Han Jisung Oneshots (bxb)💖

🔥Too hot🔥 (Minho)

Context~Han comes down with a fever but doesn't tell anyone, that is until Minho finally checks up on his friend, to find him very sick.

Genre: Fluffy
Tw: None

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-Han's POV-

I sat slumped on the couch, staring at the television, but not really paying attention to it. My head was pounding, my throat was on fire, and every breath came with a painful sigh. I pulled the blanket tighter around himself, though it did little to keep me warm. My apartment, usually so cozy and welcoming, now felt cold and lonely.

I'd been feeling like this for days now but had of course stubbornly ignored it. As another wave of shivers raced through my body,  I cursed at my own stubbornness. I hadn't even taken any medicine. I knew he should eat something, drink water, do anything to take care of myself , but I just didn't have the energy. My phone buzzed on the coffee table, and I groaned, reaching for it with a shaky hand.

It was Minho. Of course it was Minho.

"Hey, where are you?" the text read. "Practice started an hour ago"

'Shit, I forgot to tell Chan about this' I thought as I stared at the phone. I typed a quick reply, my fingers trembling.

"Just at home. Not feeling great. Will see you tomorrow."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. I hit send before I could second guess myself and tossed the phone back onto the table. I closed my eyes, trying to will away the headache, the fever, the overwhelming fatigue. Maybe if I just slept, I'd feel better. Maybe by tomorrow, this would all just be a bad memory.

-3rd person-

Han had barely drifted off when a loud knock on the door shook him awake. He groaned, every muscle aching as he dragged himself up from the couch. He stumbled to the door, rubbing his eyes, and opened it just a crack.

Minho stood there, his usual bright smile quickly fading into concern as he took in Han's appearance. "Han, you look awful," he said, pushing the door open wider.

Han tried to smile, tried to brush it off. "Yeah, thanks. I just need some rest, I'll be fine."

Minho didn't budge. His sharp eyes scanned Han from head to toe, and Han could see the gears turning in his mind. "Why didn't you say anything?" Minho asked, his voice soft but with a bit of frustration.

"I didn't want to bother you," Han mumbled, leaning against the doorframe for support.

Minho sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "You're never a bother, Han. You know that." He stepped closer, reaching out to touch Han's forehead. Han flinched, but Minho's hand was gentle, and when he felt the heat radiating from Han's skin, his frown deepened. "You're burning up. How long have you been like this?"

Han shrugged weakly. "A few days, maybe."

"A few days?" Minho nearly shouted. He shook his head, stepping back. "Alright, that's it. You're going back to bed. I'm staying here, and I'm taking care of you."

Before Han could protest, Minho already picked him up and carried him back to the couch, fixing up the blankets, and making sure Han was comfortable. Han wanted to argue, wanted to tell Minho that he didn't need to stay, but he was too exhausted to fight him.

"You don't have to do this, Minho," Han muttered as he sank back into the cushions, feeling at ease being back in his comfortable position.

"Of course I do," Minho replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. "What kind of best friend would I be if I just left you here like this?"