Haejun tilted his head out of habit, then immediately groaned at the muscle pain that flared up. “Ugh...” He fumbled around the bed and nightstand for his phone, but it wasn’t there. He must’ve dropped it in the living room last night.
He had no idea how he’d even managed to crawl back into the bedroom. That mystery could wait. For now, he braced a trembling arm against the mattress and forced himself upright. Just lifting his body while gripping the sheets made cold sweat stream down his back, his neck throbbing.
The fever had climbed all the way to his scalp, blurring his vision. He shook his head to clear it and staggered forward one step at a time. By the time his shaking hand grasped the doorknob and turned it, his entire back was soaked.
“You’re up?”
His ears must’ve been hallucinating. There was no way that voice should be heard in this house at this hour. Haejun slowly lifted his head, thinking maybe his brain had finally short-circuited.
Lee Kangjoo was sitting at the dining table.
Just like always, he looked immaculate, a paper newspaper in his hand. Judging by the steaming takeaway cup in front of him, he’d been outside and come back.
Was the fever making him see things? His grandmother used to say that when the grim reaper came for someone, it wore the face of the person they liked most. Was today his day to die?
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Or hearing.
“Why...?”
Even if this was a hallucination, he wanted to ask why he was here. But suddenly his legs gave out. He collapsed to his knees. His gaze stayed locked on Kangjoo. He wanted to see clearly, but everything looked fogged over.
“Why... are you... here...?”
You should’ve gone home.
He couldn’t finish the sentence. His body couldn’t withstand the fever anymore. He tipped forward and blacked out.
* * *
When he forced his heavy eyelids open again, a familiar cabinet came into view. The window looked wider than the bedroom’s.
The living room, maybe.
The beige curtains were drawn, and beyond them it was dim. Night? He stared for a moment.
No. Daytime, probably. There was faint light filtering through. Snowflakes drifted lazily outside the gap in the curtains, thick clouds blocking the sun.
He tried to move his arm and felt something tug. Turning his head, he saw bandages stuck messily across the back of his hand. Following the line, he spotted an IV bag hanging from the standing coat rack.
He’d been in a similar situation before.
His body felt better than when he’d been delirious enough not to tell night from day, but he had no strength whatsoever. He sank into the mattress like a deflated balloon.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
He rolled his eyes toward the sound.
He hadn’t even managed to say “Who is it?” when he heard a chair scrape back. Someone stood up. His vision was still blurry, so he narrowed his eyes.
That height. That build.
There was only one person it could be.
Before he could even question it, Lee Kangjoo opened the door. A man stood outside — familiar. Thick horn-rimmed glasses. A scar on his face.
He’d seen him at Kangjoo’s office.
Yang Seokho, right?
“I brought it. Honestly, why didn’t you just get it delivered? Using valuable manpower for this — isn’t that wasteful?”
“They don’t deliver here.”
“What about a courier?”
“Annoying.”
Kangjoo took the paper bag and checked inside, ignoring Yang Seokho’s complaints. Yang grumbled a bit longer before craning his neck like a turtle, trying to peer over Kangjoo’s shoulder.
“What are you looking at.”
Kangjoo lifted his head and blocked the doorway. Yang twisted his body, trying to get a better look inside. Kangjoo’s head tilted slightly.
“Uh... isn’t that the kid from last time?”
Yang pointed toward the bed with his index finger. Haejun hesitated — should he pretend to be asleep? Or greet him? He tried to lift his upper body, tensing his neck.
The world spun violently. Just that tiny effort made him gasp for air. Without help, he looked like he wouldn’t even manage a sip of water.
“Is this some new hobby of yours?”
“Want to cross a line?”
Kangjoo’s voice sounded exactly the same as always. Haejun could only see his back, but judging by how Yang immediately straightened up and clasped his hands behind him, the atmosphere was clear enough.
“No. I’ll get going. Let me know if you need anything.”
Yang spoke quickly and retreated just as fast.
The door shut. Kangjoo turned around. His eyes met Haejun’s, who was blinking weakly, breathing raggedly.
“Sir... why...?”
He wasn’t sure if “better” was the right word for his condition. Every time he tried to force sound out, his throat felt bone-dry. It was like scraping raw glass across his airway. He coughed, and every tremor of his body made his muscles scream.
“This is the same question you asked earlier.”
Kangjoo strode over and held out a bottle of water. But when Haejun reached for it, his arm shook pitifully.
Kangjoo clicked his tongue, sat at the head of the bed, and gathered Haejun up like a wooden doll, letting him lean against his chest. He pressed the bottle to his lips.
He tilted it, but the water just spilled down Haejun’s chin. Only then did Kangjoo gently lift his jaw.
For someone who seemed competent in every field, he was surprisingly clumsy at taking care of someone.
Haejun finally managed to swallow a few mouthfuls. The thirst eased, but the muscle pain and dizziness remained relentless.
“I thought... you left.”
“I’m not cold enough to leave someone who’s sick.”
Kangjoo tried to lay him back down, but Haejun shook his head.
He wanted to stay leaning against that chest a little longer.
“If I lie down, I’ll get dizzy.”
He was already dizzy, but he forced the excuse out. Once spoken, he realized he might feel strangely disappointed if Kangjoo pushed him away.
Fortunately, Kangjoo stayed still, serving as a backrest.
As Haejun caught his breath, he suddenly remembered why his body felt wrecked.
He lowered his gaze slightly. He wanted to check with his own eyes whether everything downstairs was intact, but the blanket and his pants blocked the view.
What if the ring had squeezed so tight it’d actually fallen off?
He couldn’t exactly shove his hand down his pants in front of Kangjoo.
After glancing sideways to make sure Kangjoo wasn’t watching too closely, he slipped a hand under the blanket and discreetly checked.
Still attached.
He let out a faint, crooked smile.
The person supporting his back so steadily was the same one who’d tormented him mercilessly. And yet the one tending to him while he was sick was also Lee Kangjoo.
“It feels like you’re giving me poison and medicine at the same time.”
At his honest comment, Kangjoo let out an incredulous laugh. The vibration traveled through his chest.
“Didn’t you start it first? Flirting with another customer right in front of me.”
“He’s not a customer, he’s just a friend...”
“Right. A potential customer.”
“He’s really not...”
Talking to a brick wall would’ve been easier. He # Nоvеlight # wanted to explain properly, but he didn’t even have the strength to move his lips. He sagged limply.
“By the way... how did the IV...”
“I called a doctor.”
“That’s possible?”
He’d only seen house-call doctors in dramas. Was that actually real? He looked up curiously, and Kangjoo nodded. Someone he knew.
“What time is it?”
“Five-thirty.”
Kangjoo answered every question patiently.
His foolish heart softened embarrassingly fast. After everything he’d gone through, a small kindness was enough to melt his resentment. The “poison” was forgotten, and the awkward nursing loomed larger instead.
Come to think of it, Kangjoo hadn’t sliced his thigh open with a knife or beaten him with his fists. What Kangjoo had done was torment, sure — but it had come with pleasure. That made it easier to swallow.
“Wait.”
Something suddenly clicked in his head. Haejun’s eyes widened, and he jerked upright.
The world swayed violently, and Kangjoo didn’t let him go.
“Delivery—! I have to go to work!”
He coughed as he shouted, turning his head to look for his phone. Even that motion made him wobble.
“With that body?”
Kangjoo tightened his grip on Haejun’s arm and forced him back down.
He wasn’t wrong. But missing work without notice was unbelievably rude. Yohan had helped him get that job. Haejun didn’t care if he got scolded himself, but he hated the thought of embarrassing Yohan.
“I need to at least call the boss...”
“I already spoke to him.”
Haejun stared at Kangjoo in shock. Kangjoo’s gaze was fixed on the back of Haejun’s hand. Because he’d moved suddenly, a bead of dark red blood had crept back up the IV line.
“I told him you’re sick and taking the day off. So lie down and rest.”
“Really?”
“What do I gain from lying about something like that?”
Nothing.
Then why?
Completely at a loss, Haejun’s mouth fell slightly open as he blinked.
