It's a little late.
But can you hear me? Hear my words? I   

He paused in his typing, suddenly feeling nervous, his hands were clammy, the sweat from gripping his phone too hard making the device a little harder to hold onto. When did this start, he mused, that I begun losing the words for Jae? A wave of nausea swept through him, and he wasn't sure if it was the bug he was fighting, or the thought that he had drifted so far from his love, for so long that he didn't even know when he had started to lose the words. He to his side, legs tangled in the blankets and head sinking further into his pillow. He still left a space to his right, a habit he didn't kick, one that he didn't want to kick.

He could see Jae, right beside him, eyes closed, long lashes fanning out. Jae, hair slightly mussed in sleep and his lips slightly parted. Jae, his chest rising and falling gently, peacefully and snuggled up next to him.

But he knew. Knew that if he reached out a hand to brush away the bangs falling over Jae's closed eyes, if he lifted his arm to sling it over Jae's waist, if he leaned down to touch his own lips to Jae's, Jae would slip through his fingers and disappear. So he wouldn't.

A man could dream, he thought wistfully, even if that dream was untouchable.

He lifted his arm and trailed his fingers along the outline of Jae's cheek, not touching, but tracing nonetheless. A bittersweet thought occurred to him: At least there's one perk to being ill, and no one could take Jae away from him now. No one could watch and keep them apart, keep them from talking, keep them from  

"Hyung, are you better?"

He let out a sigh, his arm falling onto his phone on the bed as if the device was what it was searching for in the first place. Propping himself up on his right elbow    where Jae had laid    , he half-sat up to turn and face the maknae who was walking to the bedside. He nodded wordlessly, still not having gotten over his disappointment at Jae being chased away by Changmin's appearance. But one glance at his maknae's concerned face changed his mind almost immediately, and he smiled, adding a 'don't worry!'.

Changmin frowned, his eyebrows conveying his displeasure, snatching Yunho's phone from the latter's grasp.

'Seriously, hyung, take care of yourself, will you? I've to go for a photoshoot now, and there's going to be no one around. I'll leave the water here    and the medicine    here, okay? Call me if you need anything.' His tone was gruff but the concern in there was unmistakable, and Yunho couldn't resist a jab at him in the ribs.

'Got it, mother,' he scoffed at the maknae.

With that, Changmin was out of the room, muttering under his breath about ingrates and leaders and the two coming together as a joke from God on his life.

The front door shut and Yunho's scoff ended in a hacking cough that he had barely managed to keep at bay before Changmin had finally left. He rarely fell sick, but when he did, it was often severe. He'd heard that the less you fell sick, the stronger the bug'll be when you actually do. That's certainly true.. For this bug, at least, he thought dryly. 

He sunk back into the bed, a haze settling over his mind, his eyes closing even as he tried to will Jae back beside him again. Unbidden, the image came to him, one of Jae and him, in a past that didn't seem as distant in his head. Fingers intertwined, laying in each other's arms, basking in each other's warmth, their eyes conveying unspoken truths that the other needed to know.

'Ah, so it was then...' he thought fleetingly, vaguely surprised his mind had held on to the question he had had earlier, even in its drugged state.

He didn't know how long it had been, how much time passed, but his fingers tingled, and he knew Jae was back beside him, even without opening his eyes. It was funny, this is the first time he could sense Jae with something other than his sight alone. It probably meant that this is the most severe out of the times he's been ill, but he honestly couldn't care less, as he entwined his fingers with Jae's, not daring to bring Jae's body closer to his, not daring to drape his limbs over Jae. Not daring to do much more than lay there and breathe, because he didn't know where the limit was, when Jae would vanish.

And he didn't want him to leave, not now, not ever.

The simple touch of fingers to fingers wasn't enough, but more than enough at the same time. It's more than what he's had for such a long, long time. It's enough to spark the ache in his chest, and it spread like wildfire through his body, thought it didn't lighten up in his chest at all. The heaviness and pain in his chest grew and grew, until he gave in to it, allowing his weakness to overcome his ebbing strength in this one moment when no one could see the leader break down. He hadn't known how weak he had become, hadn't known how much the empty space beside him that was growing colder with each day that passed had been eating away at his resolve. But even as his tears leaked from his closed eyes, he couldn't bring himself to hate this weakness that he had acquired.

Not if it was because he gave his heart to Jae.

He hadn't realised he had been babbling, the words barely slipping across his mind before they took shape in the air as he whispered them to Jae, the constant string of words being the only thing keeping him from clutching at Jae, from holding Jae desperately.

'I love you... I need you... Don't leave... Not... again... I miss you... so much... it hurts... I want to hate you sometimes... but I can't... It's my fault... Do you hate me? P-please don't... It hurts... Why does it hurt so much, Jae?... God, I love you, Jae... You're the last thing I ever want to lose...'

He had the sense that his words were stumbling over one another; he hardly knew what he was saying, but he meant them all, more than anything else he had ever said. So many things he wanted to say, yet at the same time, he didn't want to say anything. Perhaps if he didn't, he could pretend Jae was still here, and none of this happened, and    And    between them, there were still no words that are needed.

But he knew. Things had happened, and things had changed. And because he didn't know how much had changed, he needed to put it into words if he wanted to make sure that what was between them stayed unchanged. And the part of him that was fighting to stay awake and whisper the words to Jae was the part that knew that. But the part that was weak, was heeding his brain's command to shut down, was the one winning, and eventually his mouth was too numbed, too addled to form any more words, all of him finally succumbing to the need for rest, his regret at losing the battle taking the form of his last tears before he drifted off.

---

He unlaced his fingers from the sleeping man's with some difficulty. Even in sleep, the fingers were curled tightly around his own. Frowning slightly as he cupped the leader's cheeks in both hands, he swiped his thumbs across the man's cheeks, smearing the moisture across the man's cheeks as he did so. He touched his forehead to the sleeping man's, closing his eyes, letting his breath mingle with the leader's, glad that the latter's had evened out in his sleep, and noting with relief that the forehead against his was not as warm as he had thought it would be. There he stayed, allowing himself a moment of being so close, so near in such a long time. Then he got up, shifting his weight on the bed cautiously, afraid to rouse the other man from his sleep. Gently, he laid the blanket over the figure, and walked out of the room, closing the door carefully behind him.