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by CarmenKB

by CarmenKB

With sudden movement, I grasp the trashcan, my nails digging into the plastic. I dry heave, but nothing comes up.

Minho is sitting next to me, rubbing my back and playing with my hair. I hated him being here while I was like this, but I needed him.

Tears fall from my face. That always happens when I puke. It's a bodily reaction, not something I can control.

I lay back in the bed, cuddling up to Minho's side. I was absolutely freezing.

"Can you give me the water?" I croak, ready to vomit again. My throat was sore from the first time.

He goes to hand me the water, but I could feel my throat swell up again. I lean over the bed, aiming for the trashcan. When I sit there for a minute, I begin to cry.

"It hurts," I whine, not having laid back down yet. Man, that soup did not help.

"I know, angel," he replies, sympathy tangled within his words. "Try going to sleep, it might help."

I nod, resting my body back down. I make him lay beside me instead of sitting up like he had. He wraps an arm around my waist like he usually does, pulling me a bit closer so my back was touching his chest.

"Thank you, Min." I was grateful that he cared so much. He didn't have to take me home, but he did. He didn't have to practically carry me inside, but he did. He didn't have to get me food, but he did. He didn't have to stay, but he did.

"I'll always be here, angel," he replies, his thumb gently brushing my upper arm.

"Honey," a voice says, making me peel my eye lids open. I could still feel the weight of Minho's arm, but I know that wasn't his voice.

"Mom, I don't feel well," I say, glancing at her before closing my eyes again, "Minho took me home from school. Sorry I didn't message."

"It's okay baby. Do you want some soup?"

I nod and she whispers, "alright. I'll go make some. Your friend is welcome to stay for dinner."

She hands us bowls of soup, making sure we wouldn't spill them on accident. She made us come down, just so if I threw up, I wouldn't accidentally do it in the bed with hot bowls of soup on it.

I ate slowly, my eyes opening and closing as if I was drifting from sleep.

"Ji, do you want to go back to sleep? You can always finish it later," Minho points out, more relaxed now that my mom wasn't in the room.

He told me the first time he met my mom that he had anxiety with adults, especially parents. It was difficult for him to speak with them, so he tried keeping his distance. I had asked why, but he said it was just something he's always had.

"I don't want to walk," I say, slumping my body down so I was slouching.

He shakes his head, chucking lightly at the fact that I was really lazy when I was sick. His arm slid under my knees and the other held up my back. I laid my head on his chest, not realizing how easily he picked me up.

"You're really light, Jisung," he points out.

I hum, closing my eyes.