Teach Her ✔️

Illness

Jimin's POV

It's hard for him to get a clear picture of what's happening around him. Everything is a little blurry, a little discolored.
He's shivering because of the cold, but he can feel a contradicting sweat beading on his forehead.
This must be why he felt so weak yesterday. After coming home from school, his energy had been so drained that he couldn't do anything else but collapse into bed in exhaustion.
Maybe he thought it was the long day of work, or the excitement of finally getting to fully and truly make out with Y/N uninterrupted.
Either way, he didn't expect this.
His entire body aches and hurts and his head feels like it's just been crushed beneath an anvil.
He can barely open his eyes enough to see a familiar form leaning over him.
Y/N.
She's worried, clear to read by the tense fold between her eyebrows and the downturned corners of her lush lips.
He wants to smooth away those worry lines with his thumb, but he can't really lift his arm that high.
Instead, he lies still and tries to keep the nausea roiling in his stomach at bay. He senses motion as Y/N gets up and leaves the room, returning only moments later and closing the door gently behind her. His bed dips beneath her weight as she sits beside him.
"Here," she murmurs in a soft voice, placing something cool and moist on his forehead.
He doesn't know what makes him feel better, the cold against his burning skin, or the warmth he can feel radiating off of her as it somehow makes it all the way to his heart, turning the organ soft and weak like clay.
"I feel weird," he whispers.
"I know, it'll be okay," she replies, but she doesn't know.
He isn't talking about the fever racking his body or the headache frying his brain.
He's talking about a different kind of sickness, one that's beginning to creep into his heart and soul and take everything over.
One that he isn't really sure he wants to stop.

***

Y/N's POV

The longer you sit beside Jimin on his bed, refreshing the cool rag on his forehead as he drifts in and out of sleep, the bigger the pit in your stomach grows.
Because the more you stare at him, the more you realize something.
Jimin's mouth is chapped and raw from the illness, sweat beading on his upper lip.
Jimin's mouth was glued to yours for an extended period of time not only yesterday, but also the day before.
And Jimin's mouth is the perfect way to transmit a virus from his body to yours.
Crap.
If it's contagious, you don't think it's possible to escape the sickness that he has; his tongue was stuck down your throat for way too long to avoid it.
It doesn't help that you're the one who's taking care of him today, breathing in the same air and exposing yourself further to his illness.
Your only chance is that the virus isn't contagious.
Biting your lip, you gently turn over the rag on Jimin's head so the cooler side is down. He groans under your touch.
"I told you to go to school," he mumbles, trying to keep his eyelids from drifting down again.
You hum in confirmation. "But that was before you passed out. Plus, I wouldn't have listened to you anyways."
Sighing heavily, the sick man rolls away from you and crosses his arms.
"Go away," he whines pathetically. "You're going to get sick too."
Staring at him, you wonder how he's able to teach other people when he can't even use logical thought for himself.
"I probably already am," you mumble under your breath. "Thanks for that."
But he's too far gone to understand or process your words, breathing shallowly. You touch his forehead again and wince at how hot his skin is.
Get his temperature down first, Y/N.
But how?
You grab your phone and look up the best way to get a person's fever to drop.
Scanning over the article, you list to yourself, "Medicine, stay hydrated, tepid bath."
Medicine, water, bath.
Okay, you can do those.
You scurry into the bathroom and dig through the medicine cabinet, pulling out some pills that should help his fever break, then you go into the kitchen for a glass of water.
Jimin's asleep when you return, so you gently rub his shoulder to wake him up.
His eyes crack open. "Hm?"
"Take this," you tell him, helping him sit up against the wall and slipping the pills between his parted lips. He allows you to chase them down with a sip of water before leaning heavily on your shoulder, too frail to hold the sitting position.
You grunt under his weight.
Grimacing at the reminder of how heavy he is and how hard it is to lift him, you glance at the bathroom door. You're almost finished with Mission Break Jimin's Fever, but there's one step left.
You just have to get him into the bathtub.
"Hey," you tell him in preparation. "We're gonna move, okay? You need to take a bath."
"Are you saying I stink?" he slurs, forcing his dry lips into a minuscule smile.
Relieved that he's conscious enough to make a joke, you huff in amusement and hook your arms under his, laying his left arm along your shoulders. You do your best to get him to a half-upright position, swinging his heavy legs around so they're dangling off of the side of the bed.
You bite your lip at the feat before you. "You're gonna have to help me, Jimin."
You feel a weak pressure of your shoulder as he tighten his grip. "I'll try, baby."
He sounds so tired already that you're hesitant to move him, but you know that it will help in the long run.
"Okay, on three." You tense up, summoning all of your strength to fill up your wimpy muscles. "One, two, three."
You heave with all of your might, hefting Jimin with you.
You can feel him straining against himself to help, but almost his full body weight tries to drag you to the ground.
"Crap," you hiss through gritted teeth, digging in your heels. The two of you begin to take clumsy steps across the room, sluggishly working your way to the bathroom.
After what feels like two years of hobbling around, you sense the cool tile of the bathroom surrounding you in lieu of the carpeted bedroom.
You manage to get Jimin seated on the toilet, both of you panting from exertion.
Setting a hand on your aching back, you turn the bath on and let the faucet spit out water into the tub.
"Victory," you cheer halfheartedly. "When you're finished, call for me."
You start to leave, satisfied with your work, but his hoarse voice stops you.
"Y/N," he says hesitantly.
The tone of his voice leaves a foreboding feeling in your stomach.
"Help," he whimpers. "I can't get my boxers off."

[A/N]
Unedited
I'm leaving for a cabin in the mountains tomorrow so I don't know when the next time I'll get to update is. I'll try really hard to get another update in soon, though!
Also, side note: aegyo-mochi does this super cute ship book and y'all should check it out
❤️pocketbangtan