Trials and Tribulations

Side Story IV: Minho's Sick Day

Before Newt and Thomas came along, Minho's first love was track. It'd been something he was good at since childhood, but didn't decide to make anything of it until high school. It'd taken him a while to come to that decision, but he'd done it, stuck with it through his high school years and earned a scholarship thanks to his athleticism.

Every morning, just after dawn, Minho would wake up with Newt, kiss the lump sack that was Thomas goodbye and head to morning practice. Sometimes, he would arrive earlier than his teammates and spend the next thirty minutes doing warm-ups and lamenting his decision to not grab breakfast with Newt. Sometimes, when Newt felt particularly kind, he would meet up with him before classes and give him a snack, but most mornings Minho fended for himself. He did this every day, in rain or shine, through gusty winds or fluttering snow.

That Friday morning had been a nasty one. The winds were fierce, rain turned to ice and the track field was covered in sleet. The walkways around campus were hazardous and the visibility non-existent. Classes were canceled for most that day—only the most stubborn of professors to host a lecture, i.e. Professor Janson—and practice for all sports teams were called off, including volleyball which was mostly spent inside.

But Minho was a stubborn fool. He woke up bright and early, dawned on the WCKED U hoodie, threw on a pair of sweats, wrapped a scarf around his neck and was out the door with his running shoes in seconds. When he returned to the dorm nearly two hours later, soaked to the bone from the icy rain and shivering all over, Newt gave him the lecture of a lifetime. As punishment, he refused to acknowledge Minho's existence for the rest of the day after that. He had even dragged Thomas into it. Needless to say, Minho sulked in the corner of the room for the duration of the day.

That Saturday morning, as the sun rose slowly beyond the fresh horizon, Thomas felt nice and snug inside his warm cocoon blanket when a loud sneeze ripped through the air. He jerked awake, heart pounding in terror. He frantically scanned the dimly lit dorm in search of the source, his mind reeling. Nothing stood out in the dimness of the room, just the light breaths of his sleeping roommates and the distant chirp of the early morning birds.

He re-scanned Newt's side of the room for anything he may have missed, but all he saw was the limp form of the blond, dead to the world and earplugs in place. Saturdays were their lazy days. If Newt had to wake up at an ungodly hour every day then Saturdays and Sundays were the two days he wanted to sleep past 6 AM. (Not that it mattered. He would just wake up two hours after, but whatever. Newt was Newt.) The earplugs were a nice investment, one Thomas was regretting on skimming.

Gravity lured him back to his pillow, the adrenaline from his earlier scare now ebbing away. He was just about to fall asleep when another sneeze tore through the air, followed by a phlegm riddled cough. A gruff curse topped off the spiel and now Thomas was sitting upright in his bunk, brows furrowed in concern.

The bunk frame wobbled in movement. Minho climbed down the ladder with careful steps, his ebony hair a bird's nest of crazy; his expression sour. He didn't acknowledge Thomas's presence in the dark from the ladder or hear the boy crawl out of bed as he wandered on heavy feet into the kitchenette. It wasn't until Minho grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and cold medicine did he register the brunet's appearance next to him.

He squeaked embarrassingly high, nearly sending his supplies to the floor.

"THOMAS!" He rasped angrily, gripping the containers tight in his fists. "What the hell man?! It's too damn early for you to give me tachycardia!"

Thomas gave his boyfriend an apologetic smile. "Sorry, didn't mean to. I'm light on my feet."

"Shuck it you dork. God." He breathed. He gave Thomas a calculating look. He tried to hide the medicine bottle as discreetly as he could from the boy's line of sight, but the effort was for naught. Thomas had already seen.