Rub His Back | A JJK Sickfic

chapter five: don't leave him, not for a second (part 2)

Sejin's keys scrape metal as he works to unlock the door of the bungalow, cursing under his breath like he's been doing all morning. The task isn't as swift as he so desperately needs it to be right now; his large hand wrestles with the small object while his other is occupied with keeping Jungkook securely at his hip.

The boy is about to fall over. He holds onto the molding of the door frame with breaths that are heavy; he sounds worryingly winded for someone who's just walked the short distance to the front door, and with help. His fingers are tingling and his legs feel like lead. He can't lift his head, so he stares down at the tiled floor that spins below him. The doctor said he might feel like this off an on for a few days until everything leaves his system, but it doesn't make him any more prepared for it when it happens.

"S-Sejin-nim," The manager's name slurs together on Jungkook's lips. He feels like he's drunk. Is this what it feels like to be drunk? Jungkook's sure it feels better than this. He's incredibly dizzy and lethargic, and he's felt disconnected from his own two feet since Sejin helped him out of the van. "I feel like I'm gonna pass out."

Sejin shakes the key vigorously inside the lock, eager to get Jungkook inside and laying down. "Come on, okay--just a second, Kook. You're okay, let's just get inside."

Sejin nudges the door open with his sandal, hoisting Jungkook a little to take on more of his weight as he helps him inside. Jungkook keeps his arm around Sejin's waist like it's a supporting pillar, but the moment Sejin bends down to help the maknae take off his shoes, the boy almost crushes the man's fingers on his clumsy way to the kitchen sink.

Sejin quickly follows, trying not to sigh so loudly at the sound of the wet belch that erupts of out Jungkook. It comes out with such force that he wonders how long the poor boy held that one in.

Jungkook's trembling body is completely bent, fully surrendered to this deep porcelain kitchen sink. He watches Sejin reach over him to scoop out any stray dishes from below them and drops them to the other side, right before the maknae burps again. He spits up orange drool that swirls into the drain. Soon enough, quiet heaves have his spine rolling forward, trapped in what feels like a never-ending cycle of mouthful after mouthful of orange liquid--and more grains of rice, believe it or not--gurgling out of him. Sejin's fingers pinch the feverish skin at the back of his neck and a hand rests at the small of his back.

"Breathe, Jungkook," Sejin instructs. As if it were that easy. He coughs so hard his body clenches and his knee knocks into the sink's cabinet door below him. His throat closes with a gag and he grabs the faucet when it makes him pitch forward. "Easy--easy," Sejin whispers, while Jungkook swallows and swallows, the nausea ever-present, but he's adamant on stopping, at least until he can hide away to the bathroom. Sejin's support and comfort doesn't make this any less awkward for Jungkook. For as often and for as long as Sejin's been around, he's still Jungkook's manager. A gentle giant but still the "father" you'd feel weird showing weakness around.

At least, for Jungkook, that's how he feels around Sejin. Jimin's cried in Sejin's arms before, plenty of times actually. Jungkook thinks it's easier for Jimin to do that because of how naturally open Jimin is. But Jungkook can't do that. He can't even explain the reason why. He wishes he could always be eager to receive anyone's open arms. But right now he just wants his hyungs. Or his mom. Would it be too much to want both?

"Alright, my main man, you got this. Let's try to calm down, huh?" Sejin's voice sounds pretty panicked behind him. Jungkook's pretty sure it's the first time Sejin's seen him this sick. Jungkook's stomach heaves like it has a real reason to, determined to free up something offensive. It's so unforgiving. By the third dry heave, Jungkook has tears squeezing out of his eyes. He's sniffling, trying to compose himself even though his stomach seizes painfully against the edge of the kitchen sink.