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renaiswriting · 1 year

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Whispers of Strength

Pairing: Xu Minghao/Reader

Summary: The idea of having your best friend tell you, "I told you so," once again was infuriating, but you were sick and he was all you needed.

Warnings: slightly angst (but like- barely, you won't even realize it's there) with soft/happy ending (?) | FLUFF

Word count: 4.2k

Masterlist

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A sneeze was heard loudly echoing through the walls of the darkened room. It was around seven in the morning, and you were still in bed. Your alarm had stopped dreaming about ten minutes ago, but you couldn't find the willpower to get up and start getting ready for your classes.

The rest of the space shared with your roommate was awash in complete silence; there was no doubt that Minghao had left the bedroom a few minutes ago.

Unwilling to turn on the light on your bedside nightstand, you fumbled with the surface of your nightstand, finding a used handkerchief that you had left there in the early morning after struggling to sleep.

It seemed that no matter how much you blew your nose, one side of it was always completely unable to breathe.

Around four in the morning, you gave up, opting to breathe with your throat (something that was completely uncomfortable because you're not used to breathing that way).

After all, the cold air you had been exposed to the day before and the effort you had had to make to let oxygen into your body had ended up killing your throat, and now even breathing the smallest amount of air made you almost start crying.

A new sneeze came violently through your body, shaking you completely as it left your organism. At the burning sensation in your throat, you closed your eyes tightly, accepting the discomfort with resignation.

It was tiring; it felt as if thousands of knives were cutting the inside of your throat at the same time.

The screen of the phone that had been charging all night on your bedside table lit up, revealing that Minghao had sent you a message.

Minghao: You're on your way? I forgot my book for Economics III.

If the idea of skipping class had even appeared for a millisecond, it was completely gone.

I couldn't skip class now that Minghao had spoken to him.

Because skipping classes would mean having to tell Minghao that she was not going to attend, and it would involve having to admit that she had made a mistake.

Minghao had entered the same university as you in the same year. You had been studying the same major and attending the same classes from day one, but you hadn't seen or heard his name until you both found yourselves in the same dorm.

Minghao had requested a roommate change due to having constant problems with the one he had before, and you, being forced to get a new place to sleep that wasn't expensive, had no choice but to sign up for the college dorms.

Minghao had been the quietest person you had ever met, and that was a lot coming from you, who within three years had talked to, at most, about five people.

Was it any surprise that you had never seen him? Not really.

Making friends has been an extraordinarily difficult task for you ever since you were a little girl. For many years, you forced yourself to try to meet different people and keep in touch with them, but you soon discovered that if you didn't write to them, they never did.

And so you gradually began to drift further and further away from everyone, keeping only three friends who had shown that they cared about you as much as you cared about them.

So, at the beginning of your university career, you had promised yourself to focus more on your studies than on making friends, so you went to class, took notes, and when you finished, you hurried straight to the library to continue studying in complete silence for another three hours.

At first, living together was really awkward. Minghao didn't seem to know how to deal with you, and you didn't know how to deal with him.

And it was even more awkward when you passed each other in class because neither of you knew whether you should greet each other or just ignore each other.

Luckily, the relationship started to improve as soon as finals came around because both of you had a lot of studying to do and each of you had your own doubts.

They began to meet in the living room, sitting late at night reading and rereading the same books.

That's how they went from awkward roommates to roommates.

Your friendship began to forge when Minghao found you sitting in the bathroom with the door open and your phone in hand, crying uncontrollably.

That had been a bad week; not only were you extremely busy with all the group work and homework due in the various classes, but also the first exams had started, and you had failed one. So receiving a text message from your (at the time) boyfriend telling you that the relationship had come to an end was not in your plans, and as expected, the situation got the better of you.

Minghao stayed by your side all that night, making you tea and watching those movies you loved so much, and he didn't share your feelings towards them.

Becoming friends with Minghao meant that you had basically been adopted by the group of friends he had, and that meant that every two or three weeks they would get together somewhere to eat and take some of the stress out of college.

And it had been one of those get-togethers that had brought about the current state you were in at those moments. If there was one thing Minghao always took pride in, it was telling you how right he was with everything he advised you:

"Don't drink five cups of coffee before you go to take your exam because you're going to feel like going to the bathroom the whole time."

"Don't lend money to that person; you barely know them."

"Don't put so much spice in that food; it will hurt your stomach."

And in every one of them, he had been right.

So, when Minghao looked at the weather on his phone and noticed the low temperatures, I sighed deeply.

I had been thinking about wearing a certain outfit for almost a week, but it wasn't warm at all, and the solution of putting a jacket on top, which Minghao proposed, was not to my liking.

"The cold is psychological." You spoke to the reflection on the other side of the mirror. From there, her eyes connected for a few moments with Minghao's, sitting on your bed.

"And the fever you're going to get is also going to be psychological." Minghao responded by rolling his eyes. "Don't be stupid; you're going to get sick."

"But you all look ugly!" I cried in frustration, walking over to my various coats and studying them one by one.

"Wear one of mine," Minghao shrugged, too intent on what was happening on the phone in his hands, "it's not that much trouble."

The topic wasn't touched on again; Minghao seemed satisfied with the 'I'll think about it later' answer, and you just prayed that miraculously the sub-zero degrees would disappear.

"Which one are you going to want?" Minghao asked, entering your bedroom with a knock on the door. In her hands, she carried three different coats, all black.

"None," I replied, still finishing touching up my makeup, "thank you."

Minghao frowned, "But it's getting five degrees below zero." Minghao reminded you incredulously, "What are you going to wear?"

"I'm going to go like this; inside the restaurant, it's not going to be that cold."

"Yeah, but in the ten-minute walk to get to the restaurant, it's going to be cold."

"It's only ten minutes; how bad can it be?"

Minghao rolled his eyes, muttering "whatever'.

It was worse than just bad.

Even today, underneath the warmth wrapped around your body from the blankets, you could feel the cold you had experienced the day before.

You: Where is it?

You: "I'll be there in half an hour."

Once again, you blew your nose; it was already red and burning every time the handkerchief touched the irritated area.

You looked as horrible as you felt.

You were just praying that the makeup would cover up any traces of discomfort.

Minghao was sitting in his usual seat; his hand was extended in the air, catching your attention.

He had reserved the seat next to you so that the two of you could sit together.

Your head was throbbing and your body felt weak, but you were determined not to let Minghao notice your condition. So you walked quickly to the seat next to his, pretending that the ragged breathing and sloppy movements were only because you were still tired and not because of the discomfort you felt.Taking a step felt like walking on the sand at the beach, only this one weighed about seventy pounds and stuck to your feet.

"Did you bring it?" Minghao asked as soon as your body settled into the seat. You nodded in response, still not confident that your voice came out at all well. You had tried talking out loud in the bathroom before, and it seemed as if a demon was struggling to speak.

You pulled a large book out of your backpack, relieving the bag of the extra weight it didn't usually carry.

Minghao sighed in relief, stowing it in his own backpack.

While he was distracted, you pulled out a handkerchief from inside your backpack, quickly wiping your nose, and hiding it back in your jean pocket in time to talk to Minghao.

Luckily, Minghao filled much of the conversation, leaving you with the job of reacting or mumbling occasionally to his stories.

The economics III professor entered the classroom, and everyone automatically fell silent.

As the professor began to speak, you discreetly reached back into your bag and pulled out the pack of tissues you had hidden, realizing that the tissue you had grabbed earlier wasn't going to be enough for the rest of the class and that the professor had no intention of slowing down today's class just because you were feeling under the weather.

The professor asked a question that your brain didn't pick up on at all; you just weren't there.

Physically, you were there, but your brain didn't pick up on any of the difficult words your professor was saying.

Your notes reflected it; they were a mess.

You hadn't even managed to make a coherent sentence; most of them stopped mid-sentence because you couldn't keep up.

Minghao looked at your notes, trying to find some word he probably hadn't been able to understand, but he frowned as he looked at your notes.

This was unusual.

Usually you even wrote whenever the teacher took a break or took a breath, so why were you a mess today?

"I read this before," you excused yourself, "it's all in the book."

Which you weren't too sure would do any good since you hadn't even touched that book in the last week, but Minghao seemed to agree with that answer as he quickly rushed to write down what the professor was saying.

Suddenly he stopped speaking, his eyes traveling to the faces of the students in front of him.

You settled into your seat, sitting up straight and adjusting your posture.

You could make out a cough forming in the back of your throat, so you quickly cleared your throat softly, disguising the tickle that threatened to trigger a coughing fit at any moment.

Minghao looked at you with a worried expression. "Are you okay?" he asked.

You quickly smiled at him, shaking your head. "I'm perfectly fine," you reassured him, your voice sounding louder than it really felt. "I'm still very sleepy."

Minghao nodded, looking at your face for a couple of seconds before dropping the subject and turning his attention to the class.

You reached for your water bottle, hoping that the cold liquid would help quell the feeling that you were about to start coughing.

Taking a deep breath, you scolded yourself.

It was just a cold; for God's sake, it wasn't the end of the world, and it was stupid how much it was affecting you.

You stirred in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position to ease the persistent muscle pain.

As you attempted (and failed miserably) to keep your mind in the present, your brain was constantly repeating the same thing over and over again.

"He warned me about this; why was I so stupid? I should have listened."

"Next time, I'll not be this stubborn..."

"Just a little longer, I can make it through the day; just one more hour...

The painkillers you took on your way to your class were not helping at all; it felt as if you hadn't taken them at all. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over you; everything was moving. You stopped writing for a second, until it got better. Minghao turned to look at you, noticing you were not writing anything down. You send him a smile in return, forcing yourself to focus on the teacher's words and desperately trying to appear engaged.

The class finished with their teacher reminding them to read the next two chapters of their book for the next class.

"Shall we go home?" You asked, already rushing to the exit.

"Oh, Jeonghan asked to study together at the library this morning, and I told him we would be joining them, but if you don't want to-"

"Oh, no, yeah! Yeah! Let's go!" You forced a cheerful smile, hoping your eyes didn't give away how dead you were actually feeling.

"You sure? They will understand if you want to go home." Minghao asked you once again just to make sure. In response, you nodded, already heading to the library. "Wait!" Minghao rushed to grab your wrist and say, "We should eat something; I'm starving, aren't you?"

If anything, you were feeling like you were about to throw up because of how bad you were feeling. but you nodded nonetheless.

"You have barely touched your food." Minghao commented with a frown. Today was slightly better than the day before; the sun was kindly warming everybody under its rays. The group had agreed to move from the library to the concrete seats and tables outside so they could all have a small lunch and talk for a little bit before starting to study.

"I'm still kind of full from breakfast." You replied, your fork moving the noodles from side to side.

"Breakfast happened almost five hours ago; you can't possibly be full for that long." Minghao replied, at the same time that Jeonghan moved closer to you, his hand coming into contact with your forehead.

"You're hot."

"Thank you, I know." You replied, biting your lip seductively at him and pushing his hand away from your forehead with a smack.

Jeonghan's hand came back to your face, this time holding your chin and moving your face from left to right. "Your cheeks are red as well; I think you might have caught that virus that's going on around campus."

"What virus?" Mingyu asked. Your tallest friend was finishing his own lunch, liking his fingers, and eyeing the food you had in front of you.

"The one everybody is talking about, Seungcheol got it last week." Jeonghan replied. "He has been throwing up once every hour." Minghao frowned, checking your forehead himself.

"I'm fine, just not hungry." You replied, pushing your food in Mingyu's direction.

"Nah-ah," he shook his head, "if you're sick, I don't want to have it."

You tipped your tongue. "Such an ungrateful brat."

"I've got finals next week; I can't be throwing up!" He defended himself. "Trust me, if you weren't sick, I would eat it."

"You should probably go back home and sleep." Minghao suggested.

"I told you I'm fine!" You snapped, closing your eyes for a second to control your emotions. "I'm totally fine; I just want to study and get over it. Please"

Mingyu sighed, "Fine, but you're buying us coffee. If we're putting up with this attitude, this is the last thing you can do for us."

You bite your tongue, shutting down the need to tell Mingyu to go and fuck himself. "Fine."

"Race 'til the bus stop! Let's see who gets there first!" Mingyu shouted, taking advantage of his long legs.

It wasn't fair; in two strides, he had outpaced the others.

Jeonghan started running as fast as he could, as did Minghao.

You took a deep breath; your body was screaming for you not to.

It was already under too much stress from whatever it was battling at the time (a virus or a cold, or at worst, both) for you to demand that it use what little energy you had left in a race.

But you knew that if you didn't run, others would again insist that something wasn't right.

"I won!" Mingyu sang happily; he was the only one standing up; Jeonghan was laying down on the ground, trying to catch his breath; and Minghao was sitting with his legs wide open, both breathing quickly.

"No shit Sherlock." You commented sarcastically, sitting next to Jeonghan. "At least give us a chance."

"I would usually do it, but today you weren't even trying." Mingyu frowned. You rolled your eyes. Running has only made you breathe with your mouth, and the cold air that was entering your body only caused more harm.

"What do you mean?"

"You're sick." Minghao said calmly, "Just as I told you." He reminded you, looking straight into your eyes.

"I don't know what you're saying." You denied. Minghao shook his head. Taking his own scar from his neck and softly wrapping your own neck with its warmth.

"Stop it; you sweated it!" You faked disgust.

"Stop acting like a five-year-old." He said it coldly.

You froze in your spot, stopping to try to take the scarf off your neck.

You could feel Jeonghan and Mingyu's eyes on your discussion. You felt your cheeks and eyes turning from pink to red in embarrassment.

"I don't."

"Yeah, you do," Minghao replied calmly. "I told you to wear a jacket, and you didn't."

"Stop acting like my dad." You complained, standing up as the bus started coming near the bus stop.

You went first, trying to get as far away from Minghao as possible, hoping that both Jeonghan and Mingyu would understand it and save your ass from Minghao's nagging that was just waiting for you.

But of course, they were completely assholes and chose to sit together two rows behind both of you.

Minghao paid for his ticket, walking towards you.You avoided looking at him for the first five minutes, knowing he was looking at you—or the window, since both were in the same direction—in the reflection of the window.

"I'm sorry for reacting that way." Minghao whispered near your ear, not wanting the people next to them to listen to their conversation. "I didn't want to upset you."

You looked at his reflection for a couple of seconds before choosing the words you were going to use.

"I know," you started, turning to face him, "and I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

"If you were feeling that bad, you could just tell me; I would have given you my notes after class."

Minghao looked sad.

and seeing your friend sad made you feel sad.

"I'm sorry, it's just that the whole "I told you" thing is so annoying."

"But I did, in fact, tell you so."

"I know!" You exasperated. "I know you did! You always do, and it's insufferable. For me, it is. I feel like I can't make any mistakes because, at first sight of them, you're the first one to point them out." You left it all out.

"I don't." Minghao said, looking confused. "I didn't say that to make fun of your mistakes or anything like that. Never. I just want to point out that I did tell you because most of the time you just shut people down as soon as they say something you don't like, but sometimes you need to hear that."

"You're stubborn, extremely stubborn." He continued. "And that stubbornness will get you hurt or sick sometime." Just like right now."

Your emotions were all over the place, and now, at the slightly rice voice from Minghao, you were ready to boil your eyes out.

Minghao saw your watery eyes, stopped talking, and painted his face with worry.

"Don't cry, oh my god, I'm sorry, please don't cry."

Minghao wrapped his arm around your shoulders, awkwardly bringing you closer to his body, trying to comfort you by hugging you.

"I'm sorry. "I'm such a dick; you're already sick; please don't cry."

You wanted to tell him that it was okay, that you were in fact mostly crying because of how horrible you felt and how exhausted, both mentally and physically, you felt, but instead, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting the tears run freely on your face and wetting Minghao's hoodie.

The warmth that Minghao's body emitted was comforting; it was like having your own personal sun.

The sweet smell from his shampoo invaded your nose, making you feel safe in the familiarity of the smell.

It was nice to let all the tears out. It was like finally acknowledging how awful you had been feeling since you woke up.

It sucked.

Minghao brushed your hair, cleaning your cheeks from the old tears.

"We're almost home." He whispered, noticing that you were way calmer now that you had let everything out.

You nodded, closing your eyes and focusing on Minghao's delicate touch on your hair, trying to come back to reality.

The bus stopped, and you both went down, walking towards your shared dorm.

"I'll prepare you a bath." Minghao said, letting you take your time taking your shoes off.

"It's okay; you don't have to."

"I want to; it's my "I'm sorry for being a shitty friend" way to apologize."

"But you're not a bad friend." You corrected him.

Minghao smiled, disappearing into the bathroom.

You went to your bedroom, looking for your favorite pajamas. The only thing you wanted to do was take a bath and sleep for the rest of the day.

Minghao called you, letting you know everything was ready, leaving the bathroom all to yourself to enjoy the rose bomb bath he had.

The water was warm, and it smelled so good.

It felt so good in your sick body.

Your muscles are finally relaxing.

You stayed there until the water started to get cold, and as you started to get dressed, the smell of chicken soup hit you.

Minghao was waiting with the table seated.

"This is my mom's famous chicken soup," he told you, filling your glass with more water. "She always made me drink it whenever I was sick, so enjoy it; it's delicious."

"Wow, he's so humble; he compliments his own food." You joked but tried it anyway, your empty stomach welcoming the food with eagerness.

"So? How's it?" Minghao asked, looking attentive to your every move.

"Delicioso!" You answer in a terrible accent.

"Is that Spanish?" Minghao asked, confused.

"It's really, really good!" "It brings the Spanish out in me!"

Minghao laughed, saying, "There's more if you want; you should really eat well; you barely ate today."

You nodded.

He was right.

"Stay tomorrow; I'll take care of taking good notes so you can study later, okay?"

"But I'll feel better tomorrow."

Minghao rolled his eyes. "You'll go to class and spend two hours attempting to take notes while your mind is everywhere but the class; let your body and mind relax for tomorrow. It's just one day; it won't hurt."

You were about to start an argument, but you remembered the words Minghao told you earlier.

"Okay." You replied instead, "But make sure everything's in Korean, please, or at least let me know in advance if there's anything in Chinese. I can barely deal with a second language while sick; I don't think I'll be able to deal with one I don't speak at all."

"Sure thing, let's watch a movie." Minghao proposed, deciding that it would be best to watch it in your bedroom, just in case you fell asleep.

"What do you want to watch?" You asked him while getting comfortable under the blankets.

"Whatever you want." Minghao replied, logging into his Netflix account from his laptop. "I'm fine with whatever."

"Mean girls?" you asked.

Minghao nodded, watching the movie.

You knew Minghao wasn't a big fan of that movie, but you appreciated the fact that he was watching it with you.

"I want to cuddle," you confessed; this was something your mom always did when you were a kid, and we're feeling particularly sick.

Minghao didn't say anything; he moved behind you, doing as you asked.

"Thanks." You mumbled.

"Don't fall asleep; we haven't even gotten to the pink Wednesday part yet." Minghao joked.

"Tomorrow is Wednesday; we should also wear pink." You said your mind was half awake, half asleep.

"The only oink thing you're going to wear tomorrow is going to be your pajamas, but sure, let's do it." Minghao agreed.

You smiled.

Your eyes were burning from exhaustion.

And without thinking twice, you let your kind shut down, allowing your body the rest it wished for the whole day, feeling safe in Minghao's arms.

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