CEL 22

He had forgotten what kind of person Seo Hamin was. Right, the kind of person who could be thrown onto a deserted island and still survive just fine.

The instant he remembered that, he felt stupid for rushing to buy medicine and porridge the moment he heard Hamin was sick. It had been pointless.

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

He didn’t even know how to appreciate someone worrying about him.

Jaeha frowned, about to get angry, but Hamin spoke first.

“If I’m sick, I’m the only one who loses. I have to think of the most efficient way to recover. Just lying around because I don’t feel like moving, that’s something people with time can do. If it’s really bad, then just call 119. That’s what taxes are for.”

Hamin was talking more than usual. It almost sounded like when he was drunk.

“Even if I don’t pay much now, I’ll pay a lot later in taxes so…”

Jaeha cut him off.

“Enough. Just take this later.”

“I just ate…”

“Sunbae.”

He shoved the bag at him, he wanted to hand it over quickly and leave, but even after Hamin took it with both hands, he wavered.

Jaeha’s eyes widened as Hamin sagged into his arms.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Medicine takes time to work. Two hours and I’ll be better.”

If it took that long even after going straight into his veins, what was the point?

His breath felt hotter than expected. Jaeha placed a hand on his forehead. It was burning.

“Shouldn’t you go back to the hospital?”

“Don’t make a fuss. Just go.”

But his face looked strangely desperate as he said it.

Jaeha stared down at him. The hand holding the porridge was trembling even though his voice sounded harsh. When he still didn’t move, Hamin’s tone turned harsher. “I said go.”

Something felt wrong.

‘So what Seyeon said was true. No money, grew up in an orphanage, always acting like he’s above people, looking down on us like beggars…’

That thought came to him now of all times.

If the porridge was too heavy, he could have just asked for help carrying it inside. But instead, he clutched it until his knuckles turned white. Jaeha suddenly realized Hamin had probably never once asked for help in his life.

Thinking that, the harsh words and cold actions since the door opened looked different. He probably couldn’t even tell whether this was worry or attack, since he had never been genuinely cared for.

Images of Hamin’s behavior flashed through Jaeha’s mind. He always refused to owe anyone. Never trusting just words. But also, when at fault, he admitted it without excuses.

Even though Jaeha wasn’t in any position to pity anyone, Hamin’s behavior kept making his chest tighten.

He grabbed the porridge out of Hamin’s hand, stepped inside, and shut the door. He opened the fridge and put the porridge in, cleaned away the empty container, and tore open the untouched medicine packet labeled “Evening.” Evening doses usually included sleeping components, so this would be better.

“What are you doing?”

Hamin, who had been staring at him, asked in disbelief.

“Take this first.”

Jaeha handed him the pills and water. When Hamin swallowed them without protest, Jaeha patted his shoulder a few times, satisfied.

“You know this is trespassing…”

“Lie down.”

He cut him off, led him to the mattress, laid him down, and pulled the thin blanket up to his chin.

“The hospital already…”

“Yeah, and hospitals don’t do this even if you pay taxes. If you’re just going to keep spoiling the mood, be quiet.”

Jaeha furrowed, creases formed between his brows. Hamin blinked at the sight.

When the bell had first rung, Hamin had no intention of answering. He had thought it would be another peddler, or a cult recruiter.

But when it rang over and over, he had dragged himself up to check, and found an unexpected person behind the iron door.

Not that it changed his mind. If anything, the porridge bag dangling from Jaeha’s hand only reinforced it.

There was no reason to let anyone see him sick. It wasn’t a serious illness, just a cold, so…

It was nothing.

He thought it would stop soon, so he lay back down, but the doorbell kept ringing. When he finally pulled the door open, this was not the scene he had expected.

He thought if he explained the situation, Jaeha would grumble and leave, but instead he came inside, laid him down, pulled the blanket over him, and even patted his stomach like he was some five-year-old child.

Five? No, even at three years old Hamin had never been treated that way. The weak palm patting his stomach in felt strange. It tickled a little, it felt unpleasant, and yet it was something he had never experienced before.

He swallowed for no reason. Somehow, it felt like he had to.

“Does your throat hurt?”

The worried voice sounded soft, almost ticklish. Softer than when he pretended to be kind in front of others.

Hamin shook his head. A whisper came back, “That’s a relief.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping? Doesn’t medicine make you drowsy? Should I turn off the light?”

He hesitated, then just closed his eyes instead of answering. He could have said taking medicine and lying down right after would never let him digest properly, but he didn’t feel like it. He just wanted to stay in this strange atmosphere a little longer. His throat really did ache a bit too, like Jaeha said. That made replying feel bothersome.

With his eyelids closed, he moved his pupils around and carefully asked,

“…Are you going to keep doing that until I fall asleep?”

“Probably.”

“That’s inefficient.”

“Right.”

Even when he retorted without thinking, Jaeha didn’t get annoyed like usual. He only smiled faintly, like he was calming a child.

What age did he think he was treating him as?

Hamin only grumbled and kept his mouth shut.

Today, the broken spring mattress felt unusually comfortable. Maybe it was because of the small weight of the hand on his stomach. It gave him a strange stability.

His breath was still hot against his nose, but unlike before, the strength drained out of his body. He had a lot to do, but he didn’t want to think about anything.

Was Jaeha really going to stay like this until he fell asleep? How did he know when he would?

There was no way he could sleep with a stranger in his house, someone constantly touching him. So Hamin only planned to pretend to sleep. His body ached, but he had work to do. His presentation materials…

But in no time, despite what he thought, he fell asleep.

Jaeha immediately noticed. The eyelids that had been tightly shut went slack, the forced breathing naturally softened. When he brushed away the damp bangs clumped with sweat, Hamin’s brow twitched slightly, then relaxed again. Even asleep, he was sensitive.

He had seen him asleep once before, drunk, but back then he had been too angry to notice anything. This was the first time he was really seeing it.

With his eyes closed, the lashes planted in neat rows looked longer than expected. The usually rigid expression looked softer.

Jaeha sat hugging his knees and just looked at him. Not because he was weird, but because Hamin’s sleeping face looked like something worth observing.

Every now and then his eyes twitched like he was dreaming. His red tongue slipped out to lick his lips, then disappeared again. It was an amusing sight.

Jaeha even felt a reckless urge to poke his smooth skin and wake him up. Just then Hamin turned in his sleep, facing his side instead of the wall.

Up close, his forehead and straight nose stood out more. Jaeha acted on impulse, pulled out a sketchbook and pencil from his bag, and started to draw.

For a while the quiet room held nothing but the sound of Hamin’s uneven breaths and the pencil scratching.

Why was his hair so shiny? What was with his skin? Why were his lips so red?

He kept nitpicking in his head, but in truth, Hamin was a perfect model. His hand moved quickly, afraid Hamin would change position.

In less than twenty minutes, the sketching was done. He placed the sketchbook beside Hamin’s face, tilted his head, blinked. Something was wrong.

“…Ugly.”

It made no sense, but the picture looked ugly.

Jaeha’s pupils shook. He had never once thought he couldn’t draw, but this was terrible. Not one feature resembled Hamin properly.

His arm braced near Hamin’s face trembled, his breathing grew short, his head dizzy.

He thought about it for long, but once he decided, he moved fast. He pressed his lips against Hamin’s. It was barely a touch, like a stamp, but it felt like he had branded him.

He pulled back quickly, retreating to the wall, covering his mouth with his palm. He couldn’t bear it otherwise.

His heart, no, his whole body, even his pinky, pulsed violently.

He closed his eyes shut.

Contrary to his fear, Hamin’s lips weren’t unpleasant. They were too sweet.

Too sweet, so much that he couldn’t pretend not to know what it meant.