Dedicated to:
Mitsukai No Tsuma, because she's pretty much what has kept me writing at all since May. She's amazing, and would have beta'd this....but I think she fell asleep, and I finished it about five minutes ago.
ShepardLover, because she's amazing and I miss talking to her like crazy. Her fan-fics have inspired me to try and write many, many times since I abandoned writing all those months ago, and I still read ~every one~ of her posts, I just never comment. Also, she's really freaking incredible because she's never yelled at me for always saying I'll comment but never commenting. Now I just never comment because...well....I don't think I've commented on her stuff in about...half a year, and I don't even know if she remembers me or not.
Kiariad, because she made me feel so freaking good that I actually started working on fics that have been dead since around April. She's great to talk to, and I have to reply to her PM....which I'll do....sometimes soon...when I'm not studying for a math test.
The Asian Pikachu, 'cause she's just entertaining as hell, and she's a real sweet heart.
Ring ding dong....ring ding dong.....ring ding dong.....ring ding dong....ring ding dong....ring ding dong....ring ring ring ring ring.....
I bit back the urge to growl. The repetitive ringing in the chorus to SHINee's new song, the one I was attempting to practice, was supposed to stop after a few repetitions. It was not, however, supposed to make my ears ring during every minute of the damn song. Perhaps if it weren't for the fact that I seemed to mess up every three steps I wouldn't have been so irritated by it. Or maybe if it didn't hurt to hold my head up, or if I wasn't sluggish, tired and absolutely drenched in sweat. Maybe then I would have been able to enjoy the practice session. Instead, the stuffy dance room had turned into my personal hell.
As usual, Taemin had the dance perfect....too perfect, actually. I just wanted to ring his skinny little neck and tell him to hold his feet still for one flipping second so I could actually learn from him instead of getting dizzy. Or maybe he could just stick to the damn choreography for once so I didn't feel like an idiot dancing next to him. Over and over again, he would press pause on the stereo remote in his hand to explain something to me. After we'd been practicing for about an hour, he started to grow hesitant in doing so. By the time practice had lasted two hours, I stopped him altogether.
"ALLRIGHT," I yelled, planting my feet and resting my hands on my knees. "The next person who says 'ring' gets bitch smacked into next Thursday, where you'll only be halfway through your punishment of not having dinner for two weeks." The room was silent as we all tried to process exactly what I'd just yelled, including myself. Taemin pressed pause on the stereo remote, and I used the moment to clear my mind. After almost a full minute of silence I shook my head and stood up straight. "Sorry..." I muttered. "I just...uh....the song is kind of repetitive, I guess. It's getting on my nerves a little bit. You can play it again, Babymin."
"Kibum," Jinki said slowly. He stepped out of formation and crossed his arms. His chin was lifted, and he stared down at me with concerned eyes. I already knew what he was going to ask.
"No, Jinki," I panted, reaching up to wipe my dripping face with a trembling hand. "I don't want to go home. I'm fine; get back to work."
Jinki still stared at me, but I didn't really blame him. I was SHINee's Almighty Key! I was the one who fixed all problems, who took care of everyone else, and who always looked absolutely fabulous no matter what. That day, however, I was quite the opposite. I had fed everyone cereal for breakfast that morning, and I was actually causing problems in practice; I'd actually knocked Jinki over once. Well, he would have fallen at some point in the practice, anyway. My black sweat pants were sloppy and wrinkled, and my grey T-shirt was ill-fitted and drenched in sweat. That was another thing of concern, actually; I almost never sweat like that. I was a very in shape, healthy and clean cut person, so when I looked like I was falling apart at the seams, everyone seemed to be baffled. I was not fine, and everyone knew it.
Jinki continued to stare, and Taemin hesitated in turning the stereo back on. Jonghyun and Minho were also there, and they had looks of concern on their annoyingly dry faces, too.
"Let's take a break," Jonghyun said carefully. His round, puppy dog eyes raked over my body. He sighed. Jonghyun was my best friend, and the moment we made eye contact he glared at me. I felt like cold molasses trying to run uphill in the winter time, and he was well aware of it. The fact that I had refused to actually mention that walking in a straight line proved to be difficult that morning probably pissed him off a bit.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Jinki cut me off. "Good idea," he said, softly yet definitively. My sharp eyes snapped to his gentle face, and he merely gazed back at me with his 'leader look'; the one that had nothing leader like about it, but we chose to shut up when we saw it, anyway. It made him feel good.
I grumbled almost inaudibly and stalked over to sit and lean against the mirror we danced in front of; it was the closest wall. When I was seated on the wooden floor, I let my head loll to the side and rest against the glass. My eyes closed and I winced, stiffening as a small ache ran through my body due to the cold surface. I lifted my head again and sighed. Though I didn't want to admit it, I was beginning to consider Jinki's offer of just going home. My limbs felt like lead.
"Hey," Jonghyun murmured. I heard him sit down beside me, and then felt him wipe my face with a towel soaked. "You're really sweaty," he commented. He cupped my right check in his hand and turned my face towards him, using the better angle to wipe the drops of moisture that dripped from my black hair. I could feel his breath ghosting over my face, and I knew that he was being a pain and making whispering look like sex...again. "And hot. Kibum, you're kind of burning up."
"I am not," I argued wearily, my eyes still closed. "It's just hot in here and I'm a little...iffy today. That's all. I'll be fine, Jjong, but thank you." My words sounded sincere enough that I probably would have had a chance of my lie being believed, but my body removed all hope. Without me realizing it, my head had leaned into Jonghyun's hand until he was holding it up entirely.
"Oh yeah," he replied. "I'm sure. I'm wearing more than you and I'm still cold, kid. You're not fine." Sadly, it was true. I cracked my almond shaped eyes open and noticed that Jonghyun had a beanie on his head. He wore a black, long sleeved hoodie, and even a pair of loose fitting blue jeans.
I glared, and very reluctantly swallowed my pride. "Jinki," I called quietly, lifting my head and glancing around. I noticed that Taemin and Minho were on the opposite side of the room pretending that they hadn't been watching me, and I glared at them.
"You okay?" Jinki asked from behind me, catching me of guard; I hadn't realized that he was there. He reached down and touched the back of my head with his finger tips; a subtle sign that he was there for me.
"Can we go home?" I asked begrudgingly. The moment I said it, I was mad at myself for it. We had a two live performances week, and we needed to practice! It wasn't fair to the others to not have their practice on account of my not feeling perfect. "No, scratch that, I'll be fi-"
"Of course we can, Kibum," Jinki said, preventing me from protesting any further. I doubted that more protesting would have even helped, though. Before I knew it, there were arms underneath my back and knees, and I was out of the practice room.
"Choi Minho," I hissed through clenched teeth. My hands hooked into jagged claws. "Why the hell are you carrying me?" I asked, glaring up at the tall boy who held me with no trouble. He must have darted across the room as soon as I asked to go home, and I was not happy about it.
"Because you're sick," he replied shortly. His eyes stared forward, and there was a small smile on his lips.
"No, you just like carrying people because you love that you can," I growled. "Effing string bean."
"Guilty," he admitted and glanced down at me. "Relax, Mamabum. Let us take care of you for once, please?" I glared at him, not ready to give in. Minho carrying me was absolutely unnecessary and embarrassing. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest and stiffened my back, unwilling to submit to him.
"Seriously, Kibum," Jonghyun said as he appeared beside us, carrying bags for three people. He smiled, and looked like a little kid from beneath his beanie. His blonde tipped hair hung into his round eyes, and he looked at me almost innocently. "You're white as a ghost and trembling. You danced like an old man today, and you look like...well, you look like shit. I'd trust Jinki on stairs before I trust you walking across a parking lot."
I let my head flop onto Minho's shoulder. "That's harsh, Jonghyun, really harsh. I hate you."
"You love me, so shut up," he laughed and smacked my calf. This was true, in the sense that I loved him but wasn't in love with him, anyway. I rolled my eyes and ignored him.
Minho carried me down a flight of stairs and out of the SM Entertainment building, the place that housed our practice room. The parking lot was cold, and it did absolutely nothing to help my headache. The cool air, combined with the layer of moisture that covered most of my body, sent an uncomfortable chill down my spine. I sighed and began to regret even getting out of bed that morning. From the moment I opened my eyes, I knew that I wasn't feeling well; I had just chosen to ignore it. Unfortunately, that was an extremely bad decision on my part.
However, despite my cloudy thought process, my mind was running a mile a minute. By the time Minho had placed me in the passenger seat of Jonghyun's sleek, black RAV4, I was already making plans as far as taking care of my boys. Taemin and Minho would probably stay with our Super Junior hyungs, another band in our record label. They lived in the same building as us, just a floor up. The idea of them sleeping in the same apartment as a certain Kim Heechul discontented me slightly, but I trusted Minho to look after Taemin. I just couldn't fathom the idea of my band mates getting sick because of me; I'd never forgive myself.
During the entire drive from our practice room to our dorm, I was abnormally quiet. Any other day, I would have been chattering non-stop. In fact, Jonghyun had once bought me a shirt that read 'Help me! I'm talking and I can't shut up!' So, my silence seemed to concern the others greatly. Jinki kept up an almost constant barrage of worried comments from the back seat.
"When we get home, you need to go lay down right away. I can take care of everything," he said before Jonghyun had even put the car into drive. Jinki was in the back seat, sandwiched between Minho and Taemin. It was a rather odd picture when you considered the fact that Jinki was the oldest and most broad out of the five members, but having him in the back was just...safer. In my opinion, putting my precious Dubu Jinki in control of a moving vehicle was just asking for trouble.
"We'll see," I answered. I sank deep into my seat and crossed my arms. My eyes slid closed, and I just willed the car ride to go faster. Again and again, Jinki kept pressing the subject. His deep voice was sad, and he repeatedly leaned forward in his seat, only to be pulled back by Minho or Taemin. He couldn't help himself; he was just concerned for my health, but it was annoying as hell. The fact that if felt like someone has squeezed a mosh-pit between my temples probably had something to do with my raging irritation, though.
"I shouldn't have let you go to practice today. You were pale this morning, and you barely ate your breakfast. And you over-slept by a half-hour! That's not like you," Jinki continued. I sighed. At first, I was surprised at Jinki's watchful eyes. But then I realized that he was the leader of a vastly popular Korean boy band, and it was simply his job to be on top of things.
"I don't feel all that bad, Jinki," I lied. Unfortunately, my voice sounded strained and tense, so it was no surprise at all when I felt gentle fingers ghosting over my left knee. Jonghyun had a small smile on his pink lips, and had removed his right hand from the steering wheel. When he noticed my heavy gaze on him, he glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes before looking back at the road in front of him. Jonghyun's face could speak words sometimes, and he managed to make me feel better just by looking at me. I lifted my chin and turned to stare out the window, but my left hand crept forward until my palm rested over Jonghyun's. It wasn't gay; it was just my way of saying thanks. At least, that's what we told each other, anyway. Whether it was true or not, I wasn't entirely sure; being about as straight as a circle did that to me sometimes.
Over all, it ended up taking us about an hour to get home. I flat out refused to be carried again, much to Minho's disapproval. He pouted and glared at me, but I told him to carry Taemin instead. He did, which caused Taemin to laugh and wrap his arms around Minho's neck, and caused me to roll my eyes. I was fine. At least, I was fine enough to walk in an almost straight line and make it back to our dorm without falling over. It wasn't until I walked into our living room that I felt the need to sit down.
I made it to our beige couch and then literally fell onto it. My head spun, and I shut my eyes against the pressure inside my skull. I buried my face into the couch and inhaled slowly, curling myself into a small ball and wrapping my bony arms around my knees. My clothes were still damp from my earlier work-out, and they made me itchy and uncomfortable. The once soft fabric of the couch seemed to feel too cold. I felt the constant urge to either stretch or crack my joints. I hated, absolutely loathed the fact that I felt so under the weather, and the fact that it had come on so fast was infuriating. The day prior, I had been absolutely healthy. Five minutes after situating myself on the couch, I realized that lifting my head made me dizzy.
For the first half hour after we returned to our dorm, I did nothing more than lay down. I could hear Jinki in the background; he was trying to be a good PapaJi and take care of the other members. I wanted to take over, though, because poor Jinki didn't actually know that metal and microwaves weren't friends, and that the smoke detector did not make a good replacement for a dinner bell. If it weren't for Jonghyun's help, Jinki probably would have burned the building down.
Over time, my once mild head ache had grown worse and worse. My finger joints began to ache incessantly, and my back grew stiff and sore. Even opening my eyes began to cause me pain, and I was not happy about it. In fact, I found myself ready to snap at someone on a moments notice. Because of this, I just pressed my face into the sofa cushions and tried to doze off a bit. Jonghyun, however, didn't have the same plans.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, but I chose to ignore it. I didn't even bother to open my eyes. "Kibum," Jonghyun called quietly. I scrunched up my nose, curled my knees closer to my chest, and didn't answer. "Sit up," he ordered firmly.
"Go away," I sighed. "I'm sleepy."
"I've gathered," Jonghyun laughed. I felt the sofa cushions sink as he sat beside me. He rested his forearm on my hip and leaned over my chest. "You've been asleep for two hours. Now sit up."
I groaned and finally cracked my eyes open. "I was not asleep," I protested weakly. I squinted against the bright lights that shined from the kitchen. "We haven't been home that long. I was just dozing."
"It's dark outside, Bum," Jonghyun said with a smirk. My eyes widened.
"Seriously?" I asked, propping myself up on my right elbow. I winced as the pressure behind my eyes increased.
"Seriously." Jonghyun nodded. He placed a strong hand in my right shoulder and pulled me upright, ignoring my growl of protest.
"What do you want?" I glared at the midget with narrowed eyes. My gaze was as cold as ice. My jaw clenched, and I crossed my freezing arms tightly over my stomach. In that moment, I was surprised to realize that I was still sweating. My t-shirt was grungy and damp with moisture, but I felt chilled to the bone. There were goose bumps all over my exposed skin.
"For you to change into something, oh I don't know, not disgusting," Jonghyun replied. He climbed off of the couch and stood in front of me. For the first time I noticed a small pile of clothes on the oak coffee table.
"Oh..." I pressed my lips together and dipped my head in embarrassment. "Sorry, Jjong," I muttered. I reached up to brush my angled bangs out of my eyes. My thin lips curved into a weak smile, and I looked up at Jonghyun apologetically. He shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows.
"Don't worry about it," he said. He cupped my chin in his soft hand and lifted my face so I was looking up at him. "I'm used to you being a bitch; that's just how you are, Kibum."
I opened my mouth to protest, but no words came to mind. Then I sighed, and nodded my head in agreement. "Well you're an egotistical pain in the ass," I said sarcastically and pushed his hand off of my chin. 'With Small Man Syndrome,' I added in my head. I slid my legs off of the sofa and rested my elbows on my knees. My hand lifted to create a resting place for my forehead to compensate for the dizzying rush that sitting up had caused.
"That I am," Jonghyun said, almost proudly. He was a cocky brat most of the time, but I had to love him for it. He put a smile on my face even when I felt like hell. "Now, you're drenched in sweat, weak as hell, and you look like you're ready to puke, so let's get you out of these clothes, okay? If you have a fever, which I assume you do, you need less fabric so we cam bring your temp down."
"Why, Jonghyun," I laughed and rocked my head to the side to gaze up at him. "You sound like...well...me."
"I do not sound like a woman!" Jonghyun placed his hands on his hips and glared at me with his puppy dog eyes; terrifying.
"I meant you sound like a mother, dimwit," I said matter-of-factly.
Jonghyun grumbled and turned to grab the stack of clothes off of the coffee table. He held them up, showing a simple combination of a light pink A-shirt and black boxers. "Same difference. Now take your clothes off, Kibum; I'm serious."
"But I'm cold," I protested with wide eyes. I rubbed my bare biceps and shivered slightly to prove my point.
"Now you sound like Taemin," Jonghyun growled. He sat the clothes, or lack of clothes, down on the sofa beside me and then grabbed the edge of my grey t-shirt. In a split second, he pulled the cotton fabric over my head, leaving me naked from the waist up.
"Jonghyun!" I groaned and shuddered as cool air met my damp skin. Jonghyun ignored me. He quickly helped me into the fresh A-shirt, but I still trembled slightly, both from the cold and from being sick. Jonghyun pulled me to my feet so that I could climb out of my black sweat pants. He respectfully turned his back when I changed into the boxers, and then I collapsed back onto the couch with an audible groan. "Now I'm freezing," I complained quietly, my head already resting on the arm rest. My eyes slid half closed and my hands curled into small fists against my stomach.
"You'll be fine," Jonghyun laughed sympathetically. He gathered my old clothes and walked away, leaving me to shiver on the couch. I heard his footsteps as he passed through the kitchen and into the laundry room. The sound of a running washing machine echoed through our small apartment just a few minutes later, and then I realized that the dorm was abnormally quiet. I sighed and sat up again.
I looked around the living room and kitchen. With the design of our home, both rooms were basically put together, only separated by hallways on either side and in the middle. Jonghyun was still in the laundry room, but I had no clue where my other three band mates were. With a small groan of disapproval, I climbed to my feet.
I first walked to the bedroom; it was right off of the living room, so I didn't have to go far. The room was empty, and the lights were off.
"Kibum?" Jonghyun called from behind me. I turned around and looked at him in confusion.
"Where are the boys?" I asked, leaning on the bedroom door frame for support. Jonghyun was standing in the middle of the kitchen. He had changed out of his exercise clothes, and was wearing a simple pair of baggy blue jeans and an open flannel shirt. He wore a white undershirt beneath the flannel. His hair was down and looked soft, evidence that he'd already showered.
"Jinki took them up to Super Junior's apartment," he answered carefully, watching me with concern written all over his angular face. "He left about a half hour ago, so he's probably talking with Lee Teuk or something, leader stuff and all." He paused and bit his lip. He tilted his head to the side and gazed at me. "Kibum, you should sit down. You're kind of...swaying...and nodding off. You're pale."
I winced and nodded my head. "I know," I whispered. Being on my feet, as I soon realized, was extremely bad for my mounting headache. I felt a wave of nausea pass over me, and I had to close my eyes against it. "I feel sick. I'm going to go lay down." I cracked my eyes open and walked forward. Unsteady as ever, I trudged past Jonghyun and down the hall leading towards the front door to our apartment. Jonghyun tried to take my arm as I went by, but I waved him off and shook my head.
"Where are you going?" he called after me. The bedroom and couch were both in the opposite direction, a fact that I was well aware of. I was headed to the bathroom, and that's exactly what I told Jonghyun. He responded with a quiet 'oh' and then allowed me to go on my way. However, once I reached the bathroom, I didn't use the facilities or anything of the sort. Instead, I merely sank to the cold tiles and pressed my face against the floor. I shuddered and winced. Anytime I was sick, just touching something cold hurt. If I grabbed a cold door handle, I could feel it up to be elbows. As uncomfortable as the floor was, it helped to calm the nausea that was raging behind my eyes.
A short while later, probably no more than a minute, Jonghyun was standing in the bathroom doorway. "Kibum!" he gasped in surprise. I could only image what I looked like to him. I was curled into a ball and barely moving; I looked like I'd collapsed.
"I'm fine," I said and waved a hand at him. "Cold floor." I tapped the tiles for effect. "Head ache." I cracked my eyes open and took a slow, deep breath, before granting him a weak smile.
"Oh," Jonghyun sighed in relief. "You scared me," he admitted sheepishly. I heard the ceramic tiles squeak as he moved closer, and then I felt the warmth of his hand as it sat comfortingly on my shoulder. "You really feeling that lousy?" he asked gently. He lowered himself to his knees and tilted his head to the side to look at me.
"Kind of," I replied and shrugged my shoulders. Jonghyun just nodded his head and smiled weakly. He brushed my long bangs out of my face, and then he disappeared.
Later that night, Jinki stumbled into the bathroom to a rather compromising sight. Jonghyun was lying on his back, propped up by a few pillows. His head had lolled to the side in his sleep, and his ankles were crossed.
I was lying on my stomach, still looking as sick as ever. My hair was damp, clinging to my forehead, and my skin was pale. There was a blanket strewn across me, but it had fallen down to rest at my low back, leaving my arms bare and vulnerable to the chilled air. However, I was nowhere near cold, because my arms had found a much better source of warmth; the inside of Jonghyun's flannel shirt.
My head was rested on his chest, and my hands were curled around his small waist. His right arm was strewn across the back of my shoulders, and his fingers absentmindedly caressed my ear.
I cracked my eyes open, feeling the presence of a third party in the room. I barely moved, but I lifted my head just slightly so that I could see Jinki. He raised his eyebrows, and I just smiled. I placed my head back on Jonghyun's chest, and decided that maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all.