I have school tomorrow and I am DREADING it

You step out of the bathroom in your pajamas feeling fresh and ready for the night. You brushed your hair and your teeth, changed your clothes and washed your face, and now you feel clean and nice and fresh.

You shut the door quietly and look at the bed where Jimin should be. He's not there.

He's on the couch, leaning over the armrest to reach the phone that's plugged into the wall with a short charger.

Your old phone.

Jimin doesn't even notice that you're out. He's wearing the earbuds and staring at the screen with a bittersweet smile. You walk over to the couch and sit next to him. When he feels the dip in the cushion, he pauses what he's watching to look at you.

It's the thanksgiving video you made last year. He's going through the photo album of you and him.

"Y/n," Jimin says, sitting up. He puts the phone on the armrest and pulls the earbuds out, then reaches for you and hugs you. "Sorry I didn't ask," he murmurs. "I couldn't help myself."

"That's fine," you say. "I don't mind. Reaching the end of the album?"

Jimin nods. "How long did it take for you to comb through your camera roll and make this?"

"I had the patience and a strong will to get it done. Made my nights a lot easier in the end."

"Your mom said they had to hide all of the things that reminded you of me. Was this included? Is that why you got a new phone?"

You nod. Jimin looks back at the phone and picks it up, unplugging it from the charger and holding it up so you both can see it. He pulls the earbuds out and unpauses the video, which shows him tickling you before it ends.

"It's been so long since I've worn normal clothes," Jimin says. "I've been in these hospital pajama thingies for like, a month. I forgot real clothes existed."

He swipes to the next photo, which is a picture you took of him when he wasn't paying attention. In the picture, he's wearing a puffy coat and his winter hat with the fuzz ball on top. You loved that hat because it made his cheeks look puffier and cuter- and because when he was outside in the cold, his nose turned pink.

"A lot of these pictures are ones I didn't know you took," Jimin says. "But I gotta say, you really know my good side and what not, because these are great."

"Every side is your good side. Which is good for me because I am not a good photographer. Anyway I took those ones because I wanted to draw you like that."

"Did you?"

"When I had the time. Sometimes I drew you at night when I was waiting for your calls."

"Aw how come I never saw them?"

You smile wide and kiss Jimin's cheek. "I'll show them to you later," you say. "They're all at home- no wait, I have a few in my phone. I like taking pictures of my favorite ones. They're just mixed in with my other sketches."

Jimin smiles giddily and looks at you as if to say, 'go on, what are you waiting for?' So you get up and head to the makeshift nightstand next to the bed, grab your phone, and return to the couch next to Jimin.

"Okay," you say, opening it. "I'll let you see them." You pull up the camera roll and look for the album where you put your art stuff. "There are more I wanna show you anyway. I've gotten better since the last time I saw you."

"Oh no doubt," Jimin says, eyes fixed on you. He licks his lips. "It's been long enough."

You scroll up to the top of the album where you have your old pictures from your old phone. The ones you drew last year. You search specifically for the winter hat one to show Jimin first.

In the picture Jimin saw earlier, he is kneeling on the sidewalk next to a fallen stop sign, drawing a smiley face with his fingers on its frosty surface. In your rendition of it, he is doing the same thing, but everything is exaggerated— cartoonish. The puffball on his hat is way bigger. His smile makes his face glow. He radiates happiness.

You hand the phone to him.

Jimin takes the phone and looks at the sketch in awe. "It's so pretty," he breathes. He stares at the picture for another long moment, then swipes to the next picture.

You're about 86% positive that there aren't any sketches you don't want him to see. This album has your favorite sketches and drawings and shouldn't have any of your more embarrassing ones.

For the next twenty minutes, Jimin goes through your drawings, his eyes wide and shiny and filled with awe at what he sees. When he sees one of him that looks familiar, he searches for the picture on your old phone to compare the real life photo to your take of it.

You close your eyes halfway through and lean your head back against the couch cushion. Being with Jimin makes you feel so happy. Simply sitting next to him is like getting a full recharge. He removes your dead batteries and fills the empty space with energy and bliss.

You really lucked out, finding a hidden gem like him in an American high school. Before, you thought you'd never find someone you'd trust so deeply.

Almost too quickly, Jimin reaches the end of the album. You know this because he stops letting out impressed gasps and happy hums.

"Y/n?"

You open your eyes and look at Jimin. His eyes are on the phone. You look at the screen.

It's a photo of the drawing you did of him most recently. With the flowers. The one makes you really sad because you drew it without any idea if he would wake up. It's still a really good piece, so it's in your phone anyway.

"This is..." Jimin murmurs, connecting the dots in his mind. "This is like the ones you did when you were younger. Of your friend in the sixth grade."

The one that died. Yes.

"You remember that?" You ask. You can't remember when you told him about your friend.

"Mmhmm," Jimin hums. "You showed those drawings to me the first time we hung out just the two of us."

"That was so long ago."

"It doesn't feel as long for me."

That's understandable.

"Well... yes. I did it the same way," you mumble. "Just better now cause I've got more experience."

"He died didn't he?"

"Mmhmm."

"Is that why you made this one look similar?"

You nod slowly, avoiding Jimin's gaze. "My therapist told me I needed to get used to the idea that you might not make it," you say quietly. "So I drew you like that. It didn't help, of course, but I'm glad it didn't."

Jimin leans over and kisses your cheek. "I like it." He says quietly. "It's very pretty." He turns off your old phone and leaves it on the armrest, then hands your current phone back to you. "How many pictures did you take after I went down?" He asks, smiling again. "I wanna see."

"Not too many," you say, taking your phone from him. "I didn't take any until I started getting better, which was around the time I got my job."

Jimin's expression brightens up a little. "Isn't that when you met Kieth? Do I get to see what he looks like?"

"Yeah, you'll get to see him." You draw an imaginary line from the top of your head to Jimin's neck. "I thought he was taller than you before, but I completely forgot you could still grow," you say, more to yourself than to him. "So I think you still come out taller— or maybe around the same height."

Jimin grins. "Totally irrelevant," he says. "But nice to know."

You unlock your phone again and go back to the camera roll.

"So how did you and Kieth become friends?"

"My manager taught me how to do my job but he couldn't always be there, so he set Kieth up as the one to answer my questions. I kept quiet and I didn't want to make friends, but Kieth didn't like my silence much. He thought I was too sad and ended up cracking jokes and being super friendly until he could force me to laugh or something."

You smile a little and pull up a picture of Kieth for Jimin to see. It's the first one you took of him at Starbucks of him in the back room, scared as hell, holding the broken handle of a microwave.

"Kieth was trying to make me laugh but ended up breaking the microwave," you say. "And I ended up taking a picture because it was so funny. This was the first time I had laughed that hard in a long time."

You look at Jimin to find him eyeing you with a sly grin and gleaming eyes. "I love your smile," he says. "You're so pretty when you're happy."

You look down abashedly, cheeks turning pink and warm. "Y-You're prettier," you say with a small voice. Jimin shakes his head. "Incorrect," he says. "Impossible."

You beam at him, out of words to say, and look for another picture.

It doesn't take long to go through your camera roll and show Jimin the photos and videos of the stuff you did while he was gone (which wasn't much). After seeing all of those and the occasional unexplainable meme, Jimin takes your phone from your hands, switches to the camera app, and holds down the photo button to spam your phone with selfies.

You gasp. "Jimin no I'm gonna have to go through all of those later!"

Jimin grins mischievously and stands up with the phone, holding it up to where you can't reach it, still taking photos. "You got this phone while I was gone," he says. "I'm just filling your camera roll with my face for you."

"Oh come on, you don't have to do it like that." You stand up and reach for the phone, but Jimin holds it above his head and looks up while taking more photos, posing and smiling and giggling while you jump up and reach for it helplessly.

You wrap your fingers around his arm and pull it down to your level. For a moment, you think you are about to get your phone, but he switches it to his other hand and holds it up again before you can grab it.

"Jimin!" You whine. "Noooo." You let go of his arm so you can grab the other one, but Jimin uses that window of opportunity to grab his IV stand and run, phone still held up high, taking pictures. You chase him around the room until he's cornered by the wall and his bed.

"Jimiiiiiin."

"What? Tonight is the perfect night to fill your phone with me," Jimin says, eyes on the camera. "Come on, messy hair? Sickly pale face? Bags under the eyes?Perfect for a photo shoot."

You roll your eyes at his sarcasm and reach up for your phone again, this time without even trying. You don't get up on your tiptoes or reach that high. You sigh and slump forward into his chest.

"I'm gonna have to go through all of those later," you whine. "Do you know how long that'll take me?"

"Oh you'll be fine," Jimin says. "You get to look at my face." He pushes you away and climbs onto the bed.

You get on the bed in front of him and reach for your phone again, but Jimin holds it out of reach. Again. When you drag his arm down this time, Jimin is giggling uncontrollably, eyes turned to slits because of the big smile on his face.

Yes! It's within reach!

Just when you think you are about to get your phone back, Jimin pulls the collar of his shirt out and drops the phone in.

You gasp. "Jimin!" You push him back into the mattress and grab the outline of the phone through his shirt to wheedle it out. "Bad. Bad mochi."

"Mochi?" Jimin asks between giggles.

"Taehyung said it once," you explain. The phone is finally close to the hem of his shirt. "I think it suits you."

Jimin sits up, pushes you back, and gets up on his knees to tuck his shirt in before you can get your phone out. Then he sits back down crisscross in front of you, his evil little smile too cute to get mad at him for.

"You know what? Fine," you huff. Jimin lays back into the bed, thinking he won, resting his arms behind his head. "Give up, precious?"

You sit on his lap so he can't move his legs, then reach for the buttons in the middle of his shirt and fiddle with one of them until it comes loose.

"What-" Jimin grabs your hand to stop you. "Nope," he says. "You can't have it."

You lean down over him and kiss his pretty lips. He kisses you back, totally distracted now. You continue to undo his buttons until you can grab your phone.

You slide it out of his shirt and sit up triumphantly, then unlock it to take a look at how many photos he took.

Your smile disappears. "8..." you sigh. "883."

Jimin closes his eyes, smiling smugly. He returns his hands behind his head. He wins.

"Well," you murmur. "At least if there are any bad photos, I now have those."

That doesn't make you feel better. There's no such thing as a bad photo of Jimin.

Or maybe you're just biased.

You set the phone down on the bed behind you, sighing. Jimin wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you back down on top of him. You catch yourself on your elbows on either side of his head.

Jimin stares up into your eyes with his pretty, twinkling brown ones. You stare back, mesmerized by all the feelings he seems to express without words.

And then you're both kissing again.

You shift one of your elbows a little closer to him so you can reach your hand into his hair and dig your fingers through the soft locks. You loved his hair when it was silver-gray, of course, but black gives him an entirely different aura. It's his natural hair color. He grew up looking like that. He looks younger, even. For some reason, that means something to you.

"You know," Jimin whispers. "I love you so much."

"I love you too."

Jimin traces a finger up your spine and presses his hand against your shoulder blade. "I didn't—" kiss— "didn't used to think—" kiss— "too much into the future," Jimin says, splitting his words between kisses. "Because I didn't think I'd have one." He kisses you one more time and then rests his head back on the pillow.

"But now," his eyes seem to glimmer. "Every day that you're here, it comes together in pieces," Jimin says. "I can see a future with you."

You stare into his eyes, the corners of your lips turning up in a smile. "Yeah?" You murmur. "What do you see in this future?"

"Nothing clear yet. I just see you. I just want you."

"You're all I've ever wanted too. Even before I knew it."

Jimin tickles your waist, making you gasp and sit straight up, pushing his hands away. Jimin giggles at you as his hands drop to your thighs. You huff indignantly and lay back down on him, scooting back so you can rest your head over his heart.

"I love you."

•••

You wake up after a good sleep and stretch your arms up, yawning.

"Chim?" You ask. Nothing. Must still be asleep. You sigh and rub your eyes, then sit up. It's dark outside. What time is it? You carefully climb over Jimin and reach for your phone on the nightstand.

Huh, that's funny. I could have sworn I left it here.

As you carefully pull yourself back, you look down at Jimin.

His hair is wet and sticking to his forehead. His eyebrows are creased and there's sweat covering his face and neck and dampening his shirt.

You frown. "Jimin?" You pat his face. "Jimin wake up." Is his fever getting worse? That's not good. It's already so bad. He doesn't need to get worse.

You brush Jimin's hair away from his face and use your sleeve to wipe the sweat away. "Jimin? Jimin come on, wake up."

Jimin is unresponsive. Your heart beats faster with the anxiety forming in your chest. No no no this can't be happening right now I can't let this happen.

"J-Jimin I- wake up!" You move his head and shake his shoulder to try to wake him up but he remains unresponsive. "No no Jimin wake up! Wake up!"

You spring off of the bed and run to the faucet, fill his cup with cold water, then run back to him, water sloshing over the sides all the way. You turn the cup over so it splashes directly onto his face.

Jimin sits bolt upright and immediately begins coughing and spluttering onto the blanket.

"Oh thank god," you breath. "Jimin, you scared-"

Jimin stops coughing and looks up at you, eyes wide and teary.

The blanket he was just coughing onto is red.

Your eyes widen. "Oh my god- I'll go get a doctor!"

You turn to run to the door but Jimin grabs your wrist and pulls you back.

"What- Jimin I have to-" Jimin grasps his neck with his free hand, looking alarmed. He tries to speak, but he can't. Instead he chokes up more blood.

You gasp. "I have to go get someone right now!" You say. "I'll be right back I promise!" You twist your wrist out of Jimin's grip and sprint to the door, but the moment you touch the handle, you hear a thump behind you.

You turn around.

Jimin is on the floor, looking dazed, shirt suddenly missing, covered in blood, hair matted and red and eyes wide as if he's seeing something else. There isn't a patch of skin on him that isn't covered with red. Where did his bandages go? His shirt? Did he pull them off?

"No- don't get up! Just stay where you are! I have to go get help!"

Jimin yanks the IV out of his arm. You gasp and stumble to the floor next to him, grabbing the thick cord and holding it up to his arm helplessly. "Why did you- how do I put it back in?" There are already tears streaming down your face. You're beginning to panic.

Jimin looks up at his IV bag in wonder. You follow his gaze to see the regular bag, but instead of clear fluid, it's tainted with red.

"Jimin, what-" you cup his face, unable to see him through the tears. "Jimin what is happening? Why are you bleeding!?" You sob.

"Help me." His voice comes out hoarse and quiet. You let go of him and stand up, then run back to the door and twist the handle.

It's locked.

The door is locked.

"No!" You scream. "No no no somebody please! Help him!" You glance back at Jimin as he lays down on the floor, holding himself and curling up into a ball.

"Somebody please! We're trapped and he's dying!"

For the next several minutes, you stand at the door, uselessly rattling the handle and screaming for help, but it doesn't come. You sink to the floor sobbing, back against the door. Jimin drags his body over to you slowly and reaches for you.

You take his hands and help him sit up. He looks at you, eyes wide and innocent and sweet, and opens his mouth as if to say something.

But before words come out, his eyes glaze over with pain and he clutches his chest. He slumps to the ground, his head falling onto your lap. You take hold of his head and cradle it close to you. "What-what's hap-happening?" You sob. "Jimin please what-what's going on?"

Jimin reaches up with a blood-covered hand and wraps it around yours, eyes closing slowly.

"No no no Jimin what- don't-don't leave me! I-I can't be alone again!"

Jimin goes limp in your arms and his hand falls to the floor.

Your panic spills over like boiling water and you let out a blood-curdling scream.

When you open your eyes though, you're not on the ground by the door. You're back in bed.

"Y/n what happened?!" Jimin sits up behind you, startled awake by your scream.

What am I doing on the bed? You fumble around with the blankets, moonlight from the window being your only light. You can hardly see through the tears or hear past your cries and sobs. Where's the blood? You look for Jimin's IV bag. It's normal again.

You can't breathe, and you have no idea what's happening. You choke on thin air and try to take a deep breath, but you can only inhale so far before you choke, out of air.

Jimin's hands wrap around your waist and he pulls you back inbetween his legs, then wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him. He lays his chin over your shoulder. "Hey, hey Y/n I'm right here," he says softly. "It's okay, I'm here."

He's here. It's okay. He's here. He's not covered in blood. He can speak. He isn't coughing up blood. He is awake and warm and just fine. You choke out the last of your sobs in an attempt to quiet them down.

The door opens and light spills onto the floor, interrupted by the shadow of a lady. She peeks in, wearing a blue-green uniform, and says something in Korean. Jimin lifts his head and says something back. They converse back and forth for a minute, and then the lady leaves, closing the light out.

"Shh, it's okay it was just a dream," Jimin murmurs. He rubs your arm up and down and puts his chin back on your shoulder. "It's okay. Breathe with me."

You can't speak, so you nod, chest spasming as you try to breathe. It hurts your lungs. You can't take in any air. It feels as if there are thick metal rings constricting your lungs, rendering them useless and unable to inflate with the oxygen you need.

You want to throw up. You're dry-heaving, your chest is hurting, your lips are dry and stinging, and your face is wet from the tears.

But Jimin is okay, right? It was all just a nightmare. He's okay.

You grab the back of Jimin's hand and interlock your fingers tightly, knuckles turning white, then bring it up to your chest. The warmth from his palm seeps through your shirt. You can feel your heart pounding against your chest, and he can too.

You close your eyes but that makes it worse, so you open them back up again and count things in the room.

One white wall in front of you. One silver sink set into the wall with a soap dispenser next to it. Two sturdy brown doors: one that leads out of the room, and another for the bathroom.

Jimin begins rocking side to side slowly and hums next to your ear. His voice is so soft and angelic and fills you to the brim with a light, feathery feeling.

You count things until you calm down. You feel Jimin's chest rise and fall against your back and try to match it. You listen to his humming, thankful that you aren't trapped in silence like you used to be.

It was all just a bad dream.

Little by little, the rings around your lungs melt away until it doesn't hurt so bad to breathe, and now you're taking deep inhales and holding them for a moment before letting them out.

"That's it," Jimin murmurs, sweeping your hair over your shoulder, away from your neck. He kisses the spot under your ear and leans his forehead against the back of your head. "It's all okay."

You draw in a shuddering breath and let it out slowly through your nose.

Just a dream.

Nightmare.

"Just keep breathing," Jimin whispers. You cannot begin to explain how good it feels to hear his voice. It's healing. Calming. Soothing.

You realize how tight you're squeezing Jimin's hand and loosen your grip.

The door opens and the same nurse lady walks in with a bottle of water. You wipe your eyes with the back of your free hand and look up at her. She has short black hair and a pair of pretty brown eyes that are calming to look at.

She says something to you, which Jimin translates. "She wants to know if you'll need anything else other than water."

You shake your head. The lady hands you the water bottle, which Jimin takes and opens for you. You take it and hold it up to your stinging lips. The plastic makes your mouth sting a little more, but it goes away once you too your head back and take slow sips of water.

The nurse lady says one more thing, which Jimin translates to, "don't be afraid to come out and ask for anything else," and then she leaves the room.

You drink more water and then close the bottle, then let Jimin take it and put it on the nightstand.

"Do this... used to happen a lot?" Jimin asks. "You recover fast from these."

You nod.

"I'm guessing because of... because of me?"

"Not always..." your voice is rough and hurts from your scream. You clear your throat. "Sometimes I couldn't handle being around too many people. Or I was around people I didn't like. Normal things like that."

"How long has it been since the last time you..."

"A month or two I think?" you say hoarsely. "I started taking heavy medication and learned how to keep myself calm. I didn't think I'd need to bring my meds with me."

Jimin doesn't reply. Instead, he wraps you in his warm embrace and holds you close.

You stay like that for several long, quiet moments and focus on breathing. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Repeat.

Jimin leans back into the bed, bringing you down with him. You turn in his arms and lay on your side so you can look at him. You focus on his eyes. He stares back into yours. You'll be okay. He is okay.

"Was it the same as last time?" He asks. His voice is quiet, almost a whisper. "Your nightmare, I mean." You nod. Jimin moves his face closer to yours until your foreheads are touching. Your eyes fall to his lips.

"It's okay," Jimin murmurs. "Nothing will happen to me." One of his thumbs reaches up from the mattress and rubs the back of your shoulder.

"Hm, I guess that's kind of pointless to say. It won't stop your nightmares," Jimin says thoughtfully. "I wish it could though. If I could take all your bad dreams and lock them away forever, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Your close your eyes fully. Your eyelids feel so heavy. You're so tired from what just happened. It was just a nightmare. It's okay. Jimin is right here.

You back up and lift your hand up to his forehead. He's still hot. He isn't covered in sweat or blood though, and he's calmer than you are. You remove your hand and kiss his forehead. "M'sleepy," you murmur. Your voice barely leaves your lips. You're exhausted.

Jimin shifts around a little and then pulls your head into his chest. "I love you," he whispers. "Sweet dreams, Precious."

"You too Chimmy," you murmur, already halfway asleep again. "I love you."

•••

You open your eyes. You must have turned around in your sleep, because you're facing the window. There isn't much light, since the sky is gray and gloomy, the clouds choking the sun.

It's still bright enough to make you have to squint and blink your eyes. Your head hurts. You should go back to sleep.

You attempt to let out a groan, but nothing comes out. Instead of going right back to sleep, you open your eyes again and frown. Where's my voice?

You turn away from the window to look at Jimin on your other side.

He isn't there. His IV bag thing is gone. Where did he go? You sit up. There is an empty tray on the nightstand. A nurse probably came in to give him breakfast earlier and he's already gone through it.

But where did he go?

You look to the bathroom door. The light is on inside, peeking under the bottom of the door. He must be in there.

You've noticed that after every time he eats, he disappears into the bathroom for a while and comes out looking pale and shaken. He isn't still throwing up, is he? He told you he hasn't been, but then why does he always look so much sicker after eating?

The doorknob rattles and twists, and the bathroom door opens. Jimin walks out, sweeping his hair out of his face and rubbing his forehead on his sleeve.

You open your mouth to say his name but nothing comes out, same as earlier. Did you lose your voice?

Jimin removes his arm and spots you. "Good morning," he says, smiling. His hair is a mess atop his head, eyes swollen and red. Has he been crying?

You frown and scoot to the edge of the bed, then stand up and walk over to him. He doesn't move as you stride over to him and take his face in your hands to examine his eyes. They're bloodshot and puffy. His cheeks are shiny. He has been crying.

"Ch-" your voice doesn't come out. "Chi-" you turn and clear your throat, then bring a hand up to rub at your neck while you look back at Jimin. "Chi-im," your voice comes out broken and rough. It hurts your throat to speak at all. It feels as if someone stuffed a bunch of legos down your throat and you can hardly push your voice out through them.

You bite your lip in frustration and stick to being quiet instead.

"Are you okay?" Jimin asks, eyebrows creasing with worry. You nod and point to him. He shrugs. "I'm okay."

Really? You raise your eyebrows, unbelieving.

Jimin nods. "Yeah, I'm f..." he sighs. "I just... I'm stressed."

You open your mouth to speak again, to say something comforting or ask him what he's worried about in particular, but when you try to use your voice, a strained whisper of sound is all that comes out.

Instead you grab his hands, keeping your eyes on his.

"It's nothing though," Jimin says. "It'll pass."

You stare unblinkingly are him. It's not nothing if he cried about it. You don't like seeing him cry. He doesn't deserve to be sad.

Jimin sighs and looks down at your shoulder. "My fever wont go away," he mumbles. "I've had it for days. I want to get better already. And we have to stop sleeping together and kissing and stuff. I don't want you catching this."

It'll pass. We just have to be patient. Is what you want to say. But your voice just doesn't want to work.

Jimin looks back at your face, eyes tearing up. "It feels horrible," he says. "I just want it to go away."

You stand on your tiptoes and wrap a hand around Jimin's head to pull him down a little so you can plant a kiss on his forehead. When you pull away, gaze falling back to his. You rub your thumbs along his cheekbones underneath his eyes. I love you.

You turn to clear your throat and try to speak.

"I-it'll be oka-" pause. Cough into shoulder. "Be o-okay. It'll ge-" pause. Cough again. "Get be-" pause. Sharp exhale through nose to express annoyance. Cough again. Clear your throat. "It-It'll get bet-" sneeze.

"Bless you," Jimin says. He looks amused, as if your throat pain entertains him.

You feel a pinprick in the back of your throat and choke. You cough into your arm and clear your throat a couple more times. Finally, after a long moment of murder in your esophagus, it clears up a little bit. It feels as you have finally shot a hole through a thick barrier, and your voice can squeeze out.

Though it's still rough and deep and croaky.

"As I was going to say," you say hoarsely. Your voice sounds so ugly and foreign. Jimin giggles at you and nuzzles your forehead. "Aww, you're so cute," he coos.

You roll your eyes. "Shut up. As I was saying, it'll get better. We just have to be patient."

Jimin giggles again and presses his finger to your nose. "You've lost your voice," he says. "How cute."

"It's not cute," you whine. "It hurts my throat."

Jimin's little smile fades. "Wait no- what if you're catching my fever now?" He backs away from you. "I- we need to be more careful."

"It's probably too late already," you say. You cough into your arm. "Ugh- theres no way I've spent the last couple of days kissing you and haven't caught it." You take a step toward Jimin but he backs away again.

"No. If there's the slightest chance that you don't already have it, we should probably not touch each other."

You pout. "But I-"

"Hey," Jimin says, voice softening. "You've survived this long without me," he says. "We can get through this too. Plus, it's not like you have to leave. Hopefully. We'll still be together." Jimin sighs. "We just can't... touch."

"Yeah but let's say I'm already sick. Then what? This would have been for nothing."

"If we're both sick and we keep sticking together like glue, it might not heal as fast. Let's just power through this, and we'll both be okay soon. Hopefully."

"Yeah but that'll be so hard..." you protest. Without waiting for Jimin to answer, you sneeze and then fall into a short coughing fit. When you recover, you sigh, defeated. "Okay," you say. "Okay okay. Fine."

Jimin wraps his arms around himself. "Air hug," he says, grinning. You match his smile and copy him.

"Doctor In should get here soon," Jimin says. "For another check up. We can-"

"Can we just start this whole 'no touchy' thingie after he leaves then? It won't be too long."

"No."

You pout again. "Then-then can I kiss you first and then-"

"No."

You sigh and trudge over to the couch. "Fine." You plop down and lean your head back against the arm rest. "Then you better heal quickly, or else-"

A knock sounds on the door and it opens. Dr. In walks in, pulling his little supply cart behind him. "Speak of the devil," Jimin says.

The doctor says something in Korean, shutting the door behind him, and Jimin answers. Dr. In pulls his cart up to the bed and then heads to the sink to wash his hands and fit on a new pair of latex gloves.

Jimin sits on the bed and looks at you. "This should be quick," he says, his mouth turned up in a tiny smile. He blows you a kiss. "We'll get through it, Y/n," he says quietly. "Just be patient."

You will. You'll get through it. Hopefully, you won't have any problems with nightmares like last night. Hopefully, if you are sick, you won't end up as bad as Jimin. Hopefully, you can survive god knows how long until you can touch him again.

You've gotten this far. What's another week or two to you? After he heals, he could possibly be discharged, and then you can go back home.

And then your life really begins.

Aaaaaand another chapter. This story is moving slowly but it's kind of meant to at this point. I'll try to make sure it isn't boring.

Have a good day/night!

-L