Jisung lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as sweat trickled down his temples. His body ached, heat radiating from his fevered skin like a furnace. Every breath felt too warm.
"I hate being sick so much..." he thought miserably, groaning as he shifted under the covers that clung to him like a second skin.
A knock at the door pulled him from his fever-induced haze.
"Come in!" he croaked.
The door creaked open, revealing Minho peeking cautiously inside. He hovered in the doorway, his dark eyes scanning Jisung with quiet concern. "You didn't come out of bed all day... Are you okay?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant. "I was getting worried-"
Jisung, despite the pounding in his head, grinned at the chance to tease him. "So... you're worried about me, huh? How cuteee," he drawled, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.
A faint pink dusted Minho's cheeks as he let out a half-hearted, exasperated sigh. "You don't want me to worry? Fine by me." He turned on his heel with a dramatic huff, pretending to walk away.
"No, wait-! I didn't mean it like that!" Jisung protested, sitting up too quickly and nearly toppling over. He groaned, his voice scratchy and hoarse. "I'm not complaining..."
Minho turned back, lips twitching with amusement as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed like a stern mother awaiting a confession.
Jisung slumped back onto his pillow, looking sheepish. "I think I have a fever. I got out of the shower last night and, uh, went straight into the living room..."
Minho's eyes softened instantly. Concern wiped away his smirk as he crossed the room. He pressed the back of his hand to Jisung's forehead and frowned.
"You're burning up," he muttered. "I'll get a cold cloth."
"You don't have to-"
Minho was already at the door. He glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "I wasn't asking, you know."
The door closed behind him, leaving Jisung alone with the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
How does he make the simplest things seem so cute?
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Minho returned with a cloth soaked in cold water, squeezing out the excess before folding it carefully. He placed it gently on Jisung's forehead, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary.
"Did you take anything for the fever?" Minho asked.
Jisung shook his head.
"Do you have medicine here?"
"Bathroom. First shelf on the left side cabinet."
Minho nodded and disappeared again, his footsteps quick and purposeful. He rifled through the cabinets, grabbing the fever medicine before hurrying back.
"Here," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and unscrewing the cap. "Open up."
"I can do it myself," Jisung mumbled, propping himself up against the headboard.
Minho, ignoring the protest, opened his own mouth in a silent, exaggerated gesture that made his intention clear.
Jisung rolled his eyes but gave in, opening his mouth obediently. Minho poured the bitter liquid carefully, watching as Jisung grimaced and swallowed.
"Good." Minho patted his head like a small child. "You'll feel better soon."
"I'll feel even better if you keep taking care of me like this," Jisung muttered with a soft, tired smile.
Minho's lips twitched, but he gently pushed Jisung back down onto the bed. "I'll take care of you until you're better. Want me to make you something to eat? I mean... I can kind of cook."
Jisung chuckled, the sound weak but genuine. "I'm okay. Just some water would be nice-my throat feels like sandpaper."
"Coming right up!" Minho gave a playful bow before darting out of the room, leaving Jisung grinning.
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Later that evening, Minho was downstairs, half-watching TV as soft sounds filled the quiet apartment.
Upstairs, Jisung tossed and turned, restless despite the drowsiness the medicine brought. He groaned in frustration, glaring at the wall as if it had wronged him.
After a few minutes of fruitless shifting, he Sighed and called out weakly, "Min! Can you come here?"
The door opened moments later. Minho appeared, his eyes curious and patient. "What's up?"
"Did you turn off the TV?"
Minho blinked, perplexed. "Uh... yeah? Why?"
"Great." Jisung patted the space beside him. "Come here."
Minho's confusion deepened. He stepped closer, his heart thudding as Jisung continued.
"I can't fall asleep. I feel all... jittery. Will you stay? We could, uh..." He swallowed. "Cuddle?" His voice dropped into a shy mumble. "Only if you want to."
Minho stared for a beat, heat rising to his cheeks. Jisung's puppy-dog eyes were unfair. He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. "S-sure."
He climbed into bed, stiff and awkward, until Jisung wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him closer.
Minho gasped, his whole body tensing as Jisung nuzzled his face into his shoulder, inhaling the fresh, clean scent of Febreze lingering on his clothes.
Jisung chuckled quietly but didn't pull away.
"Relax, Bunny," he whispered, a playful grin tugging at his lips.
Minho felt his heart stutter. He'd been called 'Bunny' a thousand times, but from Jisung, it always felt like the first.
His breath caught. His hands hovered uncertainly before finally resting on Jisung's back.
Within minutes, Jisung's breathing slowed, his grip loosening as sleep claimed him.
Minho stayed awake a little longer, his eyes tracing the peaceful features of the boy in his arms.
He liked Jisung's warmth. He liked his touch. He liked his voice. He liked him.
He liked the feeling of being loved.
And when he finally drifted off, his arms tightened protectively around Jisung, holding on to the warmth he never wanted to lose.
Oops! Ang larawang ito ay hindi sumusunod sa aming mga alituntunin sa nilalaman. Upang magpatuloy sa pag-publish, subukan itong alisin o mag-upload ng bago.
A/N: I'm really sick today (bad fever) but it became my motivation🌚
