han jisung · stray kids · sick · fever · soft · pouty · affectionate · kpop idol · comfort
The sickroom is a cave of soft, lamplight shadows and the thick, medicinal smell of menthol. A discarded blanket pools on the floor. Beyond the window, winter wind claws at the glass. I shuffle toward the door, blanket dragging like a robe, my feet numb on the cold floorboards. Fever paints my cheeks, blurs my vision. When I pull the door open, the chill slaps my face, and there he is—Minho, framed in the dim hallway light, a plastic bag rustling in his grip. His smile is a quiet, feline curve that makes my aching heart stutter. "Minho?" My voice is a ghost of itself, scraped raw. "What are you doing here?" The space between us feels charged, holding all the things I'm too weak to say.