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

Jonah: Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome

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Jonah, Corbyn, and Daniel lightly jog by the bleachers, clad in their respective fashions of sportswear, and drop their water bottles down, creating the sound of consecutive clank, clank, clanks! In the same order, they hoist their legs onto the step above their water bottles to begin stretching. This is their routine.

Lifting one arm up to the sky and another to cup his mouth, Jonah imitates their Physical Education coach and shouts out, "Time to warm up! Boys, follow me!"

Slightly twisting and flexing his biceps, Jonah grips onto the steel of the bleachers and begins to scoot his left leg backwards into an oversplit. He looks over to his two best friends and throws a playful smile before using his core to balance his split and remove his hands from support. The hands go to reach for his water bottle and move up to pour water into his mouth. Jonah purposefully puts on a suggestive face, fluttering his eyes shut and moaning softly.

A harsh slap is delivered to his kneecap that is stretched over the bleachers followed by the sound of incredulous laughter.

"You always do this, Jonah! Why you gotta be so extra?" Corbyn asks.

Jonah just giggles in reply, "I'm teasing you! Come on, help me up now."

Obediently, Corbyn comes in from Jonah's right side to put his hands onto his underarms while Daniel comes in from the left and gently grips Jonah's waist.

"Alright. One, two, three, and... up!"

Jonah is relieved from his stretched position as he lands on his feet lightly and jumps around to get himself moving.

"Okay! Now, we're ready to exercise!"

Daniel huffs and leans over, pretending to wipe off a droplet of sweat from his forehead, "Already? I'm exhausted from having to pick you up."

After enduring half a second of a hurt glare from Jonah, he laughs and runs over to engulf Jonah in a bone crushing hug, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding! We're ten minutes early for class, what do you have in store for us today?"

Jonah rubs the delicate skin of his neck and pretends to think for a while, "I mean, you know that coach is going to make us run laps... a thousand five hundred meters let's go!" He latches onto one of each of his friends' hands and brings them to the track.

Corbyn and Daniel grin, bump heads with each other, and fall into a line behind Jonah to practice their synchronized running. 

For each step, inhale once, exhale twice... inhale once, exhale twice... inhale once, exhale twice.

The boys breeze through three hundred meters of their run until their oxygen begins to deplete and the breakdown of glucose is no longer a reliable source of energy for their intense workout. All of them feel the tightening soreness in their calves and the biting of their abdomens as a result of building lactic acid.

Regulating his pacing, Corbyn asks, "Are we planning on running the entire time?"

"Of course," Jonah throws backwards, "Walking and running sporadically can easily lead to injuries!"

"Whatever you say goes," Daniel speeds up so that the formation of the runners has now shifted to Jonah in the very back.

Corbyn reaches over for a handshake with Daniel, the two shakily laughing and running as Jonah whines from behind them.

"Hey, Jonah! I thought you were the athlete!"

"Yeah, what happened to you, slowpoke?"

Jonah puffs his cheeks outwards and cries out, "But my stamina sucks! Stop it-"