine!”
Ignoring my question, Aiden slides up beside me. “You sure you’re up for this? You only started your physical training a couple months ago. You don’t even know Spinjitzu.”
“I’ll be fine.” I pat his shoulder. “This is an elemental tournament. I’ve got plenty of practice using my powers.”
An arm suddenly wraps around my neck in a hug while a fist roughly noogies my hair. “Go get ‘em, tiger,” Dad 2 chirps with a grin.
Dad 1 gently knocks his knuckles against my cheek, his fangs poking out in a big smile. “You got this, buddy!”
With my dads’ proud grins and my teammates’ encouragement at my back, I hop up to the edge of the ring. My stomach squirms a little as the crowd cheers and claps, and I try not to think about my shaking legs. Wow, the lights are really bright up here.
I finally notice the other person on the other side of the ring. Shining, blazing red hair swept into a thick ponytail and pink visor shielding her face from the glaring spotlights, she bounces on her toes and shakes out her hands. She practically vibrates with energy, whether it’s nervous or natural is hard to tell. But then she glances up and smiles at me, and my brain stops working.
I know her. She’s from my school. I- I didn’t know she was an Elemental Master!
She’s so much different than the quiet, subdued girl I’ve occasionally seen haunting the halls between classes. She seems more alive and free, like the girl at school is nothing more than a husk of who she really is. I never would’ve guessed she was an Elemental Master, much less the Master of Speed.
Her smile broadens as she gives me a respective bow, and I jolt a little before automatically returning the gesture. When did I step into the ring? I don’t remember doing that.
“Fighters ready?” A pause. A bell rings. “Begin!”
I blink, and she’s gone.
“Hope you got a lotta horsepower, Riyu!” her voice calls from somewhere, I don’t even know where. “‘Cause I can go all day!”
Before I can even begin to process the way my stomach flips when she says my name, a gust of wind blows past me, and I could’ve sworn I caught a bright grin as she whizzes past.
“Does Technology apply to only coding? Or does it cover all aspects of machinery? ‘Cause if it’s just coding, you may need to actually hit me to have a chance. Just sayin’.”
I can’t keep track of her, but her words cause realization to click in my head. I have powers, duh. Use them!
At first, I don’t think there’s even anything I can use my powers on. Then I catch a few loose pieces of a nearby platform and, after making sure it’s safe to use, turn them into twin condensed-light swords, just like from Nitefall.
Ok. At least I have weapons now.
“Hey! That’s pretty cool! So can you make pretty much anything out of metal and gears? Or does it have to have some sort of electronic component with it? Wish I could just whip up my own phone like that! Although…you’d have to have some way of syncing it to a preexisting system. Think that’d be kinda hard.”
One would think it’d be easy to keep track of her when she’s talking so much, but she’s moving so fast, it sounds like she’s everywhere at once. A flash of red hair here. A blur of her white tracksuit there. ‘Round and ‘round she zips until I’m too dizzy to think straight.
A fist suddenly flies out of nowhere and connects with my face, sending me sprawling out of the ring. My vision swims as I lay there, not really sure what happened. All I know is there’s a stinging in the side of my face, and it hurts.
“-oa! Y- -kay -ere, -dy?”
“-an, -at look- -ike it -urt.”
My brain gradually separates my dads into two separate beings again, and I slowly move to sit up. A long groan falls out of my mouth, but I don’t even know if I’m trying to actually say something or if I’m just groaning in agony. One eye is harder to see out of than the other, the corresponding side of my face throbbing. I think my eye is swollen? Hard to tell when my head is still spinning.
“You okay, Rye?”
Was that Dad 1? Or Dad 2?
“Think so…” someone mumbles. It takes a second for me to realize that it was me who spoke. Boy, my brain got rattled good.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t trying to aim for your face! I was trying to nick your shoulder, but I think that wouldn’t’ve been much better.”
I manage to gaze into her wide, pretty eyes. The color reminds me of the store bought guacamole my grandma always brings to Thanksgiving. I don’t really like the store bought stuff, but I eat it anyway. ‘Cause I love my grandma and all.
…what was I doing?
“D’n’t worry ‘bout it.” Why does my mouth feel weird? “Gotta hard face.”
It could be the concussion talking, but I’m pretty sure I hear a giggle come from her, and my heart jumps at the sweet sound. It’s even more beautiful than the boot up jingle for my Gamebox. And I really like that cute little melody it plays whenever it turns on.
“Let’s get you checked out, buddy. I think you’ve got a nasty concussion.”
I lean on…someone…and nod, stopping when my brain feels like it’s sloshing around in my skull. “…’kay….”
A weird tickle leaves my body, and suddenly my brain feels a little lighter than before. It still holds a herd of stampeding Minos though. I squint against the awful pounding in my head, finally starting to understand what had happened.
I lost. The quiet girl from school beat me in a single punch. And all I have to say?
(gotta tag my Coldsweat peeps @ruch579 @the-real-pink-ninja @caseyboltshadow. Sorry it’s short)
Nothing has ever hurt me more in my entire life than losing Aiden. Not the guilt of being the only one of hundreds to survive the monastery exploding. Not the countless nightmares I’ve had. Not even when Dylan and I had broken up several years ago.
I stare at the last message he sent me over a month ago, my eyes filling with hurt again at the blunt words.
Sriracha🔥: I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. I’m done
I bury my face in my knees and sob. It hadn’t hurt this bad when Dylan broke up with me. Maybe it’s because I’d seen it coming that time. I don’t blame him for walking out on me when I’d been lying to him the whole time. It was better that we went our own ways.
But with Aiden? It feels like something is clawing into my heart and lapping up all the happiness I’d felt when we were together. Everywhere I look, something reminds me of him and feeds the parasite sapping me of my joy. I’ve never felt so hurt, so alone, so empty before.
I wish I could talk to someone about all this. But I don’t think Mother and Father would be much help for once, and I’m a little scared of what they might do to Aiden if I told them. Aura comes to mind, but…her family is still grieving. Just like we all are.
So I sit on my bed, curled up into a tight ball, and clutch Biscuit to my chest as if she could ease the pain there. I stroke her long, soft ears that have worn thin from years of love, hoping that maybe some of that love might come back to me. It’s not the same as his warm hand in mine though, and I cry harder.
How can love be so strong and yet so fragile, so sweet and yet so painful? How can one possibly heal a heart that’s been shattered like tempered glass? How could I ever move on after feeling the true power of Fire? How could I crave what I fear the most?
How could Aiden shut himself down when I need him most?
