Chapter 86: Fevered Dreams

I shook my head to dispel the thoughts and carefully stepped inside.

Entering uninvited, unsure if the owner was home, made me incredibly tense.

‘Should’ve come when he told me to. I feel like a thief.’

The unfamiliar, spacious interior was spotless.

So clean it felt overly like a model home, doubtful anyone lived there.

Through panoramic windows, afternoon golden sunlight poured into the living room, illuminating the sofa, table, and TV.

But that was it.

Dust gathered on the TV, no indent on the sofa.

I cautiously checked the kitchen.

It was excessively clean too.

No common plants or even fake flowers.

‘Does anyone actually live here?’

The meticulously maintained walk-in closet at least indicated occupancy.

The study showed the most use.

Books neatly organized, a large laptop visible.

Very Choi Doyoon.

Touring the house alone without the owner, I hesitated long before the innermost door, which seemed like a bedroom.

If he’s not here, I can just leave quietly.

If he is… it’d be embarrassing, but I’d brazenly say, ‘You kept telling me to come, so here I am.’

I nodded once and opened the door.

Doyoon’s bedroom was pitch dark.

Time felt disconnected from outside.

In the blackout-curtained room, quiet breathing of someone lying down echoed.

Approaching, I saw Doyoon lying with a flushed face, sweating.

Shocked, I placed my cold hand on his forehead.

It burned like fire.

“Hey…. Hey, you okay?”

I gently shook his shoulder.

But Doyoon only groaned, eyes shut.

Looking around, a water cup and medicine packet were there.

He’d taken meds, thankfully.

‘Not a fracture, right?’

Worried, I peeked under the blanket—no casts on arms or legs.

I quickly shed my coat, ran to the bathroom, soaked a towel in cold water.

Dragging a chair, I sat beside him.

Starting from his forehead, I dabbed lightly behind his neck.

He made pained sounds, mumbled in his sleep.

Seemed to drift in and out.

Then suddenly, he opened hazy eyes.

In a cracked voice, he said.

“Hyung…?”

“Uh-huh?”

“How did you get into my place?”

“……”

Straight to the point.

I’d planned to joke, ‘You kept inviting, so I graced you with my presence,’ but seeing him delirious from fever, no jest came.

Especially since his door password… was my birthday.

It silenced me more.

Doyoon mumbled again.

“…A dream?”

“Yeah.”

I blurted agreement and stood.

The towel warmed quickly; needed re-soaking.

But as I turned to leave, Doyoon grabbed me hard.

Then commanded.

“Then don’t go.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t go…. It’s my dream. Stay here.”

He closed his eyes, passing out again.

His grip on my wrist loosened slowly.

I stood frozen for a while, then jolted like waking from a dream and bolted out of the bedroom.

Wringing the towel, I saw my face flushed in the mirror.

Brief time with Doyoon, yet the heat transferred.

I cautiously returned to his bedside.

Placed the cooled towel on his forehead again.

Luckily, he’d fallen asleep.

He shifted with a groan, breathing easier.

The room filled with soft snores.

Feeling pity, I murmured.

“Don’t be sick.”

Doyoon slowly opened his eyes again.

Light sleeper, really.

I vowed never to speak aloud near him.

But he suddenly grabbed my wrist and said.

“…Hug me a bit.”

I froze momentarily.

His expression looked distantly wistful.

‘Still thinks it’s a dream?’

He gazed at me, eyes near tears.

“Hug me….”

His eyes unfocused.

Suddenly, over adult Doyoon’s face superimposed the child who cried remembering his late mother.

A vivid memory bloomed: hugging young Doyoon, blanket and all, patting him as he sobbed turned away.

After brief hesitation, I lifted the blanket slightly and lay quietly beside him.

Doyoon rolled toward me as if waiting.

More precisely, he didn’t roll—I was forcibly pulled into his arms.

He used to fit snugly in my embrace as a cute high schooler, but now Choi Doyoon was too big.

Worse, he hugged me like a plush toy, slung one leg over my waist, pinning me.

I squirmed.

“Hey…. Heavy.”

But Doyoon didn’t budge.

It was heavy, and a bit hot.

His sweat-soaked body burned feverishly.

Bad cold, apparently.

No rain lately, good weather—why was the kid like this?

Then Doyoon suddenly squeezed me breathless, eyes closed, murmuring.

“Cool.”

“……”

I lay with him out of pity, and he treats me like a body pillow.

Annoyed, I barely lifted a hand to remove the warmed towel from his forehead, gently fingering sweat-damp bangs aside.

He mumbled.

“…This dream is too good. You always run away.”

His words paused my hand.

A slight grudge rose.

‘Who are you thinking of?’

But then.

His arms tight around me, hand slid to my waist, suddenly slipping under my shirt, stroking bare back upward.

Sudden skin contact made me shudder.

Doyoon’s palm blazed too.

Like seeking coolness, his large hand swept my back repeatedly.

Truly panicked, I twisted.

“Hey, hey. Choi Doyoon, you…”

But he pulled me tighter into his chest.

Then pressed his lips to mine.

“……?!”

No time to process.

Hot, dry lips touched mine—then wet ones licked.

Doyoon traced my lower lip with his tongue!

Heat from soft flesh terrifyingly intense.

I learned then: extreme panic freezes you.

Doyoon hugged the statue-still me closer.

Frustrated I wouldn’t part lips, he nipped my lower one lightly.

“Uht.”

A small moan escaped—the moment his tongue slipped inside.

My mind went blank white.

Tongue tips touching sent dizzying sensation.

I’d have collapsed if standing.

I tried pushing him off, escaping the bed—but his thick, pillar-like arms locked me immobile.

Suspicious he’d planned this from the start.

Worse, my thin t-shirt rolled up to my chest.

His hand moved from back to front.

My face burned crimson.

‘Snap out of it!’

But I couldn’t shout.

Doyoon’s tongue delved, lazily ravaging every corner.

This… this lewd kiss was my first.

Choi Doyoon was too good.

Even his unfocused eyes made it more obscene.

When I resisted, he gripped my nape with one hand, immobilizing me.

My desperate struggles seemed like an ant flicking him—mere annoyance.

Physically and mentally overwhelmed, I stopped resisting.

Each tongue movement fluttered a thousand butterflies in my chest.

I focused intensely to keep eyes open, hair standing on end.

But my face just reddened like boiled octopus.

Finally, the slightly more lucid me squeezed eyes shut.

He hummed pleased, low laugh rumbling.

Interpreted it as surrender.

‘You’re awake, aren’t you?!’

Doyoon’s persistent kiss continued.

Unclear if this was the goal or prelude to more.

Either way, trouble.

He acted like devouring me whole, moving as if conquering my entirety.