Red hot hammers pound away in Jungsoo’s head as he lays in bed, the blurry outline of a pale and anxious face hovering over him, the sensation of a cold hand on his burning forehead a momentary reprieve from the unbearable pain he’s feeling.

A low voice reaches his ears, sounding murky and distant, almost as though it’s coming from underwater, but he can make out the words.

“, Teukie-hyung, you’re burning up!”

The voice sounds worried and concerned, and that won’t do, because it’s his job to be the worried and concerned one, not any of his dongsaengs-

But apparently, someone’s forgotten to inform Jongwoon of this, because he rambles on, in a strange reversal of roles as he takes on his trademarked part of a mother hen, telling Jungsoo he should rest, take some medicine, and perhaps they should call a doctor-

“Yesung-ah,” Jungsoo interrupts the flow of chatter, raising his hand till his fingers brush Jongwoon’s sleeve, “I’m fine.”

But he’s clearly not, anyone with even an ounce of common sense can see that, and Jongwoon, the most observant and shrewd of all of them, isn’t fooled for even a second.

His eyes narrow, almost threateningly, as if seeing right through him.

“Hyung.” His voice is firm and serious, and Jungsoo knows that doesn’t bode well for him. “Are you even listening to yourself? Your voice is almost gone!”

“I’m fine,” he repeats, but he can hear it too, the hoarse tone in which he speaks, is well aware of the burning of his throat. “We have schedules today.”

He attempts to sit up, only to be promptly pushed back onto his pillow by a firm hand.

“Absolutely not. You’re staying in bed, and I’m going to find a thermometer.”

And before Jungsoo can protest, Jongwoon’s vanished, leaving him clutching his head, the throbbing intensifying by the minute.

He can’t be sick, not now of all times, with a comeback to think of and songs to record and practices to attend…

But he coughs then, his throat stinging painfully, and Jongwoon reappears, clutching a thermometer in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“A 101.” if possible, Jongwoon sounds even more troubled than before he checked Jungsoo’s temperature, and Jungsoo groans in despair when he realises there’s absolutely no way he can join the others for work, even though the cool pillow and fluffy mattress are temptingly cozy and he doesn’t really want to leave…

“Hyung.” Jongwoon’s voice is gentler now, more reassuring, and it makes Jungsoo feel just a little bit more relaxed. “Please, get some rest today, alright? I know you’re upset, but I’ll tell the others, they’ll understand. Just leave everything to me.”

Jungsoo doesn’t have the energy to refuse. He lets his eyes fall closed, the comfort of warm blankets being draped over him and a wet cloth on his forehead giving way to a dreamless sleep.

 

﹡

 

A cool sensation and a shifting at his feet have him cracking open his eyes, the silhouette of a man barely visible in the dark . 

How long have I slept?

“It’s just me, Teukie-hyung,” comes Jongwoon’s voice, as the crackle of foil fills the air. “I have some food and medicines for you.”

“Thank you,” he croaks out, somewhat relieved that his throat doesn’t hurt as much as before.“What time is it?”

“Around 2pm. If you’re wondering why it’s so dark, it’s raining outside.” 

Jungsoo nods in understanding, as he pushes himself up gingerly, making his way to the bathroom to freshen up before he can eat, and when he returns, he sees that Jongwoon has laid out all the food in a tray, the pills in a small cup in the corner.

He’s not used to this treatment, to be babied like this by his dongsaeng, but he’s too tired to really feel any shame.

Jongwoon keeps him company while he eats, keeping up a steady flow of chatter about the day’s practice. He mentions only good things, Jungsoo notices, and when Jongwoon has paused, asks for clarification.

“This sounds like the most perfect practice in history,” he says, in between mouthfuls of food. “Were there absolutely no mishaps?”

“Nothing for you to fret about,” Jongwoon replies, not missing a beat, and changes the subject immediately after. 

“Your fever seems to have come down a little, but you still need to rest,” he declares, once Jungsoo has completed his food and taken the medicines.

“Can’t I just attend the schedules? I won’t do anything except observe.”

“If your fever comes down completely by tomorrow, then you can, okay? But for now, just take the day off.”

“Are you sure the members are doing fine?”

A small hand reaches out to brush against his cheek. 

“You worry too much, Teukie-hyung. Things are going fine. Now please will you go back to sleep?”

Without meaning to, sleep washes over him as he sinks down into the pillows once more. He hears the soft click of the door, leaving him alone in the dark bedroom.

 

﹡

 

This time, his sleep isn’t as dreamless.

He dreams of s, lost and confused without a leader.

He dreams of Heechul, away on various other, non-super junior related activities.

He dreams of Jongwoon, the boy who has always preferred to hide in the shadows, now suddenly in charge of seven rowdy members, whose antics are comparable to those of high strung teenagers rather than veteran idols.

 

﹡

 

Hushed whispers bring him out of his deep slumber, the voices tense and urgent.

He catches snippets of the conversation- 

“-high fever, still climbing-”

“-refuses to rest-”

“-could be stress-related-”

“-needs a few days of complete inactivity-”

“-might damage his voice if he’s not careful-”

 

“Yesung?”

He winces at the sharp pain in his throat.

He feels a small hand take his, a thumb ever so lightly over the back of his palm.

“Ah, Teukie-hyung, you’re awake.” Jongwoon whispers. “It’s just the doctor, he’s here to check up on you.”

“But I thought I was getting better, why-” he trails off into a cough, taking the glass of water that Jongwoon presses into his hands immediately.

“Your fever has shot up again,” the younger replies, concern evident in his voice. “And clearly your throat isn’t doing so well either…”

Jungsoo groans. He’d been hoping to be right as rain by the time morning arrives, so that he can take part in the activities without delaying things much further, but the universe really seems to be conspiring against their comeback.

Jongwoon seems to sense his turmoil, because he pats the elder’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, hyung, it’s probably nothing serious. Just a couple of days more in bed and the right medicines should do the trick.”

He faces the doctor again, engaging in another hushed conversation Jungsoo is too preoccupied to really pay attention to. Then the shorter man exits the room, leaving Jongwoon holding a sheet of paper - presumably a prescription - and a brown paper bag with a few medicines.

Jongwoon informs him that he seems to have caught the bug that’s been plaguing the building, including several other idols and staff members. He sets the items the doctor has given him on the bedside cabinet, telling Jungsoo he’ll be out to buy the rest of the medicines, and would be back in a while to check on him.

He feels awful for putting Jongwoon in such a situation, when the younger surely has his own schedules to tend to without having to run around on his behalf, checking on him like a nanny, and when the younger moves away from his side, he reaches out for his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, shame burning behind his eyes, but Jongwoon only pats his hand in return, a fond smile gracing his features as he leans forward.

“There’s nothing to apologise for,” he says, and he sounds so sincere that Jungsoo almost believes him. “Sleep well, hyung."

 

﹡

 

Unfortunately, despite Jongwoon’s well wishes, a good night’s sleep is far from what takes place. If anything, the throbbing of his head only seems to intensify as time wears on, feeling suffocatingly hot one minute and freezing cold the next as his fever and meds battle it out in his already too-worn out body. He tosses and turns in delirium for most of the night, exhaustion giving way to more dreams when he does finally fall into an uneasy sleep.

It’s more of the same at first, outlandish disasters plaguing the group, that morph into strange visions of a unicorn taking over his MC job, the SM building being overrun by rabid babies, and having a heated argument with a cat. He isn’t really sure what is a dream and what isn’t, and when he does wake with the odd feeling that something’s dripping down the side of his face, he has to reach up and touch it before he realises that it’s a wet towel soaked in cold water, that’s been placed on his