Breathe Me | Jikook

21

Jungkook was sick the week of Christmas. Having mental breakdowns in the snow was not a very good thing for his immune system.

He was under his blankets in his own room, all by himself. His nose would not stop running and every ten or so minutes a fit of coughs would overtake him, causing him to sit up and fight through it. It made his body ache.

Jungkook actually had a very weak immune system. His body often failed at fighting off germs and bacteria. This lead to his mother—and even Taehyung's grandmother—keeping a stash of various medications in the cabinets in the bathrooms or the kitchen. Jungkook, over the past year or two, had been sick over a dozen times but this time had to have been the worst. He felt weak, like his body was giving out on him when he needed it the most. He couldn't even open the medicine bottles.

"I don't want to go!" Jung-hyun's yell permeated the house, shattering the silence.

"It's Christmas." His mother's voice was calm but muffled by Jungkook's bedroom door. "It's meant to be spent with family."

"But—"

"We're leaving in ten minutes. Get dressed."

The slam of a door occurred mere seconds after this, and a knock on Jungkook's followed.

"Yeah?" The word left Jungkook as no more than a croak. His mom's head poked in, a smile on her face despite what had just happened with his brother.

"Hey there," she said, voice soft, a hand behind her back, "how are you feeling?"

"Sick."

She came closer, sat on the edge of the bed, causing the mattress to sink, and put a hand on his forehead.

"I'm sorry baby." She sighed. The lines on her face seemed deeper. "You still have a fever. If it isn't gone by tomorrow, you're going to the doctor."

Jungkook nodded as her hand left his skin—and immediately regretted it. It set the world spinning.

"There's broth in the fridge—you just need to heat it up—and here's your phone. I'm only giving it to you so you can text me if you need me."

She handed him his phone, which felt cool to the touch as he grabbed it despite it have just being in his mother's grasp. He fought hard to keep the smile off of his face. He finally had his music back.

"Thanks, Mom." He said, then sniffled as she stood.

"Are you good on tissues? You know where the medicine is, right? Try not to move around too much and rest well, please. I'm so sorry you have to spend the holidays alone. I'll try to get out of there early, but you know how your father's mother can be. Once she starts talking you just can't shut her up." His mom shook her head, her hair brushing against her pale, turtleneck sweater. "I love you. Have as best a day as you can."

She smiled softly before exiting the room. This was in complete opposition to the yell that followed.

"Jung-hyun, hurry up! We're leaving." Her voice was abrasive.

Jungkook waited until he heard the dreaded sound of the front door shutting, the voices quietening, before curling onto his side and succumbing to the weight of sleep plaguing his bones despite the ache pounding through his head.

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Jungkook awoke three hours later, around noon, to overwhelming nausea. He kicked the covers off and hurried—stumbled—to the bathroom. He fell to the floor, the landing harsh on his knees, and leaned over the toilet as his light breakfast left his body.