Disclaimer: This is fanfiction.
Warnings: Jin spoilers? Sick!Jin? n/a otherwise.
A/N: Written over a year ago, I still have a particular fondness for this piece. Also, I think this was the only time I wrote Jin/Himeka/Michiru (I see it more as friendship, but it really is up to interpretation, yeah?)
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almost there
A cool cloth was pressed to Jin's forehead as he laid there, eyes closed while he counted the seconds that passed by. The distant sounds of heavy objects being moved registered in his mind – a hand on his shoulder pushed him down firmly as he attempted to sit up; No, stay there, Jin-kun, or you'll make it worse.
The voice was familiar, gentle, and he obeyed. Besides, he reasoned, what could he really do in such a state? As it was, even the simple act of opening his eyes seemed like a lot of work.
Jin silently cursed his immune system, and whoever he had caught the illness from in the first place.
While the metaphorical fist waved about, the pressure on the cloth vanished and he heard footsteps moving away from him. The urge to slip into sleep was overwhelmed by the need to strain his ears and catch snatches of the conversation:
I don't think he'll miraculously recover in a day. And Kazune-chan… That's alright, Himeka-san. I'm just grateful you're here now. I'm sure Jin-kun feels the same. Isn't that because you end up in a panic when something unexpected occurs?
Laughter. Yeah, but either way…
His attention slipped a fraction, and Jin lost the string of conversation. He grumbled in frustration, regretting it at an instant as his head throbbed and his dry throat burned in a clear reminder that he was currently bedridden.
It felt as if days had passed since the idol had woken up that morning, a slight headache and scratchy throat in place.
The medicine he had taken had not been enough, apparently – what was an idol without his voice? – and Jin had ploughed through work in a half-hearted daze; he had never coped well with sickness. Whether it stemmed from his earlier years having to care for himself in a shack, or he merely had a low immune system made no difference to Jin; sick was sick, and he hated it with a passion.
At the end of the day he had stumbled into Michiru, who had instantly decided that – no, look at you, Jin-kun, you can't even stand up properly right now – the idol would have to be cared after. He had been unceremoniously dragged to his friend's apartment and left on the couch – stay there, I said stay, Jin! – while Michiru called for help.
Help in the form of Kujyou Himeka, apparently, for reasons that could not be comprehended in his blurry state of mind.
A light touch to his hand jerked Jin out of his thoughts, and Himeka spoke to him quietly – You're going to be just fine, as long as you rest and take your medicine.
He managed a slight nod at her words, drawing comfort from the fact that there were people who did care about him as a person. Swallowing painfully, he tried to express his appreciation.
I love you both.
As the cloth was replaced on his forehead, Jin could almost see her smile, brushing a hand through her hair and tucking it back out of the way; We love you too. Right, Micchi? Of course.
Jin smiled as he heard Himeka gently reprimand the other; their voices became faint, a hum of noise he welcomed as he slipped into the realms of sleep. In the end, it could have been worse.