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For: anon on Tumblr.
Request: could you do a ryan
or gerard x reader where
the reader is sick?
if not it's totally cool,
just wondering
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.β
ββββββββββββββββ
REQUESTS ARE OPEN.
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It was inevitable; you knew that. Your days were numbered, and regardless of how careful you were, no matter how many precautions you took, you knew that you would eventually fall. The stomach bug had been making the rounds on the Pretty. Odd. tour, and unless you were one of the four band members who were being kept away from everyone else, you were fair game.
"Ryan, don't," you croaked, using what little strength you had left to push yourself up into a sitting position on your bunk.
You were dazed and disorientated and had no idea what time it was. Looking out of the small window next to your bed was no help either; the grounds on which the tour bus stood was completely shrouded in darkness. It could've been the impending promise of nightfall, or it could have just been the dreary Maine weather.
It felt as if you had only just fallen asleep, yet it also felt like you'd been sleeping for months. The blankets had become your enemy, drawing you into a battle of constant pushing and pulling as your body temperature fluctuated between extremes.
Making the mistake of turning around to look if Ryan had entered the bus, your stomach churned and your head spun.
"Oh god, here it comes," you choked out, hand flying to your mouth as you stood up and staggered to the tiny bathroom.
Hearing the commotion, Ryan hurried onto the bus, struggling to maintain a firm hold on the ginger ale and crackers in his hands.
"My love?" he called to you with concern in his voice, bursting into the bunk area just as you shut the bathroom door. "Too slow; I saw ya! I brought reinforcements."
The scene inside the compact space was not at all pretty. You were sprawled on the floor, limbs splayed out as wide as the restraining walls would allow. The toilet bowl was directly next to your head; as unappealing as the position was, you were terribly afraid that if you were too far away from it, you would make a mess all over the floor once the contents of your stomach decided to make a premature reappearance.
"Baby, are you okay?"
"Just leave me here to die, Ryan."
"Never gonna happen, (Y/N)."
At the risk of being yelled at β and catching the bug β Ryan tentatively pushed on the bathroom door, peeking through once it had opened a smidge so that he could see you. When his eyes landed on your limp figure, his boyfriend instincts took over and he burst in and dropped down to your side.
"Oh, my love, you look terrible. What can I do? How do I help?"
"You can go away." You gave him a weak push β one that barely caused him to move. "Don't get too close, else you'll get it too."
"Don't care. You need me."
Even though your head and your heart wanted to argue with him, your body betrayed you and instead of expelling words, it expelled what little contents you had left in your stomach.
Ryan rushed to pick up a washcloth that was hanging over the towel rack, and ran it underneath cold water before gently pressing it to your face. He had felt awful when other members of the crew had fallen victim to the bug and had helped where he could, but seeing you in such a state of agony broke his heart.
Management would have his head if they found out that he was exposing himself to a sicknes when they still had a week and a half of tour left, though he couldn't care less at this point. You were his only concern.
"Ryan..."
"I'm here, my love. What do you need?"
"To get back to bed. But I'm too weak to lift myself."
"Say no more-" He instantly reached down to lift you up, but you lifted a shaky hand to stop him.
"No, get someone else. Someone who isn'tone of the band members."
Hurt flashed across his soft features. "Why?"
"Because you can't afford to catch this, and you've already exposed yourself too much," you spoke hoarsely, looking up at him with droopy yet determined eyes, "I can't kill Ryan Ross. The fans would riot."
"(Y/N)-"
"Out, Ross," you commanded, pointing at the door, "I'm serious."
β§β§β§
"Come on, (Y/L/N). Woman up. It's medicine, not poison."
"Those are one and the same, to me."
With a frustrated groan and a frown etched onto his forehead, Ryan reached over to try and force feed you the medicine. "Would you just- UGH!"
You swatted him away angrily, pushing yourself back to lean against the headboard of the hotel bed. "Leave me aloneeeeee," you drawled, holding up a pillow to block him. "YOU'RE GONNA GET SICK!"
"I DON'T CARE!"
In one swift movement, he hit the pillow out of the way and straddled you, pressing his legs against your sides to prevent you from wriggling away.
Sighing defeatedly, you folded your arms over your chest to showcase your displeasure, but ultimately resigned yourself to opening your mouth.
"I hate you."
"I love you too, baby." The guitarist's hand was as steady as ever as he lifted the spoon full of liquid up for you to take in. He watched with an intense, unwavering gaze to ensure that you swallowed every single drop.
Your stomach fluttered at his endearing actions, though you didn't dare to tell him that. The last thing you wanted to do was to encourage his behaviour. It was unresponsible for him to be exposing himself like this, and it irked you that he refused to acknowledge the fact.
Nevertheless, the medicine worked wonders on your frail state, and you settled into an restful slumber shortly after taking the dose. Smiling to himself, Ryan placed a soft kiss on your forehead.
β§β§β§
A couple days later and you had made a full recovery, stepping out of self-appointed quarantine for the first time in who knows how long. You were still apprehensive about re-entering the land of the healthy though, and made a concerted effort to avoid touching anything or anyone as you walked through the venue.
"Hey, look who it is!" Jon beamed at you as you entered the rehearsal area. He was at the far end of the room but despite the distance between you two, you held up one hand to warn him to keep back. "You good?"
"Yeah, yeah β much better, thanks." You looked around the room carefully. "Have you seen Ryan?"
"Dressing room, I think."
You nodded. "Thanks, J."
Before he could reply, you were out the door and on your way to find your boyfriend. You made sure to take the quickest route that allowed you to pass the least amount of people, and kept your hands in your pockets the entire time to avoid inadvertently reinfecting yourself.
Nearing the dressing room, you could hear movement from inside and it prompted you to barrel your way through the door.
"Ryan?"
"Stay back."
"Why?"
"Because β Oh no, oh no..." he gasped, shoving his way past you and out of the door.
You stepped to the side quick enough for him to fly by, but followed immediately behind him despite his pleas for you not to. Suddenly, seeing Ryan falling prey to the bug erradicated any fear you had of catching it again, and your only concern from then on out was to help him.
Ryan tumbled into the bathroom across the hall, failing to lock the door in his ill state. You rapped your knuckles against the door tentatively.
"My love, I'm coming in, okay?"
"No... no... I'm fine."
"You sound wonderful."
A weak groan sounded from the other side of the door. "Go away, (Y/N). I don't... need you... either."
His words were a resounding reminder of how abrasive you'd been towards him whilst he was nursing you through your sickness, and you sighed heavily as you mentally cursed yourself for it.
"Ryan, I'm sorry. I was just trying to protect you from all this," you apologised, pushing the door open a tiny crack, "I know that you were just trying to help, and I'm sorry I treated you so badly. But please, let mehelpyou."
The musician's response came in the form of an agonising groan; he was too sick to argue any further at this point, so you opened the door and dropped down next to him. Your hand flew to his back to rub soothing circles there.
"Go..." he tried again, but couldn't subdue his throwing up long enough to say more. His body slumped against the cool wall, eyes droopy as he stared up at you.
"Not a chance, Ross," you shook your head. "You're not getting rid of me. No way."
"Okay... just... promise me one thing."
"Mm?"
"Promise... that you'll let me cough on the other guys. If I'm gonna die, I'm taking the rest of them down with me."
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Thank you for reading x
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