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It was a morning like usual for Saeran until Dália told him she was sick. He had woken up early, had his tea in the garden, then went in to make breakfast for them. As he awoke his partner to call her down to eat, though, Dália refused.
– I don't feel like eating anything right now. I feel nauseous...
– Nauseous? That's no good... You still have to eat, though. I can bring you something light and easy to stomach...
– Okay, thanks... Can you also bring me my... the thing... – she gestures vaguely, forgetting the proper words
– Medicine? – Saeran manages to guess
– Yeah, my little medicine thingy. The pink one. It should be in my bag
– Of course, my love. Do you need anything else?
Dália groans, thinking with difficulty.
– No, thanks.
– Alright, I'll bring you some tea and your medicine. Call me if anything happens – Saeran says, placing her phone next to the pillow. She nods weakly, closing her eyes again.
Rushing downstairs to make her tea, Saeran worries more and more for each second he spends away from her bedside. You'd think he'd be used to it by now – Dália frequently gets sick because of her rehab and opioid replacement therapy. Even if she's not using anything off the street, the medicines she's on to repress that urge are pretty strong themselves and have their own side effects. But Saeran still worries a lot about her every time they flare up. She means the world to him, and he'd take her pain onto himself in a heartbeat, if it meant she could be free of it. That's saying something, because Saeran himself has to deal with his fair share of medication issues – his therapist has him switching antidepressants and it hasn't been easy.
As the water heats up, Saeran muses about it. It's been almost six months since they escaped Mint Eye and faced off against the prime minister. Since then, it feels like this phase of their lives has been all about their health. He had spent some time in the hospital after being beaten to an inch of his life and had discovered a number of issues that needed solving. Turns out being malnourished as a child has severe effects on one's future health, who would've thought? It doesn't help that Rika pumped him full of god-knows-what that was in that Elixir for a good while, too... Saeran's list of ongoing treatments has grown long, and so did Dália's.
Saeran cuts up an apple while the tea brews, then gets Dália's medicine pouch from her bag and brings it upstairs to their shared room. As he reaches the door, though, he doesn't find her on the bed, as she was before. His stomach sinks. Saeran puts the breakfast down on the nightstand before rushing to the suite bathroom.
– Dália?!
She doesn't answer. Saeran finds her kneeling by the toilet, looking pale. There's vomit stuck to her hair as she breathes heavily. He doesn't say anything, just rushes to pull her hair back and out of the way.
– Do you think you need to go to the hospital?
Even though Korea has universal healthcare, Dália isn't a Korean citizen, so that makes it more difficult to access it. She shakes her head weakly.
– It's fine – her voice is hoarse – I think I'm done
– Are you sure? – he does his best not to panic, unsure of what to do. She nods weakly.
– I feel a little better already. I just... Need to rest...
Saeran can see how she's trembling slightly, but he knows Dália wouldn't lie about this and decides to take her word for it. It's happened before, and everything turned out fine. He'll just have to take care of her for a day and it'll pass on its own. Saeran takes a deep breath, calming himself down, and lets go of her hair.
– I'll help you clean up, stay there.
He gets up and washes the vomit out of his hands, looking at her through the mirror. With a trembling hand, she gets some toilet paper and wipes her mouth, already breathing easier. Although Dália doesn't feel well, she feels safe now that Saeran's here, even if this situation brings back some unpleasant memories from her time in Mint Eye.
Back then, when Ray "turned" into Saeran, he cut off her drug supply while she was still using and made her go through a violent withdrawal. One of the first moments to "crack" that façade of cruelty he donned was when she was too weak to keep her own head up, but still thanked him for pulling her hair out of the way while she threw up bloody bile. Even then, she felt safer with him than without him.
Now, Saeran gently helps her up to clean the tips of her hair in the sink, then guides her back into bed.
– I'll get you some cold water. Do you need anything else, my love?
– No, thanks – she murmurs, getting the medicine from the pouch on the nightstand. Her heart softens seeing the tea and apple slices neatly arranged next to it.
Saeran is out of the room and back again in a flash, bringing not just a bottle of cold water for her, but also a thermometer, a bucket, and a towel to leave by her bedside.
– There, in case you feel sick again. Let me take your temperature.
Smiling softly, she answers:
– It's fine, Saeran...! It's just the meds...
But still, she lifts her arm so he can place the thermometer under it.
– Make sure to drink plenty of water, my lo-- ah! But sip slowly...!
She places her free hand over his after putting down the water bottle. Her throat is too tired to speak, so she just looks up at him in a silent reassurance.
– Sorry, I just can't help but fuss over you... – he says, grabbing her hand
They spend a moment like this, in comfortable silence, until the thermometer beeps. Saeran gently takes it from Dália and looks at the result.
– 36.6... No fever.
– See? I'll be fine in no time. I just need a good nap.
He nods.
– Do you have any classes today?
– No, thankfully.
– Good, good... Should I wake you up for lunch?
– Hmm... I think I'll just get up when I get hungry
– Yeah? Alright...
He caressess her hair, looking at her with love in his eyes. She's so comforted by this that she closes hers. Then, she remembers something.
– Actually... Can I make a request? – Her eyes, dull from exhaustion, shine slightly. Saeran loves to see it. He nods. – There's this stew my mom used to make for me when I got sick...
– Oh, give me the recipe...! – Saeran loves cooking for her, especially when they share dishes from their respective backgrounds.
– I'll ask her, let's hope she's not asleep yet...
Dália tiredly gets her phone and sends her mother a text. Soon enough, she receives an audio message back and begins translating it for Saeran. In typical mom fashion, the recipe has no measurements, only "as much as you want" amounts, but it still gives him an idea of what to do. He quickly writes it down on his notes app, already planning it in his head. Once they're finished, Dália sinks back into the pillows with a sigh.
– Mm... I'm getting sleepy from the medicine... – she murmurs, eyes closing.
– Rest, my love. I'll be with you until you fall asleep – Saeran runs his hand through her hair. It makes her smile.
– You're so cute...
– Am I? – he giggles – I'm just taking care of you...
She nods, getting cozy under the blankets.
– You are. I love you.
– I love you, too, Dália... Sleep well.
He sits there for a while, holding her hand and watching her tired face. Dália's breathing gradually slows down and evens out, letting Saeran know she's fast asleep. He smiles to himself, swearing to protect and care for her no matter what, and slowly lets go of her hand to make her stew.