Jihoon carefully arranged the tray, ensuring everything was in place and making it look as inviting as possible. The rich aroma of creamy porridge wafted up, carrying a warmth that contrasted with the chilly stillness of the apartment. Beside it, a silver spoon rested neatly on the tray, accompanied by a warm glass of water, ready to soothe a dry throat.
Balancing the tray in his hands, he quietly stepped into the unfamiliar bedroom, mindful not to make any noise. His eyes swept across the space, noting how vastly different it felt from the rest of the apartment. The room was immaculately clean, almost bare aside from a bed and a bedside table. The only real sign of character came from the bookshelves lining the walls, packed with neatly arranged volumes.
So he's the type to bury himself in books rather than go outside, Jihoon thought.
The curtains were drawn shut, blocking out most of the daylight and enveloping the room in a muted glow. If Jihoon hadn't known better, he would have assumed it was already late evening rather than a bright afternoon.
His gaze fell on Ryul's restless figure. The man lay sprawled on the bed, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. Every so often, his brows twitched, and a low gasp escaped his lips. It seemed like he couldn't escape the fever's grip even in his sleep.
His damp hair clung to his forehead, strands sticking to his skin from the thin sheen of sweat coating his face.
Setting the tray down on the bedside table, Jihoon took a moment to study him more. The fever had drained all color from Ryul's lips, leaving them pale and slightly parted as he breathed through them. His usual relaxed demeanor had been stripped away, leaving him vulnerable in a way Jihoon hadn't seen before.
For the first time, Jihoon got a proper look at his face. With his hair brushed aside, the burn scars were more visible, tracing a rough path along his temple and down his cheek. The rough texture of the skin stood out, a reminder of whatever past had led to this moment. Jihoon found himself staring longer than he intended.
Itdoesn'tlookasbadasIthough…butyoucantellitmusthavebeenpainful.
Pushing aside the unspoken weight in his chest, Jihoon reached out and nudged the man gently. His fingers barely brushed against Ryul's hand, but even that was enough to feel the alarming heat radiating from his skin.
Jihoon's brows knitted together in concern.
Though somewhat conscious, Ryul kept his eyes shut, likely too drained to bother opening them.
Leaning down slightly, Jihoon spoke in a soft voice.
"Ajeossi… why don't you eat a little? You need to take your medicine."
Jihoon muttered softly, his voice carrying just enough warmth to stir the fevered man from his dazed state. Ryul's eyelids fluttered weakly before he slowly opened them, his vision swimming with unfocused shapes.
Everything appeared distorted and blurry, as if the world refused to settle into place. Even Jihoon, standing close by, seemed to split into shifting figures in his hazy sight.
Noticing his struggle, Jihoon instinctively moved forward, steadying him with a careful grip.
"Here, let me—"
He trailed off as he gently guided Ryul into a more upright position. Sliding an arm behind him, Jihoon adjusted the pillow against the headboard, ensuring it provided enough support.
However, the process wasn't entirely smooth.
Ryul's fever-weakened body still carried noticeable weight, and Jihoon had to shift awkwardly to keep him from slipping back down.
As he repositioned the pillow, he felt Ryul's slow, heated breaths against his shoulder, sending an unexpected shiver down his spine.
Once Ryul was properly propped up, Jihoon quickly pulled back, retreating from the feverish warmth. Without a word, he left the room, only to return moments later carrying a small foldable table.
"This one's new," he murmured, feeling the need to explain, though it wasn't necessary.
Ryul didn't respond. His gaze barely settled on the table, his energy too drained for conversation.
Jihoon placed the table over the bed, adjusting it carefully before setting the steaming bowl of porridge on top. He made sure everything was stable before stepping back, giving Ryul space.
The man simply stared at the food, lost in thought.
"What's wrong? No energy?" Jihoon faltered before offering, "I can feed yo—"
"No need for that," Ryul rasped, cutting him off before he could finish.
Jihoon blinked, then nodded.
"…Alright."
He stood quietly as Ryul sluggishly lifted the spoon, his movements slow and clumsy. As he took the first bite, the warmth of the porridge seemed to settle against the fever's grip.
Jihoon had been prepared to urge the man to eat more if he stopped halfway, but it turned out to be an unnecessary worry. Despite his grogginess, Ryul was gradually finishing the porridge on his own.
Still, Jihoon couldn't help but think that this portion seemed smaller than what he'd normally eat.
'Wel, he'samuchbiggerguythanme.Idoubtheeatslikemyscrawnyself.'
Jihoon sympathized with the man. Being sick was always a miserable experience—it made you appreciate the times when you were healthy. But given how fit Ryul was, he'd likely recover in no time.
"Thank you… I'm full," Ryul murmured.
"Oh, right." Jihoon snapped out of his thoughts and swiftly handed him the medicine along with a glass of warm water.
Ryul simply complied, swallowing the pills without a word.
As he did, Jihoon busied himself with clearing the table, carefully lifting the tray to ensure nothing spilled. Once everything was set aside, he turned back to the man.
"Ajeossi… you should rest now. When you wake up, you'll be good as new," he said with an encouraging smile, taking the empty glass from his hands.
Ryul let out a soft chuckle, though it was barely more than a breath. "I doubt that…" His voice trailed off, heavy with fatigue. After a pause, he added, "You must be tired… I appreciate the help."
"Not at all. I'm happy to help my 'dear' neighbor," Jihoon replied lightly as he adjusted the blankets over Ryul.
"My… I'm glad that I get to be your neighbor," Ryul murmured, the hint of a smile playing at his lips.
Jihoon watched as the man sank back into the mattress, his head resting against the pillow. However, the fever made the fabric feel unbearably warm rather than cool and comforting. His eyes drifted shut, and within moments, exhaustion took over, pulling him into much-needed sleep.
After observing the slow, steady rise and fall of Ryul's chest for a moment, Jihoon quietly gathered the rest of the dishes and slipped out of the room.