Seo-Jun, with a palpable unease, manoeuvred his car into the garage, the metallic groan of the door echoing the turmoil within him. Minho, emerging from the car, moved with a casual grace that Seo-Jun envied. Seo-Jun, a step behind and clinging to the wall, felt his head swim, a dizzying vortex of pain and regret. "My head is spinning like crazy…" he thought, the words a silent scream in his mind.
A sudden, brutal wave of agony slammed into him, threatening to send him sprawling. He clutched at the wall, a desperate attempt to anchor himself to reality. Minho, startled by the sound, whirled around, his face etched with concern. "Sir, are you okay?!" he asked, his voice laced with worry as he reached out to steady Seo-Jun. Seo-Jun, his vision blurring, managed a weak, "My head is spinning." The words were a confession, a surrender to the throbbing pain. He knew the cause- the lingering effects of the alcohol he'd consumed and a potential cold that might be making him feel hot. Minho's gaze drifted to his neck, where beads of sweat traced a treacherous path. Without hesitation, Minho placed a hand on Seo-Jun's forehead. "You are burning..." he stated, his voice hushed. Irritation flickered in Seo-Jun's eyes. "It's nothing. Let's go." he dismissed, attempting to regain control. But as he took a step, his legs betrayed him, threatening to buckle. Minho sighed, his expression a mixture of exasperation and care, and offered his support. Seo-Jun, surrendering, leaned on him, allowing himself to be guided towards the living room.
"Sir, sit on the couch and wait for me to get you medicine." Minho instructed, his tone firm yet gentle, as he led Seo-Jun towards the sofa. Seo-Jun, his face a mask of irritation and exhaustion, gently but firmly pulled away from Minho's grasp. "No, I am sleepy. I want to go to bed." he mumbled, his voice thick with a weariness that went beyond mere sleepiness. With a determined wobble, he took a step towards the imposing staircase, each movement a testament to his weakened state. Minho, his concern etched across his features, reacted swiftly, his movements sharp and decisive. He quickly closed the distance, his hand reaching out to grip Seo-Jun's. "Okay, let's get you to your room first." he said, his tone a blend of firmness and reassurance.
Together, they began the slow ascent of the stairs, each step a careful negotiation of Seo-Jun's unsteady balance. The climb was a silent struggle, the air thick with unspoken worry. Upon reaching the sanctuary of Seo-Jun's room, Minho gently guided him towards the bed, easing him down with a tenderness that spoke volumes. As Seo-Jun lay there, the severity of his condition became apparent. His skin was even paler than before, and his breath came in ragged, heavy gasps, a clear indication of the fever's relentless grip.
"I will go grab some medicine. Don't try walking around! Stay in bed." Minho declared, his voice laced with urgency as he turned to leave. His departure was swift, almost a storming, the urgency of the situation driving his every move. As he descended the stairs, his mind raced, a whirlwind of thoughts and concerns. "I have to take medicine for high fever, some water, a cold towel... what else should I get?!" he muttered, his brow furrowed with worry. A new thought struck him, and he paused, his gaze sweeping the surroundings. "Maybe some food if he is hungry. Damn it, he fucked me so hard I can barely walk straight!" he grumbled, the pain in his back momentarily forgotten in the face of his mounting responsibilities. With a grimace, he quickened his pace, a slight limp betraying the ache in his back, as he hurried to gather everything Seo-Jun needed.
The weight of the tray felt heavier with each step Minho took, the contents a burden of care he readily bore. He burst into Seo-Jun's room, a silent urgency driving his movements. The scene that greeted him was one of stark vulnerability. Seo-Jun lay sprawled upon the bed, his eyes shut, a deep furrow etched between his brows, a testament to the fever. His face was a canvas of pallor, the stark white of his skin starkly contrasting with the angry flush that blazed across his neck, glistening with a sheen of sweat. A low murmur escaped his lips, a wordless plea lost in the throes of illness.
Minho settled onto the edge of the bed, his presence a quiet anchor in the storm of Seo-Jun's fever. "Sir... can you get up a little bit just to drink the pill?" he asked, his voice a gentle plea against the backdrop of the room's stillness.
Silence was his only answer.
With a practiced gentleness, Minho reached out, his touch a careful blend of firmness and care. He cupped Seo-Jun's arm, his fingers tracing the line of muscle, and gently curved his other hand around the back of Seo-Jun's neck, providing the necessary support. Slowly, with a tenderness born of deep concern, he eased Seo-Jun's body into a more upright position. The movement was met with a faint moan, a whisper of protest that quickly faded. He offered the pill, a small white beacon of hope, and after a moment, Seo-Jun's eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes glazed with fever. He swallowed the pill then, with a sigh of surrender, he sank back against the pillows, his body once again succumbing to the weight of his condition. Minho reached for the bowl on the tray, the cold water within promising a moment's respite. With a gentle squeeze, he wrung the excess water from the towel, its damp coolness a stark contrast to Seo-Jun's fevered brow. Placing it carefully, he met the inevitable flinch.
"What is that?" Seo-Jun's voice, though weak, held a spark of irritation. "It will help you feel better." Minho replied, his voice a soothing balm.
Seo-Jun's gaze locked with his, the initial irritation melting away, replaced by a quiet acceptance. His eyes fluttered closed, a silent permission granted. Minho then retrieved the thermometer, its cold metal a familiar tool in his repertoire of care. Placing it under Seo-Jun's arm, he began to wait. As the seconds ticked by, he used the damp towel to gently wipe Seo-Jun's arms and neck, each stroke a silent offering of comfort. The thermometer beeped, its digital display revealing the extent of the fever.
"39°C (102,5°F)… No wonder you were acting so strange. You probably had a fever in the car too..." he murmured, the words laced with a mixture of concern and understanding. His gaze lingered on Seo-Jun, who remained with his eyes closed, though the subtle rise and fall of his chest indicated he was not yet asleep.
A decision formed in Minho's mind, and he began to unbutton Seo-Jun's t-shirt, the fabric a barrier to comfort. "I gave him medicine, he drank some water, and I wiped his arms and neck with a cold towel... what more can I do for him?" he thought, his brow furrowed with worry. His gaze drifted to the tray, the untouched snack a silent reminder of the needs that still remained. "Sir, do you want to eat something?" he asked, his voice a gentle offering.
A frown was his only answer. "No. I want to sleep." Seo-Jun murmured, his voice barely audible, the weight of exhaustion pulling him under.
Minho rose from the bedside, a polite farewell on his lips. "Oh, yes. Try to get some sleep! I will leave you to rest." But Seo-Jun's grip, a desperate plea in the silent language of touch, stayed his departure. Turning back, Minho was met with a visage of raw vulnerability. Worry etched deep lines around Seo-Jun's eyes, sweat beading on his forehead, a silent testament to the battle raging within. Their eyes met, and in that shared gaze, a torrent of unspoken emotions flowed. "Wait... don't leave me... Lily... stay..." the words a mere whisper, yet they echoed in the sudden stillness of the room.
Confusion warred with concern in Minho's eyes. "Lily?" he questioned, the name a foreign echo in the charged atmosphere. The implications struck him then, a chilling realisation. "He has a fever, he thinks I'm Lily... Should I wake her?" His gaze flickered towards the door, a fleeting consideration of the disruption. But Seo-Jun's hand remained tightened around his hand.
A decision crystallised in Minho's mind. "No, I will worry her too much. I will take care of him." With a resolute sigh, he settled back onto the bed, his voice a calming balm in the tense silence. "Sir, I am not Lily."
Seo-Jun, lost in his fever dream, clung to Minho's hand, the name a constant murmur on his lips. Pity, a tender emotion, softened Minho's features as he reached out, his fingers brushing against Seo-Jun's brow. "The medicine should kick in any minute now. You should feel better soon." A gentle caress followed, his hand carding through Seo-Jun's hair.
The tension in Seo-Jun's body began to ease, his frown softening as his eyes fluttered open, locking with Minho's. In a sudden, decisive move, he reached out, pulling Minho into his embrace, the world tilting as they fell back onto the bed, a silent promise of comfort exchanged in the close confines of their shared space.
The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting long shadows that danced with the feverish haze surrounding Seo-Jun. His voice, usually a steady baritone, was now a fragile whisper, barely audible above the rhythmic rise and fall of his laboured breathing. "Sleep next to me tonight." he murmured, his words a plea as he clung to Minho, the fabric of his shirt crinkling with the force of the embrace. Minho felt the warmth radiating from Seo-Jun's body, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in his own limbs. A blush crept up his neck, a betraying sign of the turmoil within.
He could feel Seo-Jun's grip tighten, a silent demand that left little room for refusal. He knew Seo-Jun was vulnerable, his usually sharp features softened by illness. He found himself agreeing, a simple "O-okay" escaping his lips, the sound swallowed by the quiet room. But as he settled in, a storm of thoughts raged within him. The intimacy of the request and the lack of any further instructions sent a jolt of confusion through him. "Does he really order me to sleep next to him without doing anything? He must be really sick..."
With a sigh, Minho closed his eyes, the scent of Seo-Jun's scent filling the space. The world began to fade, the feverish touch of Seo-Jun's body against his back a final, grounding sensation. They drifted off together, two souls intertwined in the shared space, the silence broken only by the soft sounds of their breathing. The night held its breath, a silent witness to the unspoken feelings that lingered in the space between them.