Limbo

I Would Trade Them All

Meant to publish this on Tuesday, sorry it's late (please forgive me!) 

Lots of swearing in this by the way, sorry about that. Minho kind of throws a temper tantrum. 

Enjoy!

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Sticky. That's exactly how Minho felt waking up. Like he had stepped in bubblegum - something that was once so sweet but had turned into something gross - that pulled him back to the ground. When did sleep feel so much like gross bubblegum on the sidewalk? It was gross, and he wasn't refreshed in the slightest. In fact, he had a pounding headache, and his throat was raw like he'd been screaming. 

Oh, he had a concussion. That was right. He'd broken his ribs. He'd gotten into a car crash with Seojun, and his manager d- 

Nope. Not today. Minho couldn't think about it. Just the thought of his beloved manager was enough to make his head pound in an entirely different - more painful - way that he just couldn't bear right now. He rolled out of bed, nearly tripping over the garbage can set beside him and stumbled out of his bedroom - vaguely aware of two extra bodies curled up together on his bed. 

Opting to keep the lights off - knowing it would make his headache a million times worse - Minho blindly wandered into the kitchen. He'd been up enough in the early morning making breakfast for the members or just enjoying the quiet that he had the dorm memorized better in the dark than in daylight. 

He found the kitchen easily and turned on the stove, cracking a couple eggs to get started before he dug around in the fridge and grabbed some fruit to cut up. His hands felt weak and shaky as he tried to cut and clean the strawberries. As each slip of the knife nearly severed his finger, he grew increasingly more desperate to just do it right, which only made his hands shake worse. 

"Fuck." He mumbled, slamming the knife down on the counter and rubbing his forehead. Trying to cut fruit in the dark was probably a bad idea, but his headache had already grown to something nearly unbearable, and he knew the lights would just throw him over his limit. 

"Hyung? What are you doing out of bed?" Minho would have jumped if his body wasn't so exhausted it just had nothing left to give. He instead lazily turned his gave over to the figure peeking out of the hallway. By the shadow and voice, he recognized him immediately. 

"I'm making breakfast, Minnie, it'll be done in a bit." He hissed, picking up the knife again and cut the top off a strawberry, narrowly avoiding cutting the top of his finger off as well. 

"Hyung, you should still be sleeping. You don't have to make breakfast for us. You're hurt. Are you... cutting fruit?" 

"Yeah. And?" Minho snapped, glaring at the young vocalist through the dark. 

Seungmin cleared his throat, tentatively stepping closer. "I don't think that's a good idea, hyung." 

"Why not? Hm?" 

"You should be sleeping." 

"I slept earlier." 

"Yeah but..." 

"Can you grab me a bowl for the strawberries?" 

Seungmin blinked a few times before hurriedly grabbing a bowl down and setting it out for the dancer who scooped the strawberries up into it, squeezing his eyes shut as his forehead throbbed in time with his heart. Seungmin watched, heart aching with pity for the elder. "Did you take your medicine yet this morning?" 

"What?" Minho snapped, sighing with something between anger and exhaustion. 

"Your meds. The prescription. The ones the doctor order. Did you take them yet?"