Sickie: Jackson
Caregiver: rap-line + jjp
Jackson's POV.:
I had been working on a solo-project today and was really excited to get back to the dorm and show my members what I had worked on. Sure, it had been tough, the hours of singing had left my throat a bit scratchy and exercising in the morning before practicing the new choreography had made my muscles burn. However, there can only be a good outcome, if I really made an effort and put all my heart into it, and so I did. Being done with today's schedule, I had a driver take me back to the GOT7 dorm. I only realized how late it actually was when none of the members were up anymore. I guess I'll have to show them tomorrow. Quietly, I snuck into the bathroom for a quick shower and got ready for bed. Being downright exhausted, I collapsed on my bed and the soft mattress welcomed my achy limbs. I had to suppress a sigh because I didn't want to wake my roommate Mark but it really felt amazing to finally be able to lay down and rest.
When I woke up the next morning, Mark had already gotten up and I turned my face into my pillow to muffle a groan. I was a dozen times achier then when I went to bed yesterday and my throat was really sore now. I shouldn't have overdone it that much. Today there was no schedule for me, since I had finished my project yesterday and I could've stayed in bed all day but my stomach was churning a bit and I figured going to bed without dinner last night was a bad idea. So I got up too and decided to have breakfast to settle my stomach and end the hunger pains. I met Bambam in the kitchen and we had breakfast together. "Are you alright, hyung? You're really quiet this morning", Bambam questioned. "I'm fine, still tired and sang too much yesterday. My throat hurts a bit", I replied, keeping my volume down but even so, it hurt to talk and I sounded raspier than usual. "I can tell, you sound awful", Bambam frowned and I stuck out my tongue at the insult. He got up and grabbed a mug from the kitchen cabinet. Picking up the pot of tea he had prepared for himself, my dongsaeng poured another cup and pushed it in front of me. After my whispered "thank you" we ate in silence, which I was glad about because my head had started to hurt a bit. Seems like I really outdid myself recently, but at least I'm done now and with some sleep I'll feel like myself again soon. I was still sipping my tea when Mark exited the bathroom with shower-damp hair and grinned at me: "Good morning sleepy-head. At what devilish time of night did you get home yesterday? When you texted me, you'd finish everything up, I stayed up late to celebrate with you but you didn't come and I must have nodded off at some point." – "Oh my god, h-hyung. I'm soo sorry. You didn't have to wait for me. I don't even know when I got home, there were some last imperfections to erase and it ended up getting pretty late", I rushed, feeling guilty that my friend had lost sleep all for nothing. My voice got progressively quieter and by the end of my explanation I had to clear my throat by coughing into my elbow. It didn't help, the coughing just sent a stabbing pain down my throat and my wince didn't go unnoticed by my friends. "Are you ok?", Mark frowned. "Hyung, he sang a lot yesterday", Bambam answered for me and I gave him a grateful smile for not having to speak again. Mark nodded thoughtfully before smiling at me: "You really need to show me how it turned out, but no hurry, if you want to get a few more hours of sleep first, that's fine. You look like a panda with your eyebags." I frowned before sticking out my tongue. "I'll show you later hyung, sleep sounds good right now", I whispered pointing to my bedroom. He nodded happily and disappeared with Bambam to play some games. I didn't know where the rest of the group was but the two rappers seemed to be the only ones home. Rubbing my eyes, I placed my mug into the sink and went back to bed.
My plan to sleep a bit more was futile though. With the achiness weighting my body down I struggled to find a comfortable position and to add to my discomfort, my stomach didn't get better from eating like I had expected. Quite the opposite was the case, my meal didn't really settle and on top of the ache there was now also a hint of nausea. The headache I had developed over breakfast was slowly increasing and I groaned into my pillow. Does overworking really feel this bad? Giving up on sleeping, I sat up and checked my phone when suddenly a sharp cramp ripped across my abdomen. I grit my teeth and tried to breathe through the pain but when it subsided the nausea had increased tenfold. I was now really confused, what is going on with me? Not knowing whether I needed to throw up, I carefully got up and slowly walked to the bathroom. When I passed Bambam's room I could hear my friends laughing and teasing each other. Oh, how I had missed this, but now that I'm home and not busy, I feel dreadful. I sat next to the toilet, leaning against the bathtub and screwing my eyes shut. Willing the nausea away, I took deep breaths through my nose and gently traced my hand in circles over my bloated belly. Bad idea. The added pressure was too much and a wet burp left my lips. Already being able to feel my breakfast at the back of my throat, I got on my knees and leaned over the bowl. It didn't even take long till a gag tore at my abused throat and though it was unproductive, it made my eyes water. Fuck, I can't throw up. My throat is to sore for that. I knelt there with one arm hugging my tummy and the other one gripping the rim of the bathtub next to me. I grit my teeth and tried to keep my lips closed at all costs, hoping it would keep my stomach contents in. All hope was lost when my cheeks puffed with another burp which was then followed by a strong heave. This time I had to open my mouth, as a hot stream of vomit gushed from my lips. The half-digested food burning my throat but I barely had the time to dwell on the pain since my stomach contracted again and I brought up another wave. I didn't know what was worse, the pain it caused my throat or the fact that having just eaten, I could feel all the chunks travelling over my throat. I spat into the toilet and wiped the tears off my cheeks, trying to keep myself calm and hopefully calming my stomach along with me. To no avail. After a few held back gags into my fist, I threw up again, choking. I kept coughing and the strain on my throat brought me to tears once again. After a few knocks, I heard the door open and soon there was a hand hitting me between the shoulderblades. Slowly, the coughing subsided and I looked up at Mark, who had now switched to rubbing my back. "What's going on?", he asked with concern evident in his voice. "Don't feel good", I rasped quietly, wiping my tears away and resting my head on my arm. "Yeah, I can see that. I mean, are you sick or just really overworked? Or both?" Honestly, what should I tell him? I don't know what's going on with me. So I just settled for shrug. He sighed but kept rubbing my back. "Do you think you're done, hyung?", Bambam asked from the doorway, passing a waterbottle to Mark who opened it before offering it to me. After rinsing my mouth out, I handed it back to Mark without drinking any, not wanting to risk throwing up again even though it probably would have soothed my throat. Dropping my head back onto my arm I shrugged at Bambam's question. Mark was still crouching behind me and Bambam took a seat next to me on the bathtub, before brushing my sticky hair out of my face. When did I start to sweat this much? The cool hand he pressed to my forehead felt amazing and I whined hoarsely when he pulled it away again. "Fever", he commented, carding my hair back and I closed my eyes. That certainly explains some things. I never get this sore from dancing and I have sung for longer durations before, not wrecking my throat.
