𝔻𝕠𝕟ʼ𝕥 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕎𝕖ʼ𝕝𝕝 𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝔹𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 || wdw sick-fics

Donah: Influenza

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Jonah wakes up with a sore mouth and throat, finding difficulty in swallowing his own saliva that had accumulated over night. He usually does not question the biofilm that forms over his teeth, leaving his facial features lax and ugly in the morning, but this feeling is too familiar for him. It is the red flag that foreshadows what is going to be the most agonizing week of his life, plagued by a burning throat, followed by a runny nose faster than Olympic racers, and constant headaches.

Jonah attempts to sit up from his bed, to call for his momma, but his body is abnormally heavy and nothing comes out from his vocal chords. He's drowning and cannot get himself out of the quicksand. With the last vestige of his energy, partially spurred by the panic he gets from his blankets spontaneously doubling in volume and weighing down against his body, Jonah kicks the covers off and rolls over. Looking up to the ceiling fan lights, black blotches fill his sight and the surfaces of his room start to crack. Jonah shields his eyes as the ceiling begins to ripple and descend on him.

Then Jonah wakes up, again. His head is pounding and his vision is foggy as he rises up and stumbles to the kitchen, his feet clad in reindeer slippers. He takes in the view of the trays of brownies, blondies, and banana cakes he baked the previous night as a gift of gratitude to all his student council members that set up the wonderful dance event with him. On the counter, a small sticky note is stuck on the outside of the plastic wrap box.

Jo Bear,

You didn't look well this morning so momma, papa, and sisters went to visit our extended family without you. We'll give the gifts you prepared for them to them and bring back your gifts tonight.
Get well soon.

It's strange. He had felt perfectly fine while he was baking the treats, but who knows how long germs live inside of a person's body before deciding to break out and attack the immune system, so Jonah will most likely need to throw his hard work into the food waste as to not contaminate the rest of the school. The thought puts a frown on Jonah's face so he considers eating a few of his own brownies, but he has no appetite left.

Jonah cuddles back into the warmth of his bed, but not in a way to suffocate himself. He lays himself down in a position that leaves part of his skin still perfectly in contact with the cool air and his sensitive feet and legs tucked upwards to stay warm, praying that he'll be able to wake up a third time, perfectly fine and healthy. Jonah's eyelids are falling shut when the sound of fireworks from outdoors evade his ears. Why someone would choose to shoot fireworks in the middle of Christmas Day rather than New Year's Eve is out of Jonah's understanding, but he smiles in appreciation of the festivity. As much as he finds the situation he's in amusing, Jonah's head is pumping his blood vessels at an increasingly dangerous intensity and Jonah is afraid that his head may just explode soon.

Each explosive episode begins to sound vaguely like his phone ringing so Jonah lifts his head and sees it. Right at the desk where his phone was currently charging, the screen is lit up brightly and displays an incoming call from the one he saved under the name, "Love". Jonah extends his arm as far as possible to grab off his phone into his hands and accept the call, grinning to himself while lifting his hand up to his ear. Never in the months that they broke apart did Jonah even think to delete Daniel's number or change his contact name, because he never had the heart to.

"H-hel-lo," Jonah barely croaks out having completely forgotten about his inability to produce sound. Jonah attempts to clear his throat out of embarrassment, but that only sends him into a fit of coughs that make his chest tighten and hurt.