For a moment, they simply stood there, looking at each other.
Jihoon's question hung in the air, but the man made no move to answer. Instead, he shifted his weight onto the doorframe, his posture slouched as if standing for too long was exhausting.
His clothes were rumpled, the fabric slightly askew, as though he had just rolled out of bed.
Isthis why he doesn't come out during the day? Because he's always sleeping?
But something about Ryul's appearance seemed off. His complexion was sickly, and his piercing gaze was dulled with fatigue. His eyelids drooped subtly, his breath slow and labored.
Jihoon's eyes flickered toward the damp strands of hair sticking to Ryul's forehead, beads of sweat trailing down his temples.
"It's nothing," Ryul finally muttered, his voice rough around the edges. He crossed his arms and peered through the dark strands of hair partially covering his face before clearing his throat and continuing. "I've just been feeling lethargic because of the changing weather."
He waved a dismissive hand, clearly wanting to brush the topic aside. Without giving Jihoon a chance to question him further, he shifted the conversation.
"So? What brings you here?"
"Oh, right. About that…" Jihoon glanced down at the tiffin box in his hands, remembering why he had come in the first place. Lifting it towards the man, he offered a sheepish smile.
"I made a lot of food today and thought I'd share some with you. And, uh… also as a thank-you… for always helping me."
Ryul's brows lifted slightly as his tired gaze settled on Jihoon. "It's not like I did much," he muttered, but he still reached out and took the container. The warmth seeped into his palms immediately. He could tell the food was fresh, but with his sense of smell dulled from the cold, he couldn't tell what the dish was.
An awkward silence stretched between them, as it often did. Jihoon shifted his weight subtly, unsure of what else to say, before offering a small, polite bow.
Ryul paused for a moment before dipping his head in return.
"Alright then, be careful on your way back."
He turned to step inside, his free hand gripping the door, ready to close it. But just as it began to swing shut, it stopped mid-motion, meeting unexpected resistance.
Ryul blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His grip loosened as he turned to see what had stopped it.
Wedged neatly between the frame and the threshold was a white sneaker, firmly blocking the doorway.
His gaze trailed up to its owner, only to meet Jihoon's eyes–bright yet tinged with concern.
"Ajeossi…" Jihoon stalled for a moment before speaking again, his voice much softer. "You don't look well. Have you taken any medicine?"
Ryul felt an odd sense of reluctance settle in his chest, his fingers tightening slightly around the doorknob as if debating whether to push the door shut.
"Later," he started, but then, perhaps realizing how unconvincing that sounded, he quickly corrected himself. "I've already taken it."
Jihoon's brow arched, his skepticism evident.
"Ajeossi, you shouldn't lie like that to someone younger. It sets a bad example." His tone was light, teasing, but his concern remained.
Then, his expression softened, his voice turning more earnest. "Eat something warm and take proper medicine. I promise you'll feel better by tonight. I guarantee it." He placed a hand over his chest, tapping lightly as if to emphasize his confidence.
Ryul remained quiet, simply observing him. But his vision felt off, and the cold sweat rolling down his skin only made him feel worse. He wasn't sure if he was freezing or burning up—just that his body felt unbearably heavy.
"Right, I'll do that." His response was nonchalant, but the impatience in his tone didn't go unnoticed. It was clear he wanted nothing more than to close the door and collapse into bed.
Jihoon frowned slightly. "Will you be able to cook in this state?"
"Yeah," Ryul replied, but the lack of conviction in his voice made Jihoon sigh.
Seeing that Ryul wouldn't back down easily, Jihoon chewed on his lip in thought.
If he left now, it was obvious that the man wasn't in a position to take care of himself. As they spoke, Jihoon could see how Ryul swayed slightly, as if struggling to keep his balance.
"Then… can I come in? I'll cook something proper for you." Jihoon suggested, careful not to sound too forceful, as if afraid the other man would immediately reject the offer.
Ryul exhaled quietly, his grip still resting on the doorknob. "That's unnecessary," he said in a calm but firm voice. "I don't want to trouble you over something so minor."
Jihoon frowned slightly. "It's not trouble," he countered. "It's okay to let someone help when you're not feeling well… or is it because you don't trust me enough to be let in?"
"It's not that serious," Ryul muttered.
Though he was trying to appear fine, the fatigue pressing down on him was obvious.
"I promise I'm a good person," Jihoon pleaded, offering a reassuring smile. "I'll just cook and go."
A quiet scoff escaped the man's lips. "Usually… a good person doesn't feel the need to announce it," he murmured, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his lips.
Jihoon placed a hand over his chest as if making a solemn oath. "I really am! I swear, I won't touch anything besides the kitchen." He even added a small, serious nod, hoping to look as trustworthy as possible.
Ryul sighed, his tired eyes scanning the younger man in front of him. Exhaustion was catching up to him, weighing him down, making it harder to argue.
He was still reluctant, but the quiet persistence in Jihoon's presence made it difficult to turn him away.
"There isn't much in the kitchen to begin with," Ryul finally muttered.
Jihoon's face brightened a little. "Then I'll just work with whatever's there."
Ryul let out another slow breath, and after a moment of quiet deliberation, he stepped back, opening the door wider. "Alright… come in."
With a satisfied smile, Jihoon stepped inside, following the tall figure into the apartment.
He was glad he had managed to convince him. At the very least, this was something he could do, especially since he had always been on the receiving end of Ryul's help.
As the door clicked shut behind them, the hallway returned to its usual silence, as if their brief exchange had never happened.