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The house was silent, save for the occasional groan of the old radiator. Chan and Minho were fast asleep, tangled up in a familiar, comfortable heap in their shared bed. For once, the house seemed at peace.
That peace didn’t last long.
A hesitant knock at their door broke through the quiet, followed by a small, timid voice.
“Chan? Minho?”
Minho stirred first, his brow furrowing as he blinked groggily at the clock. “It’s two in the morning,” he mumbled, nudging Chan. “Your turn.”
Chan grunted in protest but sat up, his protective instincts kicking in. “What’s wrong?” he called softly.
The door creaked open, revealing Jeongin standing there, clutching his stomach and looking pale. His wide eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and his voice was barely above a whisper.
“I threw up,” he said miserably.
Both Chan and Minho were on their feet in an instant.
“Oh, buddy,” Chan said, crossing the room to Jeongin and placing a gentle hand on his back. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Minho rubbed his eyes and followed, muttering under his breath about kids always being sick at the worst times but already grabbing a fresh set of sheets from the closet.
In Jeongin’s room, the evidence was clear: a tragic mess on the bed and the floor. Jeongin stood to the side, looking mortified.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, his head hanging low.
“Hey, none of that,” Minho said firmly, setting the clean sheets down and ruffling Jeongin’s hair. “It happens.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Chan added with a reassuring smile. “Let’s get you sorted out first, then we’ll handle this.”
Twenty minutes later, Jeongin was freshly showered and wrapped in one of Chan’s oversized hoodies, his pale face looking a little better. Chan and Minho had managed to clean up the worst of the mess and strip the bed, but it was clear Jeongin wasn’t going to be sleeping there tonight.
Chan tilted his head toward their room. “You’re coming with us.”
Jeongin blinked. “What?”
“You’re not sleeping alone after this,” Minho said, already guiding him down the hall. “Come on, kid.”
Jeongin didn’t have the energy to argue. He let them settle him between them in their bed, Minho fussing over him like true mom while Chan tucked the blanket up to his chin.
“Do you feel okay now?” Chan asked, brushing Jeongin’s damp hair back.
Jeongin nodded, his eyes drooping. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Minho pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. “Next time, just aim for the bathroom, okay?”
Jeongin managed a small laugh. “I’ll try.”
Chan chuckled, settling back down beside him. “Good. Now sleep. We’ve got you.”
Surrounded by their warmth and care, Jeongin was out like a light within minutes. Chan and Minho exchanged a soft smile over his head, their unspoken agreement clear: these boys were their family, through thick and thin—even at 2 a.m. with a stomach bug.