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The sound of rain hitting the windows echoed through the classroom. Rapid. Constant.
Park Hu-min only realized it was raining because of the thunder. He had been dozing off since the first period, the sound of rain and his teacher being nothing but a useless string of noise in the background. Irrelevant.
He didn't like the rain. If anything, he tolerated it. Rain was annoying. Wet and uncomfortable. Always messing up the plans he had with Hyun-tak.
Today was no different.
Because Hyun-tak wasn't here. By his side. At school. Not wearing his blue hoodie. Not yawning lazily from the seat in front of him. Not in the line of his sight.
Not here.
Not today, at least.
It wasn't like Hu-min didn't have any other friends to hang out with- or, bother, as Hyun-tak would argue.
First, he had Si-eun. He was fun to bother. Not as reactive as Hyun-tak, but still fun. All Hu-min had to do was push the right buttons. Tease a little about Ahn Su-ho. A little about his studies. A little about the way he stares when he is mad.
It was fun, really.
But not as fun as bothering Hyun-tak.
Second, he had Jun-tae. Sure, he was more reactive than Si-eun was- though still not nearly as much Hyun-tak. Not as nearly as amusing.
Jun-tae's voice was a little too high pitched when he squeaked. Would hold onto his glasses, hard, whenever Hu-min decided to joke a little physically. Would laugh a little too soft, a little quiet even when he had found the joke amusing.
Sure, he was fun to tease.
Hu-min could do that for the rest of the day.
He could suck it up. Tease Si-eun. Joke with Jun-tae.
That could satisfy him.
It wasn't like he was reliant on Hyun-tak to feel complete. Satisfied. As if he had achieved something big.
In the worst case, there was also Hyo-man he could mess with. They were not friends. Never been, really. He was a lot less fun to tease.
However, Hyo-man was dumb. Very dumb.
Dumber than Park Hu-min was, even. Stuttering insults. Spitting out words without knowing what they meant. Doing things to be perceived as something he wasn’t.
But that’s exactly why Hu-min liked teasing him.
Because it made him feel smart. Capable. Able to win verbal fights on his own. Where he didn’t need Hyun-tak or Si-eun around to back him up.
Then, if none of them could give him the satisfaction- the feeling of accomplishment when he successfully made someone laugh. Made someone tap onto his shoulder with unnecessary force. Made someone smile at him. Holding eye contact…
He still had other friends.
Classmates, clubmates, anyone that wore the uniform of Eunjang.
Park Hu-min was loved. Given nicknames. Complimented.
Joked with. Not made a joke out of.
Not alone. Never alone. Not some kind of highschool celebrity. Not an obnoxious kid who thought highly of themselves. Not someone that made people around feel small.
He was just- just… Friendly, maybe?
That may have been a pretty accurate term to describe it.
Like a high school clique. Popular. Captain of the basketball team. Horrible, horrible grades.
A side kick, maybe.
Though he wasn't sure whom that title would have belonged to.
From other people's eyes, it was Go Hyun-tak.
Probably, at least.
Go Hyun-tak who always stood by his side.
Go Hyun-tak who held onto Hu-min's shoulders whenever his knees buckled from laughing a little too hard- comfortably so.
Go Hyun-tak who barked out a laugh. Not giggled. Not chuckled.
Barked.
Teeth on display. The corners of his lips curled upwards. Shoulders shaking. Chest vibrating in intervals. Eyes shaping into two crescent moons.
Park Hu-min loved Go Hyun-tak's laugh.
Loved everything about him, actually. All of him. All of Go Hyun-tak. His friend. His best friend.
Bestest, even.
And now, his boyfriend.
Go Hyun-tak.
His boyfriend, who was now sick with the flu. At home. Probably alone, curled up under a blanket. Or a comforter. The comforter with the blue sheets, white, parallel lines scattered symmetrically across each other.
The same sheets Hu-min had lost his virginity on.
It had been awkward. Stupid. Funny too, mostly.
Neither of them had really known what they were doing. They had laughed through half of it, Hyun-tak especially. Lots. Lots of that bark of a laugh Hyun-tak uttered because Hu-min had kept fumbling with the condom, trying to find out how to roll it the correct way.
They had been talking about it for weeks. Actually, more like joking about it.
Making comments, “Bet you’d cry if you bottomed,” and stupid banter to get the preparation right. Dumb back and forth.
And then one day, it just happened.
They were kissing under the covers, both of them out of breath. His hands under Hyun-tak’s hoodie. Under his shirt. Then lower.
Hu-min had never felt so full of something before. Full of this feeling that he finally got something right without having to work so hard for it.
And now, those sheets were probably wrapped around Hyun-tak’s shivering body, trembling, probably sweating too.
No Hu-min beside him to cuddle this time. No warmth to share. Just his own burning heat. The temperature of his own body burning up with a fever.
Fever from the flu, to be specific.
The flu, the sickness that now had Go Hyun-tak stuck in his room.
Alone.
Alone in that silent room.
Hyun-tak hated a lot of things. Hu-min knew that.
And if there was one thing Hyun-tak hated the most, it was that.
Being left alone.
Hu-min remembered.
First year of high school.
The blood around Hyun-tak’s right knee. The brace he wore for months. The way the colors of the gown had washed Hyun-tak down.
He remembered the way Hyun-tak’s eyes squinted, eyebrows drawn together when the nurse said visiting hours were over. He hadn’t looked at Hu-min when he had said, “You can go.” to him.
Fuck.
Hu-min would rather have every bone in his body shatter than hear that tone of voice again.
He hated his own memory for remembering the way Hyun-tak had refused to press the call button, even when the pain made his hands shake. How he didn’t want strangers touching him, uncomfortable when the nurses visited him too often.
Hyun-tak didn’t want the pity. Nor to be taken care of. He just didn’t want to be alone.
And now, there he was.
Alone.
At home. Sick. Weak. Probably refusing to call Hu-min because he didn’t want to sound needy. Because he’d say something dumb like “It’s just a cold” even if he was burning up and couldn’t sit upright without coughing.
Hu-min hated that.
Hated thinking about him under the blue sheets, sweaty and stubborn.
Hated that he wasn’t there.
Hu-min wanted to see him. He wanted to see him so bad it made his chest feel tight.
He needed to do something. It felt like he would run straight into a wall if he didn’t get out of this stupid classroom and go to the one person his body clearly couldn’t stop aching for.
A thunder.
The whole class turned their head towards the wet, blurry window.
Had Hyun-tak heard that too?
Was he sleeping right now? Or could Hu-min hear the groggy way Hyun-tak muttered when half asleep if he was there? Could he feel the hot breath against his neck when they shared the same pillow?
A day.
Not even a full one. A morning and a half.
It had only been a day.
But it felt like forever.
Because Hu-min missed Hyun-tak. Missed him so much.
He tugged at the collar of his uniform, suddenly hot. Dizzy. The rain outside was quieter now, but his heart was thudding in his ear and it was too loud for him to hear anything else.
Make sure Hyun-tak’s breathing. Make sure he’s eating. Make sure he hasn’t drowned in his own sweat and stubbornness and refusal to text ‘come over’.
The bell rang.
Second period.
A whole day ahead.
He had missed Hyun-tak so much it hurt. Physically. Uncomfortably. He needed to throw up or cry or start running.
So he did.
He grabbed his bag. Threw on his jacket.
And he ran.
Ignored the voices of teachers asking where he was going. Didn’t care. Didn’t even lie about a bathroom pass or a family emergency.
He needed to be there for Hyun-tak. Take care of him. Make sure he didn’t regret not being there ever again.
Maybe he couldn’t make up for all the times he failed to be there for Go Hyun-tak.
But he could be there now.
Six classes left. Big deal. He wasn’t going to sit through a single one of them thinking about Hyun-tak burning up alone in bed anyways.
He was going.
Because Hyun-tak hated being alone.
And Hu-min hated that he ever had to be.
By the time Park Hu-min reached Hyun-tak’s apartment, he was soaked.
His face was flushed for running twenty minutes straight. Hair damp. Not just from the sweat. But the rain, too. His lungs ached, chest heaving from exhaustion. His hands were shaking as he rang the doorbell.
“Hyun-tak!” he called out.
No answer.
He started knocking, rapid, forceful and uneven, much like his pulse.
“Hyun-tak!” He yelled again, louder this time.
He rang the bell again. Hit the door harder.
“It’s me! Open the door!” his voice cracked as he called out.
Still nothing.
Hu-min stepped back, wiped his wet palm across his forehead, looking around. He looked at the window on the side of the apartment. Curtains were drawn.
Shit. Was he asleep?
He knocked again, this time not caring how loud it was.
“Go Hyun-tak, I swear-!”
The door opened. There he was.
Go Hyun-tak. His boyfriend.
Barefoot, turtles curled up hiding under the black sweatpants and that familiar, slightly oversized blue hoodie.
Sweaty, skin pale except for the red flush on his cheeks and the tip of his nose. A little snot was stuck to his nostrils. His hair damp, too, and messy. Combinations of sweat and sleep, probably. His eyes were very barely open, glassy, disoriented. His breathing shallow.
“…What the fuck, Baku?” he asked, voice hoarse.
Hu-min stared at him, his throat tightening at the sight.
Hyun-tak swayed slightly, catching himself on the doorframe by leaning towards it with his shoulder.
“Why are you yelling…?” he asked, frowning, confused. “You’re soaking wet.”
Hu-min didn’t respond, mouth hanging slightly open. Suddenly, he was burning hot. As if the water dripping down his clothes didn’t send shivers down his body every time the wind blew.
Because he didn’t care. Didn’t care for the rain. Nor the thunder. Nor the uncomfortable cling of his wet bangs to his forehead. Nor how cold his fingers felt. None of it mattered.
Hyun-tak was okay. That was the only thing that did.
Letting out a shaky breath, Hu-min took him in. The sight of him. Top to bottom. The red around his nose. The dark circles under his eyes. The shine of sweat (or snot? Hu-min didn’t care) above his lips.
“You look so…” he muttered, stepping forward before he could stop himself.
Beautiful. Cute. Adorable. His sick little kitten. Unable to reach out. Too much pride to admit that he needed help.
“Sick?” Hyun-tak guessed the finish of his sentence, closing the door behind Hu-min.
Wrong, but Hu-min didn’t argue.
Hyun-tak swayed again.
Hu-min dropped his bag immediately and grabbed his arm before he could fall forward.
“You’re burning up,” he muttered, holding his hand to Hyun-tak’s face, hoping how cold and wet his own fingers were wouldn't bother Hyun-tak. “You didn’t text. You didn’t even- why didn’t you tell me you were this bad?”
Hyun-tak leaned into the touch, letting his eyes close.
“Didn’t wanna be annoying,” he mumbled. “Thought I’d just sleep it off.”
“You idiot,” Hu-min whispered, more to himself than Hyun-tak.
Because he should’ve come sooner. Should’ve known. He should’ve been here an hour ago. Two hours ago, even. Should've skipped school the moment Hyun-tak said he was sick.
He should have been here before Hyun-tak got this bad. He should’ve known this would happen.
That Hyun-tak would downplay it. Hu-min knew he wouldn’t ask for help, not even from the one person that would literally run through a fucking storm to be there.
Hu-min let out a shaky breath, pushing the guilt down as best he could. There was no point in being dramatic now.
“C’mon,” he said. “Bed.”
Hu-min took a step forward, grabbing Hyun-tak’s arm. Hyun-tak, still out of it, opened his eyes slightly. And suddenly, he pulled his arm back.
“Shoes,” he mumbled, frowning.
Hu-min paused. Looked down.
Right.
He was still wearing his shoes, getting rainwater into the apartment.
“Shit, sorry.” he muttered, and crouched down, untying his shoelaces. His socks made a squishing when he stepped out of his shoes as he stood up.
Hyun-tak was still leaning against the wall, barely upright now, arms crossed weakly. Waiting.
“You good to walk?” Hu-min asked, eyebrows raising.
Hyun-tak shook his head.
Hu-min opened his mouth to offer a helping hand. But then, Hyun-tak uncrossed his arms and reached forward, looping them around Hu-min’s neck, resting his full body weight against him.
“Carry me,” he mumbled, voice a whisper. A low, miserable whine.
Hu-min caught him before they both fell. He bit down on his own lower lip, biting down the smile forming on his face. Trying not to let the corners of his mouth tug upwards.
Fighting the urge to kiss the sick, miserable boy in front of him.
“I’m dying,” Hyun-tak muttered, his forehead now pressed to Hu-min’s shoulder. “Take me to bed, Hu-min-ie.”
Hu-min-ie.
Said all hoarse and pathetic like that, clinging to him. It made something wild explode in his chest. His stomach caving in.
Not lust, not quite- but this unbearable, irresistible urge to swallow Hyun-tak whole, to wrap around him and never let go.
Fuck.
Hu-min loved him. So stupidly much. Loved him like this. Fevered, clingy, snot on his upper lip and grumpy.
Maybe even loved him especially like this.
“Okay,” Hu-min muttered, adjusting his grip around Hyun-tak’s back and sliding them behind his knees. “Just hang on.”
And then he lifted him.
It wasn't really effortless. But not with struggle, either.
Hyun-tak may have been tall, around the same width as Hu-min himself, but he melted so easily into Hu-min’s arms. His body remembered the shape of Hu-min, how to make himself fit around him, how to be held without making it harder.
Hu-min’s arms trembled slightly, more from cold and fatigue than from Hyun-tak’s weight.
Hyun-tak let out a low, satisfied hum. His voice muffled against Hu-min’s soaked shoulder.
“You’re so strong.”
Heat rushed to Hu-min’s cheeks.
It wasn’t like Hyun-tak never acknowledged he was strong, he would just never say it out loud. It was an unspoken thing between them, an established fact that Hu-min could lift him, carry him, wrap him up and pin him down in the middle of a wrestle or a cuddle. That Hyun-tak liked it. He loved being held like that, even if he’d never admit it.
So, hearing it now caught him off guard.
It made his chest tighten, his fingers gripping a little harder around Hyun-tak’s back.
Suddenly, he didn’t trust himself enough not to crush him in his arms.
“Baku…” Hyun-tak whined again, nose pressing onto Hu-min’s neck, damp from sweat and rain. “Hurry up, I am cold.”
Hu-min was just a man, after all.
Just a boy, really. One with a soaking wet uniform, the most beautiful, fevered idiot in his arms, a dangerously full heart and a brain full of unholy thoughts.
He could kiss him right now. Right there in the hallway, with Hyun-tak flushed and helpless and needing him. He could press their mouths together, fever be damned, and whisper how much he loved it when Hyun-tak clung to him like that.
But he didn’t.
Not when Hyun-tak was sick and vulnerable like that.
So, he held on tighter. Swallowed the ache in his throat. And walked. Down the narrow hall, straight to the bedroom with those familiar blue sheets and a mess on the bed.
Hu-min crouched slightly to set him down.
“Alright,” he said softly. “We made it.”
“Don’t wanna.”
“Hyun-tak.”
“Let me be carried for five more seconds,” Hyun-tak whispered, clutching tighter.
Hu-min exhaled. Wet hair dripping onto Hyun-tak’s hoodie now. He closed his eyes, his cheek pressing briefly into the side of Hyun-tak’s head.
He smelled good.
“…Fine. Five more.”
And five seconds passed.
Then six.
Then ten.
No signs of letting go.
Hu-min fixed his grip, arms starting to ache. At first, he decided to say nothing. He let him cling.
But, Hyun-tak was sick, after all.
“…Okay,” Hu-min murmured, lips near Hyun-tak's ear. “Time’s up, Gogo. Bed now.”
“No, it’s not,” came the immediate murmur. Muffled. Childish.
“Baby”
“Didn’t count properly.”
“Hyun-tak.”
“I said five more seconds, not exactly five.”
Hu-min laughed, forehead now resting against the side of Hyun-tak’s neck. “You are such a brat when you’re sick.”
“Mm,” Hyun-tak hummed, unapologetic. “Still dying, by the way.”
Hu-min smiled despite himself. “Yeah? Well, you’re dying in my arms. That’s gotta count for something.”
“Not if you keep trying to put me down.”
“Hyun-tak,” Hu-min tried gently. “C’mon, love.”
Hyun-tak made a miserable, whiny noise at the back of his throat.
“Hyun-tak-kie.”
Another whine. “That’s worse.”
“I’ll call you worse things if you don’t get in bed,” Hu-min muttered, lips now brushing against his sweaty neck. “C’mon, pretty boy. You need to lie down before you pass out on me.”
Hyun-tak groaned again, the sound pitiful. His arms loosened.
Hu-min took it as permission and slowly crouched once again, lowering him down onto the mattress. Hyun-tak lied sideways, letting out a grunt, one arm still holding onto Hu-min’s shoulder.
“I hate being sick,” he muttered, face buried into the pillow. “Hate it. Hate this. I feel gross.”
“I know,” Hu-min said, crouching beside the bed. “You hate everything when you’re sick. Your bed. Your hoodie. Me. Your immune system.”
“I do not hate you.” Hyun-tak snapped, voice a little more pathetic than his usual one.
Hu-min chuckled.
“I know,” He said, smiling as he stood. “You say it every time.”
He walked toward the dresser, stepping over a pile of clothes on the floor. Probably all rejected on account of them being either “too warm,” “too cold,” or “not the hoodie I want.” He opened a drawer and pulled out shorts and a blue short sleeve. Something he’d seen Hyun-tak wear a lot of times. Something that probably, hopefully wouldn’t annoy him.
“Alright, grump,” Hu-min called over his shoulder. “Gotta get you out of that sweaty mess. Let’s get you comfy, yeah?”
“I like this hoodie.”
“You sweated through it, my guy.”
Hyun-tak let out a groan, turning his back.
“Alright, pretty boy.” Hu-min grabbed at his shoulders, making him roll back over. “I know you’re clingy when you’re sick, but I draw the line at stripping you unless you beg.”
Hyun-tak didn’t laugh, but a small smile showed on his face despite his misery.
“Pervert.” he muttered.
“Only for you.”
And with that, Hu-min reached for the bottom hem of Hyun-tak’s hoodie.
“Sit up,” He said, tugging the hoodie up.
Hyun-tak groaned into the pillow. “Don’t wanna move.”
“You don’t have to,” Hu-min said, gently helping him sit all the way up. “Let’s get you out of that hoodie, pretty boy.”
“Stop calling me-” Hyun-tak groaned, replying immediately as Hu-min fully tugged the hem upward. His sentence got cut off by the hoodie getting stuck around his head.
“You literally light up every time I say it.”
“Liar.” Hyun-tak muffled.
“Liar who can fucking deadlift you,” Hu-min said smugly, finally taking off the sweat damp hoodie off Hyun-tak.
The hoodie came off, damp and really fucking gross, if Hu-min was being honest. He tossed it aside, letting it land somewhere near the pile of already rejected clothes.
Then he looked at his boyfriend.
Couldn’t help it, really. All he could do was hope the unholy thoughts wouldn’t show through his expression.
Hyun-tak sat there shirtless, slouched and flushed, skin pale yet damp with fever sweat. Shoulders broad. His ribs peeked through a tad bit, the way they always did when he hadn’t been eating properly. Well, that was part of the reason he got sick to begin with.
There was still muscle on him. He had earned those from years of taekwondo and workout sessions together and now, basketball. But it was nothing compared to Hu-min’s own frame. Hu-min was bulkier, wider, built from basketball and working out when bored and actual protein overloads that came from owning a restaurant that only served chicken.
Next to him, Hyun-tak often looked… small. Somehow.
Not physically, though. They were nearly the same height. But when like this, shirtless, sick, and clingy-
He looked very vulnerable. And Hu-min wanted, so badly, to wrap himself around him and never let go. To press kisses down his chest, hold him warm and close until the fever burned itself out.
But he couldn’t.
Because Hyun-tak was sick. And contagious. And a whole mess of vulnerable and miserable right now.
And Hu-min wasn’t gonna make it worse.
“Hu-min…” came the whine from Hyun-tak.
Fuck.
Hu-min blinked, snapping out of it, eyes flicking back up to Hyun-tak’s face to see him reaching out, arms open, wanting to be held. Consoled. Coddled.
“Clothes,” Hu-min said quickly, grabbing the dry shirt and pulling it over Hyun-tak’s head before he could do anything dangerous. “You gotta wear clothes, or I’ll get distracted.”
“You already are.” Hyun-tak muttered as the shirt got pulled down on his torso.
Hu-min grinned, not responding nor touching him. He helped adjust the shirt, kept his distance.
“I wanna cuddle,” Hyun-tak complained, wanting to fill the silence.
“I know, Gotak, I know,” Hu-min said, stepping back a little. “But if I get sick, then who’s gonna take care of both of us? You want Si-eun showing up?”
Hyun-tak looked horrified.
Hu-min let out a chuckle.
The horror on Hyun-tak’s face at the idea of Si-eun showing up so real and so him, even through the fever.
He was clingy like this. Pathetic. Something Hu-min usually didn’t like seeing on Hyun-tak. Ridiculously warm and so fucking honest when he was sick like this.
It did something to Hu-min’s chest. Made it feel too small for his heart fit, giving it no place to beat. Made him want to kiss the tip of Hyun-tak’s red nose and see what kind of reactions he would give if Hu-min dared say annoying things just to rile him up.
Which was dangerous.
So he got up.
“Alright,” Hu-min said, “Let me go make you something to eat, yeah? You need food. Something warm. Something with protein-”
But as soon as he turned away, he felt it, hand weakly wrapping around the hem of his sleeve. Tugging.
He looked down.
Hyun-tak was holding onto him.
Eyes still glassy, chest rising and falling too fast to indicate any sense of actual comfort. His lips were pushed out in the tiniest pout.
“…Don’t go,” he said softly. “Stay with me, Baku.”
And fuck.
“Please.”
That voice.
“I don’t want you to go anywhere.”
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
“Lie down by my side.”
That honesty. The way he always tried to act too cool to ask for affection when he was well, but too warm to not ask for it now.
“C’mon, you’re my boyfriend. Yeah?”
That did it.
But he had to hold back.
Hu-min crouched again.
His heart was doing that stupid thing where it felt like it might genuinely give him a heart attack from beating so hard (not like he knew how heart attacks actually worked). He reached out, brushed Hyun-tak’s damp bangs off his forehead again. His fingers trembled a little, hoping Hyun-tak wouldn’t notice.
“I’m not going far,” he said. “I’m just gonna make you food, pretty boy.”
Hyun-tak leaned forward, head resting against Hu-min’s stomach now, arms wrapping loosely around his waist.
“I know,” he muttered. “But I hate when you’re not right next to me.”
Hu-min swallowed, the ache in his throat throbbing. His hands moved to the back of Hyun-tak’s head, cradling him gently.
“I’ll come right back,” he whispered. “Ten minutes. Fifteen tops.”
“I said no, Hu-min.”
Ah.
Calling him by his given name.
“Hyun-tak, you need to eat-”
“I said no.”
“Please, pretty boy-”
“Stop calling me that!” Hyun-tak snapped.
The room went quiet. So quiet Hu-min could now hear the sound of the rain outside again.
Carefully, he reached out and placed his hand at the nape of Hyun-tak’s neck.
“Hey,” he said softly, fingers threading into his damp hair. “Look at me.”
Hyun-tak resisted for a moment, face still pressed into Hu-min’s stomach, but eventually lifted his head, meeting his eyes.
His face was flushed, whether from fever or embarrassment, Hu-min couldn’t tell. His lips were slightly parted, damp. His brows drawn together in frustration.
Fuck
Had Hu-min crossed a boundary he didn’t know was there until now?
“I…” He started, hesitating. “I thought you liked it.”
He paused, thinking. His thumb brushed gently behind Hyun-tak’s ear.
“I mean, I only ever call you that. You light up when I do. But if it’s too much, I’ll stop. I swear. I’m sorry.”
Hyun-tak’s eyes narrowed slightly, less irritated this time.
“I do like it,” he said finally, then paused. Trying to find the right words through the fog of sickness. “Of course I like it, you idiot.”
Then why-?
“But not right now,” he continued, as if he could hear the question about making it out of Hu-min’s throat. “Because when you call me that, it makes me think you’ll… kiss me. Or touch me. Or do something stupid because you love me too fucking much to help yourself.”
Hu-min's throat tightened.
“And you won’t,” Hyun-tak said, voice small. “Not when I’m sick.”
He looked away then, ashamed, embarrassed. Feeling selfish.
“So don’t,” he muttered. “Because I know you won’t… You won’t do anything if you think it because I’m sick.”
Hu-min’s breath caught.
Hyun-tak’s fingers were still weakly holding onto the fabric of his shirt. His face was flushed for so many reasons now- fever, embarrassment, exhaustion..
“I know you,” Hyun-tak muttered again, bothered by the unusual silence after he left Hu-min speechless. “You’ll just brush it off. You’ll tell me to lie down, you’ll feed me, you’ll kiss my forehead and laugh about how I get clingy. But you won’t take it fucking seriously.”
Hu-min didn’t speak.
Because Hyun-tak wasn’t wrong.
He did brush it off. Because it was easier to handle Hyun-tak’s affection when it was wrapped in whining or sarcasm. Because the second it came out too honest, like now, it felt too big for him to hold.
Too undeserving.
But Go Hyun-tak was sick.
And Park Hu-min was so in love with him.
And right now, that was a dangerously stupid combination.
“I do take you seriously,” he said. “Everything you say.”
Hyun-tak didn’t reply.
So Hu-min leaned closer, forehead nearly touching his again.
“But you’re my boyfriend, Go Hyun-tak,” he whispered. “I’m not gonna stop calling you pretty if you’re actually being pretty.”
That got the smallest snort out of him. Barely a laugh.
“But,” Hu-min added, serious again, “If you want me to stop- I will. Just say the word.”
“Well,” Hyun-tak started, and let out another short laugh. One he didn’t hold back this time. Breathless and genuine. “I don’t want you to stop, dumbass.”
Hu-min huffed. “Rude.”
“You’re such a loser when you’re trying to be romantic.”
He leaned back against the headboard, letting out a breath, the flush still prominent on his cheeks. Slowly, he tilted his head up and gave Hu-min a glance. Looked at his wet shirt, his soaked pants, his damp bangs.
“You’re gonna catch the same shit I have standing there like that,” he said. “Take your clothes off.”
Hu-min blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Take them off," Hyun-tak repeated. “You’re wet. It’s cold. I’m sick. The only warm thing in this apartment is me. So take them off and come lie down next to me.”
He shifted slightly to the side, pulling the covers down, making space beside him in bed. His bed wasn’t that big, barely wide enough for two tall boys, but that never ever bothered them.
“Don’t make me beg,” Hyun-tak added, voice dropping back into that tired, low rasp. “I’m already sick. That’d just be pathetic.”
Hu-min just stood there, stunned.
Mouth agape. Brain completely blank. Computation failed.
He knew he shouldn’t. Really. He knew he really, really shouldn’t get in that bed. Getting in that bed was the exact thing he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do. It was the one rule he’d made on the frantic sprint under the rain over here.
Don’t be stupid. Don’t cuddle the fever out of your sick boyfriend like some reckless idiot. Don’t feed the 99IQ stereotype.
But now, with Hyun-tak looking at him like… that. All flushed and warm and sincere, sitting aside, making space for Hu-min. It wasn’t even a request at this point, just an objective fact that would happen. A natural law of the universe.
Hyun-tak was sick, therefore Park Hu-min had to be in bed next to him.
Fuck it.
Hu-min swallowed the heat in his throat. He sighed. Then, he pulled his wet shirt over his head, tossing it into the corner.
“You sure?” he asked, cautious, unbuttoning his pants.
“I just told you to get naked and get in my bed,” Hyun-tak mumbled, eyes fluttering. “Don’t push your luck.”
Hu-min smiled, heart absolutely wrecked, and stripped the rest off down to his boxers before getting under the covers. The warmth hit immediately, the heat of Hyun-tak’s fevered body already radiating.
“Damn,” Hu-min muttered the second he got under the blanket, arm automatically finding its way around Hyun-tak’s waist. “You’re, like… really warm.”
“I told you I was dying.”
Hu-min wriggled a little closer, then froze. “Wait. You didn’t- like, fucking piss the bed, right? This isn’t like, pee warmth?”
“The fuck?” Hyun-tak frowned, slowly pressing his chin on Hu-min’s bare chest.
His leg hooked over Hu-min’s, locking them in. His hands found Hu-min’s bare stomach under the covers, palms moving slowly over the muscles.
“Soft,” he murmured.
“I am not.” Hu-min argued.
“You are,” Hyun-tak said, tone stubborn. “You’re like. Strong, but soft. It’s like muscle with a pillow layer on top.”
“That’s just fat.”
“I like it.”
Hu-min blinked at the ceiling, blood rushing to his cheeks again.
Fucking hell.
He was cute.
So cute.
He was gonna die.
He was actually going to die in this bed from how fucking cute his boyfriend was. And how honest. Hyun-tak never said stuff like this. Not when he was at full health, at least. Too proud, too busy pretending he didn’t care as much as he did. But now, fever warm and too tired to filter himself, it all came out.
And it made Hu-min want to kiss him.
Hard.
Sloppy.
Which he absolutely could not do. Because again, sick. Fever. Infection. Flu. Virus. Whatever.
So, Hu-min swallowed down the ridiculous affection flooding his chest, held back the wave of desire to smother Hyun-tak in love and maybe other stupid decisions.
“…Okay.” he muttered.
Hyun-tak hummed quietly at Hu-min’s chest, satisfied enough with the answer. His fingers stopped moving, resting warm and heavy across Hu-min’s stomach.
Hu-min didn’t dare move. Not even a breath deeper than necessary.
“You’re so… So cute.” he murmured softly, just to say something, brushing his fingertips through Hyun-tak’s sweaty hair. “You know that?”
“No I’m not,” came the mumbled reply from Hyun-tak.
“Yes you are. “
“Not.” Hyun-tak muttered, dragging his cheek across Hu-min’s chest, resting there. “Just dying of being too in love with you.”
Hu-min shut his eyes and physically groaned.
“Go to sleep,” he said, covering his own face with one hand.
“Fine,” Hyun-tak said, his voice already thick with sleep. “But don’t leave me.”
“I’m basically naked in your bed right now,” Hu-min said. “Where the hell would I go?”
“Just making sure…” The words trailed off as his breathing began to even out, slower. His weight settled more fully on top of Hu-min, head on his chest, one leg still tangled with his.
Hu-min tilted his head down to look at him.
He looked so peaceful when he slept. Not a single frown in sight. No tension in his face. Long lashes, flushed cheeks, stupid hair sticking to his forehead. His mouth barely parted, lips rubbing against Hu-min’s skin.
Hu-min could stay like this forever.
And maybe, if he actually didn’t breathe too loud, or think too much, or move a single muscle… he could pretend this wasn’t just a sick day. That this kind of honesty came without fever. That being held like this was something Hyun-tak could do without a reason, without needing to be sick and needy first.
Hu-min exhaled, softly. Folded his arms around Hyun-tak’s back and held him closer.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, just in case. Even though he was probably already asleep.
Hu-min stayed awake a little longer, staring at his boyfriend.
He knew this wasn’t sustainable. When Hyun-tak woke up properly, when he was sweating less and could walk without collapsing, he’d go back to pretending none of this mattered. That he didn’t want Hu-min, even though he needed him. That he wasn’t this clingy. That he wasn’t the type to fall asleep whispering love confessions into someone’s chest.
So Hu-min made a promise to himself.
When Hyun-tak woke up, when he could finally sit up and eat solid food and yell again, Hu-min was going to take care of him. He’d make him tea, and run to the pharmacy, and wipe the sweat off his stupid forehead without saying a word. He’d get yelled at for being too gentle, probably. Maybe shoved a few times for trying to tuck him in like a child. But he’d take it. Gladly.
Because Go Hyun-tak deserved it.
Even if he would ask.
Even if he didn’t believe he deserved anything at all.
Hu-min pressed a soft kiss into his hair, whispering one more time, “Not going anywhere,” even quieter than before.
And eventually, with the presence of Hyun-tak’s body warm on his chest and the rhythm of his breathing syncing with his own, Hu-min drifted off too.
Of course, two days later, Hu-min was sick too.
Worse, actually.
His fever spiked faster. Couldn’t breathe through his nose because of all the snot. His throat was dry, burning. He whined more than Hyun-tak ever had.
And Go Hyun-tak, who was now recovered, took very good care of him.
Except he never stopped nagging.
Not once.
“Why the fuck were you running around in the rain without an umbrella?”
“You should’ve changed your clothes faster. Dumb fuck.”
“This is why you don’t sleep next to contagious people.”
“Blow your nose, idiot.”
It was relentless.
But he also cooked food. And rubbed Hu-min’s back when he coughed too hard. And put cold, wet towels on his forehead. And always stayed beside him with a hand against his chest to check if his heartbeat was still too fast.
That it was still beating.
“Idiot,” he mumbled one night, when Hu-min was sniffling under the covers, wanting to cry at the sensation. “You’re supposed to take care of me. Not get sick because of me.”
Hu-min didn’t want to answer that. His throat hurt too much to let out any sensible sound.
But he thought about it.
About the way Hyun-tak hovered over him now, acting like an angry housewife. Being scolded for not wearing socks, but then the person scolding him and getting up to find a clean pair and put them on for him.
He thought about that hand on his chest. The way Hyun-tak kept checking his pulse, unable to stand the idea of not knowing if Hu-min was okay.
Hu-min thought then- a rare occurrence, really. But he did.
He thought Hyun-tak really did love him.
Like, a lot.
Enough to yell at him because he loved him.
So much it made Hu-min become annoyed with himself for worrying Hyun-tak so much.
So, he never complained. Didn’t voice his needs. His wants.
Was this how Hyun-tak felt usually?
He didn’t know.
But one thing Hu-min did know was that, even with his whole stupid, aching, sweaty body…
Hu-min loved Hyun-tak, too.
He would’ve said it, too. Right then.
Would’ve croaked it out just to get it off his chest.
But then Hyun-tak pressed his hand on Hu-min’s forehead, frowning.
“Fucking hell, you’re even hotter now. Why do you have to be such a hot idiot?”
And Hu-min, already sleepy and delirious, smiled, letting out a low chuckle.
Yeah.
He was definitely gonna marry this guy.