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Warm sunlight spilled onto Jin-ho's face as he stirred awake, and he grimaced when an aching pain flared around his sinuses.
A weak sigh fizzled out. Getting the flu really was seriously the worst.
Yesterday hadn't been too bad. Sniffles afflicted him every now and then, but he was still able to carry out his responsibilities at the guild throughout the day. It was when he returned home that his symptoms took a downward turn—fever, body aches, sore throat, and coughing so ferocious that he was sure he was going to hack a lung out.
(Well, he might've coughed up a little blood… But, he'd survive, right?)
Besides that, much of the previous night was a blur. The last he remembered was downing a good dose of a sedative cough syrup he grabbed from the nearby convenience store and flopping into bed. Sedative-wise, it worked wonders; he slept as sound as a newborn baby. Yet, he still felt like there was an unnatural weight settled over his chest.
Jin-ho took a deep inhale, as much as his stuffy nose allowed, and… Oh, what was that? Taking a curious sniff, he caught the faint aroma of roasted chicken in the air. Must have been his neighbors cooking on their balcony again; they liked doing that on the weekends, and the smells had a tendency to permeate into his room.
Jin-ho let his eyes slip closed, mouth watering at the image of a steaming bowl of chicken soup creeping into his mind. He planned on making that later on, but right now, he needed sleep. A couple of more hours wouldn't hurt.
Tap. Tap.
Jin-ho peeled open his eyes again. Subtle footsteps could be heard from outside his bedroom, getting closer, which was… weird. He lived alone, and he was pretty sure he didn't have any visitors. So unless he was hallucinating, who could be walking around his apartment?
The footsteps stopped. A soft click, then his bedroom door opened slowly and a person stepped inside.
"Ah, you're awake."
Jin-ho stared. He blinked once, twice, certain he was having a fever dream. When the familiar figure failed to vanish like he expected it to, he mouthed, "H–Hyung-nim…?"
At his doorway, fading in and out from his blurred vision, was Sung Jin-woo. A myriad of questions swarmed Jin-ho's mind, but all he had the strength for was blinking fiercely at him, as if doing it enough times would change what he was seeing.
While Jin-ho struggled to process everything, Jin-woo moved. He didn't know when it happened. One moment, Jin-woo was at the doorway, and then the next, Jin-ho felt the bed dip and Jin-woo was looming over him like a shadow.
"Hey. You look terrible," Jin-woo whispered, brushing damp bangs away from Jin-ho's forehead, then carding his fingers through Jin-ho's hair.
Jin-ho mewled. Jin-woo's cool touch was bliss against his clammy skin.
"What…" Jin-ho rasped, but was suddenly assailed by a fit of coughing. It was hard to speak when every breath scraped against his throat like sandpaper. When his coughing stopped, he tried again. "What're you doing here…?"
Jin-woo raised a brow, but continued combing Jin-ho's hair. "I got worried when you didn't show up at the office. You're usually there before me, so I figured I would check up on you to make sure you were alright. Glad to see that my instincts were right."
He… didn't show up at the office? Wasn't it a weekend?
Jin-ho shifted his gaze to his digital clock atop his bed stand. It read 10:30 AM, Friday. Alright… Wait. Friday. That wasn't a weekend.
Realization slapped Jin-ho across the face. Today was a workday, and he had overslept.
Adrenaline launched Jin-ho's body into a sitting position. Where the vigor came from, he had no clue. All he knew was that he couldn't continue lying in bed like a worm.
"Woah, there," Jin-woo said, putting light pressure against Jin-ho's shoulders to keep him still. "Relax, you don't need to get up so fast."
Jin-ho shook his head. "I… I need to get to the office…"
"Yeah, no. That's not happening," Jin-woo deadpanned.
Jin-ho gave Jin-woo a pleading look. "But… I have to…" He made an attempt to resist Jin-woo's hold, but it was futile, like pushing against a brick wall. "There are documents I need to review… and I have to make some phone calls—"
Another coughing fit had him hacking and struggling for breath.
"Jin-ho, you're sick. You're in no condition to be working."
Jin-ho trembled through a wheezy exhale. "I–I know, but still…"
There was just so much Jin-ho needed to get done, work that he couldn't afford to put off for a single day. He wanted to show Jin-woo that he was competent. Reliable. If a measly flu stopped him from fulfilling his duties, then what was he even good for?
Jin-woo sighed. Somehow, he must have read Jin-ho's mind because he said, "I'm not going to think less of you if you take a sick leave."
"But, my work—"
Jin-woo held up a hand. "—Can wait. You may be my vice guild master—and let's be honest, you're more of a guild master than I am—but I don't expect you to kill yourself over paperwork and phone calls. Besides, we've got plenty of other workers at the guild. They're capable of taking care of whatever needs to get done in your stead, so put a little faith in them. You do trust them, don't you?"
Jin-ho fell silent, shame squirming in his gut (or maybe that was the flu talking). For a long time, it had been just him and Jin-woo, Jin-woo doing the fighting while Jin-ho handled the business side of their partnership. Now, they had their own guild and numerous employees who worked alongside Jin-ho. It was because of their combined efforts, not Jin-ho's efforts alone, that allowed Ahjin Guild to thrive. It was easy to forget that he didn't have to shoulder responsibilities alone anymore.
Jin-ho nodded weakly. "I do." And with that, his body finally relented.
Jin-ho let Jin-woo take control, not resisting when Jin-woo shifted next to Jin-ho and wrapped an arm around his shoulder while the other hand grabbed his hip and drew their bodies close to each other. Jin-ho's head lolled into Jin-woo's chest, resting against his bosom where he could hear the steady rhythm of his heart.
"You know, you shouldn't be this close to me…" Jin-ho mumbled, fidgeting a little.
Jin-woo shrugged. "I'll be fine."
Jin-ho paused at his nonchalant response, then nearly busted out into laughter. Of course Jin-woo would be fine. Something as trivial as the flu was simply beneath him.
After a moment of silence passed, Jin-ho whispered out of the blue, "I'm so sorry, hyung-nim," not exactly sure what he was apologizing for.
"Enough of that." Warmth suddenly bloomed over Jin-ho's lap. He looked down to see that a bowl was placed there, wisps of fragrant steam tickling his face.
"Are you hungry?" Jin-woo asked gently, rubbing Jin-ho's shoulder. "I made you chicken soup. You should eat a little, but only if you feel up to it."
"Oh…" Jin-ho's eyes began to water. "Hyung-nim, you really didn't have to…"
"I wanted to." A mirthful curve lifted the end of Jin-woo's lips. "And, well, since I'd already broken into your home, I might as well make up for it by making you food. Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?"
Jin-ho wheezed out a soft chuckle. He grabbed the spoon and started swirling the soup. "Thank you, hyung-nim. For making this for me. And…" A blush warmed his cheeks. "… for always taking care of me."
Fingers traced circles across his cheek. "Of course. You're my nam-dong-saeng. I will always take care of you, whether you like it or not."
Jin-ho's heart alighted.
And I will always take care of you, he wanted to say back, but his raw throat could no longer take the agony of talking. So, he cuddled into Jin-woo's side and ate his soup silently while Jin-woo continued to hold him close, letting their brotherly love for each other speak for itself.