Inseong wakes up to a searing headache and an aching throat, but he doesn't notice the wave of nausea until he sits up and nearly throws up over the side of his bed. Outside it pours, once again, and the traffic coming and going from the dorms is heavy. He stumbles slowly over to his windows, drawing the curtains shut roughly. "Fuck..."
His phone beeps from somewhere across the room, and he spins clumsily to notice it wrapped in his jeans from the night before, peeking out from the pocket. It takes him three minutes to grab it, climb back into bed, and actually open it up, groaning the whole time.
TAETAE:
Heyyyy!!! >:) Can I expect u tonight or should I find some1 else?
No pressure
Love u
TAETAE:
Hey, are u ok?
Didn't see u today in class
It's late...
TAETAE:
I'm worried, you're always up by 3.
What's going on?
Are you sick?
Text me back!!!
Inseong checks the time, blinking in shock, because it's the only reaction he can have without either throwing up or crying out in pain, when he realizes it's six. He'd slept for almost a whole day?
ME:
Hi
It takes two seconds for Taeyang to start typing, and Inseong knows he's in for it.
TAETAE:
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WIT HYOU
FUCK YOU
I WAS SO
WORRIED!
EVEN JUHO WAS WORRIED
THAT MAN IS FUCKING STOIC
YOU KNOW WHO ELSE IS WORRIED?
SANGHYUK
I DON'T KNOW WHY BUT HE'S FUCKING.
MID PANIC
WHERE ARE YOU
IT IS SIX PM
ME:
Youre so ldoud pls
i'm Sickd
sickd
sicj
Sik
sick
.
I am sicl.
Oh my God.
TAETAE:
oh baby im sorry :( go back to bed, don't worry
i'll stop by tomorrow morning to check on you
i'll bring food and medicine!
go get some rest, don't even respond to these, i know u read them
He doesn't need to tell Inseong twice, as he throws his phone to the other side of the bed instantly and curls up underneath the blankets. The rain patters angrily against the window, echoing through the room. And, though the space is cold, Inseong still continually needs to wipe a sheen of sweat off of his cheeks and forehead.
Drifting in and out of sleep for what seems like hours, Inseong can only tell that time is passing by the room getting darker and darker. Soon it's pitch black and the storm outside is still raging. It's harder now, thunder clapping and lightning flaring every so often to accompany the rain.
Though he wants to wake up, he can't bring himself to, and once again drifts into sleep. It continues on for, once again, likely hours, but he can't tell anymore. Every time he's awake blends together until he isn't sure if he's really slept at all, unsure of if he'd been spacing out the entire time. Though, he vaguely remembers having a fever dream, so he's guessing that he's slept.
And, once again, he falls into a deep sleep.
He's unaware when his front door cracks open and somebody steps inside.
★・・・・・・★
Inseong wakes up to the feeling of cold water dripping down his neck. At first, he thinks it's sweat, until he reaches up and feels a soft washcloth clinging to his forehead. He sits up, looking quickly around the room.
His lights have been turned on in the hallway, illuminating everything with a soft, orange glow. Especially the boy asleep with his arms crossed over his head, leaning onto the bed next to the shocked brunette. "Sanghyuk?"
Inseong's voice comes out scratchy and rough, and he winces after it sends an awful shock through his dry throat. The blonde shoots up immediately, panicked until he sets eyes on Inseong. Almost as if he was afraid of losing him, he brings a hand forward and presses it to his arm. "Hey." His voice, groggy and worried, sends a chill down the other's spine. He yawns.
"Why... Are you here?"
His voice cracks on almost each word, but Sanghyuk, though he would love to laugh at it, instead only sits forward and peels the cloth away, which has somehow stuck to his face. He presses his knuckle against Inseong's forehead, then his cheeks, frowning. "Doesn't matter. You're burning up. Here, lay back down."
Really, Inseong wants to ask three important questions to the concerned blonde. One wasn't even a question, but he still wanted to say it.
1. How did you get into my apartment?
2. Why do you care?
3. Fuck off.
But, since everything he said made him jolt with pain and threatened nausea, he would stick with a stern glare as he settled back down.
"Okay," Sanghyuk nods, standing up from the chair he'd dragged in from the kitchen a room over. "You'll be okay."
He seems to be assuring himself, really, and that only sends Inseong into a flurry of panic. Why wouldn't he be okay? This was just a cold.
The blonde turns to leave, looking over his shoulder. "I'm just going to wet this," he waves the rag, "then bring you a bowl in case you throw up. Are you hungry? Probably not, right? If you are I can still make something. Are you?"
Inseong barely registers himself shaking his head before he stops himself, angry that he was going along with the other playing doctor so easily. When Sanghyuk leaves, he snatches his phone from where he'd tossed it earlier.
SANGHYUK (MUTED): MISSED CALL (4)
SANGHYUK (MUTED): TEXT MESSAGE (16)
SANGHYUK (MUTED): MISSED CALL (18)
SANGHYUK (MUTED): PICTURE MESSAGE (2)
SANGHYUK (MUTED): AUDIO MESSAGE (8)
Damn, a bitch was needy.
Speaking of being needy, when was Sanghyuk coming back? He was hungry. He wanted soup.
He lays back, setting his phone down on the pillows beside him. The rain outside was quiet, muted against the background noise of the apartment complex. Which, wasn't much to begin with, it was mostly just the faint sound of somebody vaccuuming upstairs, music playing from downstairs, and the elevator dinging every so often down the hall.
Sanghyuk comes barrelling back into the room, calming only after making eye contact with the other. "Oh, thank God. Here." What, was Inseong just supposed to get up and run for the hills? Why was Sanghyuk so worried?
He drops the cloth back onto his forehead, setting a bowl down beside the bed. "In case you throw up."
"Y'said that." He mumbles, reaching for the water bottle Sanghyuk holds just almost out of his reach. He gladly hands it over. After taking a slow sip of it, he decides he should be able to speak without it hurting so much. "Can you make soup?"
The response is instant, but it definitely isn't as condescending as Inseong expected from him. "Of course!"
After a short pause, he grabs a stray blanket from the end of the bed. "But, just to make me feel better, come with me. Just lay on the couch, I want to keep an eye on you."
Inseong refuses by turning over onto his side, tangling himself up in his sheets. The washcloth falls off and he groans, slapping it back over his face like a mask. Sanghyuk huffs in annoyance.
"Are you kidding me?"
Inseong yanks the comforter over his head, blocking out the other's voice. He yelps when he feels himself being picked up, and cringes when the blankets fall to the ground.
"Put me right down before I-" a bout of coughs shuts him up. Sanghyuk sighs, reaching down to grab the bowl with one hand while the other pins the brunette against his chest.
"You weigh like three pounds. I could bench you." Sanghyuk tries to make light of the situation.
Inseong still hasn't stopped coughing, and Sanghyuk is damn lucky because he would have started in on him. He is shocked, though, when the other carries him out of the room and drops him onto the couch in his living room, setting the bowl next to him and the blanket on his lap. "Stay here."
"Where else could I go?"
He shrugs, striding across the room to the connected kitchen. The apartment was small, three rooms in total. A combined living space and kitchen, a bathroom, and Inseong's bedroom. It was enough for him. He never liked extravagant things.
Leaning back against the couch, Inseong watches Sanghyuk with hooded eyes. He's exhausted, but he wouldn't trust the other with him being the only one awake as he cooked. He would burn his whole building down.
"Oh," Sanghyuk pipes up, flicking on the stove as he dumps the contents of a soup can into Inseong's one pan that he'd gotten from Youngbin as a housewarming gift. Which was indeed a frying pan, but Sanghyuk wasn't a quitter. "I got you medicine."
"I'm not taking it."
He spins on his heel, glaring at the sick boy. "You can and you will."
Inseong shakes his head, feels a wave of nausea bubble up inside himself, and lays down on his side to steel himself. "I'm alright."
"You should take it to feel better," he deadpans, finding a spoon. "It's cough syrup. It won't kill you."
"No way, thanks," Inseong hisses, pulling his blanket up over his mouth when Sanghyuk turns around to look at him. Really, he wouldn't take this even if Sanghyuk wasn't the one trying to give it to him; not because he didn't want his help with anything other than the soup, but because he hated the medicine. And, maybe because he still hated Sanghyuk a bit. Or, did he still hate him? He's still deciding. Either way, Sanghyuk is on thin ice and Inseong is too sick to stop himself.
Sanghyuk walks over to him and crouches down, frowning. "We've done this before."
"So?"
He remembers clearly what Sanghyuk is talking about. He can also clearly hear the warning in the other's tone. Is it bad that he wants him to repeat history just this once?
Probably.
"Open your mouth," Sanghyuk mutters, making Inseong shake his head aggressively. "Okay, so we are doing this again, just to clarify?"
The brunette watches carefully as Sanghyuk pours the medicine into the spoon, keeping it far enough away so he can't smack it out of his hand. "I'd like to see you try."
Sanghyuk scoffs. "Open your mouth, Inseong. Either you take this like a big boy or I force you to."
Still speaking from behind the blanket, the brunette lifts the cloth to hide his blush. "Is it weird I-" he's cut off by his own coughing and he sits up, only to double over and continue gasping for air against his upraised knees. Sanghyuk takes the time the other is distracted to shove the spoon between his own lips. Was this plan awful? Yes. Was he still going to go through with it? Oh, absolutely.
When Inseong leans back finally, breathing raggedly, he's not prepared for the blonde to force him gently back against the couch. He hisses when Sanghyuk hits him with the spoon, but finds himself grinning nonetheless. "You're doing this again?"
Sanghyuk chokes on the medicine, driving the other further back until he's still. He wants to answer, but he's unable to with a full mouth. And he's not about to swallow it, waste it, or spit it out, so he does the only logical thing to do, in his opinion, and hooks his lips onto the other's, biting his lower lip to get him to part them. He pulls away after a moment, cringing.
Inseong looks away, setting his jaw as he swallows hesitantly, glaring at the other. "You're going to get sick now."
Sanghyuk's gaze seems clouded over with thought. "Maybe."
Inseong watches him leave to go back to the kitchen, laying back on his side again. Sanghyuk works over the counter for a moment, pouring the soup into a bowl before grabbing yet another spoon, taking his time to walk back over to the couch.
"Are you alright?" The brunette hums, noticing the fog hadn't cleared from Sanghyuk's eyes.
"I think I still..." Sanghyuk trails off. Inseong reaches out to take the bowl from him, but gasps and rips his hands away, putting them against his chest. He closes his eyes, holding his breath.
After a moment, he cracks open his eyes, his grip loosening on his shirt as he takes another breath in. "You still what?" Inseong murmurs, exhaustion seeping into his voice.
Sanghyuk waves off the question, too focused on finding the rag he'd been using on Inseong's forehead, which had gone MIA in the other's blankets. When he finds it, he hurries to the kitchen to soak it again, wringing it out quickly.
Inseong lets him place the washcloth on his forehead, reaching up to grab his hand. "Answer me, you still what?" His voice cracks.
Sanghyuk scoffs, kneeling down to press his free palm against the other's cheek, twisting his hand after to use his knuckle. "I still care about you."
Inseong nods, closing his eyes. Sanghyuk tries to pull his hand away, but Inseong holds it firmly. "I'm sorry."
"Why are you apologizing? I caused this," Sanghyuk murmurs guiltily. "I kept you guys out, I was the one who wouldn't let you go home to rest." He stops, takes a shaky breath, and finishes. "I was the one who fucked us up."
Inseong cracks an eye open, but even that's too much effort and he shuts it again. "Yeah, but..." He shrugs, sighing. "I can tell you're sorry."
"That still-"
"Just shut up and come here." Inseong frowns, sliding over further on the couch. Sanghyuk isn't sure if it's the fever talking, so he just leans against the seat, letting the other hold his hand. "You're an idiot. I think I still care about you too."
The blonde shakes his head, frowning. "You should rest."
★・・・・・・★
"Ah, shit..."
Juho finds himself locked outside of his dorm that evening, shivering from the cold air in the hallway. Youngbin had said he was going to be out tonight, why hadn't he remembered to grab his keys?
"Hey, stranger."
Juho freezes at the voice behind him, wincing. 'Damn it', he thinks as he turns, a worried smile growing on his face. "Taeyang, hey!"
The blonde grins, grocery bags piled high in his arms. "What's up?" He nods to the door. "Are you locked out or something?"
Juho laughs, "actually, yeah."
"Oh, no, that sucks," Taeyang hums, readjusting his grip on his groceries. "Is Youngbin coming home soon?"
Juho shakes his head, sighing. "Nah, he's off campus. I can probably just find Jaeyoon or something, it's not a big...-"
"-You can come back to my place, if you want," Taeyang offers, and Juho widens his eyes.
Dragging his bottom lip between his teeth, he assesses the situation and reviews his options. One, he could wait outside in the cold for the night, or, with option two, he could go back to Taeyang's dorm and suffer for the night. He'd much rather stick with option one, but being somewhere warm seems much more appealing. "Okay," he agrees hesitantly, nodding, "okay."
The blonde leads Juho back to his room, a bounce clearly evident in his step. Juho watches, completely smitten with the other. He cards a hand through his hair, which he'd recently dyed black, drawing it back slowly. Taeyang glances back at him when they're stopped at his doorstep, cocking his head towards the room. "Can you grab the door? The key's in my pocket."
Juho blinks. The key- in his pocket? No. Not happening. He was turning around right now.
Turning around after he grabbed the key from Taeyang's pocket, held awkward eye contact with him as he fished for it, and slowly unlocked the door and stepped inside.
"Thanks," Taeyang grins, going to the kitchen to set everything down. "So, what have you been up to recently?"
Juho looks around, lips parted in bewilderment. The dorm was immaculate, practically shimmering with how clean it was. "Uh, nothing really," he confesses, slowly following Taeyang to the kitchen, "projects, essays, you know? College shit."
"I get that." Taeyang murmurs, putting away everything in the bags. "Did you eat tonight?"
"Yeah," Juho mumbles, leaning against the wall, "I did a little while ago."
Juho figures now is the time. There is no time like the present, and his confidence is slowly draining, so this was the highest it would be for a long time to come. He grabs Taeyang's wrist as he goes to put away a carton of milk, cheeks reddening. "I, uh..."
Taeyang smiles at him, glowing like the sun. "Do you want to put the milk away or something?"
"No." Juho deadpans, and Taeyang's expression falls, darkening. "I mean, I would, but I'm lactose intolerant."
Taeyang gapes. "Oh, really? I had no idea!"
"I..." Juho has failed. He has ruined his only chance to get with the man of his dreams because he lied about being lactose intolerant. "Yeah... It's severe."
They stare at each other for a moment. Taeyang just doesn't have the heart to tell the other to let go of him. He must have been having a horrible time, being lactose intolerant and all. He was so strong.
"I'm not lactose intolerant," Juho admits, looking at the floor shamefully. Taeyang grows increasingly more confused. "Sorry, I don't know why I said that I was."
"Please let go of my wrist."
"I'm terribly sorry."
Taeyang continues to put his groceries away, and Juho stands next to him awkwardly, not knowing what he should do to alleviate the tension in the room.
"I'm in love with you!" He blurts, before stomping his foot and cursing himself. "Oh, you stupid fuck."
Taeyang has gone stiff from where he currently stands, hunched over a brown bag with a glass bottle of vinegar in his hands. "You what?"
"I what? I'm gonna leave."
"No, you're not."
Taeyang drops the bottle, hears it crack and shatter on the floor, and feels the liquid seep out over his foot. He grabs the other's forearm, bringing himself up to standing. "I like you too."
Juho swallows thickly and turns away in embarrassment. "You don't."
"I do!"
Taeyang smiles, then laughs, and soon there's tears in his eyes from how hard he's laughing, doubling over himself. "I do!" He insists, looking at the spill on the floor underneath him. "Oh my God, we're such fucking messes!"
Juho finds himself laughing as well, crouching down as he puts his hands over his eyes, shoulders lunging with each bout of laughs he lets out. "What the fuck is wrong with us?"
★・・・・・・★
Inseong wakes up an hour later to the feeling of his own bed underneath him once again. He cuddles into his comforter, feeling a bit better than he did earlier. Though, he finds himself alone.
Sanghyuk isn't beside the bed, he's not in the bed, and he's not even anywhere in the room that Inseong can see from around him. He calls out to him, expecting an answer, and gets nothing.
The brunette reaches for his phone, head aching with the exertion of just sitting up to do so, but he does nonetheless, frowning when he sees that he has no messages. He slips out of bed and stumbles to his doorway, peeking out to look into the living room.
He can make out Sanghyuk's form underneath a blanket on the couch, and immediately grabs his own and goes to him. The couch could barely fit one person, let alone an adult man, but Inseong was no quitter. He shoves Sanghyuk back, startling him awake as he climbs onto the sofa besides him.
"Hi?" The blonde whispers groggily, not hesitating to raise his arms so the other can slip underneath them. Inseong is floored that the two of them have become so domestic towards each other in the past few hours, but he doesn't necessarily mind it. He's grateful for the other's attention, and he wonders if Sanghyuk feels the same way. "What's wrong?"
"Lonely," Inseong puts it simply. So simply, in fact, that it takes Sanghyuk a whole minute to realize what he said. At that point, the both of them are settled on the couch together, the brunette practically slipping off from the lack of space. Sanghyuk pulls him further towards himself, keeping an arm around his waist to anchor him to himself and the furniture.
Inseong turns towards Sanghyuk and rests his head on the other's chest, sighing. Sanghyuk stills, closing his eyes.
"Do you really still care?"
Inseong's question hangs unanswered for a moment, before Sanghyuk huffs, resting his head on top of the other's. "Of course I still do."
Inseong nods against him, closing his eyes. He begins falling asleep in the other's arms.
"I do, too."