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bultaoreunheyyy · 2 days

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Wrong apartment, bro.

Title: Wrong apartment, bro.

Word Count: 4923

Summary: It’s a stormy Friday night, and Taehyung just wants to sit on his couch and drown out the sound of the thunder with his TV. Someone disrupts his plan by trying to break into his apartment.

Sickie: Jungkook (intoxication, snz/cold, very mild hangover symptoms)

Caretaker: Taehyung

“What should we do tonight, Miso?”

Taehyung leans forward and rests his head on folded arms, watching his betta fish swim in lazy circles in his tank across the room. He’s waiting for his kettle to boil so he can make himself a nice cup of tea and sit on the couch under a blanket with his TV on as loud as is reasonable. Not too loud, though. He only wants to cover up the sound of the storm outside, not piss off his neighbors– even though he’s never met any of them.

“It’s Friday night. We could watch a movie and make popcorn and pretend we’re at the theater.”

Miso ignores him, per usual. Heaving a weary sigh, Taehyung straightens up. Rain thuds noisily against his window and he tenses, dreading the thunder and lighting that’s forecasted for tonight, his heart pounding preemptively in his chest at the thought of the disruptive night he’s surely going to have.

He reaches into his pocket, feeling around until his fingers meet the small plastic case that his earplugs are in, and he drags his thumb back and forth across the smooth surface, trying to decide if he should put them in now or wait a little longer. It’s times like these when he sometimes finds himself envious of Miso, swimming along unaware of the world outside of his tank. He stands and walks over to the fish, peering through the glass, lost in thought for a moment.

Suddenly, there’s a rattling sound at his front door and Taehyung nearly screams.

“...fucking…open…”

Taehyung can hear a voice of a man, muffled by the closed door, muttering and cursing as the doorknob twists back and forth. He can’t move, back pressed up against the wall next to Miso’s tank, frozen in complete fear because there’s someone at his door, someone trying to break in–

“...I’ll fucking kick it down, I swear…”

With one hand over his mouth and his other clutched to his chest, Taehyung finally springs into action, making his way into the kitchen as quickly and as quietly as he can to grab the nearest thing he can find to use as a weapon– a rolling pin that’s sitting out on the counter from earlier in the day when he had made scones.

There’s a shuffling sound outside. Taehyung creeps closer to the front door, his heart thundering in his chest.

A smack, like someone hitting the door with an open palm.

The doorknob rattles again.

Reaching out slowly with one hand, Taehyung grabs the doorknob and holds it firmly. Then, with a deep breath and a rush of courage that comes seemingly out of nowhere, he unlocks and opens the door, rolling pin raised high above his head, and finds himself face to face with the most breathtakingly beautiful man he’s ever seen.

Taehyung’s jaw draws open.

“What the–”

“Aish! Why are you in my apartment?” The man yells, staggering back a few steps. His cheeks are bright red and he’s completely soaked from the rain, shivering visibly even under the shitty little porch light outside of Taehyung’s front door. Even from a few feet away, Taehyung can smell the alcohol coming off the man’s breath.

“It’s not your apartment!” Taehyung replies, still in shock. “This is my apartment!”

The man looks down at the key in his hand for several long seconds before he drags his gaze back upward. “Then how did I just unlock the door?”

“You…didn’t?” Taehyung sighs, lowering the rolling pin and widening his stance in the doorway. “You were just trying your key in the door when I happened to open it.”

“I think I know where I live.”

“Oh?” Taehyung huffs in disbelief.

The man sniffles wetly and drags a hand under his nose. He eyes Taehyung up and down, swaying slightly on his feet, and then he takes a step forward– or, he tries to, but then somehow loses his balance just enough to have to counter with a clumsy step backward.

Taehyung shakes his head, trying to clear his shock and confusion. “Look, you’re clearly drunk. Do you have a phone? Is there someone I can call to come pick you up?”

“I’m not drunk, bro,” the man protests with a pout. “I’m tipsy.”

“Okay, well, please tip yourself right out of my apartment, bro. Thank you.”

With an indignant huff, the man opens his mouth to protest further or maybe curse at Taehyung, but instead a mighty, shuddering sneeze barrels out of him, doubling him over and making him stumble forward a step. When he recovers, he’s left standing with his arms wrapped around himself, sniffling and shivering and looking suddenly so very small that Taehyung’s heart clenches.

“Bless you,” he finds himself murmuring, a small part of his brain screaming at him to take care of this man at his doorstep who’s so pathetically unwell it makes his heart clench.

Taehyung sighs.

He scrubs a hand over his face.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Why don’t you come in for a bit, to dry off? I just brewed a pot of tea.”

The man stares at Taehyung. His nose twitches, and then his lips twitch like he’s going to say something. Another shiver runs through his body, and he wipes his dripping nose with the side of his hand– Taehyung’s sympathy dies just a little bit at the sight of that, because, gross– and then he huffs out a shaky breath.

“Why are you making tea in my apartment?”

Taehyung has half a mind to raise his rolling pin again.

“Come in, or don’t,” he says with a shrug, but as he moves to close the door the man nods.

“I’m cold,” he murmurs as he shuffles inside the apartment.

He looks around as Taehyung closes the door behind them, sniffling and shivering and looking slightly dazed. “Trippy. This is the same layout as my apartment, but shit you’ve got weird decor in here.”

Taehyung grits his teeth, his hand tightening around the rolling pin he’s still holding. “Let me go grab some towels.”

The man stands by the front door, arms wrapped around himself, until Taehyung returns with a towel. As soon as he takes it, he starts drying his dark hair, clumsily rubbing it over his head and making it stick out in all directions. His sniffling is increasingly in frequency now that he’s inside, and as Taehyung watches him with a frown, considering whether or not he should give an absolute stranger a dry change of his own clothes to wear, the man groans, buries his face into the towel, and then spits out half a dozen wet-sounding sneezes into the fabric.

“S-sorry,” the man mumbles when he’s done, blinking down at the towel in his hands. The tip of his nose is red and his cheeks are even more flushed, as are the tips of his ears.

“You’re bound to catch a cold,” Taehyung murmurs, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Do you live close? You should change out of those wet clothes as soon as possible.”

“Well,” the man says, nose scrunching up, nostrils flaring like he’s fighting off another sneeze. “I thought I lived here, so…”

Taehyung sighs. “Would you like a dry change of clothes, then?”

The man nods, and Taehyung once again makes a trip down the hall.

When he returns from his room, he sees the man standing in front of Miso’s tank, eyes wide as saucers as he looks at the betta fish in awe. He has the towel bunched under one arm, and his free hand is lifted to his face, finger pressed against the underside of his red nose.

Taehyung frowns– if this man sneezes on Miso, there’s going to be a bigger problem than what’s already going on.

“Here,” he says, quickly rushing over. He hands the man the folded stack of clothes along with a box of tissues he had grabbed from his nightstand. “Bathroom is down the hall, on the left.”

Taehyung waits until he hears the bathroom door close before going into the kitchen. Grabbing two mugs from the cabinet, he prepares tea for the both of them and then sits down at the kitchen table and tries to figure out what the hell he’s going to do. It’s not like he has any friends of his own he can call for help or even advice, and the stranger has been entirely unhelpful so far.

When the man emerges from the bathroom, he’s shivering and his hair is still damp but he’s overall dry and his cheeks are a little less pink. Taehyun hears him hiccup once as he comes into the kitchen and remembers that he’s still likely drunk off his ass.

He hands him the man a mug. “Is there someone I can call to come pick you up?” He asks, not wasting a second. “Let me see your phone. What’s your name?”

The man takes the tea and cradles it between his palms, sighing at the warmth. “Um, my name is Jungkook.” His voice is nasally now, a hint of congestion present. He doesn’t sit, looking down at Taehyung with a frown. “I lost my phone tonight.”

Dragging a hand over his face, Taehyung closes his eyes and tries not to groan out loud. When he opens them, the man– Jungkook– is staring at him expectantly.

“Were you with anyone tonight? Will anyone be looking for you? You must live in this apartment complex?” Taehyung gestures towards the bathroom where he assumes Jungkook left his wet clothes. “You have ID on you?”

Instead of answering any of the questions, Jungkook hiccups again, his gaze already wandering to the living room. He carries the tea out of the kitchen, slurping loudly at the hot drink, and makes his way over to the couch.

Taehyung yanks his earplugs out of his pocket and puts them in as fast as he can.

“You put your couch in the exact same spot that I did,” Jungkook says from the living room. “That’s wild, bro!”

He follows Jungkook into the living room and gets there just in time to see him set his mug down on the coffee table and then half-dive, half-fall lengthwise onto the couch. He’s got a lopsided grin on his face and Taehyung follows his gaze and then immediately knows he’s made the absolute wrong choice in letting this man into his apartment.

“You have a sheep!” Jungkook slurs, grabbing onto the plushie from the end of the couch and tugging it to his chest.

“It’s an alpaca,” Taehyung says, jogging around to the other side of the couch so he can take the stuffed animal back, but Jungkook tucks it under his cheek, rubbing his face against it and closing his eyes with a happy sigh.

“It’s soft, bro.”

Taehyung gapes down at him, anger pooling in his gut at the sight of Jungkook touching his favorite plushie.

Jungkook hiccups, and then sniffles, his face scrunching up and his eyebrows furrowing. Without opening his eyes, he squirms around until he’s on his side and pulls his knees up to his chest.

“Oh fuck me, I’m dizzy,” he murmurs.

And then he promptly passes out.

Loud snores erupt from the dark-haired man as his jaw goes slack and his mouth falls open.

“Okay,” Taehyung says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I did not say you could fall asleep on my couch.” He leans down and shakes Jungkook’s shoulder, but Jungkook only snores louder, face scrunching in irritation at the movement.

“Wake. Up.” Taehyung shakes his shoulder again. Jungkook hiccups in his sleep but otherwise does not stir, and Taehyung glares at him.

A sudden clap of thundering makes Taehyung jump, an embarrassing squeak coming from his throat before he can stop it. Pressing one hand to his chest, he looks down to see that Jungkook is still asleep despite the booming sound.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Taehyung mutters, slightly breathless. His hands are trembling as he reaches down and eases his plushie from Jungkook’s grip, holding it protectively to his chest and frowning when he feels something wet against his skin. When he pulls it away to inspect it, he realizes it’s just the spot where Jungkook’s hair had been touching, leaving a damp patch on the fabric.

It’s the last straw.

Before he can stop them, hot tears are pouring out of his eyes, rolling down his cheeks like a waterfall, and he bites back a sob as he stumbles his way back into his kitchen.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he cries, sinking into the chair he’d been previously sitting in and burying his head in his hands.

So much for his plan to be brave in the face of thunder tonight.

So much for his plan to make himself a nice cup of tea and sit on the couch under a blanket with his TV on as loud as is reasonable.

So much for spending his night completely alone.

“There’s something wrong with that guy,” he spits out, dragging the back of his hand across his face to wipe the tears away. “Who the fuck doesn’t know where they live?” He’s fully aware he’s talking to himself, but he continues just in case his voice will wake Jungkook up. “Who the fuck gets drunk enough that they try to break into someone else’s apartment thinking it’s their own?”

There’s a sudden flash of light, and then a loud boom reverberates throughout the entire apartment, scaring the shit out of Taehyung and making him jump in his chair.

“Shit!”

In the other room, Jungkook’s snoring stops, only to resume less than three seconds later, and somehow it’s even louder this time.

Through his tears, Taehyung spots Miso across the room and huffs out a watery laugh.

“Oh, Miso,” he says, standing and making his way over to the fishtank. He leans down so he can peer through the glass. “Can you believe this?”

Taehyung is suddenly so, so tired, but he knows he’s not going to get a wink of sleep tonight between the thunder and the stranger passed out on his couch. Instead he carries Miso’s tank over to his kitchen table and sets it down, then grabs his plushie and plops down onto the chair. As he stares at the colorful fish, he hugs his plushie to his chest and lets a new wave of tears drip down his face.

In the living room, Jungkook snores on.

At some point, Taehyung falls asleep, leaning forward until his head is resting on top of his alpaca plushie like a pillow, flinching awake with every clap of thunder but so exhausted that he’s pulled back down by sleep after each time.

He jolts awake just after midnight and looks around, confused for a moment why he’s in his kitchen instead of his bedroom before it all comes rushing back to him.

“Great,” he mumbles. “It wasn’t just a dream.”

He scrubs at his eyes and gazes into Miso’s tank, blinking slowly until he spots the betta fish asleep in his favorite plant in the corner.

“Hope you’re at least getting good rest in there,” he murmurs around a yawn.

It’s quiet in the apartment, and Taehyung realizes he can no longer hear Jungkook snoring.

“I should go check on him to make sure he’s still breathing, right?” He asks Miso, but Miso is still asleep.

Reluctantly, Taehyung stands and stretches his arms up above his head, wincing at the ache in his lower back he now has thanks to falling asleep at the table.

The light is still on in the living room and Taehyung can immediately see that Jungkook, still asleep, does not look well.

He’s curled up on his side, almost in a fetal position, shivering. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead and he’s breathing solely through his mouth, the sound labored and crackly like his nose is stuffed up. He briefly considers calling someone, maybe the 24-hour clinic to at least get some advice, but he already knows from experience what questions they’ll ask and what they’ll tell him to do.

Which means Taehyung gets to take care of Jungkook all by himself.

“Great,” he groans, but there’s no real heat behind it, not when Jungkook looks so sick.

Taehyung goes to his bedroom to find a blanket, stopping for a quick bathroom break on the way there. He’s surprised to see that Jungkook’s wet clothes are not in a messy pile in the middle of the floor like he had originally assumed, but instead are folded up into a small, neat pile and stacked on the far edge of the counter.

The box of tissues he’d handed Jungkook are in there too, so after he washes his hands he grabs them, along with a warm blanket from his room, and carries them back out to the living room.

Jungkook is in the same position as before. Taehyung lays the blanket over him and then sets the tissues on the coffee table near his head. He hesitates a moment, then reaches out and places his palm on Jungkook’s forehead, frowning at the slight warmth he can feel and unsure if it’s due to the alcohol or something else.

He goes back to the bathroom, wets a washcloth, and then brings it out and places it on Jungkook’s forehead, frowning when he whimpers and shivers violently as soon as he does.

“Sorry,” Taehyung murmurs, tugging the blanket up over his shoulder and tucking it more firmly around his body.

Next, he replaces the now cold mug of tea with a glass of cold water from the kitchen, setting it next to the tissue box. He leaves a bottle of painkillers next to it and then, after consideration, hurries to grab a lined trash can to place within easy reach because he is not gonna be able to handle it if Jungkook pukes on his couch.

When Taehyung is done getting everything he thinks Jungkook might possibly need, he reheats his own half-full cup of tea in the microwave and then sits back down at the table. Miso is still peacefully asleep in the corner on his tank and he can hear thunder rumbling in the distance, a sign that the storm has moved on and will be over soon.

As soon as he’s done drinking his tea, he’s so sleepy again he can barely keep his eyes open. His back is already protesting the way he’s leaning forward, hunched over his alpaca plushie, but there’s no way he’s going into his bedroom to sleep when Jungkook is still here and soon he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

The next time Taehyung wakes up, the lighting is different– it must be early morning, just before sunrise– and there’s an odd sound coming from the living room.

Taehyung goes over and peeks into the living room to see that Jungkook is sitting up, looking dazed and sneezing into his cupped hands.

“Great.” Taehyung yawns and nudges the box of tissues closer to Jungkook. “You’re awake.”

He puts his hands on his hips as Jungkook sucks in a breath, sneezes once more, and then belatedly scrambles for the tissues. He doesn’t care if he’s coming off a bit grumpy. He is a bit grumpy. He slept like shit, his back is aching, and there’s some stranger still in his apartment– someone that he just let barge into his home and pass out on his couch and now, sneeze all over his living room.

“You’re sure sneezing a lot,” he comments, and the tips of Jungkook’s ears turn bright red to match his nose.

“Sorry,” he croaks out.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten so drunk and passed out on my couch with wet hair.”

Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes in a way that reminds him of Miso. “I–” Whatever he’s about to say is cut off by yet another sneeze, and he shivers violently after, sniffling into a wad of tissues he once again pulls from the box like an afterthought.

All of Taehyung’s grumpiness is suddenly replaced by sympathy.

“Bless you,” he finds himself saying, because Jungkook looks so pathetic and miserable. Beyond being obviously hungover, he apparently has caught a cold from being out in the rain. “Would you like me to make you some tea? You never drank yours last night.”

Jungkook scrubs at his red nose with a tissue and nods, so Taehyung turns around and goes into the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove.

Jungkook is massaging his temples when he returns with the tea, one hand clutching his belly. He takes the tea from Taehyung without a word and spends a moment blowing on the steaming beverage before taking a tentative sip.

“So.” Taehyung puts his hands on his hips. “This has been great, but can you please tell me where you live now so I can help you get home?”

Jungkook nods, then squeezes his eyes shut and wraps his arms around his stomach, swallowing thickly. “Uh, yeah. Uh.” He tries to take a breath in through his nose, but he’s too congested and it results in him snorting and then coughing a couple of times. “Fuck, bro.”

Taehyung resists the urge to roll his eyes.

And then, Jungkook tells him his address, and Taehyung gasps.

“Can you…can you repeat that?”

Jungkook does.

“You’re telling me,” Taehyung says slowly. “That you live here. At this apartment complex. In apartment #331?”

Jungkook nods.

“Three-three-one?”

Again, Jungkook nods, raising one eyebrow.

A short, frantic laugh bursts out of Taehyung. “What the actual fuck?”

Before Jungkook can respond, Taehyung stomps to the front door and throws it open, then marches over to the next apartment over, not caring that he’s not wearing shoes.

He looks at the apartment number.

He glances over towards his own apartment, at the shiny #332 next to his door.

He looks back at the door in front of him.

Sure enough, the apartment next to his is number 331, which is apparently where Jungkook lives and has lived this entire time.

He storms back to his apartment and doesn’t wait until he’s inside to start yelling. “Get the fuck off my couch,” he shouts, not caring that Jungkook flinches when he slams the door shut. “You live next door to me!”

“I…what?”

“You live next door. NEXT. DOOR!”

Taehyung knows he’s yelling too loudly at this point, but at least he also knows for certain that one of his neighbors isn’t going to be disturbed by it.

“You tried to break into my apartment, and then you disrupted my night and slept on my couch, and this whole time you live one fucking apartment over!”

Jungkook winces, covering his ears with his hands and digging his fingertips into his temples. “Oh…I’m sorry,” he says, voice barely a whisper.

Like he’s a deflating balloon, Taehyung slumps against the wall and then slides down it until he’s sitting on the floor, arms hanging at his sides and eyes closed as he tips his head back to lean against the wall. He’s panting hard, but even over the sound of his own breath he can hear Jungkook breathing heavily too as he stands up from the couch.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says again, his voice cracking a bit, and he starts to make his way towards the door, eyeing Taehyung warily as he passes him by. He pauses halfway there, rubbing the back of his neck and sniffing sharply a few times before he glances back. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats, and then he takes a step forward.

Taehyung isn’t sure if he trips or if he stumbles, but in the next second he’s falling against the closed front door, barely bringing his arms up in time to brace himself from the impact and ensure he doesn’t smack his face against it.

“Whoa!” Taehyung jumps up and rushes over, wrapping his arm around Jungkook’s waist to support him. He’s shocked to feel the heat radiating off his body, which definitely can’t be blamed at this point by alcohol. “Um, let’s get you home, then, I guess.”

Jungkook’s breath trembles when he exhales. “My keys are in my pocket…uh, they were in my pocket, but I don’t remember where I put my pants,” he whispers.

“Okay.” Taehyung nods. “Can you stand right here? I’ll go grab them.”

Jungkook nods, leaning against the wall and pressing the back of his hand to one of his cheeks.

Taehyung grabs a plastic bag from under his sink, then hurries down the hall to the bathroom. He finds Jungkook’s keys in the pocket of his pants, and then shoves the still wet clothes into the bag and jogs back to where Jungkook is waiting.

They slowly make their way the short distance to Jungkook’s apartment, Taehyung’s arm wrapped once again around Jungkook’s waist. Taehyung unlocks the door, rolling his eyes when Jungkook’s key easily works in the lock, and then he helps Jungkook inside.

Luckily, Jungkook was right about them having the exact same layout, so he knows exactly where the bedroom is, and he leads him there. He’s mildly surprised to see that Jungkook’s room is neat and tidy, and not a complete mess like Taehyung had been expecting.

As soon as Jungkook pulls the covers back and sits down on the bed, his face pales and he wraps an arm around his midsection with a groan.

“Do you feel like you’re going to puke?” Taehyung asks, looking around frantically for a bin or a garbage can or something he can grab quickly, but Jungkook shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “Just dizzy.”

Even though he’s not entirely convinced, Taehyung helps him lie down and then pulls the blanket up to his chest.

“Thank you,” Jungkook whispers, eyes already closed.

Before he leaves, Taehyung goes into the kitchen to fill a cup with water, then stops in the bathroom to find a washcloth he can soak with cool water and, since he can’t find any tissues in the apartment, a long length of toilet paper. He rummages around in the medicine cabinet above Jungkook’s sink, but it’s practically bare, and there’s no cold medicine nor fever reducers in sight.

He brings everything back to Jungkook’s room. He sets the cup of water and toilet paper on Jungkook’s nightstand, then folds the washcloth over and places it on his forehead. He’s pretty sure Jungkook is asleep, although he’s not snoring, and when he reaches down to brush some of the hair back from his face and adjust the washcloth Jungkook whimpers and rolls onto his side. The washcloth slides off his forehead and Taehyung rolls his eyes. He picks it up and presses it to the side of Jungkook’s neck instead, causing him to shiver and turn his face to snuffle unhappily into his pillow.

“Okay,” Taehyung says, to no one in particular. “I’m gonna get going. Nice meeting you, I guess.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond.

Taehyung lets himself out of Jungkook’s apartment, closing the door quietly behind him. Back in his own apartment, he climbs into his own bed, still fully clothed, and falls asleep with the events of the past day swirling around in his mind.

Later that afternoon, there’s a soft knock at the door.

Slightly startled, Taehyung’s heart begins to beat faster as he makes his way over to answer it, because no one ever knocks on his door and he’s not expecting anyone. He turns the knob and opens the door to see a pale, red-nosed Jungkook standing there on his doorstep, bundled up in a hoodie and a thick coat and holding a stack of folded clothes out in front of him.

“Uh. Hi.” Jungkook gives him a small, timid smile. “I washed these,” he says, voice hoarse. “Thank you for letting me borrow them.”

The clothes are still warm from the dryer when Taehyung reaches out to take them.

“Also, I want to apologize…” Jungkook trails off, suddenly looking confused, and a moment later he ducks into the crook of his elbow and sneezes three times in a row. It sounds nothing like the loud, unrestrained sneezing he’d been doing yesterday, much quieter and muffled into his coat sleeve, but it’s also noticeably more sick-sounding.

“Wow, neighbor,” Taehyung can’t help but smirk. “Sounds like some cold you’ve got there.”

Jungkook chuckles, sniffling and rubbing a finger under his nose, the tips of his ears now bright red.

Taehyung sighs. “Look, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. I didn’t mean to yell at you yesterday. I don’t know what your circumstances are.” He pauses, watching Jungkook bite his lip. “Would you like to come in for some tea?”

“Oh– I shouldn’t. I’m sick, I wouldn’t want–”

“Do you not remember the past twenty-four hours? With how much you were breathing all over my apartment, I’m pretty sure both Miso and I are going to catch whatever you have already.”

Jungkook’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Miso?”

“He’s my fish,” Taehyung says, taking a step to the side and glancing behind him, and Jungkook looks past his shoulder until he sees the tank sitting against the wall.

“Oh, no way! I thought that was a dream!” Jungkook laughs, and Taehyung can’t help but think that his smile is absolutely breathtaking.

“Anyway. Do you want to come in?” Taehyung asks.

“Sure,” Jungkook replies, stepping inside. “But just so you know, I really hate tea, bro.”

#bts sickfic #bts snz #sickfic #sick bts #sick jungkook #fever #caretaker taehyung #hurt/comfort #bts hurt/comfort #jungkook whump #jungkook snz #intoxication #hangover symptoms #drunk jungkook #bts whump #미소 the fish (not 味噌 the fish)

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