Work Text:
Opening the fridge for the third time in the last five minutes shouldn’t have yielded different results. It never had in the past, leading to him getting takeout, going grocery shopping, or resigning himself to a grumbling stomach. This time, however, he spotted a box of takeout hiding behind the milk. Jeongguk picked at it, peeking inside to find cold noodles. He didn’t remember the last time he’d eaten out or ordered something.
“Hey, Jimin-hyung?!” He let his voice rise to be heard through their thin walls, ensuring his roommate could hear him. “Is this box of noodles in the fridge yours?”
He heard a door open, turning to find the man in question poking his head out of his room. Jeongguk’s chest spasmed at the sight of his scrunched nose and thoughtful pout.
“I don’t think so? I haven’t gotten takeout recently.”
Pulling his eyes away from the dark haired man, he opened the box further. Squinting at the contents, he brought it to his nose and sniffed suspiciously. He could feel Jimin’s eyes bearing into him. He tried not to feel self conscious under the gaze. He’d come out of his shell within the past two months of living with the senior—the two of them finding each other on Seoul Housing—but Jimin had the ability to make him nervous and flustered simply by existing.
Probably because he developed a big fat crush on the guy. Who could blame him, really?
“I think you should toss it,” his roommate suggested. “You don’t know how long it’s been in there.”
“It smells and looks okay though,” he argued with a slight petulant whine. He hated wasting food and he was hungry. If he tossed the noodles he’d have to find something else to eat. Cooking was the last thing he wanted to do right now and money was too tight this month to splurge on takeout. He already skipped breakfast.
Jimin’s face twisted, doubting. Jeongguk pointedly closed the fridge door, box in hand. Brown eyes rolled and Jimin shuffled back into his room, tossing over his shoulder, “If you get food poisoning don’t come crying to me.”
“As if,” he muttered under his breath, safely out of earshot. He dumped the contents on a plate and tossed it in the microwave. He stood as far from it as he could, using the whole length of his arm to push the minute button before retreating further. Twenty years old or not, the microwave still scared him. He should have been more scared of what was inside the microwave, but he’d eaten his fair share of questionable food. He’d never suffered for it due to his iron gut. An unknown box of noodles wouldn’t take him out.
Watching videos on his phone, trying to get his brain to shut off enough to sleep, the screen blurred as he was hit with a wave of nausea. Squinting, he blinked through it, trying to focus on the Sett destroying every enemy champ it came across. After a few seconds, he shut off his phone, twisting to lay on his back and close his eyes. The nausea ebbed and flowed—that was so strange. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Not since he rode the Gravatron seven times in a row. That had been years ago. Thinking about it now made him feel sick. He shoved the thoughts away, focusing on breathing in and out slowly, waiting for it to pass.
It didn’t. It grew worse. The alarming thought of, something’s wrong, had him sitting up. Even in the dark, his tiny bedroom swayed dangerously. He dug his hands in his blanket, trying to orient himself. The room felt hot. It was cooler in the living room. Maybe he needed to splash some water on his face. Yeah. That sounded… yeah.
Jeongguk stood, took three steps forward, and promptly tilted to the side. His palms slapped against the wall.
Something was definitely wrong. He couldn’t see straight and his head felt all fuzzy and hot. Not to mention his stomach was twisting and tumbling like an acrobat that couldn’t get off the balance bars. He didn’t understand what was going on, but he needed to get out of his room and into the bathroom.
It took far too much effort to wobble to his door and a lot more to step into the hall. He clung to the walls, pausing every few seconds to gather himself. Panic itched under his skin because whatever this was got worse. It built with no signs of stopping and he couldn’t-
Strength abruptly sapped out of his legs. He sank to the floor, head lolling to thunk against the wall as the surroundings blurred into one messy haze of fuzzy blankness. That wasn’t… good. He was only three feet from the bathroom, but the distance may as well have been the entire Atlantic ocean. The thought of moving upset his stomach even further. Staying still was the best option, but he couldn’t stay there if he didn’t-
He squeezed his eyes shut, a rush of heat enveloping his whole body in the worst way possible. Was he having a heat stroke? It was January! How could he be having a heat stroke in the middle of winter-
A door creaked open, followed by a sleep mumbled, “Jeongguk?”
Amidst the horrible signals of what his body was experiencing screaming in his brain, he had the room to feel guilty for obviously waking his roommate up. He must have made more noise than he thought, considering it took someone screaming in his ear to get him to stir. (He only knew that from Taehyung, Jimin’s best friend, coming over. He didn’t go screaming randomly in people’s ears). His lips parted in an attempt to tell him sorry and go back to sleep, but his mouth was dry and cakey. Opening it was a mistake because his stomach lurched and-
“Hyung. Trashcan. Now.”
Jeongguk honestly could not recount the next few seconds to anyone. He didn’t know if Jimin questioned him or made a confused noise or anything. All he knew was that Jimin shoved something at him just in time for him to decide to rework his entire inner body by removing all of his internal organs in the most humiliating and painful way possible. Jeongguk couldn’t remember the last time he’d thrown up. He wished it would have stayed that way.
He swore under his breath, hunched over the desk trashcan Jimin had given him. The sentiment was clearly shared by his roommate because he swore as well, much more empathetic than Jeongguk had. The odd urge to one up him and say something his mother would gasp at was pushed aside in favor—not favorable at all, actually—of throwing up again. Holy. That was horrible, yet at the same time relieving because the pressure in his stomach eased the slightest bit.
“Are you okay?” Jimin asked, an edge of horror in his voice.
It took an alarming amount of time for his brain to register the words, even longer for him to feel safe enough to open his mouth to speak instead of puke. He also couldn’t get his mind off of the meme of the mom walking up to her son and the child saying, daddy? He wanted to ask the question, do I look like I’m okay? with the same energy as her response.
“I—uhm don’t know.” His entire body felt weak. Like he was Superman in a room full of kryptonite. Powers gone and sapped away by a green crystal. Maybe he’d ingested some—his mind was a mess right now. “‘S all fuzzy and tilting.”
He’s just thrown up in front of him. Ugh.
“Okay.” Fingers, hot against his skin—that was strange because he felt really warm right now—brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Try to get into the bathroom. I’m going to get you water, okay? Are you going to be good by yourself?”
He opened his eyes to stare dumbly at his roommate. Jimin’s face swam in and out of focus. This was more than nausea. Vertigo, maybe? Unable to speak, he flashed an okay sign at his roommate, catching his amused huff and tentative smile before Jimin’s face disappeared.
It left Jeongguk with the impossible task of standing and walking to the bathroom and the mortifying knowledge that he had thrown up twice in front of Jimin. His really cute, super attractive roommate. Jeongguk would never live it down. This was the kind of anxiety fuel that would keep him up in the middle of the night with a burning hot face. It was unfair how crushes never changed no matter how old someone got. You still got stupid around them, overthought every interaction, and obsessed over what they see or think about you. Jeongguk wanted Jimin to see the best parts of him, a conscious and sometimes unconscious effort to make himself look good and endear himself to him. He didn’t think the image of Jeongguk upchucking into a trashcan was an endearing one. He could only be grateful he’d gotten a trashcan instead of throwing up all over the floor. That would have been far worse.
There wasn’t anything he could do about it right now, and he had a mission to complete. Getting into the bathroom.
It took far longer than it should have. Standing wasn’t an option. He managed to scoot himself across the floor, a slow crawl until he was pressing his palms flat against the underside of the toilet. In which he promptly lost more of whatever he ate today. Which, wasn’t much. Just the stir fry he’d had for dinner when he’d gotten off his lazy butt to actually cook something and the-
The noodles.
Of course.
Jeongguk swore again, thunking his head miserably against the toilet seat. Not sanitary at all, but he could care less at the moment. He’d given himself food poisoning by eating those sketchy noodles. What happened to his iron gut? His strong willed constitution?
“Traitor,” he hissed to his body.
It didn’t like that, and his punishment was losing another organ. There went the small intestines.
A rap on the door alerted him to Jimin, who entered a second later to place a cup next to his trembling hand. Jeongguk wasn’t even sure he could lift it. He’d never felt this weak before. And the room was too hot. The chill of the tiles felt good against his bare feet.
“Thanks,” he managed.
“You’re welcome. Is there something else I can do?” Jimin’s voice was soft and comforting. Genuinely concerned. He’d always been like that in the short time Jeongguk had known him. Kindest man he’d ever met, but certainly not a pushover. He should’ve known Jimin wouldn’t act any different in this situation, no matter how gross it was.
Embarrassingly enough, he wanted to ask Jimin to stay. To sit with him just so there was someone there. So he didn’t feel like he was handling it alone. But he didn’t want to be selfish and ask him to watch him throw up for however long this would last. They’d only known each other for two months, and it was only recently that they’d gotten close enough to the point Jeongguk considered them friends. He didn’t want to ruin that.
“No. You can—you can go back to-”
He didn’t get the opportunity to finish, another wave of heat and nausea forcing him to clamp his mouth shut. He ground his teeth together, fighting it, but eventually lost and heaved into the toilet bowl. He gasped pathetically, trying to reorient himself. His ears caught onto the sound of a tap, and moments later, Jimin couched next to him. With a hand on the back of his neck, he readjusted him to get him to look up enough to wipe his mouth with a damp cloth. Catching his eyes, Jimin gave him a small sympathetic smile. Jeongguk’s brain shut down at the sight, overloaded by the obvious care he displayed.
“I don’t think I can go back to sleep knowing you’re sick. If you really want me to leave, I can, but I’d rather stay with you.”
If Jeongguk hadn’t been embarrassing enough, relieved tears picked at his eyes. He ducked his head to hide, the action a little fast for his woozy body and brain. With even, careful breaths, he got control of himself enough to mumble an emotion choked, “Please stay.”
He didn’t know how long they spent in that bathroom. He spent most of it fighting through waves with clenched teeth and squeezed eyes. Until Jimin hunted down a hair tie, he used his own fingers to keep Jeongguk’s hair out of his face. Jeongguk didn’t let him wipe his mouth again, taking over that action for himself. He had to hold onto some shreds of dignity.
The heat flashes continued to chip away at him until he had enough, finding a steady moment to drag his shirt off. It took a horrendous amount of energy, leaving him drained and leaning back against the tub. His hands were tangled in the fabric on his lap. He felt Jimin’s eyes on him but couldn’t analyze the look. He didn’t want to. He defended himself with a mumbled, "Too hot.”
Jimin nodded, understanding. After a minute or two he got up and left. He had three minutes to beat himself up for making him uncomfortable before Jimin reappeared, a blanket stacked up in his arms. In response to Jeongguk’s confused noise, he almost smirked with a knowing, “You’re hot now, but you’re going to be cold soon.”
Jimin had been entirely right. Where he’d once been sweating and rolling up his sweats, he was shivering and trembling. His roommate didn’t hesitate to lay the blanket over his shoulders. It was a soft blue with tiny yellow chicks on it. Jeongguk knew it well. It took up residence on Jimin’s bed and got pulled out to the couch for movies, naps, and when he was cold. Knowing Jimin grabbed his favorite blanket for him made Jeongguk feel entirely too warm in a vastly different way than before. The heat ticked up when Jimin sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his back to urge him to lean against him. Jeongguk fought himself for a minute, not wanting to be close to him when he felt sick and disgusting, but the other part of him couldn’t pass up the comfort he offered.
At one point, after spitting gross vomit saliva out of his mouth, Jeongguk miserably muttered, “This is so gross. I’m sorry.”
Jimin smoothed a hand over his back, passing over the washcloth. “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t. You’re not forcing me to stay. I want to.”
Jimin’s kindness and sacrifice didn’t stop there. When Jeongguk stopped throwing up every couple of minutes, Jimin eased back to his feet and grabbed the trashcan that Jeongguk had left at the bathroom door. The faint smell had begun bothering him, but he didn’t dare say a word because he couldn’t take care of it himself. He almost protested when Jimin grabbed it, but he could only watch as Jimin slipped out the door. Moments later he heard the kitchen sink run. He pressed his cheek against the edge of the tub, closing his eyes as he wondered how in the world he’d ever be able to look Jimin in the eye again.
A gentle shake against his shoulder urged his eyes open. Jeongguk blinked blearily, registering that he’d dozed off. Jimin sat next to him, in the position they’d been in previously with him leaning against his shoulder. This time he’d slumped enough to rest his head against him, body curled towards him.
“Hey,” Jimin murmured. “Think you’re well enough to sleep in your bed?”
Still groggy, he mentally checked over himself. He still felt nauseous, but the vertigo was gone and his stomach felt mostly settled. The idea of moving when he felt weak didn’t appeal to him, but neither did a night curled up on the bathroom floor. He’d want a bowl or trashcan just in case though.
“I think so,” he mumbled, drawing a knee up to test if he could still move his limbs. Jimin shifted next to him, adjusting to help him. The support made him feel more confident as he got to his feet. The room didn’t sway or tilt, though he felt a little woozy. Jimin slipped an arm around his waist, leading Jeongguk to tentatively lay his arm over his shoulders. Together they shuffled out of the room and into Jeongguk’s. He all but collapsed onto his bed, an exhausted sigh slipping past his lips. The mattress dipped as another body joined and he cracked open an eye. Jimin squeezed onto the twin, leaning over to turn the bedlamp on before wiggling to get comfortable. He glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow as if to question why Jeongguk silently judged him. Not that he was. He just didn’t expect Jimin to continue to stay with him like this. Not that he would complain, just-
“Do you even know you’re talking aloud?” Jimin asked, almost giggling. Jeongguk turned his face into his pillow, too abashed to give him a response. The man laying beside him laughed at that, shifting closer and laying his hand in his hair. If Jeongguk didn’t feel ready to sink six feet underground, he would have reacted to this situation far differently.
“Why’re you staying?” he mumbled into the pillow. “You already watched me throw up for like, two hours. You don’t have to-”
“We’ve been over this. I want to,” Jimin interrupted him, scratching lightly at his scalp. Jeongguk hadn’t experienced a lot of skinship with him. He blamed it on them still getting to know each other and his own inconvenient feelings causing him to shy away from his casual touches. But he knew Jimin liked it, and sometimes he’d be brave enough to sit closer than necessary to him on the couch or tangle their legs together when they were working on their respective school work. Experiencing it now resigned him to seeking it out later. “Do you remember when I got sick?”
Jeongguk twisted to look at him, heart shooting into his throat as he became aware of just how close he was to the other man. Mere centimeters separated their bodies, inches between their faces. Jimin’s brown eyes shifted from one side of his face to the other, a slow, gentle smile curving over his mouth.
“Yeah,” he croaked. “I had known you for like, three days.”
“And then you had to witness me being a whiney misterable snot because of a headcold. I left a mountain of tissues on our coffee table.”
The memory made him unconsciously smile. He hadn’t known what to think of Jimin then. At first the older man had seemed so cool and collected, but then he saw him drag himself into the kitchen with a blanket over his head and a permanent pout on his lips. Jeongguk tiptoed around him, not knowing when or how to help or if he wanted it.
“You made me soup,” he continued, his voice lowering. “And tea. It made me cry.”
“I made you cry?” Jeongguk gasped, horrified.
“Good tears, Jeongguk, good tears.” He giggled, patting him on the head. It made him feel like a dog, but if he was a dog his tail was wagging, so.
Ugh. Crushes were the worst.
“It was just really, really sweet. You were willing to take care of me in such small ways.” His hand slipped from Jeongguk’s hair to smoothing a thumb over his cheekbone. Jeongguk held his breath. “And you didn’t even know me. That meant a lot.”
“So this is you returning the favor?” Jeongguk didn’t think this was equivalent. Taking care of someone with a cold was a lot easier than someone with food poisoning or a stomach bug.
Jimin’s hand fell from his face, squeezing his shoulder.
“If that’s the way you want to see it, but really this is me just caring about someone I like.”
“Someone you like,” he repeated, trying not to let his heart run rampant at that. He couldn’t have meant it that way. It was in a platonic, friendly, haha I like you bro roommate kind of way.
And yet, in the lamplight it almost looked as though Jimin was blushing. He stumbled over his words.
“Yeah, I mean, we’ve only known each other for a short time, but you’re cool! And nice. I don’t like like you because that would be, ahah, a little weird, right?” His hand was still on his shoulder, tightening by the second as he babbled. “Becasue that’d be awkward if I was crushing on my roommate. Definitely not. I like you a normal amount?”
Jeongguk wasn’t the best at knowing when people had feelings for him, but this. This was painfully obvious in a way it never had been before. He sat up with a gasp, ignoring the way his stomach and head protested at the abrupt action.
“No way! You like me?!”
Jimin drew his hands back to himself, a blush raging hot across his cheeks. Jeongguk gaped at him, completely thrown. He waited for a denial or a scoff, maybe a creeped out look, but Jimin only groaned and covered his face with his hands.
“Maybe a little.”
He couldn’t believe his ears.
“You just watched me throw up. For an hour.”
“I know,” he whined, curling into himself. It was impossibly cute. “And normally that would gross me out—it still did—but because it was you I was more just concerned? I was willing to sit through it because I cared and-”
Jeongguk went through way too much tonight to have any second thoughts.
“Holy smokes, date me.”
Jimin’s hands jerked down from his face, eyes wide and mouth agape. Jeongguk stared back resolutely. He wouldn’t falter now. He had the advantage of knowing Jimin held some semblance of attraction to him before making his move, and he couldn’t be more grateful for it. Otherwise he’d probably suffer in months long pining silence before even hinting that he thought the man across from him was his type.
“Please,” he added after a long pause.
“You’re serious,” Jimin concluded, eyebrows rising in surprise.
“Completely.”
“You want me to date you?”
“Unless seeing me get food poisoning and suffering after you warned me not to eat those noodles convinced you that I’m a gross idiot completely incapable of being remotely in your league-” he paused to take a breath. “-yes, I would like you to date me. I really want to date you. I think I’ve been crushing on you since you forced me to watch The Notebook and didn’t say a word about me bawling my eyes out.”
“J-Jeongguk, we watched The Notebook together a week after you moved in.”
“It’s been a very long two months,” he confided with a slow, overly serious nod. It made Jimin burst into giggles, rolling to his back then to his side to face him as they tamed. Jeongguk’s heart spasmed when his hands cupped his face and he leaned forward to smack a kiss against his forehead.
“You’re cute,” Jimin murmured, eyes practically gone. “And sick. Let’s talk about dating when you’re feeling better.”
“I’m feeling great,” he squeaked.
“Oh?” he hummed with a grin. “Then should we go out now? I know a noodle place that’s open at this hour-”
“Maybe-” Jeongguk was sure his face had taken a green tinge. “Maybe not noodles. Or any food.”
Jimin laughed before promptly kissing his forehead again.
As they settled in to catch the few hours of sleep they had left before the day began, Jeongguk couldn’t help but be grateful that he ate those noodles after all.
“Wait, didn’t you say that if I got food poisoning to not come crying to you?”
“...I did say that. Don’t look at me like that. Jeongguk don’t- ugh fine I’ll admit it. I liked you too much to leave you there.”
“Aww Jimin-”