eighteen

The door clicked softly shut behind him as Seong-je stepped fully into the room, the plastic bag of soup and snacks rustling faintly in his hand. The air inside was warm, too warm, thick with the heavy scent of illness and faint traces of lavender detergent.

Y/N barely stirred beneath the layers of blankets, her face flushed with fever, a sheen of sweat along her hairline. Her sketchbook lay forgotten on the floor beside her bed, a crumpled tissue beside it.

Jisoo lingered by her desk, arms folded, watching him with a mixture of mild amusement and something softer, more guarded.

"You can sit," she offered quietly. "She's been asleep for a bit."

Seong-je nodded wordlessly, setting the plastic bag down on the desk and peeling off his jacket. His hoodie stuck faintly to his skin from the damp outside, but he barely noticed.

All his attention was on her.

Y/N shifted weakly under the covers, a soft, pained sound escaping her lips, not fully awake, but not resting easily either.

It twisted something sharp in his chest.

Jisoo moved to stand by the window, cracking it open just a little to let the fog-chilled air in. The faint mist curled along the sill, pushing out some of the stale heat.

"You look like you're about to pass out," Jisoo remarked, eyeing him. "Relax. She's sick, not dying."

Seong-je didn't answer at first. His eyes lingered on Y/N, cataloging every small detail. The dark circles under her eyes. The faint tremble of her fingers when she shifted the blanket. The way her lips were parted, her breathing shallow.

"Has she eaten?" he asked finally, voice low.

Jisoo shrugged. "Half a granola bar. Couldn't keep much down."

That made his stomach twist tighter.

Without another word, he unpacked the plastic bag, soup in a takeaway container, crackers, a bottle of sports drink, even a small pack of her favorite candy that she always pretended she didn't like but secretly stashed in her drawer.

Jisoo watched him, an eyebrow raised. "You come prepared."

"Old habits," he muttered under his breath.

She hummed, but didn't push.

Minutes passed quietly as Seong-je poured some of the soup into a mug, testing the temperature before kneeling beside Y/N's bed.

"Hey," he murmured softly, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead. His hand lingered there for a second, palm flat against her flushed skin.

Too warm.

Her eyelids fluttered faintly, a small frown pulling at her lips.

"Y/N," he coaxed gently. "Wake up for a sec."

She stirred more this time, her eyes cracking open,  glassy, unfocused, squinting at him like she wasn't entirely sure if he was real.

"What...?" Her voice was rough, strained, barely above a whisper.

"Brought you soup," he said simply, lifting the mug.

Her eyes narrowed weakly. "Go away."

A faint, amused snort escaped Jisoo from the other side of the room, but she wisely stayed silent.

Seong-je's lips twitched faintly. "Not happening."

"I'm... fine..." Y/N croaked, trying to burrow deeper under the covers.

"You look like death warmed over," he shot back gently. "C'mon. Just a few sips."

"Seong-je—"

"You can argue with me after you eat."

Her glare was weak at best, her energy clearly drained. But stubbornness was apparently immune to illness.

"I don't want you taking care of me," she muttered, her voice cracking.

The words stung more than they should've. He forced a steady breath through his nose.

"Tough," he replied quietly. "I'm doing it anyway."

She tried to turn away again, her face burying into the pillow.

Without missing a beat, he set the mug down, grabbed the spare blanket from her chair, and gently tucked it around her, adjusting the edges so they wouldn't slip.

"Sleep, then," he said softly. "I'll be here."

Y/N hesitated, her bleary eyes flicking to his for a moment. Her expression wavered, something raw and conflicted surfacing beneath the fever-glazed exhaustion.

But she didn't argue again.

Within minutes, her breathing evened out, her body relaxing under the blanket's warmth. The soft rise and fall of her chest steadied, though the flush in her cheeks lingered.

Seong-je sat back on his heels, watching her.

The ache in his chest pulsed stronger now, tangled with regret, old memories, and quiet longing.

A chair scraped softly across the floor as Jisoo settled beside him, her sharp eyes lingering on Y/N for a beat before flicking to him.

"She doesn't let people do that," Jisoo remarked quietly.

"Do what?"

"See her like this. Stay."

Seong-je's throat tightened faintly. "I know."

Jisoo leaned her elbow on the edge of the bed, watching him with cautious curiosity. "So... what's your deal, really? You showing up out of nowhere with soup and guilty puppy eyes?"

His jaw clenched. He looked away for a second, fingers curling faintly at his sides.

"It's not out of nowhere," he admitted finally.

Jisoo tilted her head, waiting.

Seong-je exhaled slowly, his eyes dropping to Y/N again, to the faint lines of exhaustion on her face, the slight furrow of her brow even in sleep.

"I messed up," he said quietly. "Back then."

Jisoo's expression softened a fraction. "Yeah, I got that much."

"I thought... I thought walking away was the right thing," he continued, voice rough at the edges. "Thought... if I left first, she wouldn't get dragged into everything with me."

Jisoo stayed quiet, letting him speak.

"But it didn't fix anything," he admitted. "It just... broke us."

The weight of those words sat heavy between them.

"She waited," Jisoo murmured after a moment, eyes drifting to Y/N. "For a while. You know that, right?"

His chest tightened. "Yeah."

"She hated that you left, but... she hated that she still wanted you around even more."

A faint, pained smile ghosted across his lips. "Me too."

Jisoo leaned back, studying him. "You still...?"

"Yeah." The answer came fast. Certain. No hesitation. "I never stopped."

It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't loud. Just simple, aching truth.

Jisoo sighed softly. "She's not easy, you know."

"I don't want easy."

"She'll fight you."

"I deserve it."

"She'll pull away."

"I'll wait."

His steady answers seemed to catch her off guard. She searched his face for a moment, something wary but curious flickering in her eyes.

Then, surprisingly, she smiled, small, almost reluctant, but real.

"Guess we'll see if you mean that."

Seong-je's eyes never left Y/N as he replied, voice low and unwavering.

"I do."

Hours slipped by.

The storm outside had passed, but the fog still curled along the dorm windows, softening the edges of the world. The small bedside lamp cast a warm, faint glow across the room.

Y/N stirred again sometime after midnight, her fever breaking in weak, trembling waves.

Seong-je was still sitting beside her bed, one hand resting lightly on the edge of the blanket, head bowed slightly as he watched over her.

Her eyes cracked open blearily, her voice barely audible. "You're... still here?"

He smiled softly, fingers brushing lightly against her blanket-clad arm. "Told you. I'm stubborn."

She tried to frown, but it melted into exhaustion. "You're annoying."

"Probably."

A faint, tired chuckle escaped her lips, small but real. Her body sagged back into the bed, her eyes drifting shut again.

But before sleep pulled her fully under, she shifted weakly, and, to his quiet surprise, her hand found his.

Her fingers curled faintly around his wrist, her grip weak but steady.

A silent ask.

Stay.

He didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Just let her fall asleep, her hand still wrapped around his, her forehead cooler now, her breathing steady and slow.

Jisoo watched quietly from across the room, her phone forgotten in her hand, a small, knowing smile ghosting across her lips.

For once, no teasing.

Just quiet approval.

The fog outside thickened.

But inside, for the first time in a long time, things finally felt warm.