Fever + Dream
Chapter One
Oh god, the fucking thing just wasn't letting up. Drainage down his throat; pounding in his ears; chest heavy when he tried to breathe. Woke him up when he tried to go to sleep, and sapped all the energy out of him, made him wilt, when he had things he wanted to get done.
And it wasn't as if he could relax at home and feel miserable in peace--oh hell no. His mom kept coming in every freaking five minutes with tea and lozenges and that horrible Vicks Vapo Rub and Jin is that cigarette smoke I smell you'll never get over this cold if you keep smoking him to death. He didn't see what was so damn hard to understand. Yeah, it did make his throat hurt worse, but not that much worse--still much preferable to the thought of a dull nic-fit headache. But leave it to her not to think. She'd nag him until he curled up and fucking died right there in front of her, and it wouldn't be from smoking. It'd be from her chronic inability to ever shut up.
So the ten millionth time she'd come in to harass him he'd decided he'd had enough. He gathered up all of his shit, pulled a sweater on over the long-sleeved shirt he was already wearing--why the fuck was he so cold, when all those other assholes on the streets looked comfortable as anything in t-shirts and shorts--stuck his fucking coat over it for good measure, and started heading toward the door.
He felt floaty. Kind of like he was dreaming. Having a fever sucked.
When he got into the living room his mom jumped up--
"Jin? What are you doing? Where are you going? Can I--"
"I'm going out," he said flatly. He really hoped to all that was holy he wasn't going to fall over like he thought he might. God knows his mom would go freaking nuts screaming and yelling that her darling son was dying.
People never left you alone when you wanted them around the least.
"But you're sick--you've got a fever--Jin, please let me--"
He was going to slam the door on his way out; gave it a shove as hard as he could and it barely slammed at all. He kicked it for good measure when he was out of there, again not half as hard as he'd intended.
Fucking piece of shit door.
Chapter One
Oh god, the fucking thing just wasn't letting up. Drainage down his throat; pounding in his ears; chest heavy when he tried to breathe. Woke him up when he tried to go to sleep, and sapped all the energy out of him, made him wilt, when he had things he wanted to get done.
And it wasn't as if he could relax at home and feel miserable in peace--oh hell no. His mom kept coming in every freaking five minutes with tea and lozenges and that horrible Vicks Vapo Rub and Jin is that cigarette smoke I smell you'll never get over this cold if you keep smoking him to death. He didn't see what was so damn hard to understand. Yeah, it did make his throat hurt worse, but not that much worse--still much preferable to the thought of a dull nic-fit headache. But leave it to her not to think. She'd nag him until he curled up and fucking died right there in front of her, and it wouldn't be from smoking. It'd be from her chronic inability to ever shut up.
So the ten millionth time she'd come in to harass him he'd decided he'd had enough. He gathered up all of his shit, pulled a sweater on over the long-sleeved shirt he was already wearing--why the fuck was he so cold, when all those other assholes on the streets looked comfortable as anything in t-shirts and shorts--stuck his fucking coat over it for good measure, and started heading toward the door.
He felt floaty. Kind of like he was dreaming. Having a fever sucked.
When he got into the living room his mom jumped up--
"Jin? What are you doing? Where are you going? Can I--"
"I'm going out," he said flatly. He really hoped to all that was holy he wasn't going to fall over like he thought he might. God knows his mom would go freaking nuts screaming and yelling that her darling son was dying.
People never left you alone when you wanted them around the least.
"But you're sick--you've got a fever--Jin, please let me--"
He was going to slam the door on his way out; gave it a shove as hard as he could and it barely slammed at all. He kicked it for good measure when he was out of there, again not half as hard as he'd intended.
Fucking piece of shit door.