Chapter Text
TUESDAY • MORNING
“RISE AND SHINE!”
Taehyung’s dark hotel room was suddenly awash with light and the unwelcome voice was reverberating through his body. Trembling slightly, he partially peeled away his duvet to discover Hoseok's large shape standing at their window; before he could focus on anything more than this vague silhouette, his view was interrupted by a close up of a grinning Hoseok.
“ Rise -- and -- shine !” he repeated, this time enunciated in a whisper as he reached for a handful of Taehyung's left ear.
“ Rude ,” Taehyung croaked, wafting the invasive hand away feebly. He let out a broken whine as he let an exhausted arm flop over the side of the bed. Hoseok laughed softly as he started to gently rock Taehyung out of his slumber.
“You ever going to have breakfast, princess?”
Taehyung sat up with a panicked start and scanned Hoseok.
“You’re dressed, Hobi!”
“That’s the general idea --”
Taehyung’s wide eyed stare whipped around in the direction of his bedside table.
“Oh my god--”
“It’s 11:30 --”
The realisation sunk like a weight in his stomach -- their final rehearsal was at midday.
His gaze returned to Hoseok.
“Why didn’t I -- couldn’t you -- ?”
“Wake you up?” Hoseok finished with a frown. “You kept kicking me when I tried --”
Taehyung looked dumbstruck. A trickle of shame washed through his body.
“Aaaaah, I’m so sorry, Hobi … I don’t remember … ” Taehyung trailed off. He felt himself becoming suddenly frustrated and tearful. Hoseok’s grin melted into concern.
“Are you feeling okay …?”
He stared into the distance for a few moments. Honestly? No.
Frankly, he felt like shit. If so inclined, he could have filed an array of complaints against his body that morning. For one, a litter of frogspawn had crawled into his throat in the middle of the night, and for another, somebody had kindly filled his limbs with hot thick soup. Plus his bizarre fever dreams had managed to outdo themselves on their third or fourth cycle.
But he wasn't in the business of complaining. He swallowed his emotions.
“No,” he admitted in an honest, short tone.
Hoseok placed a hand to his clammy forehead.
“You’re a little hot. Let me get you a drink of water, okay?”
He nodded weakly, and Hoseok marched out of the room.
The moment the door snapped shut, Taehyung collapsed fetally into his duvet.
Panicked thoughts about the concert began to race through his mind. Not today, not today, please. I can't be sick today. He fiddled with his duvet distractedly as he watched a minute of the clock flash forward by one digit. If I can get up now and show Hobi how well I am …
He dragged one leg over the side of his bed, then another … with a strenuous flourish his feet found their target, the floor. His head swam and he watched himself keel over onto it.
Fuck.
His eyeballs were drowning in daylight, the smell of friendly window dust wafting up his nose.
Please turn off the fucking sun.
With the skin of one supporting hand squeaking pathetically against the window pane, he pulled himself into a sitting position. Resting his head against the glass, eyes tightly shut, noise from the street below finally began to register in his mind.
Ah … the sound of wellness …
The air by the window was cool and soothing. The noise of life was energizing. He could almost fool himself into thinking he was well --
“Taetae?”
He opened his eyes -- an extremely worried Namjoon was standing opposite him, holding a glass of water.
“Are you okay?”
Am I okay Am I okay Am I okay --
“ Yeah, I’m fine!” he let out a throaty laugh as he began to stand himself up. He had prepared himself for a major wobble, so he was exceedingly pleased to discover that his vestibular system had promptly righted itself.
Joon glanced at Hoseok questioningly.
Wow, I can laugh, he thought -- his window hand let out another pathetic squeak against the glass.
Namjoon didn't look entirely convinced. He was nodding slowly and incredulously.
“Let's get dressed, shall we?” Namjoon prompted him.
Taehyung grinned a little stupidly as they watched him wander towards his dresser.
“Drink this,” Namjoon ordered as he slid the water along the cabinet towards him. Taehyung pulled the glass to his lips -- his arms didn't feel like his -- were they Namjoon’s? -- … no, no … -- they were his --
A comforting hand -- Hoseok’s -- found his shoulder blade --
“Are you sure you're okay? Honestly? Man to man, you look like shit.”
Taehyung snorted painfully into his water.
“Thanks, dude --” he dribbled at the compliment.
“You’re very pale--” Namjoon interjected.
“You look like death ,” Hoseok nodded, skipping straight to the point.
Tae lifted his head up feebly and -- ah, now he saw himself in the cabinet mirror for the first time.
He really was very pale; his black bangs clung to his forehead in sweaty strings and his mullet -- well, his mullet must be somewhere -- it might have been fruitful to send out a search party --
“The stage crew is still a little jumbled, so rehearsals got pushed by a couple of hours--”
Oh holy Lady of Luck --
“-- so uh, get dressed, okay? We left you some breakfast,” Namjoon finished, giving his arched back a couple of gentle motivational slaps.
Before Taehyung could gather enough of his words together to respond coherently, both of his hyungs had left the room.
He stared at his own reflection for a few moments.
It was going to be one of those days.
Fine .
I'll beat this cold into submission.