He writhe in the heat of the comforter that surrounded his body. He twists his body this way and that, brows furrow in fashion, and he is shivering as if his life depended on it. He is aching as his whole body was seized by burning fever as a result of the heavy rain that was still pouring outside. Even with the medication, he finds it hard to rest. He brings the protective heat tighter around him, but still it failed to stop his teeth from clattering.
 
The sudden clap of thunder made him jump in shock and he whimpered in fright. He hates stormy night like this, and now he's trembling even more. He turns his face into the pillow underneath his head, rubs his burning skin into the cool material and brought his body into fetal position. Tears slide down his cheeks unconsciously and he wouldn't know he's crying if a sob hadn't escaped rebelliously.
 
The next one was caught at the back of his throat when a cool hand laid unceremoniously onto his forehead. His bangs were brushed aside when another cool hand joined in the exploration of his face, as if searching for something. He moaned out weakly in pain when a piercing headache hammered into him and he could feel his pulse throbbing in his temple. That was when he felt the heat protecting him withdraw, and a weight dipped onto the bed on his right before he was once again wrapped in comforting heat. He exhaled on a soft breath and without opening his eyes, nestled closer to the neck that met his nose. His arms wrap themselves willingly around the waist of the other person, his lower limbs tangle with the other's longer ones— and vaguely in his dizziness, he felt warm soothing rubs over his back as the person holding him hugged him tighter. He breathed against the warm neck, feeling his hot breath fan out and reflect against his face. His teeth weren't clattering and he wasn't shivering anymore.                                                                                                
 
The fever was forgotten as he focused on the familiar heat under and around him. The now warmed hands ran over his fevered skin and rubbed on areas uncovered by his thin shirt. He sighed. Finally the medication was taking effect.

***

Seungri woke to the burn of the afternoon sun on his skin. Squinting against the brightness, he stretched before sitting up. The throbbing in his head tells him his fever might just not be retreating yet. He frowns at the lack of sound in the house as he was sure someone had held him while he slept the previous night. Jiyong.
 
He lowered his head and sighed in resignation. He bit his lower lip and hugged his knees to his chest as tears are called forth from their dam.
                      

Lunch is in the fridge. Medication is on the kitchen counter. Be careful with the microwave. -Jiyong
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          
Seungri smiled at the short post-it on his bathroom door. He remembers he used to see many more of such short notes around the house. Sadness suddenly washed over him, and he thought he could have had so much more than this. No, he wouldn’t cry over little things anymore. He needs to grow up.

***                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   
“Jiyong,” Seungri sat with his legs up on the couch, knees against his chest as he held the phone against his ear. Both hands clung to the small device and he stared blankly at the empty space in front of him. His mind so focused on the sound at the other end of the receiving line, he could hear the other’s almost inaudible breath hitch when he called his name. Then his heart sank when he heard a heavy sigh.
 
“Seungri,” The other person’s voice was only a little louder than a whisper. “I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
 
The slightly annoyed tone in Jiyong’s voice made him panic. “I—Sorry, I just wanted to hear your voice.” He coughed a couple of times when he finished the sentence. It was not a pretence but he lit up when the other became concerned but the frown was evident in his quiet voice.
 
“Is your fever not retreating yet?”
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  
Seungri felt better already, really. He felt his forehead— and the heat was completely gone under the coercion of the medication. He coughed a few more times, deliberately, before answering in an equally quiet voice. “The medication isn’t helping at all.”
 
He was hopeful when another sigh greeted his ear.

Please come back to me.
 

 
“I’ll come by tonight.”

***

The same cool hands felt his forehead again. Seungri’s eyes snapped open at the touch and he looked up longingly at the face he missed so much. Even in the dark, he could see affection and worry frame the other’s face like it belonged there. He sat up abruptly and caught the hands tightly in his grip when the body started to move away from him. “Jiyong,”
 
“Your fever’s gone—“
 
“Stay?” Seungri willed his tears to remain at bay. He gripped tighter when the hands tried to remove themselves from him. “Please.” The desperate plea left him on a helpless breath. He saw hesitation in Jiyong’s movement as the other man faced his inner struggle.
 
“Why are you like this, Seungri?” It was a statement in resignation as Jiyong relaxed against the smaller man’s surprisingly strong hold on both his wrists. Seungri sat straighter when the other gently pried away one of his hands to lift his comforter. He shifted to his left and made space for Jiyong, and the other person lay down stiffly.
 
Seungri’s brows wrinkled a little at the junction where they nearly met when the taller man put his palms underneath his head. His eyes were closed and Seungri just sat there studying the man. From the pretty features of his face, down to the beating pulse at his neck where he wants to snuggle his face against, and further down to the rest of his body. The t-shirt the other wore clung like a second skin and he could make out every defined muscle. From the slow rise and descend of the chiselled chest to the slight bulge beneath the black slacks Jiyong wore. Seungri swallowed, remembering so many hot nights with the other man and heat stirred in the pit of his stomach.
 
“Done staring?”
 
Seungri met two raised brows and blushed at his blatant stare at the other’s body. He stammered incoherently before grabbing the comforter and covering both of them. He lay side by side with the man, waiting for a few moments to pass. He slowly inched closer when Jiyong’s breath evened out. Closer and closer, he turned his body and laid his head gently on the other’s shoulder. He held his breath, and when there was no movement from the body beside him, Seungri relaxed and settled deeper against the warmth. One arm reached boldly across and rested on the area where it protects a beating organ. He hooked his left leg with Jiyong’s before smiling and finally willed himself to sleep.
 
I miss you.

***

Jiyong woke when his body alarm told him to. It was still dark but he knew he had to get ready for work. A warm body snuggled against him made him turn his head. He smiled when he felt a mass of dark brown silk brushing his cheek. Leaning forward, he breathed the familiar scent in— it smelled like the light fragrance of lavender shampoo and warmth.
 
Roving limbs snapped his attention downwards and he nearly groaned. Seungri’s leg was rubbing against his and his bent knee bumped gently against his morning . His hand was tickling the side of Jiyong’s waist as it moved caressingly up and down. Hot breath trickled down the side of his neck, and soft mewling sounds were a seductive mantra escaping from Seungri lips.
 
Jiyong didn’t know which of the administrations he should stop first since both his hands were trapped with the other man wrapped tightly around him. The smaller man must be having a wet dream— Jiyong could feel the other’s hardness as he rocked his hips against the side of his thigh. “Seungri,” He barely managed and almost couldn’t recognize his own voice. He would have jumped if the other wasn’t holding him so tight, so he cursed out instead– when Seungri roaming hand cupped his .
 
Jiyong stilled the hand his hardness through the thin slacks. “Seungri,” He moved temptation out of the way and realized stupidly then that he was actually stronger than the other man.
 
“Jiyong?” The sleep-doused voice almost made him come in his pants. Seungri rubbed his eyes innocently and turned his face up at him.
 
“I—I need to get ready for work, you go back to sleep.” The taller man disengaged himself quickly from the tangled limbs and nearly fell off the bed in his clumsiness. “Go back to sleep.” His voice was thick and husky when he gave that light command. Embarrassed at what a scene he was making, he unconsciously slammed the bathroom door shut a little too loudly.
 
Seungri on the other hand, lay back down onto the bed as what Jiyong had told him to. He blushed fiercely at the dream he had. One hand felt his right cheek as it burnt with red hot flush. It felt so real, it felt so hot. Jiyong was ing against his face, hands gripped his hair, and Seungri was gagging on his . His saliva had dripped from his mouth and slid down the thick hot length, slicking it up even more and making the s easier. The seductive and familiar taste of salty sweetness that was Jiyong’s burned fresh in his mind. He swore he felt the hardness even right up to his fingertips.

***

It was another night, one more day without Jiyong. Seungri felt pathetic, and it wasn’t Jiyong’s fault. The taller man wasn’t the one who lied. It was him. Seungri lied. This was his fault. And he hates himself because he’s acting as though he didn’t deserve any of this at all. He wants Jiyong. He wants him back. He wants his house to be filled with his laughter and the aroma of his cooking again.
 
The more he thinks about it, the more disgusted he grew with himself because he wasn’t worthy of any of what he missed at all. And it pained him even more knowing that Jiyong will brave through all the pains for him, even if all he wants is just to hear his voice again. Tears no longer heed his command as they spilled from his lids. The throb in his heart— was a burning pain coursing through his veins and vessels.

Seungri arched his back, pushing his head deeper into the sheets underneath. And then he bowed forward so that his body curled up uncomfortably. He clutched at his heart and took pleasure in feeling the burn right in the depths of his tainted organ. Hot shimmering trails of liquid smoulder the skin underneath with weak acid, his eyes red and raw and it stung.
 
He felt like a fish out of water as he gulped down deep breaths of air and tried to catch his breath. No, he doesn’t deserve to feel so much pain from losing Jiyong.

I need you.