Bangtan's Baby | 18+

nineteen˚ ༘♡ ⋆❀thunderstorm and tears

"Did the thunder wake you up?"

"It woke me up," she confirms quietly as if she's ashamed of the fact. "I can't go back to sleep."

Threading my fingers through her hair, I take note of how she sways slightly, her eyes unfocused as she does.

I place the back of my hand on her forehead, my frown deepening at the heat radiating from it.

I exhale shortly. "You're burning up."

I lift her up, and it's instantaneous how her legs wrap around me, loathe to let me go. She buries her face in my neck, shuddering in my arms with every troubled inhale.

"Hold on," I murmur.

She holds on tightly as I carry her downstairs, her sniffles getting lost in my neck.

When I enter the kitchen, I pat her back lightly, absently tracing circles into it while I walk to the cabinet. I rummage around for Tylenol and a glass for water, grabbing one and setting it on the counter.

When I can feel her tears staining my neck, I hurriedly open the Tylenol, trying to ignore the stifling concern that's rippling through me.

As I'm twisting the cap off the Tylenol, a flash of lightning sketches itself into the walls, illuminating our surroundings.

She stiffens, and immediately, her hands fly to her ears.

I hold her tighter, nudging my chin against the side of her head.

"Breathe," I remind her, my voice low. "Just hold onto me."

"It'll be loud," she stresses. "It'll hurt my head."

"I know, Li, but you still need to breathe."

She tries, I can tell by the sporadic breaths she's taking, but when the thunder arrives, so do her quiet sobs and sharp inhales.

"I know," I soothe. "That must've been loud."

She manages a nod. "It was."

"Shh, I know. Come on. Lift your face for me."

"I can't."

"You can."

"Please don't—" She sighs tremulously, sounding discouraged. "Please don't be mad at me. I just don't feel good."

"I'm not mad at you. It's okay."

I fill the glass with water, letting the Tylenol rest in my palm.

Her fingers twitch with interest. "What's that?"

"Lift your face and see."

She doesn't, not at first, but she must be aching for relief because she does, her eyes flooding with said relief at the sight of the white pills.

"It'll make me feel better?" she asks hopefully.

"It should, Li, now open your mouth."

She clutches where my shirt meets my shoulders, parting her lips for the water. I carefully bring the glass to them, watching her swallow the pills and the water.

"There you go," I murmur. "Just like that."

I take her back to my room, setting her on my bed and watching her stare up at me, her eyes big as she fiddles with her fingers. They glisten with tears, her body twitching in nervous anticipation for the thunder, and she's looking at me as if I'll protect her from it; as if I'll make it better.

An unfamiliar feeling passes through me. It shoots through me, almost stabbing my chest. There's an undeniable need to keep her safe, to relieve her pain; to keep her close until her tears are gone and she's smiling again.