The soreness started as a faint, almost unnoticeable tickle at the back of Jungkook's throat. He had just finished a long vocal rehearsal in his hotel room, pushing himself harder than usual to perfect a new melody. As he sipped lukewarm tea, the discomfort grew, but he brushed it off as something minor.
“목이 좀 이상한데,” (My throat feels a little off,) he murmured to himself, clearing his throat. It was late, the Los Angeles skyline glowing outside his window, and all he wanted was a good night’s rest. He convinced himself that he’d feel better in the morning.
But when morning came, the scratchy feeling hadn’t gone away. It had deepened into a dull ache. Every swallow felt tight, as though something was lodged in his throat. He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, tilting his head back slightly. Nothing seemed unusual on the outside, but the sensation was persistent.
“별일 아니야,” (It’s nothing serious,), he told himself, running a hand through his hair. He grabbed a bottle of water and drank slowly, hoping the cool liquid would soothe the irritation. For most of the day, he stayed quiet, trying not to strain his voice.
By the end of the day, though, the ache had turned sharper. Talking felt strained, and he avoided speaking as much as possible. When room service arrived that evening, he nodded politely instead of greeting the staff, not trusting his voice to sound normal.
The next morning, Jungkook woke up with a hoarse voice. His throat was worse than the day before, the pain now a constant throb that intensified every time he swallowed. Even drinking tea felt like scraping sandpaper along his throat.
He sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at his hands. He hated feeling like this, and more than that, he hated admitting when something was wrong.
Around mid-morning, his phone buzzed. It was Sejin, his manager, checking in like he always did when Jungkook was traveling alone.
“정국아, 어때?” (Jungkook, how are you?) Sejin’s voice was upbeat, but the concern was always there, even when things were fine.
Jungkook hesitated before answering, his voice rasping. “괜찮아요, 형. 그냥… 목이 좀 아파요.” (I’m fine, hyung. Just… my throat hurts a little.)
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “목이 아프다고? 얼마나 됐어?” (Your throat hurts? How long has it been?)
“이틀 됐어요,” Jungkook admitted, his voice quiet. (Two days.)
“정국아, 병원 가야 하는 거 아니야?” (Jungkook, don’t you think you should see a doctor?)
“괜찮아요. 그냥 좀 쉬면 나아질 것 같아요,” he replied, trying to sound reassuring. (I’ll be fine. I think I just need to rest.)
But Sejin wasn’t convinced. “아니야, 정국아. 내가 병원 예약할게. 이런 거 방치하면 안 돼.” (No, Jungkook. I’ll make an appointment. You can’t ignore things like this.)
Jungkook sighed, knowing better than to argue when Sejin used that tone. “알았어요,” (Alright,) he said reluctantly, though his shoulders sagged at the thought of going to the doctor.
“좋아. 내가 병원 찾아보고 바로 연락할게,” Sejin said firmly. (Good. I’ll find a clinic and call you back right away.)
As the call ended, Jungkook leaned back against the headboard, pressing a hand to his throat. The pain hadn’t gone away—it was worse, if anything—but admitting that to himself made it feel more real.
For the first time in days, a small flicker of worry crept into his mind.
Jungkook had barely set his phone down when it buzzed again. The screen lit up with Sejin’s name, and he sighed, picking it up.
