Jinwook extends his hand out towards Dojin, who is holding yet another Kleenex box. Jinwook sneezes two times in a row, causing Dojin to give him a look, one that read “I’m sorry.”

“Is there enough?” Jinwook asks through sniffles; he has felt like he’d need all the Kleenex boxes in the world.

“I sent Chanyoung to buy more just in case,” Dojin assures him.

It’s quite early in the morning but because of Jinwook, Dojin couldn’t get any sleep. Yet it was another normal Tuesday and soon Byulha would wake up to hazily make his way into the kitchen.

However, the pressure behind Jinwook’s eyes pulses hot, runs down his neck, skin flushed and sticking with sweat. He shifts, the bedsheets rustling and wrinkling uncomfortably beneath him.

“Hey don’t move too much,” Dojin chastises gently, hands already going against Jinwook’s shoulder, pushing back to lay down.

“I need…” Jinwook sneezes, jolting himself from his rest, eyes watering, his voice is meek but he leans back up, hands going to the comforter, pulling it back, “I need to make breakfast…Byulha is gonna starve.”

Dojin looks at him, his stare trying to be serious but when Jinwook sneezes again, his eyes turn wide, hands frantically going for the tissue box, fussing.

“You sound horrible,” Dojin says gently, “and you don’t look like you should be doing anything. You know you shouldn’t be doing anything.“

Jinwook frowns, nose wrinkling, eye brows knitting, “Then how are you and Byulha going to eat?”

Dojin smiles at him, hands already pushing him back, covering him with the comforter.

“Well there’s me and I’m pretty sure breakfast is not that hard.”

-

“So I just have to figure out how to turn this on,” Dojin mumbles to himself, turning the knob all the way but nothing happens. Byulha makes his way to a chair on the dining room.

“You’re supposed to push it in and then turn,” Jinwook says. Dojin looks up, eyes narrowing at the way the duvet drops to the floor as a makeshift cape.

“I know that,” Dojin says fiercely, turning on the stove, “and why are you up? Go back to bed.”

“I was worried when I didn’t hear any sign of life for the last 20 minutes,” Jinwook states, pulling up a stool and settling next to the stove, “I came to make sure you hadn’t died in the process.”

“You’re the one who sounds like you’re dying,” Dojin puts a pot on the burner, “and I’m just making oatmeal, I can’t go wrong with that.”

Jinwook sneezes yet again slightly proving Dojin’s point and watches in horror as Dojin pours oats into the dry pan, grabbing a wooden spoon and stirring.

“Dojin I-” Jinwook tries to get up but Dojin’s free hand goes up.

“Just relax,” Dojin sighs, “all I have to do is stir until it turns to mush right?”

“It’s just-” Jinwook tries again.

“I’ll even make you soup after this,” Dojin continues.

“You need to add water before you add the oats,” Jinwook says weakly, slumping on his stool, making a face at the smell of burnt oats.

Byulha’s nose bunches up at the smell, “Who let him cook?” He walks over to the kitchen and watches as Dojin starts over and actually adds in water.

“Dad, can’t I just eat the leftover cake in the fridge? I don’t want to eat that burnt mush,” Byulha whines.

“This time it won’t burn,” Dojin assures Byulha.

“Yeah sure, it’ll be something worse,” Byulha replies. He looks over to Jinwook who is now standing and walking towards the refrigerator. Dojin sighs as he watches Jinwook take out the cake. Byulha smiles and takes the cake from Jinwook, helps him back to the stool, and makes his way back into the dining room.

Meanwhile, Dojin continues to stir the oats mixture until he realizes Byulha took nothing to drink with him. Dojin pushes Jinwook’s stool closer to the stove and tells him to keep stirring for him. He then goes to the fridge and gets Byulha some milk. He makes sure to remind Byulha to wash up after he eats because of the cake icing on his face and fingers.

Dojin makes his way back to the kitchen, where he sees Jinwook stirring calmly with a slight smile on his face. He begins walking towards him again when he hears the doorbell ring. He looks back to Byulha but sees him his icing covered fingers and decides to open the door himself.

“Sorry, I didn’t open myself. As you can see my hands are pretty full,” says Chanyoung, holding 3 bags full of Kleenex boxes along with some medicine and disinfectant.

“It’s okay,” Dojin assures as he takes the bags from Chanyoung, “I’d tell you to come in but I wouldn’t want you getting sick.”

“I understand,” Chanyoung replies as he waves Dojin goodbye and makes his way back home.

Dojin then carries the bags into the living room and quickly makes his way to the kitchen. Except that Jinwook isn’t sitting on the stool and is instead serving two bowls.

“It’s done?” Dojin asks.

“Yes, I saved the dish,” Jinwook giggles but then sneezes.

Dojin rushes to take a box of Kleenex from the bag, pushing the box to Jinwook’s chest, hands already pushing his hair back, watching it stick up.

Dojin looks down at the bowl, realizes it’s not just plain oatmeal, has bits of fruits and nuts, is a color more golden than the pale color of normal oatmeal.

“Honey,” Jinwook croaks.

“Gross,” Byulha calls out from the dining room.

Dojin laughs.

The oatmeal is (unsurprisingly) good, Dojin makes sure Jinwook gets a second serving before he follows Byulha out the door.

“Dad,” Byulha crosses his arms, “I’m gonna be late.”

Dojin looks at him, smile on his face, “then just kiss me good bye and you can go!”

Byulha glares at him, huffs and slumps his shoulders, “ugh, fine,” he says.

He kisses him quickly, a peck on his cheek.

“Good luck at school,” Dojin says with a wide smile, “behave.”

“Whatever,” Byulha mutters, dragging his feet.

When he closes the door Dojin has every intention of taking Jinwook back to bed, but when he turns around he sees Jinwook shuffling around, putting things away, picking up stray laundry.

“Hey!” Dojin says, “stop that!”

Jinwook does not stop, “I need to clean this mess,” he says, “Byulha left his plates out.”

“I’ll get them,” Dojin says quickly, “just please stop moving, lay down.”

Jinwook keeps moving, Dojin lets out an exasperated sigh, eyes squinting in warning before he launches himself at Jinwook, yanking away the dirty laundry in Jinwook’s arms, flailing around when Jinwook’s arms automatically go up, making it impossible to get it all.

“You need to rest,” Dojin says loudly, dropping the dirty laundry and circling his arms around Jinwook’s waist.

He knows he’s smaller but he’s also a lot stronger than Jinwook, with little effort he manages to knock Jinwook down.

“Dojin!” Jinwook yelps, the palm of his hand going to push into the side of Dojin’s face, “you can’t do this, I’m sick!”

“Oh,” Dojin’s voice is muffled, “now you’re sick?”

“I’m gonna sneeze on you!” Jinwook threatens, “and it’ll be gross.”

“You wouldn’t,” Dojin hisses, “you love me too much.”

Jinwook’s face crinkles, nose itching, Dojin freezes, sure it’s a bluff, but he jerks away when Jinwook’s head gets closer, just enough to feel a sneeze against his neck.

“Oh my god…” Dojin breathes, “I can’t believe you.”

“Oops,” Jinwook smiles.

-

Dojin manages to get Jinwook into bed, fluffing his pillows and making sure that he has enough tissues for his runny nose.

“Now stay here and relax,” Dojin explains, “I’m gonna go and make some soup for you and Byulha when he comes back home.  Don’t move a muscle.”

He waits until Jinwook nods, walks away from the bed backwards, eyes steely as if to scare Jinwook into submission.

He softly closes the door, looking at the pot of oatmeal he’s left in the sink to clean.

Getting the chores done is not so difficult, Dojin can probably do them in his sleep.  But he goes to them first, picking up clothes, straightening things out.  He washes the dishes, puts them in the rack to dry.  He considers going into Byulha’s room but decides against it when the time is short and he still has to make lunch.

He honestly doesn’t know where to start, but he figures he’s watched Jinwook make enough soups to have absorbed some knowledge on soup making.

“Chicken,” he says to himself, opening the fridge, “the soups on tv have carrots I think,” he murmurs.

This time he remembers to add water first, watching it until it starts to bubble.

“Oh,” he says, carefully adding spoonfuls of sour cream, “this makes it creamy right?”

He drops in the (mangled) carrots and celery pieces. Watches as the chicken drops heavily to the bottom of the pot.

“I hope this quiet means Jinwook is sleeping,” he hums as he stirs, watching intently for it all to turn into soup.

The door opens moments later. Dojin steps away for a second, walking into the living room, watching Byulha throw his bag on the couch.

“How was school,” Dojin asks cheerfully, wiping his hand on his shirt.

“Boring,” Byulha says, hands reaching for the remote, “like always.”

He waits for Byulha to settle on a channel before he reminds him that his dad is sick, “so please keep the volume low.”

“Yeah ok,” Byulha doesn’t look up from the television, “hey what’s that smell?”

Dojin looks towards the kitchen, eyes landing on the smoke starting to pour out of the door.

“No,” he whispers to himself, knows that the smell will alert Jinwook.

His eyes shift to their bedroom door when it opens, Jinwook all ruffled with the comforter wrapped around him.

“Dojin?” he asks.

“Jinwook! Go back to bed,” Dojin rushes to him, tries to block Jinwook’s way but he stumbles a little and it’s the advantage Jinwook needs to pitifully waddle to the kitchen.

Dojin follows after him, practically hearing Byulha roll his eyes.

“What is this?” Jinwook asks, hands turning the stove off, pointing at the something in the pot.

The cream and water hadn’t mixed at all, instead there’s curds floating around, bumping with gray pieces of chicken, carrot mush sticking to the sides of the pot.

“Soup!” Dojin says, “it’s not ready yet that’s why it looks like that.”

His hand goes to Jinwook’s. He shivers with how hot the other’s palm is in his.

“Let’s go to our room, please,” he must sound desperate because Jinwook’s dead weight starts cooperating.

They pass by Byulha again, who gives them a more interested look.  Dojin tugs Jinwook along, squinting at the dark room before Jinwook has the mind to turn the lights on.

“Why don’t you just stay still,” Dojin whines, sitting at the edge of the bed, “you’re sick, you’re supposed to let me take care of you!”

Jinwook waddles to him, sits down, spreads his comforter to Dojin’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” he says softly, “you don’t have to take care of me.”

Dojin lays his head on Jinwook’s shoulder, takes note of the warmness pressing to his cheek, “but I want to.  You do it all the time, I wanted to do it at least once.”

Jinwook looks down at him, mouth bumping with the top of Dojin’s head, he takes the chance and drops a kiss to it.

“You’re really cute,” he says, “like this.”

Dojin’s cheeks flare up, “stop,” he whines.

They turn to look at each other, Dojin’s eyes steady on Jinwook’s sleepy ones, “don’t sneeze on me,” he warns.

Jinwook laughs, dropping his head for a kiss.

“Gross,” Byulha says from the doorway, “you’re gonna get sick.”

Dojin moves away, hands going up to fix Jinwook’s hair, “alright, you’re right, we’ll stop.”

“Good,” Byulha nods, “I’ve made dinner.”