Chapter 126
Ye jun
I woke up already annoyed, which should have been my first warning because I don’t usually open my eyes feeling like I want to fight someone before I even know what day it is, but there I was staring at the ceiling with this weird pressure sitting in my head and my throat dry like I swallowed sand, and I tried to ignore it, I really did, told myself to just get up, shower, go to work, act normal, but the second I shifted even a little my stomach twisted so fast I had to grab the sheet like that was going to help, and I just lay there breathing through it thinking yeah, great, this is how the day is going to go.
Next to me, Si Woo made this annoyed sound like I was disturbing his peace just by existing, which honestly made me want to throw something at his head, but I didn’t have the energy for that, so I just turned my face away and shut my eyes again like maybe if I went back to sleep my body would fix itself out of embarrassment.
It didn’t.
"You’re doing that thing again," he said after a second, voice still thick with sleep, not even opening his eyes.
I frowned. "What thing."
"The dramatic breathing," he muttered, pulling the blanket higher like he was the one suffering, "like you’re dying or something."
"Oh, sorry," I snapped, my voice coming out rougher than I meant, "next time I’ll suffer quietly so you can rest."
That got his attention.
He opened one eye, squinting at me like he was trying to decide if I was joking or just being annoying for fun. "You’re not going to work?"
I pushed myself up slowly, ignoring how my head felt like it lagged behind my body. "I am."
"You don’t look like it."
"Wow, thank you, that really helps."
"I’m serious," he sat up a bit now, running a hand through his hair, already irritated, "you look like shit."
"And you look like you haven’t minded your business since birth, so here we are."
He let out a short laugh but it didn’t last. "Don’t start."
"I’m not starting anything," I said, swinging my legs off the bed, pausing because yeah, that was another mistake, the floor felt too far, my balance slightly off, and I had to sit there for a second pretending I meant to stop like that.
Si Woo watched me, eyes narrowing. "You’re acting weird."
"I’m sick," I said flatly.
"No, you’re avoiding me."
I turned my head slowly, because that annoyed me more than it should have. "Are you serious right now."
"You always do this," he continued like I hadn’t spoken, voice picking up now, "something happens, you get in your head, then suddenly you’re ’tired’ or ’busy’ or now ’sick’."
I stared at him, actually stared, trying to figure out how he managed to make everything about himself even when I looked like I was about to pass out.
"You’re unbelievable," I muttered.
"Say I’m wrong."
"I feel like I’m going to throw up."
"Yeah, convenient."
That did it.
Something in my chest snapped, not loud, not dramatic, just that quiet kind of anger that makes everything sharper, and I stood up too fast, immediately regretted it, grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself, and still looked at him like I had all the energy in the world.
"Get out."
He blinked. "What."
"I said get out," I repeated, pointing at the door, my head pounding now, my stomach twisting again but I ignored it, "I’m not doing this with you today."
He scoffed. "You’re kicking me out because I called you out?"
"I’m kicking you out because you won’t shut up for two seconds and use your brain."
"My brain works fine."
"Clearly not," I shot back, my voice rising without me meaning to, "I said I’m sick, what part of that is hard to understand, do you want me to pass out in front of you for proof or what?"
He got up now, annoyed, defensive, already halfway into arguing mode. "You don’t just get sick out of nowhere."
"Oh my god," I laughed, but there was nothing funny in it, "you’re right, I scheduled it, my bad, I’ll cancel next time so it doesn’t inconvenience you."
"Stop twisting things."
"Stop talking," I snapped, pressing a hand to my head because it was getting worse, everything was getting worse, and he was still there, still talking, still looking at me like I was the problem.
"Ye Jun..."
"Get out of my life for like five minutes," I cut him off, my voice dropping lower but hitting harder, "just... go, I don’t want to see you right now."
That shut him up.
For a second.
His face changed, just slightly, something tightening there, but instead of backing off like a normal person he just stood there staring at me like he was waiting for me to take it back.
I didn’t.
"Fine," he said finally, grabbing his shirt off the chair, movements sharp now, "be dramatic."
"Close the door on your way out," I muttered, already turning away because I couldn’t look at him anymore.
The door slammed louder than necessary.
"Thanks," I called out weakly, though my voice didn’t carry.
The second I was alone, everything dropped.
I barely made it to the bathroom.
One second I was walking, the next I was on my knees in front of the toilet, gripping the edge so hard my fingers hurt, and then it hit, sudden and violent, like my body had been waiting for the audience to leave before it embarrassed me properly, and I threw up hard enough it made my eyes water, my throat burning, my stomach cramping like it wasn’t done with me yet.
"Great," I choked out between breaths, resting my forehead against my arm, "this is great, love that for me."
It didn’t stop after one round.
Or two.
By the time I was done, I felt worse, which didn’t even feel fair, like if I was going to suffer at least let it be productive.
I flushed, sat back against the wall, and closed my eyes, breathing slowly, trying to ignore the way my whole body felt weak and heavy and wrong.
"Ye Jun?"
I opened one eye.
My mum stood at the door, already looking concerned, which meant I probably looked as bad as I felt.
"What happened to you," she asked, stepping in quickly, crouching down in front of me, her hand going straight to my forehead.
"I’m dying," I said, voice hoarse.
She rolled her eyes. "You’re not dying."
"Feels like it."
"You’re burning up," she frowned, pressing her palm properly against my skin, then my neck, then back to my forehead, "why didn’t you say anything earlier?"
"I just woke up like this."
She sighed, standing up. "Stay here."
"Where am I going," I muttered, but she was already gone.
I leaned my head back against the wall again, closing my eyes, wishing everything would just stop moving for a second.
A few minutes later, she came back with water and pills, handing them to me like she wasn’t taking no for an answer.
"Take."
"I don’t even know what that is."
"Medicine."
"Very reassuring."
"Ye Jun."
"Fine," I sighed, taking them anyway because I didn’t have the energy to argue, swallowing with difficulty, then grimacing. "If I die, I’m haunting you."
"Please don’t," she said dryly, helping me up, "you’re already annoying enough alive."
I let out a weak laugh despite myself. "Wow, so much care."
"Go lie down," she said, guiding me out.
I didn’t argue.
By the time evening came around, I felt like I’d been hit by a truck and then reversed over for good measure, my head still heavy, body aching, stomach quiet but only in that suspicious way like it was planning something.
I almost skipped dinner.
I should have.
But my mum insisted, and arguing with her took more energy than sitting at the table, so I dragged myself there, dropping into the chair with zero grace.
My dad looked up immediately. "You look terrible."
"Thank you," I said, reaching for water, "really boosting my confidence."
Si Woo was already there.
Of course he was.
He didn’t look at me at first, which was new, and honestly, I didn’t care enough to start anything again.
My mum set the food down, then glanced at me, lips twitching like she was holding back a smile. "You know, you’re acting like a pregnant omega."
I froze.
"Can you not joke like that," I said immediately, sharper than I meant, the words coming out before I could soften them.
The table went quiet for a second.
Si Woo’s head snapped up, his expression changing in a way I couldn’t read properly, something tight flashing across his face before he looked away again.
My mum blinked, a bit surprised. "It was just a joke."
"Yeah, not funny."
"Okay," she said slowly, raising her hands a little, "noted."
My dad, on the other hand, started laughing.
"Why are you acting like it’s impossible," he said, clearly amused, looking between us like he was watching a show, "didn’t you spend the night out? Maybe you and that Ohm boy..."
"Dad."
"What," he shrugged, still smiling, "I’m just saying, it’s not impossible."
"That’s not funny," my mum cut in this time, her tone firmer.
"It’s biology," he said, like that explained everything, "we have ABO traits in this family, things aren’t always... standard."
The words landed wrong.
Too wrong.
My grip tightened around my glass before I even realised it, my stomach twisting again but not the same way as before, this was sharper, colder, something crawling up my spine and settling right at the back of my neck.
"No," I said, a bit too quickly.
Si Woo went still beside me.
My dad raised a brow. "No?"
"It’s not possible," I repeated, my voice quieter now but firmer, like if I said it enough it would settle into something real.
But my chest didn’t agree.
Because suddenly my head wasn’t just heavy from fever.
It was racing.
Too many things lining up in a way I didn’t like.
Too many things I didn’t want to think about.
And for the first time since I woke up that morning, the sickness didn’t feel like the worst problem anymore.
It felt like the beginning of one.