Kpop Sickfics and Hurtfics Part 2

A Quiet Recovery (Jungmo)

Carateume47

The living room was bathed in the soft afternoon light as Jungmo shuffled in, his steps slow and deliberate. He had a blanket draped over his back, like a cape, but there was nothing heroic about the way he moved. His face was pale, and his usually bright eyes had a dullness to them that made his condition painfully obvious. In one hand, he held a water bottle, and in the other, a small vial of medicine, the faintest rattle of the pills inside a gentle reminder that he wasn’t feeling quite himself.

Allen, Serim, and Woobin were scattered across the living room, each in their own world but immediately noticing his presence. The house was quiet, the rare stillness of a day off settling in like a blanket over them all. They didn’t have schedules to run to, no practice to hurry off to—just a rare moment of peace. But Jungmo, normally full of energy and laughter, looked like he was carrying the weight of the world.

"Still feeling sick?" Allen asked, his voice softer than usual, the concern obvious even in his relaxed posture.

Jungmo nodded weakly, his throat dry. “Yeah… just a little cold, nothing too bad.” He tried to force a smile but couldn’t quite manage it. The others didn’t buy it. They knew him too well.

Woobin sighed, pushing himself up from the couch. “You should rest,” he said gently, his usual teasing tone absent. “We’re not going anywhere today.”

Serim, ever the calming presence, simply reached out for the blanket around Jungmo’s shoulders. “Come sit,” he said. “You’re not going to get better standing around like that.”

Jungmo finally allowed himself to relax, sinking onto the couch. He stretched his legs out in front of him and settled against the backrest, his body feeling heavy in a way that was hard to explain. He still wasn’t sure what was wrong—he didn’t feel horribly sick—but his bones ached, and his head was clouded, like he was walking through fog.

The moment his back touched the couch, his eyelids fluttered shut. Allen and Woobin exchanged a glance, but neither said anything. They let him rest, the soft sound of his breathing filling the room as the quiet stretched on.

Jungmo woke up some time later to the sensation of being gently shaken. At first, he didn’t know where he was. The last thing he remembered was sitting down with his blanket and water bottle, then a warm sense of comfort lulling him to sleep.

Now, the room around him felt too loud, and his body felt too heavy to move. He opened his eyes, but the world seemed off-balance, everything swimming in blurry outlines.

“Jungmo?” It was Serim’s voice, soft and urgent. “Are you okay?”

He tried to sit up, but his body refused to cooperate. He ended up leaning forward, his hands pressing into his thighs for support, just to keep himself upright. His chest was tight, and his stomach churned, the pressure in his head intensifying as if a storm was brewing inside of him. He tried to speak, but his voice was a hoarse rasp.

“Jungmo, talk to me.” Serim was still there, his hand on his shoulder, his presence steady.

“I’m… I’m fine,” Jungmo mumbled, but even to himself, his words sounded weak. He heard the muffled voices of Allen and Woobin, asking him if he was okay, but it all sounded so far away. His ears were ringing, and his senses felt muffled, like he was hearing through a thick curtain.

Jungmo felt the coldness spreading through him, starting from his bones and working its way outward. A wave of nausea hit him, and he barely had time to react before he had to cover his mouth with his hand, the feeling of bile rising in his throat enough to make his head spin. He barely heard the others as they quickly stood up and moved around him, but the next thing he knew, he was being guided toward the bathroom.