take two Nyquil and call it a day
fortune favours the boldSoojin frowns.
“Something wrong, Soo?” Lisa asks. Drenched in sweat, she crumples onto the floor next to Soojin.
The studio is filled with chatter. Practice is finished and, to celebrate last night’s show, the team is meeting at Cantina’s. It’s tradition: tacos and tequila.
“Hm?” Soojin looks up from her phone. With a glaze to her eyes and a furrow in her brow, she tilts her head. “Did you say something?”
Her former roommate smiles, “Typical, Soo. Head in the clouds.” The tone is teasing as the taller woman stretches her arms overhead. “What could be more interesting than your favourite roommate?”
Soojin rolls her eyes, but plays along with the banter, “Former roommate.”
“That hurts, Soo. I really thought we had something.” Pulling herself along the floor by her forearms, Lisa pushes herself up and into Soojin’s side, “So what is it? y Eyes?”
“Lisa,” Soojin whines as she pushes Lisa away, “You’re sweaty and gross.”
“So are you!” Lisa whines in return, attempting to wiggle her way around the palm jammed into her cheek to keep her at bay, “Huggie!”
The scoff of disgust is sincere, “Lisa. Gross. Stop.”
“Fine,” Lisa concedes, casually leaning back on her palms with an air of nonchalance. “So? What’s got that smile upside down?”
“Soyeon said Shuhua isn’t feeling well.”
“So it is y Eyes,” Lisa says with a waggle of her brow.
“Don’t call her that,” Soojin warns. The words fall flat though when her attention doesn’t lift from her phone, “She didn’t eat breakfast. It’s her favourite.” The last bit is mumbled, but Lisa hears it clear as day.
Rising to her feet, Lisa grabs her bag, “I’ll let everyone know you're not coming. See you tomorrow?”
Soojin looks up from her phone perplexed, “What? I’m coming to Cantina’s.”
Aside from them, the practice room is empty.
Leaning over, Lisa pats the top of Soojin’s head, “Go take care of her, Soo.”
“But—”
“Everyone will understand.” The way Lisa says it is soft, like a stranger calming a wounded and frightened kitten, “Go.”
Getting to her feet, Soojin nods. “Are you sure?” And although she says it like a question, it is anything but.
“Tell y Eyes I say hi.”
Soojin groans, “Seriously, don’t call her that.”
As they walk out of the practice room, Lisa laughs. “Why? Can’t handle the truth, Soo?” Slinging her arm over Soojin’s shoulder, Lisa taunts, “Or is that jealousy I hear?”
The room is dark. For a corner room with an abnormal number of windows for a college dorm, the darkness is eerily normal. Along with her questionable habits of cleanliness, Soyeon is part vampire.
Flicking on the lights, Soojin groans. In the far corner of the room, where one of the twin beds is pushed against the wall, echoes another, more raspy, groan.
Weaving between the couch and Soyeon’s trash mound of a desk, Soojin follows the noise. “Shuhua?” The lump under the covers moans. It’s indecipherable and sounds like some cross between a zombie and horror movie mummy.
“Shuhua?” Soojin tries again. Her hand reaches to tug back the blanket, shoulders taunt and prepared to fight.
“Noooo,” Though it’s muffled by the blanket, it doesn’t mask the hoarse quality or hacking cough that comes at the end.
Soojin tugs again and the covers fall away. Beneath them, curled in her favourite forest green t-shirt, Shuhua whimpers.
Instinctually, Soojin leans in. Despite the protests and the pathetic whimpers, she brushes back the hair plastered to Shuhua’s clammy forehead. “Don’t move.” It isn’t a sentiment overly directed to Shuhua.
It takes a few minutes to find a clean washcloth. There’s no basin, so Soojin settles for the water bottle in her bag. Returning to the bed, she sits on the edge, “Shuhua?” The whisper is too loud, “I need you to sit up.”
Shuhua burrows into the bedding. She mumbles something that’s more coughing than words and the whimpers sound pleading.
“Shuhua?” Soojin tries again. Her fingers comb through the tangles in Shuh
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