Taking care of her being (1/1)

The practice room only had a couple stray members lounging around, that being a weekday and things usually don’t happen on weekdays. Vernon was currently holed up in the sound room, vowing not to leave until he had at least one rap recorded. He was almost done, thankfully, as he recited to the beat of their current composition. By the end of the meter, he cheered with a loud “whoop!” and slammed his laptop shut. Swinging the door open, he yelled to them that he was ready to leave if anyone wanted to go with him. His phone buzzed, and he frowned, realizing it was his girlfriend. It was relatively late for normal people, and for whatever reason she was awake, it bothered him. Not hesitating to answer, he gently closed the sound room shut. “Hey, what’s up?” A pause. “Hey.” she drawled out on the other line, her voice honey-thick. “I miss you.”“I always miss you.” he replied immediately, propping his feet against the table.“No, I really really miss you.” there was another beat of silence, and it made him weary to figure out why. “I'm scared when you’re away and you meet so many pretty celebrities. I'm always afraid that the next time we meet will be the last time because you'll realize you're wasting your time.” What? Vernon sat up, feeling his stomach make a weird pang. “What happened, why are you saying these things?” She exhaled, and damn him for thinking she was breaking up with him over the phone, but he was paranoid. “I was drinking.” she sighed.“How much?”“Do you really want to know?” she laughed, and he wished it was over something stupid, but she was potentially unsafe and it was killing him. “I feel like throwing up.”“Where are you?” he started to stuff everything in his bag, and practically threw the sound door open. Everyone looked at him questionably, but he paid no mind and grabbed the keys from the wall and threw them to Seungcheol. “I’m home.” she said, “Josh dropped me off.”“Is Joshua back?” Vernon called out to the room, and then back to his phone, “Why did he leave you?”“He didn’t want to at first,” she grumbled, “But he needed to get back and I said you’d be coming. But if you’re busy—”“I’ll be there in ten.” “I want your hoodie.” she said distantly. “Bring me the one with the cow on it.” She must have knocked out right after the call, because the line was still going after a full five minutes of driving. Punching in her door code, he found her half-asleep on the couch, still in her day clothes. He frowned, and moved to the kitchenette to get her a glass of water. He started mumbling to himself as he shuffled through the cabinets, thinking how he even ended up being here in the first place. After getting the water, he finally found a package of ramen, and turned on the stove to boil the soup. As soon as the flame whirred on, his girlfriend groaned from the couch.“Don’t,” she murmured through her pillow, as if her trouble-instinct was permanently on. “Don’t cook. Burn house.”“Relax, it’s just ramen.” but he double checked the water anyway as he plopped in the noodles, before going back to her, glass in hand. Bleary, she opened her eyes, her mascara smudged against the rims of her eyes. She placed a palm over her face, muttering something about the light. He grabbed the mini-remote on the coffee table to tone it down.She grabbed his face in both hands, causing his cheeks to puff in and his lips to pucker. “Why are you here?” she asked, her voice as rough as gravel.“We talked on the phone, remember?” he said slowly, and put the glass in front of her face. “Drink.” She barely took half a sip before making a face. “I’ll throw up if I drink any more. But I’m starving.” He nodded helplessly, and took out a pile of clothes from his backpack. “Go change. I’ll bring it over.” He didn’t even bother putting the soup in the bowl, instead bringing the small pot with a coaster, the chopsticks locked between his jaws. By the time he settled everything down, she was in the middle of changing. He froze, trying very hard not to stare at her in a bra. His eyes traced the dark azure trim and the dip of her sweetheart cut, but by the time he got to the valley he was too far gone.“I may not be in the right mind,” she said, slipping the offensive body-concealing sweater over her head. “But you’re always allowed to look, you know.” Those words were hitting him far lower than he intended, and he blushed, turning around to taste his ramen. “This isn’t the cow sweater.” she whined. “I didn’t pack the cow sweater.” he said lightly. “You have sweaters here, though.” “But this one smells like you.” she murmured, covering her face with the collar. The sleeves were much too long and baggy, and swallowed her small form. “You look like a lemon.” “You are a lemon.” she replied tonelessly. “I still question why they let you wear this on stage.” She watched Vernon scoop up some of the noodles with the chopsticks, making sure none of the soup was dripping away from the spoon. His girlfriend parted her mouth, chewing numbly. “I’m sorry for bothering you, you really didn’t have to come.” she said in a smaller voice. He put the utensils down, and sat next to her on the couch, “I didn’t know you felt that way.” he always wondered if the term “liquid courage” really did exist, and tonight he saw it in a very rare form. The one thing he loved about his girl was that she was always speaking what’s on her mind, and was incredibly honest about her feelings. It was something he still had trouble with, and he admired her for helping him open up his shell. He was used to being vulnerable, but not her, not ever her. She was suddenly a toddler sick of being treated like a “big kid”, and slumped forward to land in his lap. Pillows spilled on the floor as she crawled to settle more comfortably between his thighs, and rested her head on his shoulder. He immediately softened, his hand automatically going to her hair. “I didn’t know either.” she replied weakly, clinging to his sweatshirt. “But I love you.” he squeezed her shoulders, burying himself in the scent of her hair. “It will never change.” She laughed softly, and lazily kissed his shoulder. “Is this a drunk confession?”“No,” he tapped her lightly on the nose. “I’m not the one drunk.”