nineteen

The morning sun was a pale smear behind the curtain of fog outside, casting a muted, silvery light across the quiet campus. Inside the dorm room, the air was thick with post-fever stillness, a kind of fragile peace, like the hush after a storm, where anything too loud might crack the stillness in half.

Y/N stirred slowly under the heavy blankets, her body aching like she'd been flattened by a truck. Her throat was dry, her limbs heavy, but the worst of the fever had passed.

And the first thing she noticed, aside from the faint scent of miso soup and lavender detergent, was the soft tug of fabric beneath her fingers.

Her hand was curled loosely into the sleeve of a familiar grey hoodie.

She blinked blearily, turning her head slightly.

Seong-je was asleep beside her bed, slumped awkwardly against the wall, head tilted at a painful angle. A blanket, probably Jisoo's, had been thrown haphazardly over him in the night, only half covering his legs. His arms were folded across his chest, and his brow was slightly furrowed, even in sleep.

Y/N stared at him.

Part of her wanted to let go immediately, to pull her hand back and retreat, to pretend none of this had happened. That he hadn't stayed. That she hadn't let him.

But the other part, the part still quietly recovering, still exhausted and aching and softer than she liked, stayed still. Just for a moment longer.

Because seeing him like this, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, dark hair mussed and falling over his brow, it made something in her chest twist.

A knock broke the silence.

Y/N flinched slightly and tugged her hand back quickly.

The door creaked open and Jisoo peeked in, a smirk already forming when she spotted Y/N awake. "Sleeping Beauty returns," she whispered.

Y/N groaned. "I feel disgusting."

Jisoo stepped inside, holding a bottle of water and a granola bar. "Good. That means you're alive."

Y/N took the water gratefully. "Did he...?" She nodded slightly toward Seong-je.

"Didn't move all night," Jisoo said casually. "And no, I didn't make him stay. He just... wouldn't leave."

Y/N's gaze dropped. "I didn't ask him to."

"I know. That doesn't mean it wasn't real."

Y/N sipped her water in silence.

Across the room, Seong-je stirred, a quiet breath escaping him as he blinked groggily awake. His gaze was unfocused for a second until it landed on her.

"You're awake," he said, voice hoarse with sleep.

"Yeah," she murmured.

They just... looked at each other for a moment. Awkwardness pressing at the edges of something softer.

Jisoo, sensing the tension, stood and stretched. "Okay. I'm going to grab real breakfast and pretend I'm not watching a painfully slow reconciliation unfold." She paused dramatically in the doorway. "But like... don't trauma-bond too hard. You're still contagious."

The door shut behind her.

Y/N sighed and sank deeper into the blanket. "You didn't have to stay."

"I know," Seong-je said gently. "I wanted to."

"I don't... I'm not good at this. Letting people take care of me."

He smiled faintly. "I know that, too."

Silence hung in the air, but it felt a little less sharp than it used to. Less like they were standing on opposite sides of broken glass.

"I'm sorry," she said, voice low. "For... being difficult."

"You're not," he replied. "You're just used to being let down."

That truth settled heavily in her chest.

"I didn't want to need you," she whispered. "That's why I broke things off back then. Because I knew if I kept loving you, I'd lose myself."

He looked down, jaw clenched. "I didn't deserve to be loved by you. Not the way I was then."

"You chose them," she said, not with anger, but with weariness. "You stood at the edge and I asked you to come back, and you didn't."

"I know," he said quietly. "I thought I had reasons. I thought I could protect you by keeping you away from what I was in. But I didn't protect anything. I just... hurt you."

"You left me alone," she murmured.

His voice broke a little. "And I've regretted it every day since."

She turned toward the window, eyes glassy but dry. "I hated you for a long time."

"You should have."

"I begged you."

"I remember," he whispered. "Every word."

They sat in that silence for a long time. Not uncomfortable, but heavy.

"I don't know if I can ever forget that you made me walk away," she finally said.

"I'm not asking you to," he replied. "I'm just... I want to be here now. Even if it's just sitting by your bed when you're sick."

Her throat tightened. "You brought soup."

"You always liked the miso one," he said gently.

She turned toward him, eyebrows faintly lifted. "You remembered?"

He nodded. "I never forgot."

Later that afternoon, Seong-je stepped out to get more medicine and tissues. The fog was finally beginning to thin, though the sky remained a dull grey.

As he walked back toward the dorms, something pulled him toward the narrow side alley near the back of the arts building. He didn't know why. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was something heavier and unspoken.

That's when he saw him.

Minjae.

Leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers, his expression unreadable.

"You look like shit," Minjae said casually.

Seong-je didn't respond. Just stopped walking.

"Coming back from nurse duty?" Minjae asked, flicking ash to the ground. "She still sick?"

"Don't talk about her," Seong-je said flatly.

"I'm just being polite," Minjae replied, pushing off the wall. "She didn't answer my texts. Thought maybe something happened."

"She doesn't want to talk to you."

"Or maybe you just don't want her to." Minjae stepped closer. "You think she's forgiven you? That you just get to show up with soup and erase what you did?"

"I'm not trying to erase anything," Seong-je said. "I'm trying to protect her."

Minjae laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You already failed at that once."

Seong-je's jaw clenched. "And I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

The tension between them thickened.

"I know who you used to be," Minjae said, voice low. "You think you can play hero now, after what you were?"

Seong-je stepped forward. "Better than being whatever it is you are."

Minjae's eyes darkened. "Careful, Seong-je. You don't want to start something you can't finish."

"I'm not scared of you."

"You should be," Minjae whispered. "Because I'm not done yet. And you? You're in the way."

Before Seong-je could respond, Minjae turned and disappeared down the alley, vanishing into the thinning fog.

When he returned to the dorm, Jisoo was curled up on the bed with her textbook.

"She's asleep again," she said quietly, handing him a bottle of sports drink. "But she asked for you before she dozed off. Mumbled your name."

His heart jumped, quiet and sharp.

"She did?"

Jisoo shrugged. "Barely audible. Could've been 'sunset.' But I'm choosing to believe it was you."

Seong-je sat beside Y/N's bed again, watching her chest rise and fall, calm now.

"She needs peace," he murmured.

Jisoo looked at him, gaze unflinching. "Do you think you can give her that? After everything?"

He didn't flinch. "I'll try."

"Try harder than last time."

"I will."

The fog was finally lifting outside.

And in the quiet warmth of that room, something else was returning too.

Not certainty.

But hope.