The classes after the tiffin break seemed to pass rather quicker. He didn't know if he was being unfocused. He didn't seem to understand what the teacher was teaching, even if he tried to. The sounds seemed to just blend in with the other noises surrounding him.

His stomach had also started to hurt a little, but he couldn't really figure out why. He felt extremely tired to think much of it. He just hoped that he isn't coming down with a cold or something. He didn't bother to understand the lecture and just noted down everything he saw written on the board.

At dispersal time too, he found himself standing in the line of students, feeling zoned out as the line moved forward to the exit. He had started to feel a bit sick and the pain in his stomach had increased too. He put a hand over his stomach and bit his lips to prevent himself from whimpering.

He spotted his aunt standing at the place near the gate. She didn't seem to find him yet out of the huge crowd of children. He smiled and was about to make his way to her, when suddenly, pang of pain hit him it the stomach, a bitter liquid rose up his throat involuntarily. He slammed his hand over his mouth, and ran at the back of his school's playground.

There was a small washroom since the kindergarten was at the ground floor. He was grateful to find the door open. He weakly pushed the door open with his free hands and ran to the nearest toilet he saw, kneeling down in front of it.

He gripped on the porcelain bowl hard, so hard that his knuckles went white and hunched forward, letting the bile in his mouth fall into it. His stomach kept shooting pain in all directions. He gagged once again, bringing up more bile. He took one of his shaky hands off the porcelain bowl and clutched his stomach, trying to ease the pain. He hunched even forward as the pain kept getting even more frequent.

Tears pricked his eyes. The pain was getting unbearable. His throat started to hurt from throwing up continuously. He couldn't stop himself from gagging, even when nothing came out anymore. He struggled to catch his breath between the gags. He had been sick before. He had thrown up before. But he never felt this bad. The smell of the bathroom was making him even more nauseous. He couldn't imagine what he will do if it gets worse. There was almost no one left in the school. After about what it felt like an eternity, he finally found himself staring into nothingness, gasping to catch his breath.

He felt like he could pass out anytime. He was dizzy. He realized it was probably because of how much he had thrown up and there is nothing left in his body.

It was long after that, that he realized he was crying. He forcefully wiped the tears off his cheeks and stood up clumsily, flushing the toilet properly and stumbled towards the sink. While washing his hands, he looked at his reflection on the mirror above the sink.

His eyes were red and puffed up. He felt angry at himself. He splashed the water onto his face many time, trying to make it almost impossible to figure it out that he had been crying.

Crying just because of a stomach ache? Tch. Such a wimp.

Nope. No more he wanted anyone to call him that. No more he wants anyone's ugly stares at him. No more he wants anyone to make fun of him for being a bit more fragile than anyone else.

He stumbled out of the bathroom and picked up his bag that he had randomly thrown away before running into the bathroom. His stomach still hurt. But he can definitely cover it up. Of course, he would open up about it to his aunt only if it gets worse than he can tolerate. He doesn't want to be weak anymore.

He found his aunt standing in front of the gate, gripping the railings and had a concerned look in her face as she watched the boy stumble clumsily to her. There were a few more people roaming around but he didn't care about them. He just wanted to go home and sleep and only wake up when he is all better.

He smiled at the older but it didn't reach up to his eyes like usual. Then hugged her lightly. The aunt took his school bag off his shoulders, knowing that he would be tired enough to carry it home himself.

"Are you okay?"

It was the first thing the lady asked him. The boy just nodded. The aunt felt more concern. The boy was quiet. Really quiet. The others day, he would keep talking about his classmates, homeworks or complain about the teachers. But today, the boy just said that he wanted to go home.

The ride in the car was silent as well. She looked at the boy in her rear view mirror. He had his cheek smooched in one of the windows and a hand wrapped securely around his stomach.

"Are you sure you are okay?"

He hummed in a low voice. She knew the boy wasn't okay. But he isn't the type of person who would hide it, if he felt sick. She didn't say any further and drove straight to home.

She pulled over the car in the garage. She looked at him from the rear view mirror again and found him sound asleep. Deciding not to wake him up since he looked really tired, she opened the door of the passengers' seat and picked him up. She felt the boy's skin felt a but warmer than usual and sighed. Jungkook was definitely coming down with a cold. She quietly carried him inside and to his room, laying him down on the bed.

The boy wiggled a bit, stirring up from his sleep. His eyes were a little red and glossy, definitely a fever. He whimpered and clutched his stomach. The lady looked at him worriedly. She put her hand on his forehead. It felt warmer than before.

"You have a fever, Jungkook."

She said, softly caressing his cheeks. The boy melted more into her touch. He curled up onto her lap. He seemed delirious because of the fever and wasn't quite aware of what he was doing. The lady knows that the boy would be clingy only when he is sick. She gently cuddled the boy.

"Have you got a tummy ache?"

She asked in a gentle tone, letting the boy snuggle her neck. He blushed at it being called a 'tummy ache' rather than a 'stomach ache'. The lady smiled. The boy had a habit of hiding his face in her neck when he is shy. She found it very adorable.

"Let's bring you some food first."

She let go of the hug and left the room. The boy sighed. His aunt's hug gave him comfort, making him almost forget about the stabbing pain in his stomach. He wondered if it was a stomach bug. Yes, it has to be. He had been getting the same symptoms. He had had a stomach bug when he was a little younger and it was not a very pleasant experience.

He sighed and sneaked in a hand inside his shirt, massaging his aching stomach a bit. He laid back down, hugging the chick plushie his aunt had bought him when he was six. He had it to this day, neat and without a single damage. Though he had let go of the habit of talking to it before sleeping, he still likes to pet its fur. It's very soft in his touch and warm, which reminds him of a gentle touch that he hadn't felt for a long, long time.

He bit his lips, feeling the stabbing pain come back, this time even worse. He eyed the door for his aunt to come back. Snuggling into her always make him feel better when he is sick. He can feel the sore liquid behind his throat again and tried to gulp it down. He didn't have the energy to throw up again. Heck, he didn't even have any food in his system to throw up.

He shoved his face into the plushie. He hadn't felt so bad in a long time. He actually felt like crying, just wanting to crawl into his aunt's embrace and have her make him all better. He couldn't keep it in anymore. Clamping a hand over his mouth, he sprinted to the washroom. He could see his aunt entering the room right before he closed the door of the washroom shut. He was glad it was located just beside the bedroom.

Kneeling down in front of the porcelain bowl, the sour liquid poured out of his mouth by itself. It felt very painful. He knew he didn't have anything in his guts and was feeling like as of he was throwing up all the enzymes and vital liquids in his body. He was already exhausted from throwing up at school. The worse thing was that his aunt didn't know he threw up at school. He kept gagging, bringing up more liquid with each gag.

He felt someone rubbing his back in a comfortable manner. It was his aunt. She didn't say anything and just kept rubbing his back. More pain stabbed his abdomen, making him throw up more, right when he thought he had gotten a break to catch his breath. Crying didn't help much either. It made it more difficult to breath, but he just couldn't help it. He was in an unbearable pain and was unable to express it.

"Shh, there. Let it all out. You will feel much better."

She whispered gently, continuing to rub his back. He started to cry even more. He didn't feel a single bit better. It just kept getting worse. He can feel a weird taste in his mouth. It tasted disgusting, like metal. He looked down at the toilet bowl again.

Blood.

He let out a horrified wail, thought in reality, it didn't sound more than a tiny whimper. He had never thrown up blood, no matter how sick he had been. He started coughing up more blood. It absolutely terrified him. He heard his aunt gasp as she ran out of the washroom.

She left me like this?!

He continued to cry, which made him cough more. He throat started to ache terribly. His whole body ached. He had thrown up everything he had in his body. He felt like a deflated balloon. Moving slightly hurt like hell. At this point he was sure he was dying. He was feeling really dizzy from all the coughing and throwing up and crying. He could feel some of the liquid rolling down his chin. He called out for his aunt but it was to weak to be heard by a normal human.

Black spots appeared in his vision. He knew he couldn't hold onto for much longer But if he was actually going to die, he wanted to spend his last moments in the arms of his aunt. He kept the toilet bowl in his weak grip, trying not to pass out. He wanted to see his aunt in case he doesn't wake up anymore. More tears sprung out of his eyes.

"Ajhumma..."

He called weakly before starting to cough in his hands again. He saw blood slipping through his fingers. He was dying. No, he wasn't afraid of death. He was afraid of dying without someone being there with him. He is just afraid to be alone.

The black spots overtook his entire vision. His eyes closed shut by itself and his body gave up on trying to cooperate with his brain. He barely felt any pain when his body hit the wet floor, his ears blocking out all the the sound that came from the world.

The aunt had rushed in within a few minutes and gasped when she saw her beloved nephew on the floor, not moving, blood dripping down from the corner of his mouth. She had gone to the garage to take her car out. She had to take him to the hospital. Throwing up blood is no simple sickness.

Tears pooled in her own eyes. She picked up the boy in her arms. His skin was still burning. Her hands shook as she strapped him in the passenger seat. She tried to gulp down her panic and focus on the road, but the tears kept blurring her vision.

The hospital wasn't far, but the road was busy. She slammed her hand on the steering wheel, more angry tears rolling down her cheeks. She kept honking, not caring of she was annoying other people in the streets. Her nephew, whom she had raised up since infancy was dying. Dying in front of her. She couldn't even bear the thought of it.

Thankfully, the traffic cleared up in a small amount of time. Somehow, she clumsily parked the car infront of the hospital. She picked the boy up in her arms again. His skin felt a little colder than before. She started to panic. She started screaming right as she crossed the entrance.

"Help!"

She yelled, gaining everyone's attention.

"My-my child is dying!"

She cried, her voice breaking because of how loud she was screaming. She could see the annoyed look on the other people's faces, but she couldn't care less. A nurse rushed forward, hearing all the sound. She was good enough of ask for a stretcher when she saw the boy, unconscious and with blood dripping down his chin in the woman's arm.

"Madam, I will need you to let us take him to the emergency room to see what is wrong with him."

She tried to calm the woman down. She asked her to put the teenager down on the stretcher. She was very patience and kind. She told her that the boy will be fine.

Her boy will not die on her. The doctor will fix him. She took a deep, shaky breath and sunk down on a chair against the wall as they took him away. She wondered about all the things. All the things that had happened that could cause this.

Where had she gone wrong in taking care of him? Was she not paying enough attention to him? Was it her fault that the boy is this sick?

She put her head into her hands and continued to sob, praying for the boy to be okay. In her eyes, he was the most naive and kindest soul ever and could do no wrong. He didn't deserve to suffer like that. She eyed the door of the emergency room, waiting for someone to come out and tell her that he's totally fine. That he is back to being that happy and giggly child she had always known.

2513 words.

No one's reading this but Imma still post cuz this is one of my favorite series that I'm writing.

AnyGAYS-
Even if anyone is reading, thank you very much for reading my trash!