Stray Kids | Sickfics

Masked | Seungmin

-----------------------------------------------

a/n:

-tw: vomiting

-requested by ceceheartsseungmin

-hope you'll like it!

-----------------------------------------------

૮ ᴖﻌᴖა

Seungmin's pov

"-min? Seungmin! Wake up!"

Oh god, who pulls people out of their sleep so uncomfortably? I groggily covered my ears with my pillow to escape Changbin's loud voice but it was to no avail. My head was already pounding by the sudden noise and I felt as if someone had just slapped me in the face. 

I turned to the side only to see that Jeongin had already left his bed. Was it that late? With a quick glance I checked the time and to my shock, it was already past 8 am. In a matter of seconds I was up, wide awake, and determined to follow up my routine. If there was one thing I hated, it was unpunctuality.

While I was getting myself ready in the bathroom, I noticed a weird itch in my throat. Were my allergies acting up again? I dismissed the discomfort, after all, I couldn't afford to be sick- we had dance practice today.

"Seungmin, are you coming or what?" Jeongin suddenly knocked on the door.

I checked my reflection one more time before exiting the bathroom, hoping that the dark circles under my eyes wouldn't be noticed.

As I came downstairs, I greeted the others who all seemed pretty tired due to how early it was. There wasn't any time for breakfast anymore to which I was more than relieved. I was sure I couldn't keep it down anyway.

We all got ready and drove to the studio while I hoped whatever was going on with me, would subside during the ride.

--

As we began our warm-up routine, my body felt heavier with each movement. My head throbbed, and my limbs seemed sluggish. But I pushed on, determined to convince myself that I was fine.

"Everything alright?" Minho asked, noticing the sweat forming on my forehead.

Of course he'd notice that I was dancing slower than usual. He was our lead dancer after all. Minho always had an eye on everything and everyone and would immediately tell you how to do better. He was direct, sometimes strict but always caring.

"Yeah, just a little tired," I replied, hoping my voice didn't betray my weakness.

As the music started again, I joined the choreography, my body moving mechanically. The rhythm that usually brought me joy now felt like a constant reminder of my deteriorating condition.

With each step, my breathing became shallower, and my vision blurred. But I refused to stop dancing.

Then in the middle of a particularly intense routine, a wave of nausea washed over me. My stomach churned violently and I froze mid-pirouette, clutching my abdomen. I cursed under my breath, not knowing what was happening to me.

The room spun around me, colours blending together in a chaotic haze. I could feel the eyes of the others, their concerned faces surrounding me as Chan rushed to my side. 

"Are you okay? You look really pale," he said, worry written all over his face.

"I...I think I need a minute," I managed to say, my voice strained and weak.