Jiho wakes to the rolling in his stomach and immediately knows he is going to be sick.

As he rushes to the bathroom, hand clamped over his mouth and the other frantically shoving a wide-eyed Jihoon out of the way, he realises he knew this was coming. Reaching the bathroom, he kneels over the toilet bowl and empties the contents of his stomach into it, gagging and retching until the tears are streaming down his face.

He looks awful. He knows it. His hair is sticking up, his eyes are all swollen from crying (why does he always cry when he throws up?) and there is a curious, if disgusting, mix of spit and vomit on his chin, but as Kyung opens the door and kneels down, rubs his back gently, looks at him with nothing but love and concern, he feels beautiful.

“Sick again, hey, jagiya?” Kyung whispers, his hand still making comforting circles on Jiho’s back.

He nods miserably and retches into the toilet bowl once again. This isn’t a rare occurrence, and as Kyung rips off some toilet paper and wipes his chin tenderly, he wonders why the older man even bothers to put up with him.

“Are you done?” He whispers again, and Jiho nods. “Come on. I’ll get you into bed.”

As he gets up, shaky and unsteady on his feet like a toddler, and stumbles out of the bathroom, whispering a hoarse “thanks” to Jihoon on the way out – the maknae knows to run and get Kyung whenever something is wrong with Jiho. Which is a lot of the time, he thinks, bitterly.

Once he is settled in bed, clutching a pillow to his roiling stomach, Kyung disappears. Jiho can hear him clanging around in the kitchen and wonders what the hell he is doing, nods at Taeil when the eldest sticks his head in.

Kyung comes back with a large metal bowl, which he places next to Jiho’s head on the floor, and a bowl of chicken soup.

“What the hell is that?” Jiho asks weakly, his throat still raw.

“I got it from the international supermarket. It’s meant to be really good for when you’re sick.” Kyung replies, matter-of-factly. “Are you going to eat it?”

He shakes his head. “Not just yet, jagi. My stomach is still…”

Kyung nods and puts the bowl on the floor. “Then can I come in?”

He scoots over, and Kyung climbs in. He buries his head in Kyung’s chest, inhales deeply – God there is nothing better in the world than the smell of Kyung, his aftershave and bodywash and a little bit of sweat.

“Why does this keep happening to me?” He murmurs miserably, his chin being tickled by Kyung’s shirt.

“Because you work so hard.” Kyung replies, planting a kiss on top of Jiho’s head. “You gotta rest sometime.”

“I can’t.” He snuggles even closer and looks up. “You guys are my children, you know that.”

He feels Kyung start laughing before he hears it. “What the hell, Jiho? That’s so weird. Don’t say that. Especially not to me.”

Even though it makes his stomach roll, he starts laughing too. “Well, you know what I mean.”

They fall into a comfortable silence. He shuts his eyes and just lives in the moment, trying to ignore his stomach – the way he and Kyung breath in sync without really trying, the way Kyung feels beside him, so solid and warm, the way Kyung is tracing gentle circles on his back. He wants to stay here forever, wants never to move from Kyung’s arms, because he feels so damn safe and happy.

And that’s how he falls asleep, his stomach long forgotten and Kyung still tracing circles on his back.

This is where I am meant to be, he thinks, before drifting off.