Lu Han awoke to the throbbing pain in his head and the aching of his muscles, without remembering any of last night’s affairs or how he got here…wherever here was. He slowly opened his eyes but closed them immediately, blinded by the white light that hung from the ceiling. Everything was a blur, including the events that lead to whatever this was, and the constant ringing in his ears told him that his state of mind was not at its best right now.

The familiar smell of peaches, strawberries and lavender was his only clue as to where he was.

He groaned, and tried to sit up, but the sudden heavy weight of his body brought him back down, and he landed on his pillow with a loud ‘thud!’ Apparently, his physical condition wasn’t at its prime either.

“Ugh…”

He heard the door click open and then close as footsteps approached him. The pitter-patter of sneakers against the wooden floor was supposedly gentle, but for Lu Han who was not the least physically fit right now, it was an earsplitting cacophony that worsened his agony.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.”

It was you.

And this must be your and his room (the scent confirmed it).

You sat on the chair you conveniently placed beside his bed after moving his bedside table somewhere else. You crossed your legs and your arms, looking over at Lu Han’s sorry appearance. A small smile tickled your lips.

“Who would've thought that you’d be sick?” you pondered aloud, your soothing voice dispersing the imaginary noise he was hearing. “The last time I saw you was yesterday morning, and you were still in the pink. Isn’t it peculiar that you would just suddenly fall ill in a few hours?”

“…What?” For the second time, Lu Han lifted himself up, but his body still did not heed his commands, and he felt gravity pull him down. It was supposed to be another painful landing, but the hand that caught his back laid him down gently.

“Don’t force yourself, dude. You’re sick, remember?”

Lu Han once again opened his eyes; this time, however, the light was not as blinding, and he was able to fine-tune the hazy images around him. But his migraine still had not disappeared, and Lu Han grunted again. “Ugh…What is going on?” he groggily asked you, a hand on his head. He turned his head to the left and saw your smiling face.

“Well, if you must know, you collapsed yesterday afternoon, during your last class. Your prof phoned me and recounted how you just suddenly fainted. He thought you were sleeping, until you fell down on the floor without even a reaction nor a sign of life…so I came running to bring you to the clinic. Man, that made me panic.” You put a hand to your chest to emphasize your point.

Thanks to the unending soreness that made his entire body weak, it took Lu Han a few more seconds than usual to comprehend everything that you said. A soft groan escaped his lips as he looked at the clock that hung above door.

“…Wait a minute,” he croaked, his voice sounding raspy and abnormal, “Don’t you have a class at this hour?”

You gingerly moved his bangs aside. And for a moment, the tingling feeling of your fingertips against his forehead alleviated his current misery. “Lu Han, I’ve got a perfect attendance so far. I can take the risk and miss a few classes,” you assured him. “Anyway,” you placed your right palm on his forehead, and your left hand against your neck.

The contact made his heart race.

“…Hmmm. That’s strange,” you tilted your head to the side, “I was sure that your temperature had dropped a few minutes ago. Now, you’re burning again.” You retracted your hand. “And I just have the thing. D.O. cooked some chicken soup for you. It should make you feel better in no time. Plus, you need a full stomach before drinking your medicine.” You stood up to proceed to the kitchen, but Lu Han’s soft moan stopped you.

“I don’t want it. Cook for me.”

You frowned. “Lu Han, do you want get even sicker? Listen, man, as much as I would love to cook for you, I can’t simply because, well, I can’t. Besides, D.O. added a bunch of ingredients to enhance the over-all nutrition-factor of the soup, so it really will make you feel better.”

“No!” he whined, and brought the blanket up till his neck. “I want your soup; it’s the least you can give me. I’ve been cooking for you ever since—“ But a violent cough disturbed Lu Han, and he shot up, covering his mouth, and convulsing.

Without a second thought, you rushed to his bed and sat by him, rubbing his back as he hacked out all the air inside of him. When he finally finished unleashing all that he could, Lu Han’s face was nothing but red, and his hair stuck out like static. “Aigoo, Lu Han,” you cooed, and combing through his locks, “See? You need D.O.’s chicken soup. So,” you patted his head, “Be a good boy, and just listen, okay?”

He puckered his lips in disagreement, “No. Cook for me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, but decided to give in to his request nonetheless. “Fine.”

~

With a gentle kick, you carefully pushed the ajar door fully open, and peeked inside to see Lu Han peacefully slumbering his worries and sickness away. You cautiously entered the room, wary of the tray you were holding. You set it on your desk, and moved the bowl onto his bedside table.

A small smile spread across your face and you eyes softened as you watched Lu Han stir in his sleep. His eyebrows scrunched up as a low moan escaped his lips. He murmured something, but it was too faint, so you bent down and put your ear near his face.

“Soup,” he whispered, his breath tickling your neck.

You jerked up, clutching your neck.

That was weird.

That was really surprisingly pleasantly weird.

Or something—you couldn’t tell.

You were too close, you realized.

But despite the odd sensation that burned your skin, you started to laugh—quietly, so as not to wake him up.

Your roommate was so cute. On a normal basis, Lu Han didn’t sleep-talk unless you spoke to him first. Occasionally, however, and you’ve noticed that it usually happened when something was bothering him, he would say things in his sleep—objects that were connected to his dilemma.

Soup.

He said ‘soup.’

How endearing.

“Aigoo, LuLu,” you said to his sleeping figure, “You don’t like it when you’re called cute, but you’re nothing but cute.”

You settled your left knee on his bed, while your right leg supported you on the ground. You looked down at Lu Han’s tranquil face and took one last glance at it before twirling his hair in your fingers and waking him up. “Lu Han,” you gently spoke, “Wake up. I have soup for you.”

Lu Han groaned, but did not open his eyes.

“Lu Han,” you called him.

At long last, he woke up, and grunting as he stared up at your grin. He put his forearm on his forehead. “…I…”

“Wake up. You have to eat so you can feel better and drink your medicine.”

You backed away from his bed and aided him to balance and sit up.

“…Soup…?” he murmured.

“Yes, soup.”

“Your soup?”

You chuckled. “Yes, Lu Han, my soup.”

He smiled, although you could tell that he was only half-awake. “Mmm…soup,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes in the most adorable way possible.

You sat down on the chair and got a spoonful of soup from the bowl, a hand below the spoon to catch any liquid that would spill. “Say ‘aah,’ Lu Han,” you said. Lu Han obediently followed your order, even emitting the sound as he did, and you placed the spoon in his mouth, serving the warm chicken soup.

He closed his eyes and allowed the soup to stay in the cavern on his mouth for a few seconds, savoring all of its flavors, before letting it flow down his throat and into his stomach.  “…You tricked me,” he mumbled. “…This isn’t your cooking.” He pouted, his eyes still shut.

You smiled. “How did you know?”

“…It’s too good to be your cooking.”

Laughter.

“I’ll let this one slide; you’re too cute, LuLu.”

He opened his eyes and glared at you. “Don’t call me LuLu,” he meekly said, failing to show you a brave front.

“All right, all right. But you have to finish the soup, okay? You need to drink your medicine.”

“But I want your cooking.”

“Lu Han, don’t be difficult. This is what’s best, okay?”

“…All right. But promise me that when I’m sick next time, you’ll be the one to prepare soup for me, okay?”

“Okay, okay. I promise.”

Lu Han brought up his hand, all of his fingers curled except for his pinky. “Pinky promise me on that one?”

You chortled. Your roommate was so innocent today, and the way he acted and talked so feebly amused you to no end.

You kind of wanted to hug him.

Kind of. Just, kind of.

Because, you know…you were aphephobic.

Your wrapped your own pinky around his, and tugged on it. “Okay, pinky promise!”

It shocked you to realize that the burning sensation that you were expecting to feel whenever you had physical contact, was not there.

What replaced it was a warmth that tenderly prickled your skin.

Lu Han had probably transferred his virus to you. 

Author's Note:

Hello again, everyone~

Here is another installment in the daily lives of Lu Han and his roommate! Well, this is surely a fluffly chapter. >V<

I will try updating again tomorrow, but no guarantees! I may or may not be busy with schoolwork! Also, if you have read Countdown, you would notice an allusion to it regarding the scent of the room! :-) I personally don't know what the smell would be like, but I'm sure it would smell amazingly sweet! 

I'll be intertwining the two stories every now and then, so be sure to spot their connections! :))

Anyway, thank you once again for reading, subscribing and commenting!

Please do tell me what you think and even voice out what you want to happen next! Your comments will be super appreciated <3

Till next time!

(I'm sorry for not posting any chapter previews for a while; I can't really write chapters beforehand due to my busy schedule T.T)

And remember to check out Countdown, if you haven't!