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When Sehun wakes up, he’s burning.
Everything is too hot, covers like a furnace, but at the same time he’s frozen, shivering as goosebumps prickle at his exposed skin. His eyes feel like they’re glued shut, and it’s with no small feeling of dread that Sehun swallows and registers the raw, sandpaper texture of his throat.
Fuck.
He can’t get sick, not now, not when they’re just about to start the next leg of their tour. Their manager will murder him.
A glance at the clock tells him he’s up far too early, the very first threads of sunlight filtering through the gaps in the blinds. They have a rest day today, but the flight is tomorrow. So Sehun basically has one day to get better, because bad things happen when he gets on planes still sick.
Shuffling around leads to nothing but dizzy spells and aching limbs, so Sehun figures it’d be better to get up. Not to mention he’s rooming with Kyungsoo this tour, and he’s going to be even more dead if he manages to get him sick, too.
He abandons bed in favour of the bathroom, stumbling a little from the light-headedness that accompanies him standing up. He’s never been more grateful that their room has an ensuite, because back at the dorm it’s pretty much certain that Minseok would already be up, and the last thing Sehun needs is to be discovered like this.
The white light and gleaming porcelain does nothing to help the throbbing in Sehun’s temple, but it’s colder in here and he sinks to the floor with a sigh of relief.
He doesn’t know how bad he looks, doesn’t really want to know either, but the shower door is so clean there’s a reflection, and the first time Sehun sees it he doesn’t recognise himself. That leads to the strenuous task of getting up off the floor and slumping over the sink instead.
Shit. It’s bad.
He’s a sickly grey-pale, lips too red and eyes too bright, and Sehun sort of feels like laughing when he looks at his hair. It’s so messy it could probably rival Jongin’s.
His jaw hurts, too, which is never a good sign, and his nose is the irritating type of stuffy that never clears, even when you use half a tissue box on it. More than that though, Sehun feels weak. It’s infuriating, and coupled with the icy-hot flashes he’s getting today does not look good.
Groaning, Sehun drops his head to rest against the mirror.
Fuck.
<><><>
He gets out of the room pretty quickly, dressing and shoving a cap on to try and hide himself – not that he’s very recognisable considering he looks like the walking dead – before going down to the lobby of their hotel.
The receptionist takes pity on him (or maybe it’s the rather large tip Sehun gives her) and goes to the pharmacy. She comes back with an overwhelming amount of pills and cough syrups, of which Sehun uses three. So now his throat doesn’t hurt and his headache has dulled, but his nose is dripping like the world is going to end.
Kyungsoo is up when Sehun gets back to their room, and Sehun manages a half smile in an attempt to fool Kyungsoo into maybe thinking he’s a little more okay than he is. It works… sort of. Because of course his traitorous body just has to go and make him sneeze straight afterwards.
He’s so fucked.
Kyungsoo is startlingly observant, so there was probably no chance of Sehun fooling him in the first place, but that stupid sneeze has just ruined all chances of him suffering alone.
Eyes narrowed, Kyungsoo glares at him suspiciously. Sehun can feel himself wanting to move backwards, make himself as small as he can – Kyungsoo may be short but he’s scary as hell – and then, of all things, he sniffles.
There’s a gleam that shines brighter in Kyungsoo’s eyes, and Sehun knows there is no longer a possibility of him leaving this room today.
“Bed. Now.” Kyungsoo’s voice is still rough from sleep – it doesn’t clear until at least breakfast – unwavering command and a little frustration laced through it, and Sehun is probably delusional but he thinks he hears just the tiniest bit of worry, too.
“But-“
Sehun is silenced with a glare that could send a weaker man to his knees (it’s happened before), and ducks his head. He feels miserable enough without Kyungsoo mad at him, and knowing the rest of the group will probably find out in less than five minutes is motivation to get in bed as quickly as possible.
Jongin and Baekhyun have basically non-existent self preservation instincts given their tendency to hug anyone who looks even a little bit sick for comfort. Sehun doesn’t really mind (hugs are his all-time weakness), but he refuses to get them sick if he can help it.
Soon enough he’s tucked tightly under two sets of covers, and Kyungsoo leaves him with strict orders not to move.
Staring at a chip in the plaster of the wall, Sehun muffles a general cry of agony into one of the many pillows surrounding him. Theoretically, he knows it was inevitable that he would get sick. He doesn’t sleep as much as he should and has been accused of overworking by Jongin of all people (he can’t help it okay, he’s still not good enough), but why did he have to get sick now?
“Fuck,” Sehun breathes.
“Language.” Startled, Sehun jumps so high his shoulders leave the mattress, heart stuttering wildly.
It’s Junmyeon, obviously, because he’s the only one with enough moral high ground to have the right to chastise Sehun for swearing. He turns over, groaning at the crowd now gathered at the doorway. Well, actually it’s only five people, but three of them have personalities big enough to fill an entire arena so Sehun figures it might as well be a crowd.
As expected, Jongin and Baekhyun try to rush over to his bed. They fail, thankfully, held back by Chanyeol who picks them each up with one arm and deposits them in the hallway.
A subtle nod from Junmyeon sees Chanyeol closing the door, and Sehun is left alone with arguably the two most protective members staring at him. He doesn’t feel intimidated, nope, not at all (he totally does).
“Have you taken anything?” Junmyeon’s eyebrows are furrowed, worn blue t-shirt slipping off one shoulder and hair slightly less of a birds nest than Kyungsoo’s. Overall he just looks tired and concerned. (Sehun feels even more horrible because he’s pretty sure that’s one of Yifan’s old t-shirts and Junmyeon only wears those when he’s feeling particularly down)
Sehun nods. “Yeah, painkillers and some sort of cough syrup.” Junmyeon looks vaguely traumatised at the fact that Sehun can’t name what type of medicine he took. In his defence, it was early in the morning and he couldn’t see properly and was slightly delusional with fever.
He sniffles again, and Junmyeon softens a bit.
“I’ll see what I can do about the flight tomorrow. We might be able to get it shifted back.” He smiles, and Sehun is hit with a wave of gratitude.
“Thank you.”
He pulls the covers up tighter, suddenly cold, and observes the silent conversation now occurring between Junmyeon and Kyungsoo. There’s subtle hand gestures and a lot of eye flicks, and Sehun can feel himself smiling a little. It hurts, because his jaw has decided to start throbbing in place of his temple.
Sehun has the sudden burning desire to throw a brick at his stupidly incompetent immune system.
He closes his eyes to ward off the pain, and when they crack open again Junmyeon is gone and Kyungsoo has magically summoned a chair to sit in. Kyungsoo sighs heavily, and Sehun’s eyes start burning just a little.
“Sorry,” he whispers, and curls up tighter under the covers.
Kyungsoo’s head snaps up from where he was staring at his hands, weaving his fingers together, and he stares at Sehun.
“Don’t apologise, it’s not your fault. You work so hard it’s a miracle this didn’t happen sooner, really. I’m just glad it was here rather than on stage.”
Sehun grimaces, and tucks his face into the gap between two pillows. “I’m still sorry,” he mumbles, and can almost feel Kyungsoo rolling his eyes. His nose is now awkwardly half blocked, and trying to breathe through it just leads to strangled coughing, so Sehun resigns himself to a day of mouth-breathing.
A peaceful silence disturbed only by Sehun’s occasional sniffle settles over the room. Light filters bright through the blinds, making the walls glow. The noise level rises, just a little, and Sehun sighs. It’s only been half an hour, and he’s already itching to get up and do something useful with his time. The solo he does with Jongin still isn’t perfect, and they have to perform it in two days.
Gritting his teeth, Sehun tries to combat the restless feeling by turning on his side to face the rest of the room. Kyungsoo is still in the chair, now with a book in hand, and Sehun wants to take a picture. Kyungsoo is so pretty, and Sehun can’t help but wonder if the fever has done something to his brain, because he’s noticed this before (it’d be kind of hard not to) but has never felt the desire to actually voice it like he does now.
His feet have slipped out the bottom of the covers due to his constant need for more warmth and comforting weight on his chest, and Sehun curses his height when he starts shivering again. They’re small, tiny little tremors that are almost unnoticeable to Sehun himself, but Kyungsoo, of course, picks up on it.
“You okay?”
Sehun almost laughs, because he’s so very not okay the question seems hilarious, but settles for “Just cold.”
It comes out as a pitiful squeak, and Sehun sort of hates himself, because probably the last thing Kyungsoo wants is Sehun whining. Fortunately for Sehun, Kyungsoo doesn’t seem annoyed. He does get out of the chair though, and Sehun is very tempted to reach out an arm and grab onto the sweater he’s wearing to stop him leaving.
He doesn’t though, because it’s way too cold and everything hurts and Kyungsoo pins him with a look that says he’ll be in a whole new realm of pain if he tries anything funny.
Sehun ends up feeling a little stupid for worrying, because Kyungsoo stays less than five meters away from Sehun the entire time he’s out of the chair. He goes to his suitcase and pulls out a thick black hoodie, and Sehun doesn’t want to get his hopes up but he really wants Kyungsoo to give him that hoodie.
What ends up happening is even better. Kyungsoo comes back over, throws the hoodie on the chair, and takes off the sweater he’s currently wearing. Sehun blinks, and then a lump of fabric hits him in the face.
He hears laughter, and when one hand snakes out of the covers to pull the sweater off his head, Sehun is blessed with the sight of Kyungsoo pulling the hoodie on, mouth stretched wide in a heart-shaped smile. He’s completely dwarfed by fabric, and something warmly possessive tugs at Sehun’s chest when he realises that it’s his hoodie Kyungsoo is now drowning in.
He’d tease Kyungsoo about stealing his hoodie, but it’s too adorable and Sehun doesn’t really want to, especially now that he has his face half buried in a warm sweater that Kyungsoo was literally just wearing.
It smells like an intoxicating mix of honey and caramel and something slightly smoky, which shouldn’t mix as well as it does but Sehun probably just needs to accept the fact that Kyungsoo is a magical human being.
“You know you’re gonna have to wash this like, twenty times to get the germs out, right?”
Sehun wants to pull the words back as soon as he’s said them, because he’s fucking stupid and just created an opportunity for Kyungsoo to take the sweater away, but all he gets is another smile and soft laugh.
“You’re cold, idiot. Just take it."
Sehun manages a grin back before his jaw twinges and he’s back to glaring at the opposite wall. Only now he has Kyungsoo’s sweater, which makes life infinitely less shit. Even if his nose is blocked and his throat is sore again.
It’s only when his eyes start slipping shut that Sehun registers how tired he is, how soft the pillows feel and how he’s miraculously stopped shivering. The heaviness of his limbs is now weirdly comfortable, and he sinks pliant into the mattress.
He doesn’t know how much time passes in a haze of lucid-dreams and heady warmth, but a voice like liquid silk starts weaving through it at some point and Sehun manages to drag himself out enough to realise that Kyungsoo is singing quietly.
Sehun doesn’t recognise the melody, but it pushes him even deeper, over the edge into the abyss. It’s a long way to fall, and Sehun surrenders to the drop with the image of a heart-shaped smile and the smell of honey caramel as the only things he knows.