Ship/Member: wonwoo/mingyu Major Tags: Canon compliant, hurt/comfort Additional Tags: physical fatigue Permission to remix: Yes
*** For a time, Mingyu had wondered what it would take to tear down Wonwoo's walls. For a time, it seemed like nothing could.
Now, it's just this: a touch on Wonwoo's wrist during practice, a "you look tired" whispered low enough that only the two of them can hear it. Brick by brick an embrace, Wonwoo's sweaty head resting on his shoulder, shaking hands curling into the sides of his torso.
Everyone else is on water break. Wonwoo hums into the crook of his neck. "I am."
An answer when it used to be dismissal. Mingyu keeps his stance taut, shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of another. "Thirsty?"
"No."
"Sleepy?"
It earns a shake of Wonwoo's head. His hand—it's cold—reaches for Mingyu's. Lifts it up to his forehead. "Try sick."
His skin is burning. Alarm bells ring in Mingyu's head: shit, shit, shit—
"Stop." Wonwoo pokes a finger into his other side. His hairline is wet with sweat, voice unsteady. "Stop thinking. I can feel it."
"You're sick." Mingyu pulls back, stamps a hand into Wonwoo's forehead. The signs are there now that he looks for them: paling complexion, clammy skin, Wonwoo's deadpan gaze not as sharp it should be. He should have noticed sooner. "Come on, I'll take you back."
Wonwoo shakes his head. The others are staring now, Jihoon's brow quirked in question. Wonwoo's lips are pressed in a firm line, not wanting to involve anyone else.
Mingyu reaches for Wonwoo's hand. Keeps his voice down. "Come on."
"No." Wonwoo tugs on his hand. "I took a paracetamol. I just need to sit."
"No," Mingyu tugs back, "you need to lie down. Let's head back to the dorm—"
"It's fine—"
"Don't make me lift you." Mingyu puffs out his chest, ears heating up when Wonwoo's lips curl. "You know I can."
"I do." Wonwoo rolls his eyes. "Fine."
For a time, it seemed like nothing Mingyu did could tear down Wonwoo's walls.
Now, it's just this: a glass of water and a washcloth. Mingyu's attention on wiping Wonwoo's hairline, brick by brick easing out a sigh.
"Thanks," Wonwoo says when for a time it used to be you don't have to. He closes his eyes, lifts his arm for Mingyu to roll back the sleeve. "Didn't know you could be domestic."
Mingyu holds back from throwing the washcloth on Wonwoo's face. "Don't make me stop."
"Don't stop," Wonwoo echoes, lips curling in a smile. "I like it."
"I know," Mingyu says, threading the washcloth between his fingers.
[FILL] brick by brick
Major Tags: Canon compliant, hurt/comfort
Additional Tags: physical fatigue
Permission to remix: Yes
***
For a time, Mingyu had wondered what it would take to tear down Wonwoo's walls. For a time, it seemed like nothing could.
Now, it's just this: a touch on Wonwoo's wrist during practice, a "you look tired" whispered low enough that only the two of them can hear it. Brick by brick an embrace, Wonwoo's sweaty head resting on his shoulder, shaking hands curling into the sides of his torso.
Everyone else is on water break. Wonwoo hums into the crook of his neck. "I am."
An answer when it used to be dismissal. Mingyu keeps his stance taut, shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of another. "Thirsty?"
"No."
"Sleepy?"
It earns a shake of Wonwoo's head. His hand—it's cold—reaches for Mingyu's. Lifts it up to his forehead. "Try sick."
His skin is burning. Alarm bells ring in Mingyu's head: shit, shit, shit—
"Stop." Wonwoo pokes a finger into his other side. His hairline is wet with sweat, voice unsteady. "Stop thinking. I can feel it."
"You're sick." Mingyu pulls back, stamps a hand into Wonwoo's forehead. The signs are there now that he looks for them: paling complexion, clammy skin, Wonwoo's deadpan gaze not as sharp it should be. He should have noticed sooner. "Come on, I'll take you back."
Wonwoo shakes his head. The others are staring now, Jihoon's brow quirked in question. Wonwoo's lips are pressed in a firm line, not wanting to involve anyone else.
Mingyu reaches for Wonwoo's hand. Keeps his voice down. "Come on."
"No." Wonwoo tugs on his hand. "I took a paracetamol. I just need to sit."
"No," Mingyu tugs back, "you need to lie down. Let's head back to the dorm—"
"It's fine—"
"Don't make me lift you." Mingyu puffs out his chest, ears heating up when Wonwoo's lips curl. "You know I can."
"I do." Wonwoo rolls his eyes. "Fine."
For a time, it seemed like nothing Mingyu did could tear down Wonwoo's walls.
Now, it's just this: a glass of water and a washcloth. Mingyu's attention on wiping Wonwoo's hairline, brick by brick easing out a sigh.
"Thanks," Wonwoo says when for a time it used to be you don't have to. He closes his eyes, lifts his arm for Mingyu to roll back the sleeve. "Didn't know you could be domestic."
Mingyu holds back from throwing the washcloth on Wonwoo's face. "Don't make me stop."
"Don't stop," Wonwoo echoes, lips curling in a smile. "I like it."
"I know," Mingyu says, threading the washcloth between his fingers.
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