Chapter Text
Seungmin wakes up to the sound of whimpering. It’s faint, whistling through clenched teeth like whoever it is doesn’t want to be heard. Seungmin is on his feet before he has time to register that it’s coming from the room next door.
“Hyung?”
His voice sounds too loud in the darkened room. For a moment the whimpering stops, and Seungmin thinks for a moment that he’s dreamt up something in his head and his hyung is actually asleep. But then a grunt comes from the other side of the room—played off as annoyance to mask another whine of pain—and worry spikes in Seungmin’s chest.
“Hyung.” He finds his way to the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
Minho’s hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat. Seungmin feels it when he reaches out to touch his shoulder but ends up missing and brushing against Minho’s face in the dark. Minho makes a startled noise, jerking backwards with his brow furrowed.
“Sorry.” Seungmin pulls his hand away, suddenly afraid that he’ll hurt him. “I… Hyung?”
He’s cut off by a hitch in Minho’s breath, the older boy’s hands clenching in the bedsheets as he bears down on whatever is hurting him. Seungmin’s hands hover, unsure of what’s happening or what to do.
“It’s alright,” Minho chokes out, face still buried in his pillow. He takes a slow, deep breath, but it clearly isn’t enough to relieve his pain. “Stomach hurts. Go back to sleep.”
His tone is gruff but Seungmin’s brain doesn’t register it, too worried and anxious. If it’s enough for Minho to be tossing and turning in the middle of the night then it’s not alright. If he’s in pain… then…
Minho makes a displeased groaning sound when Seungmin places his hand in between the older boy’s shoulder blades, turning his face towards the wall. But Seungmin has known him long enough to know that it’s more out of embarrassment than anything else. Accepting affection is difficult for Minho when it’s not in front of the camera for the sake of a shoot. When they’re alone, it’s more intimate. He’s more likely to cry.
“Hyung.” Seungmin rubs his hand gently across the older boy’s back. “Your stomach hurts? Do you… do you need to go to the bathroom?”
Minho scoffs. “No, idiot. It’s not that.”
“Oh.” Seungmin blinks. He can imagine the blush on his hyung’s cheeks even in the dark, but to Seungmin the fact that such a question might have been embarrassing barely crosses his mind. His hyung is in pain and Seungmin will do just about anything to make him feel better.
“Do you want me to get you some medicine?”
There’s a pause. Then Minho’s head ducks down a little and Seungmin realizes he must be going through another wave of cramps, his legs curling slightly beneath the blankets. So instead of asking again he waits patiently, moving his hand down to rub Minho’s side just below his ribs. As he does he brushes against Minho’s own hand where it clutches at his stomach beneath the blankets, eliciting a sharp inhale from the older boy.
Seungmin’s brow narrows with concern. “I’ll get you medicine—”
“No.”
“Hyung, you’re in pain—”
“I already took some.”
Seungmin lowers himself back to the ground. “Oh,” he murmurs again, almost sadly. “And it’s not working?”
Minho shakes his head. He’s still turned away from Seungmin, but when Seungmin places his hand back where it was, Minho doesn’t flinch this time.
“Thirty minutes,” he says.
It takes Seungmin a moment to decipher what his hyung is saying, thoughts muddled by a combination of sleep and concern. But then he remembers that most medicine takes time to kick in, and that if taken on an empty stomach, it can sometimes take even longer. Seungmin highly doubts Minho was able to eat anything before taking the medicine, especially if it’s his stomach that’s hurting him.
“Can I do anything to help?” he asks, praying that Minho will accept this one thing from him.
Minho shakes his head.
“Please?”
“Seungmin, I said I’m f—”
Another wave of cramps chokes him off. Has him curling into himself with a whimper that he isn’t able to hold back. It makes Seungmin’s heart ache, the part of him that yearns to be a good dongsaeng screaming at him to do something.
Instinctively he moves his hand lower, fingers splaying across his hyung’s stomach.
Minho lets out a strained breath through his nose.
“You don’t sound fine,” Seungmin says, rubbing the older boy’s stomach gently.
“Yeah, well.” Minho huffs in frustration. He’s nearly panting at this point, shivering beneath the blankets despite the sweat sticking to his skin. “There’s nothing else that you can do. I already took the medicine. Just have to wait.”
It sounds like he’s about to say something else until another bout of pain interrupts him, knees coming up to his chest as he whimpers in pain. For Seungmin it’s the last straw. Without giving himself time to overthink he slips into the bed beside his hyung and wraps his arm around his middle, holding him from behind as the pain passes through him.
“Seungmin,” Minho pants, but the younger boy just holds him tighter and hushes him.
“It’s alright, hyung. Let me stay with you.”
At this point Minho’s given up on trying to hide how much pain he’s in, too tired and too frustrated, and if he’s honest with himself Seungmin’s warmth pressed against his back feels good. His hand rubbing circles against his cramping stomach feels good. Minho’s in pain and Seungmin is there and he just does not have the energy to pretend that he’s okay. He just wants to feel better.
The cramps come again and Minho buries his face in the pillows, nearly sobbing as he grips Seungmin’s wrist.
“It hurts.”
Seungmin’s heart is going to burst. He noses against the back of Minho’s neck and tries his best to convey that he’s there, that Minho is safe and protected and that it’s okay to hurt. Seungmin knows it won’t really do much to stop the pain but if he can at least make Minho feel like he’s not alone then…
Minho chokes, legs curling up until his thighs press against his and Seungmin’s hands and stomach. “Seungmin—”
“Shh. It’ll pass. It’ll pass,” Seungmin whispers against his ear. “Breathe, hyung. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“It’s not getting better.”
“It will. I promise. Just a few more minutes.”
Minho keens, panting harshly in an attempt to do as he was told, to breathe even though it feels like someone is grabbing his intestines and twisting. They feel like they’re going to burst. It lasts for a cruel amount of time to the point where Minho actually feels lightheaded.
“Hyung. Hyung, stop. You’re making yourself upset.” Seungmin deftly slips his other hand beneath Minho’s waist, replacing the one that’s been rubbing his stomach so he can squeeze the older boy’s arm. Then he places it over Minho’s chest and nuzzles his face against the back of his neck, whispering softly. “Follow me, okay? Breathe in—”
He takes in a deep breath, encouraging Minho to do so too with by tapping lightly at the base of his ribs.
“Breathe out. Slowly, yeah?”
Minho does his best to follow him, the first few times coming out strained and tight. But Seungmin is patient, and eventually Minho does feel his body start to relax even despite the pain in his stomach, and not long after that, a wave of relief washes over him.
Minho exhales one last time, his grip loosening around Seungmin’s wrist.
“Better?” Seungmin asks.
Minho nods. Sniffles.
Still a little worried, Seungmin props himself up a bit and peers over his hyung. Minho has his eyes shut, but the tension in his expression is gone. Seungmin reaches over and brushes the hair off of Minho’s sweaty forehead. It makes Minho whine—more out of embarrassment than annoyance—but he snuggles closer against Seungmin anyway.
“How long does it last?” Seungmin asks. “The medicine.”
Minho slurs out something that sounds vaguely like ‘four hours.’ Seungmin tells him to wait, that he’ll get more ready just in case. But Minho just grabs both of Seungmin’s wrists and crosses them over his chest, securing himself in the younger boy’s hold.
“No,” he declares.
“Hyung, come on—”
“No. Stay.”
Seungmin tries a few times to pull away anyway, but Minho is strong even when he feels like shit (how annoying) and Seungmin quickly gives up in defeat. In all honesty, Seungmin is secretly overjoyed at being asked to stay.
“Okay,” he says, slotting his face against the back of Minho’s neck. “Okay. I’ll stay.”