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bellysoupset · 15 hours

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Wendy and Vince - Purposefully overeating part 2. NSFW

Hi, hello. This is kink. This is fetish writing. No one look at me for one thousand years. 😳

Read part 1 here

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“Can I sleep with you?”

Wendy let out a sigh, crouching down in front of Livia and brushing the girl’s hair back, “how about you sleep over tomorrow night? Then Monday I can take you to class with Vin?”

The little girl’s pout cleared up as she nodded eagerly, “can you braid my hair?”

“Yes, I can braid your hair,” Wendy grinned, planting a kiss on Liv’s brow, “now up to bed, c’mon. I’ll help you brush your teeth.”

“You’re getting exploited, Wendy,” Giuseppe warned her from the couch, as Wendy guided the little girl up the stairs, holding her hand, “keep giving her an inch and she’ll take the whole mile.”

“I don’t mind,” Wendy shrugged and she really meant it. She had never been the type to like children, but she didn’t actively dislike them either. However, Vince adored Livia so much that Wendy couldn’t help but have it rub off on her. It helped that Liv was very much like her brother, all touchy and sweet, it was like looking at a little girl version of him.

“Vincenzo, help me with the tupperwares, will you?” Wendy heard as Ma called from the kitchen and Vince got up with a small sigh from the dining table. He had already polished off two servings of dinner — veal chops with fava beans and radishes — and had been previously munching on cookies while helping with the dishes, before his mother banished everyone from the kitchen as she sorted through the leftovers.

Livia was sleepy already, so it wasn’t hard to put her to bed, watching her brush her teeth and change into PJs, before crawling under the blankets with her stuffed animals. Most of them were purple and Wendy snorted as she wondered how did the child not suffocate with that many plushies surrounding her.

“Goodnight, Wendy,” Liv whispered, curling up and pressing her face to the belly of her stuffed bear.

“Goodnight, sugar,” Wendy leaned in, kissing the top of her head and then making sure Liv’s night light was on, casting stars on the wall it was plugged to, and walking out of the bedroom. Vince was just outside, in the hallway, and she jumped, “how long you’ve been there?”

“Just got here,” Vince shrugged, as Wendy pulled the door half closed, “just wanted to kiss Liv goodnight, then we can leave.”

“Are you still-”

He rolled his eyes, circling her and whispering in her ear, “yeah, I’m still sure.”

Wendy’s face burned and she fought the urge to squirm, leaning against the hallway wall as Vince disappeared inside the bedroom to kiss his baby sister goodnight.

She walked back downstairs, instead of waiting for him, and paused in the staircase, watching Giuseppe and Magda cuddled up on the couch, chatting over some soap opera, while Sophia was sprawled on the opposite couch with her face buried in her phone. It was such a domestic, mundane scene and yet Wendy couldn’t remember ever seeing her parents do that.

“Let’s go?” Vince wrapped his arms around her from behind and Wendy nodded, leaning her back against his stomach. She could just feel his belly pressing on her back and it was comfortable more than anything.

“Wendy, the basket on the left is for you,” Ma called as they entered the living room, Vince passing Wen her purse and going to retrieve all the leftovers his mom so happily separated for him.

“That’s too much, Ma-”

“Nonsense,” the woman scoffed, “you live alone, you’re a doctor, you don’t have time to cook and I don’t want you eating garbage. I put in some jars of my sauce and the premade pasta, there’s torrones- Oh! And the big metal jar is for Leo and Jonah, tell them congratulations for the engagement. It’s chocolate coated cookies- Leo likes chocolate, right?”

“He loves it,” Vince said truthfully, while Wendy eyed the huge amount of food with a guilty conscience. Ever since her and Vin had gotten back together and gotten in the routine of long distance, she had been barely feeding herself.

“It’s still too much-”

A string of annoyed italian words interrupted her, Ma getting up from the couch and angrily grabbing the basket, shoving it in Wendy’s hands, “don’t be rude,” the woman berated her, “buona notte, bambina. Buona notte, mio cucciolo.”

Wendy hugged the woman with one arm, the other one busy holding all the things she had been given, “buona notte, ma,” she felt very proud of mimicking the accent.

Vince answered his parents in Italian, exchanging some rapid fire words with Sophia, who didn’t even bother looking up from her phone and then they were out of the house.

“You have got to stop fighting her,” Vince berated lightly, as they entered the car, “the more you say you don’t want food, the more she thinks you’re embarrassed and she needs to feed you.”

“I need to start paying your mom somehow,” Wendy scoffed, putting the seatbelt on, “she’s spending a fortune.”

“She can quit whenever she wants,” Vince shrugged. He started the car and then planted a hand on his stomach, rubbing it lightly. All thoughts about his mother flew out of Wendy’s mind and she stared at his hand.

“So what’s for dinner?”

“Pizza,” Vince drove out of his street, “I’m thinking vegetarian?”

“Uhum,” Wendy licked her lips, then reached in and touched her boyfriend’s stomach. A jolt went up her hand as she felt how full his belly already was, rounding out nicely under his sweater, “you ate a lot already.”

“Please,” Vince snorted, “that was nothing.”

It was still early, barely past nine, and most restaurants were open and with people coming and going. They parked across a small cantina, near Vince’s place, and sat in the far back, in the most reclusive spot.

If Vince was honest, he was already feeling quite full. Ever since deciding they’d do this, five hours ago, he had been eating non stop. Two sandwiches, two servings of dinner and who knows how many cookies and juice were packed in his gut, so he was far from hungry… But nowhere near queasy, which was their end result.

Vin leaned back after they ordered, half listening as Wendy rambled on nervously — she was always chatty, but when feeling awkward it seemed to go up a notch —, too preoccupied taking all of her in.

He missed her so much, it wasn’t even funny. Wendy continued to talk as he reached in, pushing a wavy strand of hair behind her ear and letting his hand linger, tracing the soft curve of her jaw. She had baby cheeks and he loved them, freckles dusting the bridge of her button nose, lips that curved up on a perfect, pouty shape, no cupid’s bow.

Tonight she was wearing glittery eyeshadow and dark mascara, speckles of pink glitter clinging to her lids and the inner corner of her eyes, making her green eyes sparkle.

“-I don’t know, I just think if the concussion rate is so high, why aren’t they doing anyt-” Wendy interrupted herself, “are you listening to me?”

“I am,” Vince nodded, but instead of repeating what she was saying, he tugged on the belt loop of his girlfriend’s jeans and pulled her closer to him in their little booth, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, “I was just looking at you.”

“Staring,” she corrected, but melted against him, sliding a hand around his middle in an inconspicuous manner. It made his tummy fill with butterflies. Vince pulled her even closer, pressing a kiss to her temple as Wendy hugged him by the middle.

They had ordered a large veggie pizza with a side of pesto sauce and Vin immediately went at it, while Wendy slid from under his arm, aimlessly biting on the crust of his pizza.

“You’re not gonna help?” Vince whined, after he cleared up his first slice entirely and opened the sparkling water bottle. Wendy wrinkled her nose.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” she reached in, wrapping a curl of his around her index finger, then letting her nail trace his prickly cheek, “you’re gonna finish the whole pizza?”

“Not sure,” Vince tore the second slide apart, fidgeting a little on his seat. He was already starting to feel his pants dig on him, “gonna try.”

Halfway through Vince was forced to pull back, breathing strongly through his nose and planting a hand on his stomach, grateful that they had picked such a reclusive corner and that their table disguised his movement. He was packed full, it was hard to breathe, and Vince let out a groan.

Wendy leaned in, her whole face flushed. For the longest minutes she had been trying and sort of failing to strike up conversation, blushing and squirming whenever he let out any noise indicating how full he was or had to pause before taking another bite.

“Vin?”

“Just- Just a sec…” he cupped his mouth, trying to force up a belch, but nothing came up. His belly throbbed with the sheer volume of what was inside of it and Vince groaned, throwing his head back, “fuck.”

“Vince,” now her voice wasn’t just breathless and excited, but there was concern tinging it, “honey, let’s stop-”

“Wendy,” he leveled her with a glare and his girlfriend snapped her mouth shut. Vince gulped down the tight knot in his throat and forced another breath, “just give me a minute, okay?”

“Okay,” she moved even closer in the booth, pushing his hair back, unable to keep her hands to herself, “deep breaths.”

“I’m not even nauseous,” he said quietly, blushing and looking around. It was getting rather late and no one was paying them any mind. Across the restaurant, leaning on the bar, the waiters were talking, just occasionally sparing them a glance. There were two other couples, far from them, enthralled with each other. “Just full.”

“Do you wanna get the rest of this to go?” Wendy leaned in, whispering in his ear, “and maybe dessert too?”

The thought of eating dessert on top of all that food made a twinge of nausea blossom inside his gut. Vince thought about it, then nodded, turning his head to capture her lips into a kiss.

Wendy let out a little happy noise, cupping his cheeks and then pulling back just enough to breathe.

She didn’t say anything else and Vince didn’t need her to. With the help of their seat, he pushed himself up and then groaned out loud as the movement made his insides start to churn. Wendy got up as well, squeezing his arm in a sympathetic manner.

“Go sit in the car, I got the bill,” she tiptoed to kiss his cheek and Vince lowered himself slightly to allow her. He stared at his shoes, trying to muster up the energy to walk to the car when it felt like there was a huge brick sitting in his middle.

“Did you see who was inside?” Wendy asked, carrying a white to-go box as she walked out of the restaurant; There was an excited thrill in her voice, green eyes alight with mischief.

Vince was leaning against the hood, near the headlights, staring at his feet and grimacing as he felt the bellyache build. The little nausea twinge was still there, making him reconsider the idea of eating another bite.

“Uhm?”

“Your new bestie,” his girlfriend teased, putting the food in the dashboard and then circling the car, slotting herself between his arms, “Daniels.”

“What- Wendy,” Vince waved the subject away, he didn’t care if Daniels had been inside the restaurant or not, he cared that he was feeling increasingly pukey and he didn’t want to barf outside of his place. That would ruin the whole night, “honey, let’s go home.”

“Yeah?” Wendy pressed him back against the car, on her very tippy toes to keep kissing him, clutching the front of his shirt, “you ate too much?”

“Fuck yeah, I ate too much,” Vince sighed, “you don’t want me to puke on you, let’s go home.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” she teased him, causing Vince to let out a surprised, startled chuckle and clutch at his stomach.

“Oh my god, Wendy, get inside the car, you perv!” he exclaimed, still chuckling, a cramp gripping the insides of his stomach. He tried to swallow air and force up a burp, but the bubble he could immediately feel forming in his belly came up and then fizzled out in his throat.

“Okay, okay,” Wendy pecked his lips, “just hold on a little bit more, Vin…”

There was no way he could drive, nor did she want him to. Wendy was focusing on the drive, but her cheeks were a delicious strawberry shade and one of her hands was off the steering wheel, resting on his thigh… Tracing little invisible patterns there, up and down and then a circle…

“Hurts right here,” Vince bit the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile, as he took his girlfriend’s dainty hand and pressed it to his stuffed belly, "it's so heavy, Wen…”

She let out a forceful breath through her nose, squeezing the steering wheel, “you’re terrible…” there was a whine to her voice and Vince felt a smidge of pride bubble in his chest. The fact he knew she was so turned on by him, every little part of him.

Vince squirmed, planting his hand over hers and pushing it in, leaning in and almost pressing his forehead to the dashboard. The added pressure caused his overpacked stomach to gurgle angrily and next to him Wendy let out a noise in the back of her throat, her fingers curling against his shirt.

“Don’t… Don’t puke yet,” she bossed, voice all breathy and Vince shook his head, sitting up straight.

“Not gonna,” he thumped on his chest, forcing up a tiny little burp that brought no relief, “not there yet.”

“Good,” she pulled her hand back, clearing her throat and rolling down the window, as if the car was too stuffy. Vince appreciated it, even if it wasn’t done for his benefit. The light breeze helped some.

His tiny house was really just a large living room with a bathroom, that he had slotted in separate rooms, creating his tiny bedroom, kitchen, living room. He didn’t fit lying back on the couch, but that didn’t stop Wendy from promptly pushing him against it as soon as they got inside.

“Easy,” Vince glared at her, sitting down and spreading his legs, throwing his head back, “c’mere, honey.”

She took his hand in hers, but instead of sitting on his lap, as Vince was pulling her to, Wendy sank down to her knees between his legs and reached for his jeans. The buttons were pressing against his belly and Vin let out a moan as she undid his fly, tugging on the pants to give his stomach more space.

“Better?”

“Uh-hu,” he cupped her face, thumb on her chin, forcing their eyes to meet and making an amused face, “sorta counter intuitive with your goal, though.”

“I’m not in a rush,” Wendy shrugged, although the rasp in her voice said the opposite. She leaned in, kissing the little sliver of exposed stomach, then grabbing his shirt and rolling it up, lips pressing against his full belly as she continued kissing up.

Vince stripped down the shirt, throwing it to the left and letting out a groan as Wendy moved up, body draping over him and capturing his lips with hers. It felt like her hands were everywhere. Pressing against his unsettled tummy, index finger circling lazily against his belly button, roaming up his chest, curling in his hair-

He turned his face and muffled a thick, relieving burp against her neck and Wendy moaned in his ear, haphazardly grabbing his face and kissing him with renewed fervor. Vince pulled back after a second, pressing his forehead to hers and taking a measured breath. The bigger belch had cleared up some space, so he whispered, “didn’t you say something about dessert?”

Wendy pulled back, stunned and then glared down at his packed belly. It was rounding out, still gurgling and snarling, “are you sure?”

“Yes,” Vince’s voice was decisive. There was a manic glint to her eyes that made him feel warm all over, he wanted to see how much more he could push. If he could make her cum without even touching her. Probably, judging by the way Wendy’s chest was heaving as if she was the one struggling to breathe.

She got up to retrieve the to-go box from the small table that marked his “kitchen”, then walked back to the couch, crawling on it and sitting on his lap with a happy sigh, “I got you blueberry pie,” she opened the cardstock box, “I figured you didn’t like it too much…?”

“I don’t,” Vince frowned, “so why…?”

“I don’t want to ruin a dessert you actually like,” Wendy shrugged, tearing the lid of the box off without a thought and throwing it on the ground. There was a plastic fork and she dug into it with glee, squirming on his lap to get more comfortable. Vince opened a smile as he could feel just how turned on she was, a hard on pressing against his thigh.

He leaned back and obediently opened his mouth, resting his hands on her ass.

It wasn’t his favorite, but it was still really good. Even full as he was, Vince’s mouth still watered at the sweet taste and he happily ate the two first bites. It was the third bite that turned sour.Wendy had gotten him two slices, about 5 bites each, and Vince eyed it wearily as he struggled to swallow.

Her eyes were trained to his face and she pulled back, raised the fork and an eyebrow, “Vin?”

He forced the bite down, then grimaced, smacking his sticky lips together and clearing his throat, “not feeling so hot, honey.”

She bit down her lip, looking conflicted, cheeks aflame, “do you want me to-”

“Gimme another bite,” Vince opened his mouth, squeezing her thighs and Wendy didn’t need to be told twice.

The smell, fruity and sickening sweet, made him want to gag, but he took the fourth bite and then the fifth, finishing the first slice. Immediately he brought up a hand to his mouth and let out a little sickly burp, followed by another… A bigger belch, thick and tasting disgustingly of his dinner and Vince heaved, but didn’t bring up anything.

He whined, leaning forward and his forehead met her collarbone, since Wendy was taller sitting on his lap.

“Shhh,” she whispered in his ear, a hand rubbing up and down his back, “I got you…”

It wasn’t enough. A horrible threshold between feeling like absolute garbage, but so horny and unable to act on either. Vince moaned, swallowing air and forcing up a little burp, squeezing her close, “my stomach… Fuck, Wen, it’s all churning and…” his mouth watered, not with hunger, but revulsion and Wendy squeezed her legs around him.

“It’s not sitting well…?” This was dirty talk and Vince knew it. Thinking of everything that was packed inside of him only made him feel worse – the sandwiches, veal chops, the pizza, pie –, and yet he leaned into it, voice thick and words sticking together.

“No… No, I think the pie- I think it wants up,” he gagged and a thin dribble of saliva rushed up, bringing with it the crumbs– Vince wasn’t playing it up as he retched suddenly, grabbing Wendy’s shoulder and pulling her back to avoid puking on her. A thin, watery dribble of sweet smelling vomit fell on their laps and Vince’s back arched with another violent heave, but nothing else came up.

He forced up a burp and Wendy cupped his face, “oh honey,” she sounded more than breathless, almost dizzy. In his badly lit living room he could see the green of her eyes was almost gone, pupils blown, “darling…” fingers caressing his cheek, so gentle and then saying, “do you want more?”

“Fu-Uck!” The thought of eating even another bite had his stomach squeezing and Vince retched, bringing a much thicker wave of vomit. It splashed on his undone jeans and Wendy’s baby blue ones, a terrible shade of brown mixed with streaks of blue, splatters hitting his naked stomach and pure disgust washed over him, causing him to heave again.

Wendy let out a little noise, squeezing his nape, nails sinking on him and Vince gasped for air, closing his eyes and trying to quell the nausea. This was enough, he was done- A rumbly burp came from the pits of his stomach and he gagged, bringing up a thin dribble of puke and breathing heavily.

“Wen-”

“I’m here, I’m here-” she pressed her lips to his temple, “deep breaths, baby, it’s over. Let your tummy settle-”

“No, Wen-” he squeezed her arm, squirming on the couch as hot nausea continued to churn in his belly, “Wen-” her name up in a retch and he thought of the sheer amount of food, flashes of everything he had consumed appearing in front of his eyes. It was like he could taste every bite all over again.

Vince pushed Wendy off his lap slightly, spreading his legs and grabbing his bloated stomach, shame be damned, no longer giving a crap about the mess- Wendy’s hand found it’s way to his tummy as well, pressing in. Gentle, but steady, deeper-

The next heave was productive and Vince made a horrible choking noise and a large wave of vomit covered his jeans and splashed between his boots. He gasped for air, goosebumps running up and down his arms, head twirling with the lack of oxygen.

Wendy was rubbing his back, her mouth pressed to his naked shoulder, no longer bothering to say anything- He wiped his mouth and the tears clinging to his lashes and then groaned, falling back against the couch’s back.

“Vin?” Her hand on his naked chest, massaging it in circles. Sweet, voice concerned, “honey?”

He turned his head lazily and then let out a drained smile, noticing the wet spot on her jeans that was not caused by him, “fuck me, Wendy, without even touching you?” Vince said proudly, his voice hoarse and his head swimming with the remaining queasiness, but there was a burning deep in his belly. Down in his groin, so pleased with himself.

Wendy’s cheeks turned red and she looked away, but Vince darted out a little uncoordinated hand and grabbed her by the back of her neck, pulling her in. He smashed their lips together and his girlfriend let out a small noise, startled, before she wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed him back.

Her tongue pressed against his, teeth on his bottom lip, nose pressing to his cheek, “you’re so fucking hot,” Wendy whispered in his ear, “so fucking hot.”

Vince pulled back, pleased with himself, then wrinkled his nose “and I need a shower.”

Wendy chuckled at that, giving him a peck, the fire in her eyes clearing out, “can I join?”

“Can you join? Girl, you’re gonna be doing all the washing, this is your mess,” Vince scoffed, smoothing a hand up her back, curling his fingers on her wavy hair and basking on the sex dazed eyes she was giving him. Wendy opened a bright smile.

“Damn right it is, you’re my mess.”

#adding fluff at the start to mask the blow at the ending lol #mywriting #emeto #emetophilia #vomiting #overeating #vince monacelli

28 notes · View notes

secretobsessionstuff · 2 days

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nawwwhh man you aint gotta feel bad about not doin sicktember. im bein real here, i thought i was and i did like 3, so i aint either. but if you really do want me to request one, i'd probably do psychogenic fever/stress induced illness with madix bein sickie bc itd relate to me personally the most (bc i always get stress sick and i'd love to see madix sick witb it too (bonis point if dakota take care of him GOD i loved the fic where dakote took care of him))

Hey man, thanks for always being there and loving my fics. I hope you like this one even though it's nearly two fucking years late I swear.

This fic is set in the past when Madix and Dakota are in school together.

CW: Graphic description of vomiting! It's seriously so gross I love it lol.

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A flood of relieved students rushed past Dakota. He swam against the current looking for Madix among the test-takers. Since it was 2pm, they were no longer test-takers, but the sea of knowledge inside their brains would still be there until the PTSD of organic chemistry was washed away by time.

Dakota knew how anxious Madix had been for this final. The dreaded Orgo Chem kept his roommate up for the past three nights. It was a known fact that this second-year course was a killer, and Madix’s prof was a distinguished serial killer. Many students retook Orgo in the summer, trying for that passing grade with perhaps a more lenient prof.

With the hallway now empty—all the students having left—it was easy for Dakota to find Madix. He hadn’t expected his friend to stick around after the final was over, but there he was sitting on the floor by the large windows. Madix looked like a crab, trying to find safety in the shell of his hunched over back. He had his head in his hands and was rubbing his temples as if the trauma of the exam pooled behind his eyes.

“Hey, how did it go?” It was a very pointless question given that Madix was curled into a question mark.

“Fuck if I know,” Madix slurred as he slid his hands down his face. “I keep going over every question, doubting my answers.”

“Well, it’s over now so you don’t need to think about it.” It worried Dakota how glassy and fragile Madix’s eyes looked, like he was about to cry or explode into flames. His cheeks were pale and sunken too.

“I need a 73 to pass the class.”

Dakota squinted. “Mmh sounds like you’re still thinking about it.”

Madix dropped his hands to his side. “I can’t stop. That exam is all I’ve been thinking about for the last week. I haven’t even had time to study for Anatomy tomorrow.”

With a sigh, Dakota sat down on the floor next to his friend. “I brought you something to take your mind off studying.” From behind his back, Dakota revealed a fast-food bag from the student lounge. It was Madix’s favourite place to get comfort food because of the crispy fries, the juicy burger, and the creamy milkshake. Madix didn’t like to indulge that craving too often because it was a greasy cheat meal that often left him feeling bloated, but Dakota thought it would be a nice gesture since Madix had hardly eaten anything leading up to this exam.

He was about to hand his friend the grease-wrapped gift, but hesitated. The heat coming off Madix’s body was alarming. Dakota could feel the waves just sitting next to him. A quick touch to Madix’s forehead with the back of his hand told Dakota that he’d been neglecting his roommate.

“Shit, Mads, you’re burning up. I didn’t know you were sick all this time.”

“I’m not sick.” Like a starving animal, Madix reached for the bag of food, but Dakota held it out of his reach.

“Bullshit. You can deny it all you want, but your head’s on fire, buddy.”

“I know.”

Dakota couldn’t stop his lecture now, as if the two of them hadn’t heard enough lecturing the whole year. “You’re the one in pre-med, you should know—wait what?”

Madix sighed at the theatrics of his friend. “I’ve had a fever for three days. It’s not going away.” He rubbed his own forehead, feeling the familiar yet puzzling temperature. “I don’t have any other symptoms. I think it’s from stress.”

It was honestly the oddest feeling. Madix could feel himself cooking from the inside. His cells buzzed like the many diagrams of excited particles when submitted to heat. But there was nothing else to indicate a virus or infection. His throat was fine; his nose was clear. If anything, he was infected with school. Perhaps his nose was clogged with equations and his throat was sore from reciting textbook chapters.

Dakota looked skeptical. “So, you gave yourself a fever from worrying?”

“Yes, it’s a medical mystery. They should name a disease after me. Anyway, gimme burger.” Madix reached for the food like a child with grubby fingers.

Dakota scooted away from his friend, taking the prize with him. “I don’t know, Mads. You really don’t look well. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to eat something so heavy.”

“Come on. You know I’ve been surviving on goldfish crackers.” It was only now that he could smell the fries and beef that Madix realized how hungry he was. His stomach was aching for something substantial. “Besides, I need the energy to study for Anatomy. It’s tomorrow by the way.”

“Tomorrow? But you just had orgo.”

“I have a shit exam schedule this year.” Madix pouted. “Please, Kota. It will make me feel better.”

Finally, Dakota relented. He had bought it for Madix after all. But now he was worried that it was the exact opposite of what the overworked boy needed.

He watched Madix stuff his face with his first real meal in 72 hours. The burger disappeared in record time. Fatty juices glistened on Madix’s chin as he dug into the fries. His fingers were coated in grease and fry seasoning by the time he was done. In between each mouthful, he took longs slurps of the Oreo milkshake.

“You wanna slow down there, bud?” Dakota asked incredulously. There wasn’t much more to eat at this point.

Madix dragged his sleeve over his mouth and shook his head. “Have to start studying soon.” He swallowed the last bite of fries and sucked at the last remnants of the milkshake. Madix let out a long burp at the end and sighed.

“I’m not gonna lie, that was impressive.” Dakota couldn’t believe his eyes. “You’re getting more colour in your cheeks.” Maybe the meal really had been a good thing. “But I’m still worried about this voodoo fever though.”

“It won’t go away until the exams do.”

‘Then neither will I.” Dakota stood firm in this decision. He wasn’t going to let Madix get burnt out…literally. His hardest exams were done, so he could keep a closer eye on Madix now. “I’ll study with you in the library.”

“You don’t have to, Kota. I’ll be fine.”

“I want to.”

By the tone of Dakota’s voice, Madix could tell that he wasn’t going to win this one. “Fine, but we’re studying in the red zone.”

“Not the red zone! Anything but that.”

Madix shrugged. “You’re the one who insisted on babysitting.”

• • •

The red zone was the fourth circle of hell—also known as the library during exam season.

It was the quietest level of the building, reserved exclusively for students to study in absolute silence. No talking, no phones, you couldn’t even sneeze without getting dirty looks. You could hear a pencil drop and then watch that pencil be escorted out of the red zone.

As someone with ADHD, Dakota hated the red zone. He much preferred the orange or yellow zone. At least in the orange zone, you could whisper and cough without being shunned. The yellow zone allowed for conversation and anxious tapping. He admitted that the green zone was definitely not ideal for studying. That was the first level of the library were students could openly cry over their exams or practice for their theater final that involved a murder scene.

Dakota pretended to zip his lips and throw away the key. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them from moving on their own.

Madix on the other hand had no issue keeping his mouth shut. The nausea forced his lips together.

The fast food was quickly catching up to him, staying true to its name even inside his stomach. It hadn’t taken long before the burger, fries, and milkshake resisted digestion. The meal churned in his belly like a wad of chewing gum.

The red zone was popular during this time of year, so Madix and Dakota hunted for two chairs next to each other. They found a long table with many students already studying there, but luckily there were two empty spots across from each other. Madix was grateful to be sitting across from Dakota so that he could rub his upset stomach discreetly.

Unfortunately, the red zone was not a good place to have a gurgly tummy. The girl next to Madix gave him the stink eye when the organ groaned, tossing chewed up cow inside his gut. He felt grease sticking to his throat and hot burps in his chest. He pushed down every belch lest he be escorted out of the level.

The words of the anatomy textbook swam across the page. Madix felt his fever ignite with a vengeance. Now he was dizzy, disoriented, and disgustingly full. There was heat behind his eyes that turned his vision to soup. Everything he needed to know for the exam was right in front of him in the book, but the letters became alphabet stew on a white background.

He dared not look up at his friend in fear that Dakota would see right through him.

Dakota could not study in such an environment, so naturally he saw every twinge of nausea flash across Madix’s expression. His poor friend was not having a good time. Madix’s cheeks were now flushed bright red, and beads of sweat gathered on his brow.

In the dead quiet of the library, he could hear Madix’s stomach struggle to digest the heavy meal. Dakota kicked himself for giving into Madix’s begging. The nausea was no doubt thwarting his efforts at studying which created a vicious cycle of stress and pain.

Dakota did a quick doodle in his notebook and passed it to Madix. He was quite proud of his drawing and had to keep in a chuckle.

Madix frowned at the drawing. Along the top were the words Green Zone Now? Below Dakota’s messy handwriting was a drawing of a green-faced emoji. Its cheeks were ballooned with vomit. It seemed he wasn’t hiding his ailment so well.

On the same page, Madix wrote back I’m fine. Must study. Madix didn’t think he needed to go to the green zone, despite what his complexion said. He could control his stomach. The food would stay down; it had to.

Dakota gave Madix a disappointed look when he got the note back. Why must he be so stubborn? Dakota had to drop the matter. Aside from physically picking up his friend, he didn’t see any other way of convincing Madix to take a break for the sake of his health. He wasn’t going to be making any compelling arguments in the red zone.

Madix tried to ignore his blistering fever and his unhappy guts.

Systemic Anatomy was hard to study for when he was so keenly aware of his digestive system. He imagined partially digested fries mixing with the gastric juices in his belly. His body went through the steps with much difficulty.

The muscular organ was literally in the process of contracting itself to squeeze all the nutrients out of the fast food. Madix did not like the squeezing. He hugged his aching middle and laid his head on the table in defeat.

It didn’t seem likely that the food would continue on to his intestines. His stomach couldn’t handle the greasy meal after days of hardly anything to eat. On top of all this, his body was too busy fighting a made-up virus called stress. The stress was very real, but his immune system was taking it too literally. It was no wonder why he couldn’t keep the meal down.

Madix couldn’t stop the burp from coming up. It burst from his mouth, splashing the back of his throat with acid. The girl next to him shushed him. Her expression was as sour as his stomach. He didn’t have the will to apologize for the noise. Regardless, he wouldn’t have had the chance to say sorry anyway because another burp filled his mouth with sticky saliva.

Dakota looked up quickly to see Madix hunched over his chair and gagging into his hand. Another sickly belch bubbled up, draining the colour from Madix’s face.

Before Dakota could do anything, he watched Madix lurch forward with a loud heave. Thick vomit spewed from his mouth and fell onto the table in front of him. The sick quickly spilled onto Madix’s lap.

“Oh, shit Maddy,” Dakota cooed as he came to his friend’s side. He didn’t bother with the anti-social etiquette of the red zone, not that it mattered though because everyone in their vicinity bolted from the room. No one wanted to risk catching whatever Madix had during their exams.

Madix coughed and sputtered. Scandalous! He could only moan miserably before the muscles in his belly contracted again, sending up another wave of mushy fries and curdled milkshake. Dark flecks of Oreo and beef dotted the sick.

“Oh God…” Madix choked out. “I can’t stop.”

Dakota rubbed his friend’s back while trying not to look at the growing pool of vomit that was…everywhere. “It’s okay, buddy. Just let it out.” The same heat from before lived beneath Madix’s skin. Dakota could feel the fever through his clothes. “No one is here. You’re good. Do what you need to do.”

Madix’s belly gave another deep lurch. The pressure forced the undigested food up his open esophagus. If this wasn’t the best way to study the digestive system, then Madix didn’t know what else to do besides open himself up like a cadaver.

His fever made the room spin around him. If he had any sort of receptacle, he probably would have missed. Luckily, he had no issue catching his notebook, his lap, and his shoes in the process.

“Good job,” Dakota encouraged. He patted Madix’s back firmly. “Get it all out. Get that stress out too while you’re at it.”

Madix had to admit that there was something cathartic about this purge. He felt lighter with each bout that left his body. He gave over to his subconscious mind and let his body do what it needed to do. He probably should have listened to the hunger and sleep cues before this, but he was listening now to the Get Out cues.

If stressed looked like a melted Oreo milkshake then it was certainly no longer in his body. He tried to imagine the pressure and the expectations and the need for validation leaving his body along with the vomit.

When Madix caught a break, he couldn’t help but give a chuckle. “This is the red zone. I just puked in the red zone.”

Dakota laughed with him. “All over it really.” He looked around at the empty room. “You scared everyone away. They must think you have the plague.”

“I think we’re all infected with it. This pressure—it’s an epidemic, man.”

“Don’t go turning into a philosopher.” Dakota took a step back from his friend. It wasn’t a good view, but he was happy to see Madix’s shoulders relaxed. “Do you need anything? Water? Sleep?”

“Both.” Madix slowly stood up from his chair, cringing at the wetness that made his shirt cling to his body. “But I think I better find someone who works here.” Madix rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I should have listened to you, huh?”

“Let’s discuss my vast amount of wisdom when everything’s cleaned up, shall we?"

30 notes · View notes

tafeekafee · 2 days

Text

⌛🐿️ Wash it away, oh, make it rain now

Sickie: Hongjoong

Caretaker: Seonghwa

"We should get some food", Wooyoung mused, looking around at the other members.

He, Yunho, San, Hongjoong and Seonghwa were exploring the Coachella grounds together while Yeosang, Mingi and Jongho had decided to rest up a bit at their trailer in the backstage area of the festival. Their show yesterday, while fun, had been very tiring and nobody was surprised that the three of them wanted some peace and quiet.

"I'm hungry", San agreed, "no, hyung, don't you dare."

"Hi hungry, I'm Hongjoong", the captain quipped, though he was the only one finding it remotely funny.

"And you wonder why ATINY keep referring to you as the dad of the group", Wooyoung groaned, rolling his eyes and, just for funsies, decided that pushing Hongjoong hat into his face would be a great idea.

"I'm just living up to what they already expect", Hongjoong countered, not even bothered by the action, just adjusting his hat. He was used to much worse. "What do you want to eat?"

"I'm not hungry, it’s too hot", Yunho mumbled, trailing behind the three of them with Seonghwa.

The eldest sighed and turned to look at him from where he had been busy waving at a group of fans. "Yunho-yah, I know you don't like the heat. But unless you think you are going to puke if you eat, you should get some nutrition into your body especially if you want to come to the concerts tonight. If you do think so, we should get you laying down in the shade."

"I'll be fine", Yunho groaned, fanning himself, "it's just so warm."

“It’s California”, San said, his voice a mix of teasing and concern, “what did you expect?”

“Less heat?”, Yunho said weakly, “fine, I guess something small can’t hurt.”

“Good, I was worried”, Seonghwa said.

“Also, this is why ATINY calls you mother”, San added onto the previous joke. Seonghwa just laughed and halfheartedly swatted at him.

It was Hongjoong’s turn to roll his eyes. The kids - uh, the younger members - really were a handful. So he decided to change the topic: “What do you feel like eating, Yunho-yah?”

“Something cold?”, Yunho suggested, “I don’t think I want hot food now.”

“Ice cream?”, Wooyoung suggested sneakily.

“Despite what ATINY thinks, you are not actually a child, so I am not going to stop you from eating ice cream for lunch. I am just going to say it’s a stupid idea”, Hongjoong remarked.

“Well, who is in?”, San asked, raising his hand in time with Wooyoung. Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Yunho sighed.

“What about these Açaí Bowls or whatever they are called?”, Hongjoong suggested, “I think they are cold. I never had them but always meant to try them.”

“As long as they are cold, I am in”, Yunho agreed and Seonghwa nodded.

After a quick talk with their managers and security team they split up to get their respective foods. Since all their English had significantly improved Hongjoong wasn’t worried at all about letting Wooyoung and San go off alone with some staff.

Luckily for Yunho, Seonghwa and Hongjoong the line for the food wasn’t so long so they managed to order pretty quickly. Not that Hongjoong was really sure what was in the bowls itself - the problem of short lines: no time to really translate food names which was still one of the harder things he struggled with - but they looked great and so the three of them decided to order three different versions to share.

As expected the food was pretty good and to their relief Yunho seemed to feel better after eating a good portion of the cold food. Maybe he really had only needed a cold drink, some sugar and most importantly the shade of the picnic table they were at. Wooyoung and San both had gotten huge orders of ice cream and Hongjoong couldn’t even fault them for it. All the food was so good.

⌛

Two hours later Hongjoong found himself at the VIP area of one of the stages, watching some artist he had forgotten the name of. Well, he had forgotten how the name was spelled and the pronunciation he had in mind didn’t make sense.

It didn’t matter, Seonghwa had wanted to go and so naturally Hongjoong had agreed to come. They had been joined by Mingi, Yunho and Jongho a few minutes ago, while WooSanSang were off somewhere else.

They were vibing to the music and Hongjoong could tell that the other members really enjoyed the set, as well as the staff that had joined them. While the staff, especially the managers and security, obviously had to stay with the members for the most part, they had managed to work out a schedule where the different staff members were able to see the sets they wanted to see. Hongjoong had only thought it fair when they had started to plan everything - for many of them it was their only chance to enjoy Coachella too.

However, it was maybe only twenty minutes into the set when Hongjoong started to think something was going wrong. While just a few minutes ago he had been enthusiastically jumping around to the music, enjoying the different styles of music they got in contact with at the festival - now he was starting to feel … off. He couldn’t describe it any other way.

There was tiredness in his muscles he hadn’t noticed before and he wasn’t able to motivate himself into jumping and enjoying the show anymore. Everything was slightly tilting, the effect barely even there. Still he was questioning if it really was dizziness he was experiencing or if he was just affected by the stage lights. All his enthusiasm was gone - replaced by exhaustion and a weird, heavy feeling in his stomach.

Maybe he was just a bit dehydrated and exhausted by the past week. Hongjoong slipped away from Seonghwa’s side for a moment to approach a manager.

“Hyung, do we have something to drink?”, he asked, trying to be as quiet as possible while the music was blasting in the background.

“Uh, I think we have some beer? And coke?”, the manager said.

Hongjoong grimaced. He didn’t feel like having a sweet, sugary drink and, even less so, alcohol. “I was actually hoping for water?”, he said reluctantly.

“Let me check”, the manager said and went to check in with one of the other managers. A minute later he re-appeared with a half-full bottle of water, holding it out in a sympathetic way. “That's all that’s left. It’s luke-warm but don’t worry, the others had distributed it into cups before.”

“Thanks, hyung”, Hongjoong said and took a sip. He nearly spat it out again - as the manager had said, it was lukewarm and very unappealing. But better than nothing, he supposed, and swallowed. Water was water after all.

Hongjoong returned to his spot between Jongho and Seonghwa, deciding to just watch the show, not dance as hard as Seonghwa, Mingi and Yunho did and turn in early tonight.

The water sat heavily in his stomach, making everything uncomfortable. The captain was sweating hard, even despite the sun setting quickly, and his last reserves of energy were quickly fading into nothingness. There was a dull ache in his stomach, not unlike when he drank too much before doing a heavy workout or dance practice. For a moment he considered crouching down for a moment, just to rest, but he was still an idol in a public space. He had of course noticed the few cameras on the group, especially with how much the other members were enjoying the music. No, he could hold on.

⌛

Hongjoong could most definitely not hold on. He had finished the sips of water but he was starting to think that that might have been a mistake. The stomach pain had turned into painful cramps, he was hot and cold at the same time and he was starting to feel really nauseous and weak. While he did not want to admit to feeling unwell, he knew he could not endure. If anything went wrong, there were so many eyes on them…

So all that was left for him to do was to decide who he asked for help. He would have just gone back to the manager but he didn’t want to worry the members with just disappearing. Yunho and Mingi weren’t next to him and they were having too much fun for Hongjoong to disturb them. Jongho, too, was deeply enamored with the performance and Hongjoong didn’t want to bother the youngest. They all knew how much the maknae was stressing out about being the “K-Pop boy with the cool high notes” in the eyes of the public at the moment, how Jongho was so worried about each performance he had thrown up before their set the day before. No, he could not take these moments of happiness and relaxation from him.

The only option left was Seonghwa. Seonghwa who had looked forward to this artist but would drop everything for any of his dongsaengs if the need arose. Hongjoong was too selfish and, frankly, too unwell to really care at the moment. He just wanted to lie down away from the public eye. Preferably with some medication for the nausea but he would take being away for now.

So, dropping all his reservations, he tugged at the sleeve of Seonghwa’s jacket, leaning a bit closer to his friend. Seonghwa smiled at him and leaned down a bit, so that he could face Hongjoong. “What’s up?”, he asked, happiness painted on his face.

For a moment Hongjoong faltered. He wanted Seonghwa to keep looking this happy but he also didn’t feel like falling flat on his face from exhaustion and nausea in front of ATINY, so he mumbled into Seonghwa’s ear, the older having turned a bit so he could hear Hongjoong better. “I don’t feel good.”

Seonghwa frowned and turned to look at him. “You need to speak up, it’s so noisy”, he half-yelled. Right, concert. With a sigh, Hongjoong nodded. He didn’t think he could speak much louder, his throat feeling weird, but he had to. So when Seonghwa turned his head again so he could speak, Hongjoong called as loudly as he could but careful that nobody else could hear: “Hyung, I don’t feel good. I want to go back to the trailer.”

Seonghwa whipped around to look at him, worry shining in his eyes as he mustered Hongjoong. Hongjoong, who was still clutching his sleeve and hopefully didn’t look as bad as he felt. “What’s wrong?”, Seonghwa asked, placing a hopefully unobtrusive arm around Hongjoong’s waist.

“I don’t know, I just started feeling nauseous and not good”, Hongjoong admitted, resisting the urge to rest his head on his hyung’s shoulder.

“Alright, come on”, Seonghwa said, but before they could leave he leaned across Hongjoong to speak with Jongho. Hongjoong couldn’t hear what Seonghwa said but Jongho’s eyes widened in alarm before he nodded.

Hongjoong let Seonghwa pull him to the managers standing behind them, one hand still on Hongjoong’s back. “Hyung”, Seonghwa said to the same manager Hongjoong had spoken to earlier, “Joong-ah is not feeling well. We need to go back to the trailers.”

The manager instantly had a worried frown on his face and nodded, waving two security guards over. “Let’s go”, he said.

Honestly, Hongjoong was a bit overwhelmed by how quickly everything progressed but he was glad that it did. He really was starting to feel awful, his stomach cramping badly and the nausea getting worse with every step. In the sight of ATINY in the enclosed VIP space Hongjoong had resisted the urge to wrap his arms around his bloated stomach, but now he couldn’t bring himself to care. His stomach was killing him.

It was awful really, how fast everything was going downhill. His legs were shaking with each step, causing Hongjoong to be afraid they would give out under him any second. His stomach felt unsettled in a way he wasn’t sure which direction his food wanted out, he only knew it would leave at some point. He just hoped he could make it to some private area.

Now further away from the music, in the crisp night air, Seonghwa was walking closely beside Hongjoong. They were blindly following the manager, the security guards taking up the rear.

“How are you feeling? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”, Seonghwa asked quietly, aware that Hongjoong would not want everybody to know how badly he was feeling. Hongjoong sighed, wincing as his stomach cramped again. He stumbled a bit, only Seonghwa’s quick reflexes helping him keep his footing. At least they were mostly alone with most people at one of the shows.

“Hyung?”, Seonghwa called before Hongjoong could say anything, “can we stop for a second?”

The manager turned around, a sorry smile on his face. “It’s only a few hundred meters till we arrive at the VIP area, we can take a break there. Unless, Joong-ah, you really can’t go on.”

Hongjoong shook his head. While he really was not doing good and he had to keep swallowing a few times until he could speak, he did want to be in private. “I can hold out.” Satisfied, the manager nodded and obediently they followed.

⌛

Once they reached the VIP area, Hongjoong couldn’t help but collapse against Seonghwa, energy spent. He just wanted to lie down. Why did Coachella have to be so big? It took ages to get around. Hongjoong truly thought he couldn’t walk to the trailer anymore. It would still be another ten-fifteen minutes walk after all.

Seonghwa supported him to a set of lounging chairs and Hongjoong could have cried in relief when he was able to sit. Standing was exhausting. Immediately he doubled over and pressed his hands against his stomach.

“I’ll call for a golf cart to take us back”, the manager said, squeezing Hongjoong shoulder in silent support before moving away a bit to talk on his phone.

In the meantime, Soenghwa had knelt down in front of Hongjoong, pushing back sweaty hair from his face and taking Hongjoong’s small hand in one of his. “Joong-ah?”, he asked quietly, his voice comforting, “help me figure out what’s wrong. I’m so worried right now.”

“I just started feeling off, so I thought I was dehydrated and drank some water. But now my stomach is killing me, it hurts really badly, and I’m nauseous and bloated and I don’t feel good”, Hongjoong whispered, close to tears. He just wanted to sleep, not feel anything for a moment. He curled over further as his stomach cramped again and he had to swallow harshly.

Seonghwa recoiled a bit, moving to the side, though not letting go of Hongjoong’s hand. “Are you going to be sick?”, he asked, an edge of panic in his voice.

“Maybe”, Hongjoong admitted, pressing his wrist to his mouth in hopes it would help. They sat like this for a few minutes, Seonghwa patiently holding Hongjoong’s hand and at times rubbing his back, whispering comforting nonsense all while Hongjoong desperately tried to stop himself from throwing up.

Suddenly his stomach lurched again, at the same time as it cramped and Hongjoong groaned in pain. That seemed to be the last straw. “Hyung”, he gasped, panicked, “hyung, I …”

Seonghwa, bless him, seemed to have understood and he was already pulling Hongjoong to his feet, leading him over to an area of palm trees. Hongjoong didn’t even have time to pull his hand away from his mouth before he was sick for the first time. He heaved again nearly immediately, his stomach contents splattering against the bark of a poor tree.

Hongjoong just hoped nobody recognized them, just thinking he was some visitor who had had a bit too much to drink. Seonghwa seemed to sense his fear and whispered: “Don’t worry, it’s okay. Nobody is watching, the security guards are blocking the view and looking away themselves. You’re okay, focus on yourself.”

It took a few minutes until Hongjoong felt like he could breathe again, his stomach slowly stopping its assault. Wiping his mouth with his wrist, he let himself fall back against his hyung, knowing Seonghwa would always catch him.

“Feel better?”, the older man asked quietly and Hongjoong nodded weakly, closing his eyes. He was so exhausted he could barely muster the energy to be embarrassed. Seonghwa gently led him back to the lounging chairs and Hongjoong dropped down hard.

The manager held a bottle of water and asked Hongjoong to hold out his hand, pouring some water over it to clean off the puke. It would have to be enough for now. Then the manager handed him the bottle of water and gratefully Hongjoong took a few sips. He wasn’t sure they would stay down, honestly he doubted it, but if he was to throw up again he wanted a bit of time without the terrible taste of puke on his tongue.

“Hyung, when will the golf cart be here?”, Seonghwa asked the manager.

“It should be here soon, I hope, they couldn’t say”, the manager replied.

“Okay. What are you thinking? Heat exhaustion? Stomach virus? Bad food?” Seonghwa turned his attention to Hongjoong, sitting down on the chair next to him.

Hongjoong shrugged. “We had the same food all day and you and Yunho seem to feel good, so I doubt it’s that. Honestly, I don’t know. If it’s the heat shouldn’t that have happened earlier?”

“Excuse me?”, a female voice called out in English and all three of them whipped their heads up. Three girls stood with the security guards, looking at Seonghwa and Hongjoong with wide eyes. “We’re really sorry to disturb you but we’re ATINY and we wanted to ask if it’s possible to take a picture?”

Hongjoong sighed internally. He didn’t want to interact with them, no matter how nice the girls seemed. He loved fan interactions but … no, he couldn’t deal with that today. The manager was already shaking his head but Hongjoong could see the sadness and embarrassment in the three girls’s faces.

“One picture we can do”, he replied, brain taking a bit longer to switch to English than normally. The look on their faces was worth it though. Seonghwa painted a smile on his face, knowing he could not give away his worry.

They got up from the chairs and Hongjoong congratulated himself that he only stumbled slightly. His stomach didn’t hurt as badly as it had before and standing up for a few minutes for ATINY was doable.

The girl who had spoken at first handed the manager her phone and the two idols posed with the girls. Hongjoong hoped he looked presentable enough - he had never feared that he would at one point need to take pictures when he had puked just a few minutes ago. He just took great care in not touching them - not sure his hands were completely clean and not wanting them to get sick if he was infectious. Hopefully, they didn't notice anything off, maybe write off his hesitation as respect.

“You’re my bias”, one girl said shyly to Hongjoong and he thanked her quietly. One of the other girls complimented Seonghwa’s looks and his Wonderland performance of the day before.

Luckily, the three of them were very kind and respectful, so after thanking them profusely they left rather quickly. The moment they were out of sight, Hongjoong stumbled, his knees going weak. One of the security guards and Seonghwa managed to grab his arms before he could fall and then, finally, the golf cart arrived.

The manager took the front seat, Seonghwa helped Hongjoong settle in the middle row so he could face forwards and the security guards hopped into the back row, facing backwards.

“Do you think it was the Acai bowls? Maybe one of the ingre…?”, Seonghwa asked but was interrupted by Hongjoong, who moaned. “Don’t talk about anything food-related.”

“Okay, okay”, Seonghwa muttered comfortingly. “Rest, you can lie down soon. Just a few minutes.”

The few minutes were terrible. The ride was anything but smooth, it was as if they could feel every small blade of grass. Hongjoong could do nothing but clutch Soenghwa’s hand in the hidden space between them and pray.

⌛

The moment they arrived at their trailer, Hongjoong couldn’t hold it in anymore. He jumped down from his seat, knees nearly giving out under him, and stumbled a few steps to place his hands on his knees. He gagged and gagged until a tiny splatter of sick came up. With just how nauseous he was he thought more would come up but apparently it wasn’t to be so.

“Let’s lay you down inside”, Seonghwa said, a hand on the small of his back. “Manager-hyung is trying to organize the car to the hotel but there seems to be some problem. You can rest here now, though. A medic is on the way, just in case.”

Completely exhausted, Hongjoong just let Seonghwa help him inside. His legs were so tired and shaking he nearly stumbled on the steps to the trailer but again Seonghwa saved him. Yet, with the couch in sight, Hongjoong’s knees completely gave out and he sank against the wall - vertigo too much to overcome.

“No, no, come on. We’re practically there”, Seonghwa said and Hongjoong was dragged to the couch, immediately laid onto his side. He curled into a small ball, knees pulled to his chest in hopes to alleviate the cramps in his middle. Seonghwa crouched down beside him, brushing back his hair.

The manager arrived beside them, holding out a trash can and placing it in easy reach. “Just in case”, he said, “anything else we can do for you?”

“I just want to sleep”, Hongjoong mumbled, his eyes closing on their own accord. He opened his eyes at a cold touch at his fingers - Seonghwa was rubbing hand disinfectant on his still dirty-feeling hand. It barely made Hongjoong feel better or cleaner. He closed his eyes again.

“Alright, I’ll be in the sitting area over there. Try to stay awake until the medic is here. Call if you need me, I’ll let you know when the car to the hotel is close. Feel better soon, Joong-ah”, the manager said, leaving them alone. As one of their long-time managers he knew how much Hongjoong valued privacy in moments of vulnerability.

Staying awake, like the manager had suggested, didn’t prove to be a problem. Barely a few minutes had passed when Hongjoong started to feel the unpleasant, burning sensation in his chest and his mouth started to taste sour. He scrambled to sit up, startling Seonghwa who quickly handed him the trash can.

Hongjoong groaned, pulling it into his lap and spat out a mouthful of disgusting bile. Seonghwa took a seat next to him, rubbing his back and whispering comfort. Sitting up hardly helped against the acid reflux - Hongjoong had to keep spitting out wads of sour saliva, strands dangling from his mouth. He pressed a hand against his aching chest, choking slightly as he tried to swallow against the accumulating saliva. It hurt.

Hongjoong didn’t even notice he was crying until Seonghwa used the sleeve of his long-armed shirt to wipe his face. “It’s okay, you’re okay, breathe, Joong-ah”, the elder whispered gently, “you’re okay.”

“It hurts, Hwa”, Hongjoong whispered, fighting to stay composed. He hated being sick. He hated being sick in public. And he especially hated being sick when he and Seonghwa and their manager and the security guards could have been enjoying the concert. He hadn’t wanted to ruin the fun with his own stupidity.

After Seonghwa had mentioned their lunch, he had come to the realization he must have either mistranslated or overlooked an ingredient in one of the bowls. It was so stupid, he knew he had a lot of intolerances and still, here he was, throwing up.

“I’m sorry I am ruining your evening”, Hongjoong apologized, adding onto his last statement before Seonghwa could reply.

“I know it hurts, Joong-ah”, Seonghwa said, running his hand through Hongjoong’s hair, “and I know you feel guilty. Please don’t. We don’t know if it was the food or what else. Just focus on feeling better, okay?”

All Hongjoong could do was spit up another mouthful of bile, which finally - as he had feared it would - caused vomiting again. He harshly gagged, breathing taking on a faster pace in anticipation and anxiety. Purplish sick, a reflection of all his bad choices of the day, splattered against the plastic bag, mixing with the previous yellowish bile. Hongjoong had to close his eyes at the sight of chunks - some kind of berries he would never be able to look at or eat again.

Then panic set in. A chunk of something was starting to block his airways and he coughed, trying to dislodge it. He couldn’t help but let out a low whine, scared as the oxygen was kept from him. Fresh tears ran down his cheeks as he fought for breath.

Seonghwa switched from rubbing his back to first gently then a bit rougher patting it until Hongjoong was able to bring up whatever was blocking his airways. He heaved in a deep breath, eyes burning badly from the tears.

⌛

And amidst everything - there was a knock on the trailer door before it opened and two paramedics entered. Both were carrying the typical huge backpacks and smiled at the two members. The manager came to greet them and soon Hongjoong was crowded by the two while the manager took the bucket to wash it out in the trailer’s bathroom.

“Hello Hongjoong”, the woman greeted with a smile, managing to not completely mispronounce his name, “my name is Laura and this is Will. Can you tell us how you are feeling?”

Hongjoong nodded but needed a moment to gather himself. While he spoke English well enough he most certainly didn’t have much knowledge in the area of medical jargon. Maybe he should have watched more of Wooyoung’s medical dramas with him. “I started feeling sick at the concert, uh, I threw up a few times? My tummy hurts. I think I ate something that … wasn’t good for my body?” He really didn’t know how to explain food intolerances in English.

“Okay, I’m sorry to hear that. Let us take your pulse and temperature and all that, okay?”, she said. “Food poisoning can be bad.”

Oh, so he had said it wrong. Or there was some miscommunication.

“No, I … uh … I have like … lactose intolerance? But with, uh, fruit and vegetables”, he tried and received a nod from her.

“Do you have any trouble breathing?”, the other paramedic asked. Hongjoong shook his head, leaning back against Seonghwa while they did their tests. Neither him nor Seonghwa, nor the manager who had joined them again, understood much of what they were doing but they didn’t look too worried.

“You’re really dehydrated”, the female medic said, “we’d like to do …”

That was about all Hongjoong could translate and so the man pulled out a needle and a bag of fluids. Great. Really great. Defeated, Hongjoong nodded his agreement and let the woman poke at his elbow. Luckily he normally had good veins and she didn’t have much trouble putting the line in. It was uncomfortable, yes, but Hongjoong could deal with it if it helped.

Then the woman showed them her phone screen, displaying google translate: “Eat crackers and drink plain water and sports drinks for a day or two. Nothing too sweet or spicy. If you continue throwing up after tonight or show other symptoms go to a hospital.”

“Yes, I can do that”, Hongjoong said, his strength vanishing and getting replaced by exhaustion and a heaviness in his limbs.

“Try to sleep. We will be back to take out the I.V. in about half an hour.” The woman’s phone read.

Sleepily, Hongjoong nodded. The paramedics backed up and left, but before Hongjoong could doze off, the manager knelt down by his side: “Stay awake for a second, Joong-ah. The car will be here in about half an hour too. The concert will be over by that time, so the rest of the members will come with us. Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah”, Hongjoong mumbled. He didn’t necessarily fancy having the younger members see him like this but it would be unfair to make them wait.

“Alright, nap time”, Seonghwa said, brushing back Hongjoong’s hair. He helped the captain lie back down on the couch without disturbing the I.V. line. At least the acid reflux seemed to have gotten better, making it possible to lie flat again, but the stomach cramps had not gone away. The movement of laying down triggered another wave of pain and Hongjoong gasped, instinctively curling into himself and pulling his knees to his stomach.

“Let’s try to stretch out your legs”, Seonghwa suggested, a comforting hand on Hongjoong’s hip. “It might help the pain.” Carefully and slowly the eldest moved Hongjoong’s legs, giving Hongjoong the chance to tell him to stop if the pain got worse. It didn’t - in fact it was much better once Hongjoong’s legs were fully stretched out across the couch.

“Better?”, Seonghwa asked and Hongjoong mumbled an affirmation. He was already half-asleep when Seonghwa lifted his upper body to rest Hongjoong’s head on his lap.

“Tell me if I should stop”, Seonghwa whispered and for a moment Hongjoong was confused. Then his shirt was lifted and a warm hand came to rest on his aching stomach. Hongjoong sighed in comfort. It helped a lot. Then Seonghwa started to rub soothing circles against taunt muscles and Hongjoong was definitely in some sort of heaven.

⌛

That sentiment held for about twenty minutes until the captain woke up suddenly and immediately had to lunge for the bucket just in time to get sick again. It most certainly was not a nice sensation to wake up to and Seonghwa seemed startled too. The pressure of his hand was too much and Hongjoong grasped Seonghwa’s fingers, pulling his hand away from his upset stomach to interlace their fingers. It was a lifeline that Hongjoong clung to, next to Seonghwa stroking his hair. Hongjoong wasn’t even sure he was hitting the bucket but slowly the heaving stopped. He stayed leaning over the receptacle just in case.

“What the…?”, San asked loudly.

When Hongjoong looked up he saw Yeosang, who had entered behind San, turn around on the spot and push Wooyoung back out the door, much to the loud confusion of the younger. Better for Wooyoung not to see, there was no need for an emetophobia-fueled panic attack. Hongjoong sank back down into Seonghwa’s lap, feeling much worse than he had before his nap.

“Hyungs?”, San questioned, worriedly, and came closer, “Seonghwa-hyung? What’s wrong with Hongjoong-hyung?”

“Probably ate something he shouldn’t have”, Seonghwa explained, “I got this. Go check on Wooyoung, if you stay here he won’t be able to share with you and I’m not going to help you figure out roommate arrangements today. I got this under control.”

San agreed and turned to leave, when he was stopped by the manager. “The cars are here. San-ah, did you guys see Yunho, Mingi and Jongho?”

“No, but Jongho-yah texted they are on their way back, that’s why we came back”, San replied and left.

He was nearly immediately replaced by one of the paramedics who unhooked Hongjoong’s I.V. and deemed him ready to go. Hongjoong was so tired that the conversation passed in a blur and he was only pulled back to really when the uneasy looking manager asked: “Okay, Hongjoong-ah, think you can make it back to the parking lot?”

Of course Hongjoong could. Especially with six worried dongsaengs outside.

But when Seonghwa helped him to his feet, Hongjoong’s knees buckled under him and he was only saved by the elder wrapping his arms around Hongjoong’s back. The cramps in his gut had not let up and the captain wasn’t able to stand up straight, muscles too out of sorts to let him uncoil his body.

“Are you sure you can walk?”, the manager wondered.

“Yes”, Hongjoong said through gritted teeth. He would not show vulnerability to the outside world, not more than he already had. “Just let me take it slow.”

They stepped out into the cold night air and Hongjoong shivered. Immediately a warm jacket was wrapped around his back. Jongho was already looking like he was freezing but he had a determined look on his face.

“Don’t protest, hyung. I will ride with WooSanSang and we’ll be at the car faster than you. Besides, I’m not the one throwing up”, the maknae pointed out. Hongjoong sighed and thanked him.

Wooyoung, Yeosang, San and Jongho hurried in front of them while Seonghwa, Yunho and Mingi walked slowly to accommodate Hongjoong’s small steps. Each meter they walked seemed like an ocean and a mountain range at the same time and by the time the cars were in sight, Hongjoong would have cried if he had any fluids left.

⌛

The rather long ride to the hotel - apparently there had been an accident which was why the cars had taken especially long to get them - passed in a tired and nauseous blur. While Hongjoong normally loved looking out the window, especially as it helped his motion sickness, but now he was just grateful for any second he wasn’t staring at the bottom of a plastic bag or at his stomach contents in said plastic bags.

Not to be overdramatic but Hongjoong might have actually dryly cried in relief when the hotel came into sight. They were quick to get to their rooms and once they had bid Yunho and Mingi good-night, the two disappearing into the rooms they respectively shared with Jongho and Yeosang, Hongjoong collapsed onto his bed, fully-clothed.

He was sweaty, coarse sand stuck to every part of him and make-up nearly cried off but he couldn’t care less.

Seonghwa, however, cared. But he was as gentle as he could be, taking off Hongjoong’s outer clothes and wiping the dirt away with a wet towel, then cleaning off his face with a make-up remover.

“Think you can eat some crackers?”, he asked, sitting down next to Hongjoong onto the bed. Hongjoong shook his head. He was just glad for any moment he was not being sick, he was not going to risk setting anything off.

“Drink some gatorade at least”, Seonghwa said and lifted Hongjoong’s head. Too tired to fight him, Hongjoong complied and but groaned at the disgusting taste. Sports drinks had never been his favorite and combined with the taste of bile it was rather disgusting.

“Water?”, he asked, wanting to wash the taste away and nearly immediately Seonghwa tipped a bottle of the clear fluid against his lips.

“I put the trash bin beside you. Wake me if you need anything, and I mean anything, Joong-ah. You can rest now”, Seonghwa said and placed a feather-light kiss against Hongjoong’s temple.

The captain was asleep before Seonghwa even had the chance to get up from his side.