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Woojin wakes up because he is... cold. The usual, soothing heat that tends to seep into his muscles at night, has gone. Gunwoo, who never minded the way that Woojin couldn’t keep his limbs to himself when they slept, wasn’t there.
Woojin was cold.
Woojin groans as he stretches his arms above his head, his bones cracking as he yawns. His hand blindly reaches out, maybe Gunwoo rolled a little too far away in his sleep? No, because Woojin’s hand smacks against the thin mattress padding that lies beside him. He sits up, still delirious from sleep, but concerned. Worried. Gunwoo wouldn’t have just left him without saying anything. Did Myeonggil’s goons find him somehow? Did Gunwoo leave to get them breakfast, only to be captured, beaten, tortured and never seen again?
Woojin throws on a faded t-shirt, shorts and his gym shoes before running out of the safe house. On the way out, he nearly bumps into Mr. Oh, the older man startled and backing away. Woojin feels immediate regret.
Woojin bows in respect. “Mr. Oh, have you seen Gunwoo? He wasn’t in our room this morning.”
“He left out alone. I saw him jogging by the shore. I was surprised to see that you weren’t with him.” Mr. Oh says, bags of groceries in his hands. Woojin graciously takes the bags, helping the man inside before going back out again to look for Gunwoo.
This is weird. Very weird. Gunwoo wouldn’t go training without Woojin, so why start now? Although it is nearly unsettling, Woojin is at least relieved to know that Gunwoo was seen not too long ago, alive and well. He also knows that the other man wouldn’t go down without a fight. Woojin shouldn’t worry, but still, there is an aching feeling in the pit of his gut that makes him feel sick.
Woojin jogs down their usual path, searching for Gunwoo in a panic. With every passing moment that he sees no sign of the other man, his chest tightens with each step. His legs pump faster, his body numb as he runs faster and faster.
Where the fuck is he? Where is Gunwoo? Why would he leave without telling Woojin where he was going?
What if he’s hurt? What if Smile Capital already has him in their clutches?
What if Gunwoo is dead?
Woojin furiously wipes the hot tears that stream down his cheeks. Gunwoo is a fighter, a survivor. He wouldn’t let them get to him that easily.
This can’t be happening. This can’t…
Wait… Gunwoo?
Woojin skids to a halt, his throat burning as his breaths turn to wheezes. In the distance, he sees Gunwoo, hunched over, his hands pressed to his knees.
Woojin pushes through the searing, blood-red pain, gritting his teeth as he cries out to Gunwoo. The closer Woojin gets, the more his heart begins to tear at the seams.
“Gunwoo-ah, Gunwoo are you… are you okay?”
Gunwoo is coughing, almost choking, heaving and gagging up a nearly clear stream of bile. Woojin runs to stand behind him, combing back his fringe so that he doesn’t get sick in his hair.
“Shit, Gunwoo-ah.” Woojin rubs Gunwoo’s back, the younger man panting and sputtering as he spits into the bushes. He turns in Woojin’s arms, stumbling until Woojin presses him deeper into his chest. Gunwoo’s skin is pale, his eyes cloudy and unfocused.
“Hyung…” Gunwoo‘s breathing is shallow, his hands gripping the fabric of Woojin’s sweaty shirt.
“Gunwoo-ah, are you sick? What’s wrong—”
But Gunwoo’s knees give out beneath him, his eyes rolling back as he loses consciousness. Woojin falls to catch him, his hand sprawled out against Gunwoo’s back as he cradles his body to the ground.
Woojin seethes, holding Gunwoo against him, panicked, confused.
"Fuck."
Gunwoo slowly comes to, light stabbing through the creasing of his eyelids. His stomach feels sick, nausea stewing in his gut. A cool breeze brushes against Gunwoo's skin, slipping beneath the oversized shirt that he drowns in. His hands tremble as he pulls at the fabric that drapes from his well-built frame. The shirt smells faintly of cinnamon and some old cologne, one that Gunwoo surely doesn't own. This isn't his shirt.
Gunwoo groans, exhaling a shaky breath as he presses a hand to his stomach. He looks around the room, a migraine pulsing at the front of his head as he winces, the heel of his palm pressing against his temple. He feels weak, ill. Something isn't right. Perhaps Gunwoo had pushed himself past his limits. He didn't really have a choice, and neither did Woojin. They can not afford to lose against Smile Captial. Not this time.
But wait, where is Woojin? They don't spend much time apart from one another, and for Gunwoo to wake up alone since they've met, is a rare occurence.
Gunwoo tries to intake a breath, but he can't. He can't breathe, his chest heaving violently as he bites back a gag. He starts to cry, tears pouring down his cheeks. Gunwoo has never felt this way before, has never been this sick before.
Where is Woojin? Is he hurt? Where did he go?
Why did he leave him?
"Gunwoo-ah, here, I can't cook for shit but... Gunwoo-ah? Gunwoo."
Woojin surges towards the bed, shoving the tray of food onto a nearby shelf and almost dropping the soup to the floor. Woojiin pulls Gunwoo into his chest firmly, breathing heavily and in a panic himself. Gunwoo lets out a broken sob, clutching the sleeves of Woojin's t-shirt and dampening the fabric with his tears. Woojin hushes him sweetly, smoothing down his hair and holding him close.
"Gunwoo-ah, it's okay, I'm here. I'm here."
Gunwoo buries his blunt nails into Woojin's clothing, needing to feel him, to know that he is there.
"Hyung..." He cries, nauseous and coming down from his debilitating fear. “What… what happened? Where were you?”
Woojin is hurting, grief-stricken from seeing his dongsaeng in so much pain, but he was scared too. Woojin was so fucking scared.
Woojin tries to pull away, wanting to get a good look at Gunwoo, but the younger man whimpers, shaking his head and burying his face into Woojin's chest.
"Yah, Gunwoo-ah, stop." The words are harsh, but his tone is anything but. He cups Gunwoo's cheeks, his dongsaeng's skin warm to the touch, much too warm to be considered normal.
"Aish, Gunwoo-ah, I think you have a fever." Woojin clicks his tongue, almost wanting to scold the younger man, but not having the heart to do so. He feels for Gunwoo’s forehead, before cupping his hot cheeks again.
Gunwoo sniffles, wiping at his nose with his sleeve. Woojin holds Gunwoo's face in his hands, pissed, but not at the other boxer.
Woojin is angry with himself.
How did he not see this? How did he let Gunwoo overwork himself? How did he let Gunwoo get this sick?
Woojin should have stopped him. He was his hyung. He should have noticed when Gunwoo was starting to reach his breaking point. Although it isn't logical for Woojin to blame himself for Gunwoo getting sick, he can't help it. Gunwoo means the world to him. In fact, Gunwoo is his world.
They can't fucking win against Smile Capital if they're both too sick to stand.
Woojin combs back a strand of Gunwoo's hair, the younger man shying away and ducking his eyes. Woojin bites the corner of his lip to stop himself from smiling.
Gunwoo is just so fucking cute.
"Gunwoo-ah, what the hell is wrong with you? I found you on our path that we take in the mornings. You threw up and then you passed out! Gunwoo, we always go on our runs together. Why did you leave without me? Why didn't you wake me up."
Woojin winces at the crack in his voice, reality shocking him like a cruel punch to the stomach. Fuck, he had never been so goddamn scared before. Never had Gunwoo been out of his sight like that without a reason. Woojin can't help but to tear up.
Gunwoo sniffles again. "You were still sleeping hyung... The alarm didn't wake you. I know you've been so tired... I wanted to let you rest." He mumbles, his lips pouted and his skin flushed a sickly red.
Woojin wipes Gunwoo's tears with his thumbs, chuckling at the way the younger man leans into the touch.
"I don't care how fucking tired I am. Gunwoo, please, don't just leave without telling me. Please."
Gunwoo nods, the gesture making him dizzy. He feels so lightheaded, his eyelids drooping. This was his body's way of telling him to rest, and he had no choice but to listen.
Gunwoo needed to rest.
"I won't hyung. I'm sorry." Gunwoo whispers, his voice having a nasally tone to it. He leans his head against Woojin's shoulder, his eyes falling shut as Woojin combs back his hair with gentle hands, kissing his forehead and the tip of his nose. Gunwoo's cheeks deepen in their cherry color, and Woojin has a feeling that it is not from his illness.
"Hyung, what if this is contagious? I don't want to get you sick too."
Woojin scoffs, caring only about Gunwoo's well-being and not his own.
"I don't give a fuck about that Gunwoo-yah, I just want you to get better. Do you think you can stomach this soup I made you?"
Gunwoo looks up, his lips slightly parted and his eyes wide and glistening, like a lost puppy.
"You made me soup, hyung?"
Woojin's brows raise, quite bashful as he looks away, scratching the nape of his neck.
"Erm, yeah... I mean, like I said I can't cook like your mom or anything, but—”
Gunwoo softly kisses Woojin on the cheek.
"Thank you, hyung."
Woojin's cheeks start to burn, his heart racing in his chest. Maybe he is catching something.
"Yah, just... don't scare me like that again. Fuck, my heart can't take another scare like that, got it?"
Gunwoo laughs, nodding slowly as he weaves their fingers together, locking their hands.
"Yes hyung."
Woojin points a stern finger at him, one that he uses to boop Gunwoo on the nose, the younger man giggling.
"I'm serious Gunwoo-ah! I thought... I thought I had lost you..."
Gunwoo's laughter flickers out, the hurt evident in his eyes as Woojin's heart starts to ache again. Gunwoo grips Woojin's hands even tighter.
"Hyung, I'm really sorry—”
"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to be careful. Please Gunwoo-ah—”
"Hyung." Gunwoo rests their foreheads together as he shuts his eyes, their noses brushing. "It won't happen again... I'm sorry hyung."
Woojin exhales a shaky breath, his thumb caressing Gunwoo's cheek. The tips of their noses brush again, Woojin squeezing his eyes shut. He doesn't want to cry. He shouldn't cry. Crying is for the weak, his father always told him that. Boys don't cry. Men don't cry, but Gunwoo brings out the best in him. His rawest of emotions, his truest of feelings. He loves Kim Gunwoo so much.
And he doesn't want to see him hurting like this.
"Let's sleep, hyung. I still don't feel good. I'll eat later, I promise."
Woojin sighs, nodding his head as he continues to cup Gunwoo's cheek with one hand, the other rubbing a thumb across his knuckles.
"Okay. You need to eat something, Gunwoo-ah." Woojin stresses, desperate at this point. He just wants Gunwoo to feel better.
"I will." Gunwoo smiles, guiding Woojin to lie beside him. He squeezes Woojin's hands in his own, holding them to his chest as he faces the other man.
Woojin smiles softly, already feeling a little more at ease, all because Gunwoo is starting to return to his normal self again. He just needs a bit of rest, and everything will be good again.
Woojin pulls Gunwoo into his chest, kissing his hair and slipping a hand beneath his on shirt, rubbing his feverish skin. Gunwoo sighs with content, nuzzling his face into the crook of Woojin's neck.
"If you don't eat this soup, I'm gonna kick your ass."
Gunwoo laughs as his nausea dissipates. The two share a brief kiss, or two, or three.
And Gunwoo already feels so much better.