“Jongdae,” Junmyeon speaks tersely as he enters the younger’s room. Said man is curled up under his duvet, a tuft of blonde curls peeking out from beneath it. Junmyeon waits ten seconds exactly and when there’s no movement- no sign of acknowledgement- he breathes heavily through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest.

This isn’t fair. They’re all old enough to be waking up on their own. Old enough to be ready by the time the managers arrive. Old enough to do what they’re supposed to without Junmyeon constantly at their heels like a ing watchdog. He hadn’t slept much last night and as usual, he has to set his alarm earlier than everyone else so he could get them off their beds in time and still try to get ready before the staff is banging at their doors. And still, someone is always late and he has to bear the brunt of the scoldings.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he turns on his heels. That’s it. It’s time for drastic measures. He’s going to have to bring out the spray bottle with cold water. However, as he’s about to retreat, a muffled sound graces his ears. He stops. That was a cough. Most definitely. It’s followed by a low whine and a string of violent hacking. Junmyeon’s eyes widen. “Oh my god,” he blurts, rushing back to the bed.

Seating himself at the edge of the mattress, he carefully peels back the baby blue blanket and is greeted with an unhealthily pale-looking Jongdae, skin glistening in a sheen of sweat. His lips are dry and cracked and he makes a disgruntled sound as the cool air kisses his heated skin. Heated is an understatement. Junmyeon presses the back of his palm to the man’s forehead, only to pull away with a gasp. Jongdae is running a high fever.

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “Dae,” he whispers, shaking the other’s arm gently. “Why didn’t you come tell me you weren’t well?” Jongdae’s eyes peel open, glassy and red, and Junmyeon swallows hard. He looks sick in the truest form. His earlier irritation melts away into a puddle of guilt. Jongdae opens his mouth to speak but coughs instead, grimacing after. Junmyeon guesses he has a sore throat as well.

As if on cue, their managers storms into the room. “Junmyeon! We’ve been waiting for five minutes- oh.” He cuts his rant when the leader lifts a finger to his lips to silence the man and then turns to Jongdae. The manager walks up to the bedside and frowns, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t good.”

Jongdae is looking between the two dazedly. The heat must be getting to him and making him light-headed. “I’ll stay back with him. He’s in no condition to be alone.” Junmyeon states. The eldest of the three frowns deeper, opposed to the thought but he eventually sighs and nods.

“Give him medication. He needs to be better by tomorrow. You all have rehearsals in session.” Giving one final disappointing shake of his head, he exits the room.

Junmyeon heaves a laboured breath, feeling the beginnings of a migraine forming behind his eyes. It’s not like they choose to be sick. It just happens. Besides, there was no way he’d leave an ailing member to take care of themselves. Jongdae is pouting at him when he looks down at the younger and Junmyeon chuckles. “What? Don’t look at me like that. You’d probably die without someone to take care of you.”

A weak thwack is delivered to his abdomen and he smiles even wider. “Come on. You need a cold shower.” Jongdae’s eyes widen and he shakes his head, orbs pleading with the leader but Junmyeon is resolute. A cold shower would help contain the fever at least.
 

“Jongdae, stop moving! I’m getting wet!” Junmyeon yells, only to be graced with a sly smirk. Yeah, he really should have left the younger home alone. His white t-shirt is now soaked through, his boxers drenched. Jongdae is in every essence, a freaking cat. He hisses when Junmyeon tries to spray him with the water hose because he refuses to stand under the shower head. It takes the leader twenty five minutes to bathe Jongdae and by the time the younger is wrapped up in a towel, Junmyeon needs to change his clothes and do something about the scratches on his arms.

“No. Jongdae no. You need to eat,” he admonishes when said man heads straight for the bed, flinging off his towel in the process. “You’ve got to be ing me,” he then groans when he realizes Jongdae is . Ignoring another mischievous quirk of the younger’s lips, he storms over to the bed and tugs at Jongdae’s leg. “Put on some clothes and let me dry your hair.”

Jongdae shakes his head defiantly, trying to crawl under hi