DYING IN LA | WHY DON'T WE SICKFICS

COLD - corbyn

REQUESTED BY:
@Rose_Taber

—

Corbyn found it weird that he never got sick. Growing up, he'd catch a cold once a year. It would snow and the weather would get worse, the flu and everything else being passed around in school.

He'd suffer through coughs and sniffles for a week and then he'd be fine, another year passing before he found himself sick again. 

Being on the road for months on end, stuck in fairly close quarters with a bunch of other people, interacting with strangers every single day, Corbyn knew it was bound to happen eventually.

The night before Corbyn realized he was sick, he could feel it coming. The small, hardly noticeable tickle in the back of his throat, pushing down the growing urge to cough through the night. His body felt weaker than usual after their show that night, joints tired and head heavy. Standing up too fast made him dizzy, and all he could think about was when they would back at the bus so he could sleep.

Corbyn panicked when he noticed he was getting sick. They couldn't afford for that to happen, especially considering they were in the middle of tour. Canceling one day would screw everyone over, all so he could get a bit of rest. No. Corbyn thought, I'll be fine.

Climbing into his bunk that night, Corbyn sighed in relief as he muscles relaxed, dizziness fading slightly as he closed his eyes and laid back. He was asleep within ten minutes, light snores filling his bunk.

-

Waking up the next morning after a night of rest hadn't done anything to help Corbyn. Forcing himself to get up proved to cause more harm than good, Corbyn stumbling as he gripped the edges of the bunks on either side of him to keep steady.

Corbyn took a deep breath before slowly walking into the main room with a blanket in his arms, shuffling over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. It was only six in the morning, no one else awake yet, leaving Corbyn to sit down on one of the couches by himself.

His head pounded as he laid back on the cushions, snuggling into his blanket once more as he closed his eyes.

It felt like only minutes later when laughter woke him up again, blinking tiredly as his eyes adjusting to the now bustling bus.

"Good morning!" A loud voice chirped, Corbyn frowning at the loudness of them all. "Wondering when you'd wake up. Why were you out here?"

Corbyn looked up tiredly at the person talking to him, seeing Jack peering down at him while he sipped from a glass.

Corbyn opened his mouth to respond, stopping to clear his throat when nothing came out.

"I just woke up and came out here earlier." Corbyn told him, clearing his throat again afterwards as he realized how bad he sounded. "What time is it?"

"A little after eight. We have to leave by ten, so you should probably get ready now before Zach hogs the bathroom."

There was an offended 'hey!' from across the way, Corbyn seeing a pouting Zach as he made cereal. Daniel came up behind him, hands placed gently on his waist as he kissed his cheek.

Jack shrugged, rolling his eyes at the two. "Anyways," Jack continued, pausing as Corbyn zoned out. "are you feeling alright?"

"Hmm?" Corbyn hummed, looking over at Jack. "Oh, um, yeah. I'm fine."

Jack nodded, not looking convinced, but shrugged it off nonetheless.

Corbyn dragged himself up, walking slowly towards his bunk to grab clothes for the day before moving towards the bathroom. He showered as quick as he could, trying to keep himself awake long enough to finish and get dressed before leaving.