Step Eleven: Take care of your body! If this includes a spot of concealer to hide that one annoying pimple you can't get rid of, then so be it! Do whatever it takes to show your best self, and don't try to make yourself worse to fit a boy's standards. Only improve!
"This is more like 'How To Be a Teenage Girl 101,' not 'How to Get a Boyfriend 101.'"
"Jisung, will you just shut up?" I plead, placing a bowl of soup down on his nightstand. It's four in the morning; I can't deal with him. Apparently he got extremely sick yesterday. I think just being near him is going to get me ill, and then a tragedy will occur, and I won't be able to go to school. Oh, no.
Minho is sick, too. He must've caught something while talking to Jisung yesterday, after telling him to check his texts. Or maybe the sickness was spread through mouth-to-mouth contact. Ya never know, right? Maybe Jisung needed CPR. Maybe he wanted a lollipop and thought Minho was sufficient. Maybe he turned his head at the same time as Minho. Maybe they like each other and kissed because that's what people who have mutual attraction do sometimes.
I wouldn't know. It's not like anyone that I've had a crush on has ever liked me back, since I've only seriously liked one person ever, and he's straight.
"This could be your last time seeing me. I might die," Jisung informs me. I'm about to take the bowl of soup and dump it on his squishy, pale, unwashed face. He really looks like a zombie squirrel. Hey, that's a good movie idea.
Minho should feel lucky that he doesn't have it as bad as Jisung. Speaking of Minho, why isn't he here yet? He's skipping school today to take care of Jisung, and he should've been here a while ago.
Oh, yeah. It's four in the morning. Most sick people aren't awake.
Most people, in general, aren't awake.
It's just my rotten luck that Jisung vomited on his phone and his phone called me while it was glitching, so I ran over in a panic. Then, Jisung decided to take advantage of my being here, so now I'm placing a bowl of homemade soup on his nightstand, pouring all my willpower into the prevention of the soup ending up on his face.
Yay.
He finally "dismisses" me by saying that it's better if I don't get sick. On my way out of his apartment, I sneeze.
Bless you, I tell myself.
Gee, thanks, I respond.
No problem.
Oh, please. Don't tell me you've never said Bless you to yourself when no one was around to say it. Or, even more depressing, when people noticed that you sneezed but didn't say anything. That's, like, worse than stubbing your toe.
Nothing is worse than a stubbed toe.
So that's saying something...
As I close the door to my apartment, I hear a weird noise out in the hallway. I sigh. Outside, Minho is throwing up in a very unladylike fashion into the stairwell. Why is he in the stairwell? I ask myself a moment later. I glance over at the elevator and see a sign informing me of its out-of-service-ness. Lovely. Everyone on my floor and above has to pass through the puddle of Minho-puke, and everyone leaving their apartment today has to smell it.
Minho looks up guiltily at me upon hearing my gag of dissatisfaction and disgust. "Sor-ry," he croaks. I shake my head and help him into Jisung's apartment, where Patient Zero is currently fast asleep with half a bowl of uneaten broth spilled on his chest.
I resist the urge to laugh and instead lay Minho down on the couch.
I remember what the book said. Take care of yourself. I take that as an omen and stay far away from Minho as I give him some of Jisung's still-in-the-bowl broth. He grunts as a thank you and closes his eyes when he's done eating.
And, because I am a genius, I dial Changbin's number in my phone. Changbin is the guy who was grumpy, for no particular reason, yesterday.
"What?" he snaps. "Who is this?"
"Uh, it is I, Yongbok."
"Oh. What do you want, Felix?" It might be wishful thinking, but his voice seemed less on edge once I revealed my true identity.
"Well, Jisung is sick. And, um, Minho is also sick. And I don't think either of them can take care of them both, and I can't call either of them in sick for school, cuz, ya know, I should probably stay with them. So, can you call the three of us in sick? When school, uh, when school starts, I mean."
Changbin is silent for a minute. "Felix, it's four-thirteen in the morning. School doesn't start for another three and a half hours More, actually. Three hours and forty-seven minutes."
"Um."
"Furthermore," (who even says furthermore anymore, other than boomers?) "I cannot, in fact, call you in sick. I'm sick, too."
"Um."
"So, yeah."
"Um."
There's me, on one end of the line. Changbin is on the other end. There's white noise, confusion, and awkwardness. Radio silence. Static. Whatever it's called.
"Do you want to come here?" I ask. "I can take care of you, Minho, and Jisung all at once." My voice cracks at "take care of you," but I choose to ignore it.
I can practically hear him think. "Who will call us in sick? Also, how will I get to your house?"
"I'll drive you," I decide. Hopefully Minho and Jisung don't die while I'm gone.
"Okay." He coughs.
I check the time. 4:19. Nice. My favorite time of day to be driving sick people around.
But hey, it's Changbin. I would do anything for Changbin, not that he knows it or cares.
I think of the book again. Take care of yourself, it reminds me. Eh. I can modify it.
Here's the new step eleven, written by me:
Step Eleven: Take care of him! Oh em gee, make sure he knows you care!! It's totally okay if you get hurt or sick in the process, as long as stereotypes are fulfilled and he's okay!!!! Exclamation point exclamation point exclamation point!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
>>><><<<
"Thanks," Changbin says when we get back to my house.
"Ngh." Not exactly showing my best version of myself to Changbin, I groan.
It's 4:30 in the morning, for crying out loud. But I don't cry out loud. I just cry in my head, because my sleep schedule is dying and there's no way for me to save it.
Heh.
"I called Chan," he says. Since when does he have Chan's number? "He'll call the four of us in sick."
I gather enough energy to smile and make a joke. "How will Jay Why Pee feel? His FROG lesson will be screwed up."
Changbin laughs for a few seconds, then the sweet laughter turns into morbid hacking and wheezing. He croaks out an apology, and I can't help myself from making another bad joke.
"Look's like the FROG hopped into your throat, no?"
His coughing fit starts back up. Jeez, my joke can't be that bad, can it? He motions for me to focus on the road and I oblige, letting his lungs remember that they're trying to keep Changbin alive.
By the time he can breathe normally, we've reached the apartment building. I help him up the stairs.
On floor five, he asks, "What's that smell?"
Oh, dang. I forgot to warn him about the Minho-vomit.
"Minho was feeling territorial, but his bladder was empty. So his stomach fulfilled the duty," my brain causes my mouth to blurt. My brain then immediately regrets what it did, and decides to punish itself by forcing my left ear and my right ring finger to go insane and twitch and spasm all over the place.
"You okay?"
"Uh, yeah. I think. My body is having a civil war, and I'm not sure who is going to win."
Changbin looks at me in an amused way and turns his head to face away from me. Probably to hide his eyes' rolling. I don't think about the way his ears turn a little red. It's probably secondhand embarrassment, to be completely honest. And, if you think about it, that's really sad. That's why I don't think about it. Nope, not at all.
We skip over the yellowish puddle of yesterday's dinner when we reach my floor and I open the door to Jisung's apartment, not bothering to use a key because I know I forgot to lock it on my way out.
"I've never been in your apartment," Changbin muses. "Or Jisung's."
I shush him and point to where Minho is drooling in his sleep. "At least you're capable of movement and speech. Also, my natural habitat is a mirror of Jisung's apartment."
"'Natural habitat?'" he echoes. I pretend not to hear and lead him to the guest bedroom. As I turn to leave, he asks, "Should I come?"
"You can stay," I say.
He raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I'm gonna come back with some microwaved soup... or... something."
>>><><<<
Yeah, okay, there's no soup. And there aren't enough ingredients to make more. Also, I don't want to go back to my own kitchen and make some in the fear that someone's going to make more yellowish puddles of yesterday's dinner while I'm gone.
By now it's 6:52. If two and a half hours felt that long, who knows what a whole day will feel like?
And then, it hits me.
No, literally.
Jisung's giant, metal kettle falls out of a cupboard and hits me square in the middle of the forehead. I cry out and fall on my butt.
So, when Changbin comes hobbling into the room (like a cute old lady checking on her grandchildren [why did I think that]), he sees me, surrounded by a tea kettle, pain, and suffering. I'm rubbing a spot in my forehead that's definitely going to have a nice, big, painful, multicolored bruise on it.
But it's all in good fun. The "kettle" rhymes with "metal," and I'll just show my LGBTQA+ pride with the rainbow bruise.
I sigh.
"What happened?" Changbin asks, seeming genuinely concerned.
"I, uh, had a bright idea. And instead of a lightbulb appearing over my head, a, errr, a tea kettle did. But, unlike lightbulbs, this tea kettle was informed of gravity's existence."
What? Why is my brain out to get me? I don't even understand what I just said.
"O-okay, I think." Did Changbin just stutter? Did I cause him to stutter? Oh my goodness, I'm just that weird. There go my chances of having a relationship with him.
Oops, I forgot. In order for chances to disappear, they have to exist in the first place.
"Do you want help?"
Mental? Yes.
I shake my head. "Get back to bed, Changbin. I'll be back soon." He gives me a doubtful look but crosses back to his room.
I look at the kettle as an idea forms in my head. When the idea is completely thought through, I hastily put my hands over my head in case a tea kettle really does appear there. Fortunately, one doesn't.
I don't think I need to explain how I made tea for the three sickbois. Most people have made tea before, and those who haven't can WikiHow it.
I bring the tea to Changbin first.
He looks up. "Maybe a kettle appeared over your head because you were destined to make tea."
I grin back at him. "Actually, I couldn't find enough ingredients to make real soup. And tea is pretty much dessert soup, right?"
He laughs, sounding better than earlier.
"What kind of tea?"
"Green tea. Jisung is kind of addicted."
"Who isn't?"
He has a point(ed chin).
I pat the bulge under the blankets where his feet should be, then I set the mug down beside the bed.
"'Gotta stay with the PRIDE?'" Changbin asks, reading what the mug says. There's a picture of a group of rainbow lions (because a group of lions is called a pride) with those words written above. I cringe; that mug was supposed to go to Jisung. I must've mixed it up. Darn.
"Uh, you can have another one. I got Jisung that for his birthday." I offer him a black mug that says It's A Good Day To Be Gay. A little less flashy, but Jisung doesn't have any mugs that don't relate to his sexuality.
Changbin nods his head in the direction of the third mug. "What does that one say?"
I cringe. That's the worst one of the three, the one I was going to give to Minho. Jisung bought it for me, but I pretended to have it already. He kept it, and I kept my nonexistent dignity.
"Um. It says, 'I'm the boy version of a straight girl.'"
Changbin laughs and clutches the steaming rainbow PRIDE mug against his chest. "I'll keep this one," he says. "Want to stay for a minute?"
Hell yeah, I do. If I could, I'd make this moment last forever. Well, actually, I wouldn't want Changbin to be sick forever. But, in all seriousness, this setting is perfect.
Cue the lights!
Cue the romantic music!
Cue the rose-flavored tea!
Our two protagonists are talking about cringey LGBTQA+ pride mugs, and one of them is madly in love!
Ha.
"Sorry, but Minho and Jisung need their soup dessert, too."
"Aw, shucks," he says. Cute. I reluctantly leave the guest bedroom and enter Jisung's bedroom.
Not that I'm suspicious or anything, but Jisung's hair is ruffled and Minho is in the bed with him. They're both fully clothed (thank goodness) but there's obviously been something going on.
I awkwardly put the mugs down next to the half-full bowl of soup. Or half-empty, depending on who you ask. Doesn't matter. "Don't make each other even more sick," I tease before leaving.
The rest of the day passes quietly. Because I don't want to get sick too, I spend most of the day reading in the kitchen. Yes, I read. I read Jisung's book, How To Read Facial Expressions 101. It's a dumb book. Very repetitive, but if it works, it works.
Exhibit A: Jisung and Minho are in the same bed. Changbin and I are not.
At 5:06, Chan sends Changbin all the notes Minho and I missed, courtesy of Seungmin, who we have the same classes as but not at the same time. Jisung's notes come from Jeongin, and Changbin's come from Chan himself.
Also, Chan created a group chat with everyone in our FROG group. Well, not everyone. Jay Why Pee isn't in the chat. It's called ribbit ribbit, and it's supposed to be only in case of emergencies. Ha, like that's going to happen. As soon as Jisung feels better, he'll send memes all day long.
Also, I'll have to be careful. My phone changbins any word that's spelled remotely like "Changbin" to his name. That can't end well.
Changbin and Minho stay for dinner, which consists of super-healthy, fried rice and apple juice from a box.
They also spend the night. And, wink wonk, Changbin comes to my apartment for sleeping. Minho and Jisung insisted that they, the most sick people, should be together. Changbin's fever, at its highest, was 101°F. I'm not sure why I measured it Fahrenheit, but meh. Celcius is easier and makes more sense, too. My brain is just really worn out. But at least it's not like I was going to measure it in Kelvin, or whatever the third thing is called. That would be extra stupid.
Also, Changbin doesn't seem sick anymore. His temperature went back down to normal ten minutes after it spiked, and it's been constant. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he faked sick to get out of school.
The only failed part of his plan was having to spend the day and the night with me.