VOICE • BTS 8TH MEMBER

t w e l v e

You'll learn very quickly that I'm horrible at making part 2 to my story... sorry LOL

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The second I walked inside the hotel room, I went straight for the couch. I collapsed onto it, my breathing only getting heavier.

I couldn't tell if I was about to puke or faint- Honestly it felt like a mix of both. Immediately, the boys began rushing around, grabbing stuff that we'd usually use when we're sick.

Seokjin grabbed a cold rag and held it against my forehead. Yoongi informed the others that he was going to make some tea using the packets he got back in Japan. And Taehyung and Jungkook were doing their absolute best at trying to find my heating pad in my suitcase.

Despite their efforts, my heart was still racing at a million miles per hour, I couldn't open my eyes, and my head was killing me. If I ever wanted to know what death feels like, then I'd like to think it'd feel like this.

"Do you need to throw up? I think we have medicine in one of our bags..." Namjoon asked, his voice trailing off as he nervously began to walk around.

The pain and nausea in my stomach only grew worse, causing my the grasp the sides of the couch in pain. Performing an entire concert while sick didn't help my case.

"The tea is done. See if she wants some, I think it'll help," Yoongi called out.

"Hyejoo, do you want the tea Yoongi made?" Said a familiar voice. It sounded like Jimin.

"No," I said, not missing a beat. If I drank that tea, then it was only going to come back up two minutes later.

I sat there listening to the boys conversate for a few more minutes, their voices sounding hazy. If there was one thing I hated most, being sick would be the top one.

"Ah, I think I found the heating pad!" Jungkook called out. I could hear his foot steps running out from the hallway.

"She's sweating puddles... The heating pad is the last thing she needs. Good job finding it, though," Hobi said.

The boys sat in silence, not really knowing what else to do. I didn't get sick often, and even when I did, I had enough energy to care for myself. But now it felt like at any type of movement I made, I was only going to throw up.

"Hyejoo, you should probably shower. You're all sweaty from the concert," Jimin said, touching the damp top of my hairline.

"No. I'll shower in the morning," I panted.

"But we leave at three in the morning tomorrow. It's better you do it now then smell disgusting at the airport," Namjoon said.

Man, he was right. There was no way in hell I'd be able to shower before then. I sat there for a second, trying to build up energy to stand up. Just as I felt like I was able to, I felt two arms slip under me and pick me up.

The damp rag that was on my forehead was now gone, meaning I could actually see better. I opened my eyes very slowly, seeing Jimin walking me over to the bathroom.

He set me down right as we reached the door, and he first thing I did was run over to the toilet to puke. I felt his presence behind me.

Then, he did the thing again. He held my hair up. He had probably seen me puke about fifty million times today, and yet despite how gross it was, he was always there to hold my hair up.

I hung my head outside of the toilet bowl, my vision turning black once more. I didn't want to shower. I just wanted to sleep.

"Here," He said, picking me up effortlessly by my waist and setting me in the tub. "I'll wash your hair. But you have to wash the rest of your body, okay?"