Chapter 22: Warmth That Shouldn’t Exist

The haze clouding Haesu’s mind slowly began to clear.

A loud slam echoed through the apartment, followed by hurried footsteps.

Someone had entered the house.

Realizing that, Haesu tried to push himself up from the floor, but he couldn’t.

Strength kept draining from his arms.

His upper body collapsed helplessly again.

“Don’t get up.”

A hand caught his arm as he crumpled.

The person pulled Haesu carefully against himself before immediately placing a hand against his forehead.

Then came the sound of a sharp click of the tongue.

The cold touch against his burning skin made Haesu let out a weak groan without meaning to.

“This isn’t just a mild fever.”

“…Ugh.”

“You probably got dizzy from trying to stand up too fast. You can throw up on my hand if you need to.”

His body had been forced upright despite barely being able to support itself.

His head pounded violently.

Nausea twisted deep in his stomach.

Watching him, Doyoon hurriedly stretched out his hand toward Haesu.

Thankfully, there was nothing left for him to vomit anyway.

For a long while, Doyoon kept touching Haesu’s face anxiously.

The thermometer he had rushed out to buy — assuming Haesu wouldn’t have one at home — read thirty-nine degrees.

Almost forty.

Panic settled into him immediately.

If the fever didn’t go down soon, then regardless of whether Haesu protested or not, Doyoon intended to drag him to the hospital himself.

Haesu looked like someone desperate to throw something up.

Looking down at him, Doyoon unconsciously twisted his expression in pain.

He should’ve acted like this earlier too.

He should’ve forced the issue somehow.

Even if Haesu got angry at him, he should’ve insisted on taking him home.

Not long after Haesu left earlier, the rain had started pouring down, and Doyoon could only curse himself for it now.

“Haesu. Haesu…”

He called his name several times, hoping maybe Haesu would respond.

But drunk on fever and exhaustion, Haesu seemed unable to hear his voice at all.

Doyoon held his limp body tightly and stared at his face for a long time.

Then suddenly, he remembered the medicine.

Even after running around searching for an open pharmacy, the thought had only just occurred to him now.

Cursing his own stupidity, he searched through his pockets.

And while doing so, his gaze stopped somewhere nearby.

“What the…”

Beside the bed sat a small nightstand.

It was cluttered with things Haesu kept within arm’s reach.

Glasses.

An eye mask.

Unfamiliar medicine bottles.

And beneath them, on the floor, sat an open pill bottle with the lid still hanging loose.

Doyoon couldn’t tear his eyes away from it.

The arms supporting Haesu’s body slowly began trembling.

He knew better.

Less than an hour ago, he had spoken to Haesu on the phone.

Looking at him now, Haesu wasn’t even in a condition where he could walk a short distance properly.

Doyoon knew that.

He did.

And yet—

“Haesu. Let’s take medicine first. We need to bring the fever down.”

His nose burned painfully.

His throat tightened.

Everything in this room unsettled him so badly that even his voice sounded broken.

For just one horrifying moment, Doyoon wondered if Haesu had tried to die.

Fear crashed over him immediately afterward.

He didn’t even know what kind of pills those were, yet that fear arrived first.

Tears slipped out before he could stop them.

Just this morning, Haesu had still been smiling.

Now there wasn’t even a trace of color left in his face.

As Doyoon coaxed him upright and carefully forced medicine past his lips, he swallowed his tears over and over again.

Haesu weakly pushed him away once or twice before finally swallowing the pills.

Eventually, realizing resistance was pointless, his arms dropped limply.

Doyoon carefully lifted him onto the bed.

Only after several hours did some peace slowly return to Haesu’s face.

Maybe the medicine was finally working, because the headaches tormenting him seemed to fade little by little.

The expression twisted in agony gradually relaxed.

And when it finally looked like Haesu had fallen asleep, Doyoon slowly lifted a hand toward his face.

At this same time yesterday, the two of them had been here together.

They had drunk tea.

Talked quietly.

Doyoon had hugged Haesu when he cried, then sat there watching him sleep just like this.

Yesterday, there had still been at least a tiny bit of hope.

When Haesu blankly repeated Doyoon’s words about finding happiness again, like a baby bird learning its first sounds, Doyoon had allowed himself to believe in something small.

But could everything really change this much in only a single day?

Even the smile Haesu wore this morning — the one Doyoon thought meant he was finally recovering — now felt fake.

“Don’t get sick.”

“……”

“…And don’t think about dying either.”

It all felt like his fault.

He shouldn’t have gone to that café.

He shouldn’t have dragged Haesu out so early just because he wanted to feed him something while he looked a little brighter than usual.

If they had stayed home instead — even ordered delivery — then Haesu never would’ve run into Yoon Jiwoo this morning while smiling so beautifully.

The image of Haesu bolting outside the moment he learned about Jiwoo replayed endlessly in Doyoon’s mind.

And afterward, this was the state he found him in.

Burning with fever.

Unable to recognize Doyoon properly even when awake.

Collapsed on the floor beside the bed instead of lying in it.

If he had forcefully hugged him down and calmed him earlier, would things have turned out differently now?

Even Doyoon couldn’t answer that.

“Cold…”

“Haesu?”

Wrapped up to his neck in blankets, Haesu finally spoke again.

The earlier grimace between his brows had faded, but he continued murmuring the same words repeatedly.

Cold.

I’m cold.

Words Doyoon couldn’t possibly ignore.

I can’t just watch you freeze like this.

That’s why I’m holding you now.

That’s why I’m lying here beside you.

Doyoon silently made excuses no one had asked for.

These were things he had wanted to do countless times before and always forced himself to endure instead.

“Will this help a little?”

“……”

“You won’t be cold anymore. I’m holding you too, so it’s warm.”

He wrapped both arms around Haesu’s thin waist.

Not allowing even the slightest warmth to escape between them, Doyoon held him tightly.

The face he treasured more than anything — and sometimes secretly resented — was now only inches away from him.

Close enough that even three fingers couldn’t fit between them.

He gently cradled Haesu’s sleeping face with one arm.

Resting him against his shoulder, he felt every soft breath Haesu exhaled against his body.

Ridiculously enough, it reassured him.

Those small lips kept breathing steadily.

Doyoon lowered his mouth close to Haesu’s ear.

The right ear.

The one that couldn’t hear anything.

And there, while Haesu slept, he whispered something quietly to him.

For some reason, the weekend morning felt miserable.

The conversation left unfinished the night before was not a pleasant subject at all.

Still, there were too many unanswered questions.

If Kwon Seha refused to speak first, then Yoon Jiwoo would have to.

Early that morning, Jiwoo stretched an arm across the bed and found the space beside him empty.

At the same time, he heard noises coming from outside the room.

Unless Seha was making breakfast, then he was probably in the kitchen dumping absurd amounts of cocoa powder or juice into something again.

Jiwoo climbed out of bed without even fixing the blankets.

He stood in front of the bedroom door with one hand resting on the handle, but didn’t turn it.

Why was he hesitating like this inside his own house?

Still, once he met Seha’s eyes, it felt like all the answers he wanted would finally appear — and afterward, only emotions too heavy for Jiwoo to handle would remain.

While he stood there frozen, the door suddenly opened first.

Someone had pulled it from the other side.

Of course it was Kwon Seha.

His expression didn’t look particularly good either.

Seeing Jiwoo standing there made his eyes widen slightly.

“…You’re awake?”

“Y-Yeah. Seha.”

“If you’re awake, come out. Let’s eat.”

He must have been awake for much longer than Jiwoo had.

At some point last night, they had both fallen asleep halfway through thinking.

Seha had probably done the same.

The two sat at the table silently, setting down utensils and arranging side dishes without saying much.

Seha was a good cook.

Even though he was more accustomed to ordering other people around, when it came to meals he personally ate, he usually cooked for himself.

At first, Jiwoo had found it domestic.

Careful. Thoughtful, even.

But now those thoughts had changed.

His imagination kept spiraling into stranger places.

Yesterday’s image of Haesu resurfaced again.

The seat where he sat.

The things his hands had been doing.

The plate in front of him still had plenty of food left untouched.

Enough that it looked like he had barely started eating.

But Haesu’s hands never moved again, and his blank face made it obvious he had no intention of continuing his meal.

Thinking that far, Jiwoo unconsciously connected those memories to the breakfast sitting in front of him now.

Steam rose from the rice, soup, and side dishes while fragments of Haesu lingered over all of it like ghosts.

Did he like food like this too?

Was that why he left his meal half-finished like that?

Or had he simply never gotten the chance to finish eating at all?

And had Jiwoo himself appeared only to drive him away like that?

One useless thought birthed another.

Until eventually Jiwoo found himself absentmindedly poking soup with chopsticks instead of eating.

Watching him, Seha finally set his spoon down sharply with a loud clack.

“Is it bothering you?”

“…It’d be a lie if I said it wasn’t.”

“Why bother worrying about it? There’s no reason to.”

Maybe Seha didn’t mean it that way toward Jiwoo.

But from Haesu’s perspective, those words sounded unbearably cruel.

The person he once loved lost his memories, chose someone else, and was now saying he wasn’t even worth worrying about anymore.

The more Jiwoo thought about it, the more ridiculous everything felt.

He was the one drowning in anxiety right now, so why was he sympathizing with someone else instead?

“Did you really end things properly?”

“That’s a pointless question driven by pointless anxiety. I’m marrying you in two weeks, Jiwoo.”

“I asked if you ended things properly. Did he accept it? Did you?”

“Yoon Jiwoo.”

“I don’t even care about you right now, but that person—!”